#also the two of them left right after i got the benadryl. they didn’t even stay to see if i’d be okay. and they didn’t ask today.

[thevaudevillescene]

big fucking mood. I am going through something both mentally and physically and i gotta say…it is not enjoyable. We are not having a baja blast over here, folks!

[howlett-n-morgan]

Take Me Home

5. Blood Stains

Arthur Morgan x Texas Red!Reader

A/n: HEY GUYS I AM BACK WITH A DOOSIE. okay so my fashion show was fantastic, let me know if y'all wanna see a video of my collection i think it turned out pretty damn good. anyways, wrote this while crocked off my ass on Benadryl bc allergy season is hitting very very hard right now so if it's not perfect we are all going to collectively blame the Benadryl, okay? okay.

Summary: An accident in the laundry causes chaos in the camp, and secrets are revealed sooner than expected. With everyone else acting like the world is caving in, Arthur steps up as usual.

Warnings: misogyny, major gender role tropes, a little bit of personal violation, but very minor. Susan is a bitch in this chapter (we love Susan). Blood plays a lot into this chapter, and so do menstrual cycles, so if you're uncomfortable with those mentions, this may be a skippable chapter for you. There's also like some sexual implications but nothing inherently sexual happens. I think that's it, let me know if I missed anything.

WC: 7.8k

“Climb up, let’s go to town before closing time,” he walked around to the other side where his horse was hitched from earlier today, still saddled since Bill hadn’t made his rounds yet.  You complied, but were unsure of the motives for such a trip.  “Is Dutch paying you to take me somewhere? He want you to kill me quietly?” 

In the weeks since John’s disappearance, you’ve noticed three things:

One, Dutch hasn’t barely been seen in the camp, and when he makes his presence known, it’s either angry or forlorn. Two, the entire gang has been very quiet, not wanting to set off Dutch, or make anyone else upset with the matter. Three, Arthur has done as he said he would, becoming closer with Abigail, and helping nightly with Jack. 

It shouldn’t break your heart, because you had no right for it to. You shouldn’t be distancing yourself from the both of them, they didn’t do anything to deserve it, but the way your chest tightened by watching them, watching Arthur gently place a hand on her shoulder as he watched Jack squirm in her arms was far too miserable. Abigail won’t speak of it, knowing that everyone has been on edge since her former lover left, but she missed the talks and conversations you held. You understood her, and though she didn’t exactly know the truth as to why, she was still partially in grief over that bond, too. 

Arthur takes immediate notice, but doesn’t say anything. Hosea had mentioned your run in with John the evening he took off. He figured you needed time to cope with the situation, even if you didn’t know John all that well, or even like him for that matter. Everyone in camp was dealing with it differently, so why should he judge the way you handled yourself?

It was only when you stopped talking to him altogether that he became slightly concerned, and he wasn’t the only one. 

When Dutch first brought you into the gang, he knew there was some subtle competition with you and Arthur. The two fastest guns in the west, hell, maybe even the world… but you butted heads often. He didn’t know why it had suddenly stopped, but his concern grew from being in both your presences at the same time, and the icy feeling he got just from standing between you, running over job details in a tent. 

It was like Arthur didn’t exist to you anymore. Everything you said and did was conveyed to the people around him, but never to him. You would even give news to a big group of people to avoid telling Arthur directly. 

Dutch knew there was something wrong, because he could have sworn you both were inches away from getting along, but now it was worse than square one. It was after a successful job that he said something about it. After you had deliberately handed Arthur’s cut to Javier and told him to give it to the next man over. 

You’d ridden back, safe and sound, but Dutch held you back, nodding the others away from the horse troughs.  

“Talk with me for a bit, will ya son?” He tried to approach the situation gently. This couldn’t have been a gradual thing. 

“F’course,” you muttered, hands resting on your gun belt as you followed him into the center of camp. 

“I’ve been noticing some… strange behavior from you towards Arthur. Only lately…” he scratched his head, looking at you expectantly. “You can tell me if he did somethin’ to piss you off, I’ll speak with him about it.”

You furrowed your brow and shook your head. “He didn’t do nothin’ to piss me off… I’ve just always been better off on my own, don’t wanna rely on anyone.”

“I can understand that sentiment, but it doesn’t make any damn sense as to why you’re givin’ him the cold shoulder,” he furthered his point, and you didn’t have any choice but to make something else up. Something that could actually be worth what you were doing to Arthur. Your head told you that the truth of ‘I’m actually a young woman and I’m catching feelings for your gang enforcer’ wouldn’t help you. 

“He’s been tryna hold me back,” you sighed out, as if revealing some huge secret. It was partially true, but you’d grown more relaxed about the protection Arthur had been trying to provide. Still, you kept on the charade, knowing it would get you out of this situation free and clear. “M’tired of him thinkin’ I can’t keep up, tired of feelin’ like a helpless kid next to ‘im.”

Dutch let out a breath and narrowed his eyes. “I see… and so you figured it best to keep him out of arm’s reach, is that it?”

“Guess so,” you shrugged, leaning against the pole of his big tent. 

And then it seemed that Dutch saw this as a teaching moment, because he nodded for you to sit down on one of the cross latch boxes, across from where he stood. He had a whole spiel oncoming, and you were almost sure you knew what it would contain. Something about the camp being a family, everyone sticking together and more nonsense of the like.

“You don’t understand this now, because you’ve never had a time of need in this gang… but that day will come,” he paused, and you perhaps had it all wrong, listening intently now. He pointed in the direction of Arthur’s camp set up, and you glanced over, not for the first time that day. He was tired, hunched over his cot and leaning in exhaustion, running his hand over his face. “And when you are in that time of need, there is no better man to have in your corner than Arthur Morgan.”

You nodded in understanding, a small frown on your face. You wanted to protect yourself, but if what Dutch says is true, you’re only setting yourself up for failure. 

“He’s been here a long time, and no matter your opinion of him, no matter the things you do or the things you say, he’s loyal. It ain’t up to me what you decide to do, but you should know, he’s the best ally you’re ever gonna have.”

And just like that, you regretted the past weeks. Everything you did to avoid him, getting up early to grab some of the coffee before he came by. Going out and hunting without letting anyone know, just so that he didn’t have a chance to come with you. Even going as far as to mend your own clothing and do your own laundry, knowing he might catch you at one of the girl’s stations while picking up your weekly wears. You felt awful. You remembered at least four times he tried to approach you before he just gave up. At the time you were grateful, because you thought it was making things easier for you, but in actuality, the things Dutch said were true. You needed him in your corner. There would be a time of need, and Arthur was the best ally to have when that time would come, whatever it may be. 

“I think I oughta go set things right, then,” you let out, your ego deflating slightly when your eyes met Dutch again. 

“If you think it’s best,” he nodded, switching places with you and watching you walk over to his favored outlaw, the man he called his son. He called you son, too. You wondered if that would hold up if he ever found out about you. 

Arthur was on the verge of sleep, but you were doing this now. You could apologize later. 

“You look like shit,” you tried to be nonchalant, and not bring any emotion into this. 

When he looked up, he was slightly annoyed, but his face softened once he looked at you for a moment. 

“Feel like shit,” he grumbled, trying to understand what you were doing here. You didn’t exactly give him reason to believe he was important to you anymore. “Did you need something?” 

You kicked the dirt beneath your boot, trying to keep yourself composed, but you weren’t too good at these things, and the amount of shear stiffness in your body wasn’t helping you to relax about it. 

“I think I owe you an apology,” you started, and he tilted his head in slight confusion. Sure, he knew what you were apologizing for, but he didn’t know why. “I’ve been avoidin’ you, n’ I shouldn’t have.”

He nodded in thanks, accepting your words. You stood awkwardly, unsure if you should say more or just leave, but when you turned your boot to walk, he stopped you. 

“Did I piss you off or somethin’?”

Why was everyone asking that? 

“No, ain’t nothing you did. Just my own stupid ass and things that don’t matter,” you told him. You felt even worse now, because you’d made both him and Dutch think that it was something he did wrong. He could rarely do any wrong in your eyes, which made this whole ordeal that much worse. 

“Matters enough, you stopped talking to me. Couldn’t even get you to look my way.”

You didn’t want him to know anything else. With him and Abigail rapidly forming a blossoming relationship, it wasn’t for you to stand in their way. Jack needed a father figure, and Arthur was the perfect candidate. 

“I’m sorry about it. I swear it won’t happen again,” you really wanted to leave this time, unsure of how far it may go in the event of a deep conversation… but he caught your wrist and gently tugged it back towards where he sat as soon as you started turning away again. 

“You gotta give me somethin’, Red. I’ve waited weeks just to ask you,” he pleaded, his tired eyes looking through you and trying to enter your mind. You caved just as soon as you saw how badly this affected him. You hurt him. He might be big, burly, and dangerous… but he bleeds, and his heart can be wounded as easily as anyone else’s. 

“I’ve been going through some things, and you’ve had a lot on your plate with Jack and Abigail. It’s not fair of me to make my burdens your burdens… I was tryna keep you out of it,” you admitted, which was only half true. The partial truths of the night were stacking up, but fortunately he couldn’t tell the difference right now, too tired and unfocused to really study your features and what you were hiding. 

“Red,” he sighed, not yet prying for more information, but giving you one last glance. “You can tell me things. Remember that.”

You nodded, smiling at him for the first time since John left. “Alright.” 

-

You stopped avoiding and ignoring Arthur, but things were still distant. You’d been getting close right after Jack was born, but going into his third month in the world, you two were miles apart. Still, it was better than the stone cold facade you’d been turning to him before. 

“Got any laundry?” Susan asked, breaking you out of your trance as you watched the sun setting. You weren’t really paying much attention, but nodded, reaching behind you into your tent for a sheet full of worn out and dirty clothing. You should have looked it over, but you didn’t, too caught up in your own mind. “You can ask the girls about getting it back tomorrow, they’ve been going stir crazy for things to do.”

“Yes ma’am,” you nodded, tipping your hat and leaning back against your small tent’s middle pole. You had half a mind to slide your hat over your eyes for a nap, but that didn’t seem like it would fly, especially if one of the others needed you for something. 

You could definitely use a nap, you were cramping like crazy. You swore if Bill came up to you and asked for any more favors with the damn horses this week you’d kill him, but only because you were feeling grumpy. 

You wanted so badly to confide in Arthur about these things, the troubles of womanhood that you couldn’t share with anyone else but him. You wondered if he would ever tell anyone, since it’s been almost five months of your residence and you have yet to reveal your secrets to everyone else. Maybe you were being paranoid, but the closer he got to Abigail and the further you pushed him away, you thought he might care less about the agreement you both made. After all, spilling your secret to Dutch would gain him loyalty points, and Dutch seemed all too happy to be giving them out since John left. 

It was about an hour later when there was a shriek at the other side of camp, and many ran over to see what the trouble was. 

Tilly had been sitting by her wash bin, but had pulled her hands out on account of one thing. 

“What’s the matter, Tilly?” you heard Sean over your shoulder, and when you finally saw the trouble your eyes widened and you muttered a single word under your breath. 

“Shit.” 

“What’s shit?” Arthur’s voice was also heard beside you now, and you turned to him ever so slightly with a whisper.

“Me, I’m in deep shit.”

Tilly showed everyone the water, with some clothing swirling around, but it was all tinted red. 

“I think someone’s been hurt,” she said, waving over Mrs. Grimshaw to show her the problem. “There’s blood in the water.”

You tried to casually back up slowly, hoping that it wouldn’t get traced back to you, after all, the clothing in the bin was yours, and Mrs. Grimshaw had just picked up the pile from you. You were just stupid enough to leave your monthly attire in with it, and during your monthly time, too. You were only two days into the cycle, meaning there had been a lot of blood.

Grimshaw, being the stern and impatient woman she was, rolled her sleeves up and dug around in the water, looking for clothing with holes to indicate a stab or bullet wound… but she only found:

“A sanitary apron?” She furrowed her brows. She was pretty in tune with the women of the camp, and hadn’t been aware that someone was menstruating right now. 

“You better run, kid,” Arthur caught on, nudging your shoulder. You’d already started getting further away from the scene, but it seemed Grimshaw already came to a conclusion before you could make a break for it. 

“I picked these up from…” she trailed, her brow now seemingly angry and strewn together in a stressful manner. She marched over to you, grabbing your lanky wrist harshly and tugging you away from the scene. “You better not be hidin’ what I think you’re hidin’!”

You held onto your hat as she practically ran you into the nearest tent. It wasn’t hers or yours but that didn’t matter, her urgency was all too apparent. 

“Miss Grimshaw, what’s this all about?” 

“I have had my suspicions about you since you arrived here,” she spoke intensely, pulling you forward by your belt buckle and doing her best to undo it. 

“Hey, hey! What’re ya doin’?!” You tried to protest, but her nimble hands were too persistent, and she finally got your pants loose enough to take a brief peek at what she needed to see. “What the hell, would you stop?!” 

“I knew it!” she yelled, a finger pointed in the air. 

And just like that, you knew you were screwed. 

She quickly ran out of the tent, and you tried to follow her, making a quick attempt at putting your belt back together on the way out. 

Arthur ran a hand over his face when first he saw you, and the state you were in. He knew the jig was up, too. 

“Where is that man when you need him?” Susan was turning every which way, a mess of herself just trying to frantically look for the camp leader. 

“Dutch? He’s in town with Hosea, what’s the problem?” Bill sauntered up, dusting his hands from the work he’d paused. 

Pearson and Javier all of a sudden made an appearance, and when you thought nothing could make this worse, the rest of the camp zoned in on the chaos, having had nothing better to do this whole day. It was slow, and there were no jobs to be done, so the boredom consumed minds jumped on the first sign of entertainment they could find, and boy was it something.

“We have an imposter in our midst!” She yelled, her arms waving around wildly. 

“Hold on, now…” You tried to interject, but Arthur shot you a look, shaking his head. Don’t do it, kid. Just shut up.

“What do you mean an imposter?” Pearson crossed his arms. He was never one to give bad news of any kind to, because he had a tendency to blow it out of proportion. “Who?” 

“That,” she pointed at you, her voice raised to the highest decibel count you knew was humanly possible. “Is not an eighteen year old boy! She has been fooling us all. Who even knows where she comes from, what her real name is!”

“What the hell are you even talking about?” 

“The kid?” 

“Ain’t no way…”

The rapid responses coming forward almost eased your mind, except for the fact that Susan did in fact have up close and personal proof from what she saw. 

Arthur stepped forward, and as the murmurs grew louder, and Miss Grimshaw was prepared to go on another rant, he did all he could to calm the situation. 

“Let’s not make any rash judgements right now,” he gave you a look, trying to let you see he was attempting to help, but that you needed to leave. “We’ll just wait until Dutch and Hosea get back.”

You took that as a cue to leave, awkwardly making way for your tent. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Susan tried to chase after you, but Arthur held her back. 

“Wait for Dutch,” he said, his arm blocking her path. Who knows what she’d do in this state? She’d been known to whip some of the boys into compliance before, who knows what she’d do to someone she viewed as an imposter. 

Sitting with the flaps closed, you could still hear everything that was occurring outside, and it nerved you far more than being in the middle of it all. 

“It doesn’t make any sense…” and “Do you think it’s true?” could be heard from separate conversations, and you wished more than anything that you’d just done your own damn laundry. 

Your face fell in your hands, and you started going over all the things that could happen. Dutch could hate you for lying to him, and kick you out, banishing you as far as you could go. Or, since you were a newbie, and didn’t have the trust factor built yet, maybe they would just shoot you dead. That may have been an extreme idea, but with your rapidly beating heart and increasing worry, things like that were bound to spill in. Not like you’d been in a gang before, you didn’t exactly get an etiquette and rule book when you arrived. Who knew what would happen to you. Nothing good, that you knew.

When Arthur finally opened the flap and leaned down inside the small dwelling, you knew it was time to face the music. 

“Dutch is back, Susan’s tellin’ him everything,” he sighed, looking over your face and feeling a sense of guilt that he didn’t do anything to stop all of this. When you first arrived he thought maybe it wouldn’t be a big deal, but having experienced this much drama in just the past hour has most definitely led him to believe he was wrong. 

When you stayed silent, and didn’t really give him a reaction of any kind, he could tell you were hit hard with the anxiety and shock of it all. He couldn’t ever get you to shut up, and he often didn’t want to, most of all now when you looked like a scared animal. 

“I ain’t gonna let ‘em hurt ya, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

You shook your head, and against your hardest efforts, tears were backing your eyes, looking for ways to escape. He hadn’t ever seen you like this, and it wasn’t pleasant. 

“I don’t wanna leave,” you admitted. You liked it here. You weren’t lonely here, and you had a family… or at least you did an hour ago. You didn’t know where you stood with half of these people. 

He couldn’t speak for Dutch or Hosea, or anyone else really, but he could speak for himself. 

“I don’t want you to, either…”

When Arthur heard his name called, he leaned back, looking in the direction of his father figure, looking angrier than a pack of hungry wolves. 

“Yeah?” 

“Tell Brooks to see me, now.”

You didn’t even need the message relayed. You stood up, and followed Arthur out of the tent, your head down as you made the distance to the center tent, the big one you’d been at only a bit ago with council from your leader. You only hoped he’d be so forgiving when he found out you lied to him. 

Arthur got into the tent first, mumbling a few things you were a little distracted to hear. You did catch the small ‘don’t be too hard on her’ fall from his mouth, though. 

You sat down on the box chest, close to the exit of the tent, just in case things went south and you had to run. Not that you were thinking about running, but again, a million scenarios crossed your mind. 

“Arthur, wait outside.”

You grew more tense as soon as those words were uttered, and so did Arthur it would seem. 

“Dutch, I think I should-”

“Wait. Outside.” 

He reluctantly did as he was told, walking far enough away that he wouldn’t be reprimanded, but still in your eye-line so he could keep an eye on you. He trusted Dutch with the gang members, but if he was considering kicking you out, that made you fair game. 

“I’m gonna cut to the chase,” he took a long drag of the cigar he held between his fingers, blowing the smoke out when he turned his head to the side. “You know why you’re here.”

“I reckon I do,” you answered quietly, trying to keep an ounce of confidence though your entire body felt like it would start shaking in fear. 

“I could have you stripped for the whole camp to see, but for propriety’s sake I’m only going to ask you this once… is it true?” He asked, his tone less stern but still eager. 

“Yes.”

He sighed, having heard the softness in your voice since you came in, he already knew. You’d never shown this side of yourself to the camp before. You were always confident, sure of yourself, cocky even. To think it was an act boiled his skin… but he wanted to take his time with this. You still had capabilities the likes he’s never seen, and if he wasn’t careful they could one day be used against him. You didn’t know about the O’Driscolls yet, and he sure as hell wouldn’t have you running off and joining them. It would be the death of the Van Der Linde gang, of that he was certain. 

“I’m gonna decide what to do with you, but until then, you stay out of my sight.”

He pointed outside of the tent, and you were honestly surprised that this was the extent of his questioning. Nothing about the lies? About the history? About anything at all?

You gave him a double glance, but scurried away in fears he might change his mind and tear you to shreds on the spot. You walked hastily towards Arthur, your face gaining more color to it once you were out of the line of danger. 

“You alright?” He asked, his furrowed brows reflecting his concern. 

“No,” you let out with a dramatic scoff. Your flare for over exaggeration was sometimes quite amusing to him. He just dropped his head and chuckled. 

“You’re fine,” he patted your shoulder before stepping past you and going to talk to Dutch. What he knows is that Susan Grimshaw spilled every nasty detail of this afternoon to the camp leader, but he also knows that he hasn’t had his say yet, and when it comes down to it, Dutch will side with his loyal enforcer over a disgruntled Miss Grimshaw. 

Dutch was stretching out his arms, sore from the ride in and out of town. It was a scouting trip, really, but it was enough to make him ache when all the stress was added. 

“First John leaving, now this. I can’t seem to catch a break, can I?” Dutch sighed out after his words, the toll they took on his mind caused him to shake his head of so many thoughts. 

“This ain’t so bad,” Arthur began, tilting his head from side to side. 

“How could you possibly think that?”

Arthur shrugged, reasoning with himself a few options before saying them out loud. 

“S’not like she did any harm. Only thing that’s come of it is a bit of surprise to everyone…” he trailed, sitting across from the man he called his father figure and his friend. The tension seemed to ease up the second he neared the man, but there was more to be done to diffuse the situation, and he was all too happy to insert himself as the cause of said diffusion. 

“She lied about who she is, for all we know she could be working with local law, or worse, the pinkertons.” 

Dutch’s raised concerns nearly made Arthur chuckle. When you first got here, facade or not, you were still just lost and looking for somewhere to call home. There were never any motives behind your gang participation other than needing a family.

“We haven’t had them on our trail in ages. Coming here, we finally put a stop to their sniffin’ around. Besides, she’s been the reason for our successful jobs lately… she’s been loyal enough to save my life despite our differences.”

“But she lied to us,” Dutch kept driving his point. A liar’s a liar, and they lie about other things. 

“She’s a scared kid, Dutch. She just wants a place to be,” Arthur defended, his arguments becoming more close and personal, which led Dutch to connect some other dots. 

He sighed, looking at Arthur and coming to an understanding of what he knew were past events. 

“You knew, didn’t you?” 

Arthur dropped his head into a subtle nod, not yet meeting Dutch’s eyes for his fear of a bad reaction. 

“Since the week she got here.”

Dutch had to laugh, because of course he did. Arthur was more in tune with the members of camp than he could ever be, and more than they could be with each other. He was like Hosea that way, his ability to connect and grow relationships with others was just a natural gift. He often thought it stemmed from Arthur’s great love of the unknown, and his endless curiosity. 

“How’d you figure it out?” 

“I didn’t, until I found some uh… rather feminine items in her saddle bag. She fessed up pretty quickly to me,” Arthur scratched the back of his neck, his nerves settling when he knew he wouldn’t be in any trouble. 

“Well,” Dutch started, coming to the edge of his open tent, looking for the troubled recruit among the busy movement of the camp. “We’ve taken in much worse, and it’s always been in our favor. And you’re right… She's just a scared kid. A scared kid with the quickest hands I’ve ever seen.”

There was a moment, and then Arthur smiled.

“So… She’s free n’ clear?” He asked, his tone hopeful, which Dutch noticed. Perhaps Red had made amends after all, and just as Dutch promised, Arthur was in her corner. This wasn’t her time of need, per se, but he knew she would have him when it arrived.

“I suppose so, although… I’m not going to be responsible for the court of public opinion,” he gestured to everyone in the camp, frantically working around just to keep themselves busy. With all the chaos going on, it’s the only thing they can do not to sit and gossip, which they do anyway. 

“I reckon I better keep her away from Susan?” 

“With a ten foot pole, preferably,” Dutch rolled his eyes. That woman was full of determination, and it could be both a great strength, as well as her worst weakness. 

Arthur smiled, ready to go make good on a promise he’d been waiting on for some time. “I’ll catch you later then.”

“Alright, Arthur.”

-

You didn’t know if Arthur’s conversation with Dutch would benefit you or condemn you, but you didn’t stick around to find out. He’d found you saddling your horse, just in case a hasty escape needed to be made. Yes, perhaps your delusions were getting a bit out of hand. 

“Where you goin’?”

“Depends,” you started, “How mad is he?”

Arthur huffed and grabbed your wrist, stilling your movements. “He ain’t mad.”

“No?” You could hardly believe it. “He seemed riled up to me.”

“I talked to him,” he explained, but gave no further intel. 

“You got magic words or somethin’?” You chuckled, slightly more relaxed since the news came better than you hoped, and Arthur wasn’t dragging you back to be punished or anything. “What’d you tell him?” 

“That you were gonna be loyal… and that you’d been scared.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, trying to play off his last words like they weren’t true. “I ain’t scared.”

“Really? You were about to run, weren’t you?” He pointed to your full saddle bag and stocked up horse, ready to disappear at a moment’s notice. 

You caved. 

“He gave me a little fright is all,” you toed your boot into the dirt as you spoke, looking back up to find him nodding at your horse. 

“Climb up, let’s go to town before closing time,” he walked around to the other side where his horse was hitched from earlier today, still saddled since Bill hadn’t made his rounds yet. 

You complied, but were unsure of the motives for such a trip. 

“Is Dutch paying you to take me somewhere? He want you to kill me quietly?” 

It was just a joke, but he was getting tired of the overly dramatic interactions. He wasn’t sure what all transpired in your past, albeit knowing more than everyone else… even still, he figured there had to be something that gave you your theatrical touch. 

“Knock it off, would ya?”

“Sorry.”

The ride wasn’t long, but the sun was down when you both tied your horses to the poll in front of the general store. You’d been in here a few times, and the man behind the counter always cowered in fear of Texas Red the unkillable. No matter your manners or gentility, that’s just how it was. 

“What’re we doin’ here?” You adjusted your hat, wiping some sweat off your forehead and following him up the front steps. 

“I remember sayin’ I’d get you a dress a while back, we’re here to make good on it.”

You stopped in your tracks, a wide smile blossoming on your face when you heard him say it. He’d remembered, and been waiting for it since the night he uttered the words. 

He noticed you weren’t close behind him, and turned, catching the sweet expression you wore, but brushing it off with a sideways smile. 

“C’mon now, gotta pick it out.” 

You followed after him, and once inside, the man behind the counter seemed to be nervous, as usual. He didn’t seem to be weary of having you both in, just a bit anxious. Arthur knew his presence held power, but he figured with your reputation in this town, and others around… your presence was bound to hold more. 

“What can I do for you? Need more socks?” The man asked you kindly, and you shook your head, a small laugh escaping you. 

“No, we’re uh… we’re here to get a dress for my wife,” Arthur spoke evenly, his confidence showing through when he had to put on a show. 

Your head snapped to him, and though you knew he was intending to buy the dress for you, a thought sprang into your mind. Abigail. She was going to be his wife. 

This sweet little moment, with Arthur keeping his promise, and making a big to-do over your acceptance into camp, was all part of your own little fantasy. It wouldn’t last, and when you returned to camp, he’d be with her again, helping with Jack. You tried to shake the thought from your mind, wanting to enjoy this sliver of time with him. 

“Of course! I’ve got a new selection,” he pulled out the catalog, and opened the pages to a section with different types of skirts, petticoats, chemises, and corsets. All were beautiful, but your eye was drawn to a more simple style. It was a work dress, which would be far more practical for you than any of the other ones. 

“I’m not too good with all this. What do you think, Red? Which one would she like best?” He tossed you a smirk, leaning his elbow on the counter while he let you browse over the pages a bit longer, turning them over with a furrowed brow of focus. 

“What color does this one come in?” You asked the man over the counter, keeping your act up, but letting your hints of excitement show through. 

“That one is a nice pale blue, perfect for spring and summer time,” he spoke firmly, becoming more relaxed the longer you both were in the store. Yes, he’d heard the whispers, and for you, he’d actually seen your acts of a quick trigger. But here, you didn’t seem like a threat, so he stopped acting like you were.

“Blue, huh… Might bring out her eyes a bit, hey Arthur?” Now it was your turn to smirk, and he chuckled, nodding back to you and tapping the page twice with a heavy finger. 

“You’re right it would, make em’ look like crystal,” he played along, making you blush under the brim of your hat, unbeknownst to the man behind the counter. 

“It’s gotta be that one, then.”

Arthur chuckled, counting out the cash that the dress price was listed under, tossing it down on the counter and nodding to the man. 

“You heard the kid, we’ll take that one,” he spoke in a playful tone, ignoring the movements of the man as he scurried to the back rooms, getting your dress pieces together. 

Arthur lifted the brim of your hat, and smiled genuinely at the look on your face. It was excited, sweet, and grateful. He wanted to buy you the entire stock of the store just to ensure that look stayed on your face, no matter the irrationality of it. He’d become quite accustomed to giving you his time and his efforts, and this was no different. The only difference is that now he wanted to, wholeheartedly. The deal you’d struck with him, the one where you were going to teach him your methods of shooting faster, were now null and void. He didn’t want to take anything from you, he just wanted to give.

When the store worker returned with a large box in hand, Arthur thanked him for his time, carrying the thing over his shoulder and heading for the door, which you opened for him. 

Getting outside, you went for the horses, but he stopped you with a swat of your hand away from the reins. 

“Can’t go back yet, gotta see how this looks on ya,” he insisted, nodding for you to follow him yet again. He walked for a bit before coming up on the shed with a small lantern inside. It looked like it only housed tools and ropes and things of the like, but there was space enough to change in. “Came across this when I was out one day. Took a whole nap before someone realized I was in here.” 

“How convenient,” you teased, taking the box from his hands and eagerly walking into the confined space. 

“I’ll be out here,” he mumbled as you shut the door, putting a shovel against it since it didn’t really even close all the way. 

You knew he wasn’t the peeping type, so you began tearing away at your clothes, the ones that had been worn completely through by now and needed replacing anyway. You had more back at camp, but you had always missed dresses. This would be the first of many you would probably buy for yourself, but it was going to remain your favorite, because of who it came from. 

It was just like clock work, muscle memory helping you to remember all the little ties and snaps that needed to be in place, the corset laces that needed to be pulled enough to fit the outer fabrics. You knew you probably needed a good hair brushing and face washing to actually look like a young woman again, but for now, the dress was doing wonders on your self esteem… or at least it did until you realized you couldn’t finish putting it on by yourself. The buttons on the back went up higher than your shoulder blades, and sat in a near impossible spot to reach. If there was a mirror, you could probably just contort yourself enough to get it together, but in a dark, barely lit tool shed, your options were limited. 

You sighed, pulling the shovel away from the door and peaking your head outside. Arthur had nearly gone through an entire cigarette in the time you took to change. 

“Arthur?” You asked timidly. 

“M’here, you alright?” 

“I can’t reach the back,” you admitted, just slightly embarrassed. “Can you give me a hand?” 

He was all too happy to comply, stomping out the cigarette on the ground and taking quick steps to reach you. “Turn around.”

You did as he told you, turning so he had access to the open back of the dress. He couldn’t see you all too well in this light, but even from what he could see, a few words entered his mind from a past conversation you had with him. 

I used to be quite the stunner… and he surely believed it. 

His fingers caressed the exposed skin of your back before buttoning the fabric closed, smoothing it down over your shoulders and watching the way it fit you perfectly. 

“Don’t mention this to Abigail,” you joked, turning back around and trying to keep the mood light. It was beginning to feel too intimate, and you knew you couldn’t allow yourself to feel that way with Arthur anymore. 

“Why?” 

“Well, I might be a bit old fashioned, but isn’t it frowned upon for a taken man to be helping another woman with her dress?” 

It was just another joke, but he seemed to be completely thrown off by the implications. 

“I ain’t a taken man,” he confessed, looking at you with a stare that was all too deep, and all too consuming. He needed to stop that, but you didn’t have the heart to make him. 

“Not yet,” you corrected, but again it was you in the wrong. 

“No,” he shook his head, trying to bring a serious tone to the conversation. “I’m not gonna marry Abigail.”

Your face screwed up in confusion, thinking about all the times when he collapsed in her tent with Jack, just to get up and help him in the night. He was Jack’s new father, wasn’t he? That was the deal he made. 

“Why not? I thought that you were- well since you were helping with Jack and… what about your deal?”

“I said I was gonna do right by this boy, and I am… But Abigail won’t have me,” he shrugged, admitting to the rejection she gave of his offer. “She’s still in love with John, n’ I can understand it.”

It should have made you feel a bit of sadness, to know that even with all that Arthur was, someone would turn him away like that. ‘Abigial won’t have me’ sounded like perhaps he thought himself not good enough, just as he always does. Despite all of this, you didn’t feel sorrow, you felt an abundance of joy. A wide smile spread across your cheeks, and he furrowed his brow. 

“What’re you smilin’ about?”

“Nothing,” you dropped the smile and shook it off, running a hand up his arm and giving it a sincere squeeze. “I’m sorry, Arthur. I know you’ve meant well.”

“S’alright. Hosea’s been tellin’ me since Jack was born that I shouldn’t have offered. He doesn’t think we’re right for one another, somethin’ like that.” 

“I agree, you’re not right for each other,” you spoke out loud, though that thought was meant only for your head. 

Arthur seemed to be catching on slightly to your behavior, stepping a bit closer and staring downwards at you. 

“Yeah? And who am I right for?” He teased, watching the redness of your cheeks spread down your neck and shoulders with every breath you took. 

“I guess we’ll just have to wait and find out,” you did your best to counter his taunts, stepping away from him and going to collect your old clothes from the shed. Once they were in hand you turned back to the opening of the alley, making way for the horses. “You coming?” 

And of course, he followed, shaking his head and chuckling under his breath. 

-

The next day fared better than you thought it would, if you’re being honest. 

You didn’t really know why, if Dutch had said anything, or if Hosea did, but after you returned to camp the previous night, everyone seemed to be acting just fine. They treated you differently for sure, but not badly. In fact, you noticed the men had a certain kind of reverence to you that they never held before. The same they did with the other women. 

Maybe it was just the beautiful dress that Arthur bought for you, the light and pure color of it giving you a sense of being ethereal, having finally exposed the raw feminine beauty that was hiding for so long. You reckon you’d even start growing out your hair again, as the short style coming to your chin was not how you preferred to have it in the first place.

You still went to work doing the same tasks you normally did, but were careful not to rip your dress or over-exert yourself, given you were still in the same physical condition as the day before. 

“Charl- I mean, Miss Brooks?” 

You heard a voice chirp softly from beside you, and you dropped the wagon supplies for now to walk over to the owner of said voice, Tilly.

“Yes, Miss Tilly?” You extended a smile, and she smiled back, albeit a tight and awkward one from where she was sitting. You took a step or two closer, and she had to shake her head after getting a better look at you. 

“I just-” she cut herself short on account of the words already jumbling in her head. “I don’t want there to be any awkwardness between us.”

You furrowed your brow to her, unsure of what she could have possibly meant. 

“Why would there be?” 

“Well, if you can recall,” she started, a nervous chuckle in her speech. “I tried to make some… advances towards you. Back when I thought you were uh… a young man.”

You smiled again and ducked your head, a scoff of laughter and a nod of your head brought about less tension. It was no big deal. 

“Don’t worry yourself, Miss Tilly. I was the one who tricked ya, I oughta be apologizing. Probably should to Abigail, too.”

“Abigail?”

You tilted your head, recalling the scene. About two weeks before Jack was born. You’d done the same thing Arthur did, with not a care of revealing yourself in the future. 

“Before John even left, I offered her to be Jack’s ‘father’ when he was born. I guess I was pretty certain at the time no one was gonna find out,” you explained, leaning against the wagon she sat by, mending a shirt that looked like Arthur’s. You could tell by the wear and tear around the shoulders, where his broadness likely just caused the fabric to break down faster. 

“Could you really have gone on like that?” 

“I don’t know,” you pondered, another small laugh escaping you. “Maybe not, since I had to tell everyone I was eighteen just for them to believe it.”

“You aren’t eighteen?” She seemed surprised. Maybe you just had a young face. 

“No, ma’am. Twenty two nearing twenty three as a matter of fact.”

“I’ll say,” she tutted, throwing down the shirt she was finished with, and picking up a new one. “You had us all convinced. Makes me wonder where you really came from.”

You thought about telling her, but the story was long and today was a busier day than before. There was actual work to be done in preparing for the next job, a few days ahead. 

“Some place I didn’t wanna be,” you chided, stepping away from the wagon, nodding to her in thanks for the small chat. “I’ll let you get back to it.”

“Alright. I’ll catch you around,” she spoke sweetly, a kind look of relaxation on her face, now that she knew where she stood. 

You went back to work, making sure that neither Dutch nor Hosea saw you with idle hands today. You wanted to make sure that no matter what happened now, you wouldn’t be cast aside. You still had the abilities they needed, but with a skirt on your hips, they saw you differently, and it was up to you to show them you were not going to be ignored when it came to jobs in the future. 

You hated that the rest of the women in camp were just seen as stationary helpers, only capable of mending clothes or cleaning up the camp, or even just laying the groundwork in town for the men to actually pull jobs. You’ve seen Abigail in action, she was smart and cunning and had a great way with words, she could be the difference in things staying civil or having a shoot out during a quiet robbery, but the men overlook her gifts. You know the women in this camp have great potential, and perhaps if they let you continue as you have been, they will open the opportunities for the others as well.

Tags: @photo1030 @sheepdogchick @snoopysshark @strvberrydoll @yyiikes @phantasyy @puffyhairedhipster @scorpio-echo @hollyskjlap

[boldlyvoid]

ain't it fun?

summary: reader just needs an NA meeting before they have a meltdown, they end up with the best friend they could ever make.

warnings: Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Drug Addiction, Trauma Bonding, narcotics anonymous meetings, Strangers to Lovers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, meet-cute,

word count: 3.3K

a/n: this is completely self-indulgent and overly personal but i def recommend writing why spencer would love you as a form of therapy

read on ao3

In the blink of an eye, she was up and racing around her apartment. Her mental health was like a teeter-totter, and right now she was on her way to the top. Mania was creeping in; changing from just anxiety-induced butterflied to the feeling that she could jump off a building and survive.

That was never a good time. All she wanted was to either spend all her money, fuck a stranger or get high as shit. It made her legs jumpy and her ears ring and she couldn’t take it anymore. It was all too much.

She threw on a sweater and jeans, her hair was up in a butterfly clip and she hastily threw on her fanny pack full of everything she needed as well as a big coat, and she then left her apartment. She got to the stairs before realizing she actually needed to lock the door.

Her hands shook and she tried to slide the key into the lock, dropping them as her neighbour rushed out of the room and startled her. “Sorry,” she heard him say.

She picked up her keys and turned to look at him, “can you help me? I can’t seem to stop shaking,” she asked as she held her keys towards him.

“yes, sure,” he rushed the words out as he walked towards her, only looking at the keys, never in her eyes. But that was okay, she was never a big fan of eye contact.

He placed her keys back in her hand and took a step back, “are you alright?” he asked.

“No,” she said honestly. “I’m going to find an NA meeting.”

“Do you have one in the area? I haven’t seen you around before?”

She shook her head, surprised that he was also an addict, he didn’t look like he’s ever even smoked weed.

“No, I moved in only a little while ago on a whim, but I think it’s time I got some support,” she said as they started to walk down the hallway together. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Spencer,” he smiled softly. “I’m going to a meeting right now, actually, if you’d like to come? I won’t exactly be anonymous to you, but it’s a good one to go to if you just need one to fill the void until you find your preferred group.”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I need.” She smiled at him this time as he held the door open for her. “So, have you lived around here for long?”

“For about a few years now.”

“The building is good then? I was a little hesitant but I needed to get away,” she said, this time holding the door for them to leave the building and turn down the street towards where she knew the subway was.

The moon should be out, she looked up but only sees buildings. It was the one thing she missed the most about not being in the country; seeing the stars and feeling like there was a reason to it all.

“Are you running from someone?” He asks as they start the walk down to the meeting.

“Myself,” she said softly. “I’m on disability and don’t drive and I lived in the middle of nowhere with my parents, well into my 20’s, and I needed a change so my parents surprised me by saving up money for a few month's rent and told me to follow my heart.”

“And you picked Virginia?”

“I stayed in Virginia, just moved into the city. I watch a lot of murder documentaries in my free time, I thought being near Quantico would introduce me to some interesting people, but I have yet to meet anyone from the FBI at all.”

She laughed to herself at how dumb it was that she wanted to meet a profiler like Holden Ford from Mindhunter, “either they are all very good at keeping their jobs secret or Virginia is a very large and densely populated area with a low percentage of FBI agents.”

“Interesting.”

“What?”

“How long have you lived here?” he asked, slowing as he walked so he could look at her.

“2 months.”

“It took you two months to meet the FBI agent across the hall from you.”

“You’re kidding?” she said, stopping on the sidewalk abruptly. “I knew that apartment was calling me for a reason.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but, are you really just coincidentally my neighbour or are you secretly spying on me because you have an evil plan to kill me and my co-workers?” he's completely serious, it's almost scary.

“No offence, Spence, but for a supposed FBI agent that’s a dumb question to ask,” she said, pointing finger guns at him, “you don’t think I’ll give up my cover that easily? Do you?”

He points a finger gun back at her, “technically, I’m a doctor.”

The two of them narrow their eyes at each other, slowly walking in a circle, still facing each other with their make-believe guns trying to hold back smirks. She lowered her ‘weapon’ first. “It’s okay, doctor, don’t worry. I’m not a spy just an idiot with an imagination.”

He giggled softly, “I’ve never felt this comfortable with someone this fast.”

“Well, you are with criminals a lot, right? That would be alarming if you bonded with them,” she said, bumping her shoulder into his as they walked. “But I feel the same. I actually haven’t talked to someone in person in forever.”

“No?”

“I do most of my work and socializing online,” She felt embarrassed, but in today’s day and age, it wasn’t that weird. “I’m not very good outside or with people.”

“If it wasn’t for my job, I don’t think I would go outside very often either. My co-workers are my only friends, they’re more like my family actually.”

“That’s so wonderful to hear, found family is very important,” her smile disappeared as she thought about how alone she was. “Um, can I ask what it is you do at the FBI?”

“Behavioural Analysis.”

“Holy shit," she gasps, knowing way too much about that unit thanks to fucking Netflix, "that’s what the BSU became right? Do you work with the really fucked up shit?” she asked softly.

He laughed, “oh yeah, I really do.”

“Do you share a lot at NA?”

“Kinda, I tend to ramble about facts when I’m nervous so sometimes my short talk becomes more like a ted talk and what was supposed to be just me saying I haven’t relapsed on Dilaudid becomes a lesson on how the human brain works,” he explained, rambling just like he said he would.

She nodded along as he spoke, “funny, that was also my drug of choice.”

“Liquid or oral?”

“Oral. I was given it after I had my appendix out when I was 17. They get you started real young now, big pharma has its hand in everyone's pocket,” she presses her lips together awkwardly, “it was rough.”

He hummed in agreement. “I was held captive by an unsub with multiple personalities. One personality drugged me till I died and the other one brought me back.”

“Spencer, Holy fuck?” she stopped and stared at him so incredibly concerned for someone who just met him. She reached out and grabbed him by the shoulder and looked him in the eyes, “I know I barely know you, but if you need someone to talk I’m literally always across the hall.”

“Thank you,” he smiled softly as he looked back into her eyes. “The meeting is right there across the street, do you want a coffee first? The place beside it is amazing.”

She nodded and he took her hand, looking both ways before J-walking across the street with her to buy her a coffee and a snack. Maybe that would help her stop shaking, he looked like he worried about her and she wasn't used to that at all.

He didn’t talk at this meeting, he sat in the chair beside the group leader, she sat down across from him in the circle so she could focus. When the floor was opened up to new members, Y/N stood at the first chance she got.

“Hi I’m Y/N,” she said, to which she was welcomed by the crowd.

“I’m new to the city and looking for a new home group, not sure if I’ll stay here because I know Spencer outside of here but I really just needed to come today.”

She takes a deep breath as she thinks of how to start it, opting to just explain it and let the rant go where it may.

“I’ve never lived alone before and it’s incredibly hard to occupy my time without drugs. I still smoke weed to help me sleep at night but my addiction is with Dilaudid and then Benadryl a little after having surgery in high school. I don’t know if it’s my trauma, my disability or my Autism, maybe it’s my OCD, I really don’t know, but I just feel so useless and alone and boring and lonely, the drugs used to help but they don’t anymore and I really just don’t want to feel this way anymore.”

They all looked like they understood, small smiles grew all around the circle as she took a lookout at the crowd, “Thank you for letting me get that out.”

Everyone clapped as she sat back down and wiped a tear off her cheek.

The meeting ended shortly after that, Spencer walked from his seat in the circle to where she was sitting, reaching a hand out to help her to her feet. “For the record, I think you’re funny, smart, kind and pretty. And you don’t have to be alone anymore if you don’t want to be.”

She slapped her hand into his and stood up with purpose, “Did we just become best friends?”

“I believe we did.”

The walk home was much like the walk there. They traded facts, they flirted, they laughed, she pushed him into a pole at one point, by accident as they laughed. The two of them stopping to sit at a bus bench, laughing so hard she felt like she would pee her pants right then and there.

By the time they were back on their floor, it was well after midnight. “I don’t think I’ll be able to go back to meetings with you.”

“Oh, why?” he looked disappointed.

“Isn’t rule 13 that you’re not supposed to want to sleep with your group members when you’re healing?”

“Wanting to and doing it are two very different things,” he corrected her as he waited at his own door.

She smirked, “you’re right. Still don’t think I can go back with you, however.”

“I’ll probably have a case tomorrow, they normally take me out of town for at least a week, but when I get back, can I see you?” he asked lightly.

“Knock on my door when you get back,” she said before standing on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. “See you.”

“Bye.”

They waved from their doors before departing, excited by something that felt better than drugs.

—

120 hours later there was a light knock at her door, she knows exactly how long it’s been because she’s been counting and looking out the door at every noise for the whole time he’s been gone. Waiting for him like a wife whose husband went off to war, not knowing when their next correspondence would be.

“Coming,” she called, stopping to fluff her hair and straighten her glasses before she opened the door.

“Spencer!”

“Hi,” he said softly.

She took a moment to look him over, a little in shock at what she saw. He was in a plain t-shirt and track pants, he had not one, but two black eyes, bandages on his brow bone and scrapes all along his arms.

“Are you okay?”

“You should see the other guy,” he giggled softly, rolling his eyes.

“Come in, let’s sit you down.” She worried, taking him by the elbow and helping him inside.

“I’m fine, really, I’m used to this.”

“Well I’m not,” she reminded him with a nervous pout, “am I allowed to ask about it or is it classified stuff?”

He sat on the couch and patted a seat beside himself so she would join him. He rested his arm against the back of the chair so that she could slide in beside him.

“Did you hear about the child abduction in Tampa?”

“Yeah? The two boys?”

“I was trying to talk the unsub down and he dropped the gun but he grabbed me as I turned him around and punched me in the face and we fell into the ditch and I luckily managed to flip over him and get his hands behind his back and cuffed faster than I ever have before.”

“You’re amazing,” she whispered.

He laughed, “if I really was, I would have waited for backup before talking to the guy.”

“I’ve always wanted to help other people get justice but not being able to go to school makes it hard to get a job doing anything meaningful,” she whispered, ashamed of the fact she wasn’t successful like most people her age.

“Our technical analyst was hired because she was an amazing hacker, they will hire anyone who is valuable.” He shrugs and watches her face light up at the idea.

“You know what, we have meetings all this week unless there’s an emergency, if you want I can show you around the office?” he offered. “It’s not illegal for you to pass by what I’m working on and notice something I missed.”

“Spencer, I don’t even know your last name and you’re inviting me to your government job? When just last week you asked, not so jokingly, if I was a secret agent trying to kill you and that you’ve been kidnapped before?”

“Doctor Spencer Reid, and what can I say?” he said shyly, “I’m trying to find excuses to see you smile all the time.”

She placed her hand on his cheek, the tips of her fingers lightly resting on his purple and yellow bruised eyes. She leaned in slowly and kissed him on the lips, so gently as if she’s afraid he’ll break or turn into a frog… he was too good to be true.

“You can see me whenever you want, Doctor Spencer Reid…”

He kissed her again, letting his hands roam her back and she trailed her free hand down his chest. She pulled back slightly to throw a leg over him carefully and sit in his lap. Holding his face in her hands now, she peppered kisses over his bruised face.

She stopped to look at him, still holding his face in her hands as his hands now rested on her hips. “I really like you, Spencer.”

“Really?”

She looks at him carefully, analyzing his response and seeing the hurt that rested deep inside of him, “I take it you’re like me?”

“What does that mean?”

“You try to not get too involved with people because no one has ever shown you true genuine interest or love, and you never think you’ll find it anyway so you push away all small acts of kindness, thinking it’s friendly because then you can’t get your hope up, just to have that person drop them?” she explained herself in a whisper.

He nodded, “you get it.”

She kissed his lips again, and then over his cheek and up to his ear, “I do.”

He looked extra sad when she pulled away, she just held his face gently as she mirrored his puppy dog eyes. Communicating with their eyes, she knew he was okay and he didn’t want to talk about it anymore, so she smiled.

“Want to watch a movie?” She asks softly.

He nods, looking behind her to see she doesn’t have a tv in the living room. “How?”

“In my room, the TV is on my dresser if you don’t mind sitting in my bed?”

He shakes his head in a simple no, picking her up and taking her to her room. He knew where it was purely because her apartment was just his but backwards. She laughs, holding onto him tight as she rests her head on his shoulder.

He sets her down gently, watching her move up to the headboard and wait for him. They got under the blankets and she found the remote in the sheet before she cuddled into him.

“You’re really cuddly,” she complimented him as he wrapped an arm around her and held her close. He kissed the top of her head as a thank you.

“I think I’m going to end up falling in love with you, Spencer Reid,” she whispers the words, afraid of them more than his response.

“I beat you to it,” he whispers right back.

She shoots up, turning to look at him with surprise. “How?”

He looks at her like she grew two heads, “what do you mean how?”

“How did you fall in love with me? You don’t even know me?” She’s so confused, no one has ever loved her before and it’s a lot to take in.

“Y/N…” his face drops, his heart physically breaks in front of her. “I don’t know you, you're right. Not all of you, at least. I’m sure you have your hidden doors and locked cupboards but from the outside, I see you’re so beautiful, you’re radiant… your mind is lovely. You’re so kind, you’re so brave, you’re everything I wish I could be as charismatically as you are.”

She’s just swallowing over and over as she shakes her head and breathes through her nose, processing it. She’s breathing deeply then, staring off and she feels like she’s having a new kind of panic attack. A happier one, somehow?

“I don’t like myself, but if you like me I guess I must be pretty nice,” she smiles, accepting his praise and believing him. “Yeah. Thank you, Spencer.”

He smiles then, it’s cute and press-lipped and she swears he almost has dimples. His eyes are like honey and his lips are like roses. She leans in, kissing him and reaching a hand back to cup the nape of his neck.

He doesn’t know it, but he’s the first person she’s kissed in a few years. They’re soft, peck after peck as they hold each other softly, eyes open as they watch each other experience the happiness of finding someone good, finally.

“I uh, I wanted to tell you I’m almost exactly everything you described yourself as in the meeting,” he whispers against her lips, the air touching her skin gently as she absorbs the words.

“What part? My diagnosis or my self-hatred?” She smiles, okay with either really.

“Almost both, I’m pretty hard to be around.”

She shakes her head, “I invited you in for a movie, not a pity party. You can tell me everything you hate right now and then we should just share the good parts okay? Brag about yourself. Tell me what you’re proud of.”

She was really serious, keeping a stern look on her face as she spoke. He nodded, “I’m anxious all the time, I’m always worried because I’ve never had anyone to worry about me. I don’t know how to be a real person really, all I do is drink coffee and solve crimes and I barely sleep. And the only time I was relaxed and okay is when I was on drugs.”

She nodded, “it fucking sucks, doesn’t it? Like why did we get stuck like this, I don't care about peaking in high school but didn’t we deserve some kind of love and support? I’ve never understood if souls and shit are real, why did mine pick this terrible meat suit and awful traumatic path?”

She’s crying because she’s angry and because she’s never said it to anyone before. He cries because she understands. She truly knows.

“I love you,” he announces. “Just because of that.”

Taglist: @blanchardsbk @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria @spookyspence @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187 @k-k0129 @calm-and-doctor

[echos-newlegs]

Can i request number 4 from the angst prompts list with Crosshair? In the mood to get my heart broken lmao thanks x

You Scare Me

Sure thing, but also, I felt that.

Sorry if this is messy and his character is- off. Just took a benadryl and felt like writing before I dozed off 🕴 hope this isn't that bad.

Crosshair x Reader: "I don't care about you, no one does."

Warnings: Angsty, not too bad though. His character may be a bit off? Still getting down his character, tbh.

Word count: 1.6k

You stood in the doorway. Looking at the sniper who had his back to you. Sitting in a chair leant forward as he stared down at his feet.

"What do you want?" 

His voice was harsh and bitter. You weren't sure what happened between you two, or what you did. But as of late he had been.. Distant. 

The two of you used to be so close. It wasn't a talkative close, but more of an affectionate one. A close that had the both of you comforted and feeling love from both sides. 

"I want to know if you're okay?" You spoke. Still standing in the doorway. Too afraid to step further inside. No, you weren't afraid he'd hurt you. You were just afraid he would shut you out. 

"I'm fine," he spat. 

You flinched just a bit at his words. Frowning  as you shuffled your feet. "Cross.. I know that's not true, but-" 

"But what?" He snapped. Standing from his chair to turn and face you. 

He got closer to you. Backing you up into the wall as he stared down into your eyes. Your brows furrowed in concern. 

"But what, huh? But you're here for me? But you care? What is it?" He sneered. 

Your eyes were full of hurt and concern. Searching his for the issue. 

"But I do. I am here for you and I do care." You spoke. Keeping your voice soft. 

"Why have you been so distant lately? Just answer that and I'll leave." 

Your words made him ponder for a bit. He seemed to be genuinely at a loss for words. As if he didn't even know. 

"Cross, I love you, you know that right?" He furrowed once more at those words. You bit your tongue, you stepped a bit too far over his line. 

"Love?" He chuckled. Looking back to your face. "You don't love me, just like I don't care about you, no one does." 

His voice was low. It wasn't true, you both knew it, but it was still enough for the tears to flow down your face in wavy patterns. Your breathing going jagged. 

"You don't mean that," he knew you were insecure when it came to how others felt about you. You always felt you weren't enough. Your chest ached with worry if someone even stared your way too long. 

His expression faltered a bit. A look of apology making an appearance for a second, before fading back to his glare. 

"See, you're weak and flawed. Who would want to love that?" He barked. 

You looked down, letting out a small chuckle that seemed to catch him off guard. 

"Says the one who chases away everyone. All because they're trying to help." Your voice cracked a bit. Before you pushed past him to head out of the ship. 

He didn't even chase after you. He only stood back and watched you leave. 

"Where's y/n?" Tech was the first to notice your absence. Especially when Crosshair left his room without you. 

It wasn’t like you were both attached at the waist, but you did happen to hang around each other a lot. Your presence was all he needed to feel at home. But apparently that wasn't enough anymore. 

Crosshair looked up to his brother when he stood in front of him. Arms crossed. "Crosshair, Where's y/n?" Tech asked. Hunter, Echo, and Wrecker looking to the slimmer male with concerned expressions. 

"She left," was all he said before he pushed past the slightly broader male. 

"What do you mean, 'she left,'?" Hunter asked. Now following his brother. You were one of them. With or without crosshair, they treated you like their own. You were a friend and you'd saved all of them at least once or twice out on the field or just from wounds that could have killed them. 

"Is she okay?" Echo asked, and Crosshair groaned. Turning to face them all. 

"We got in an argument okay? I told her I didn't care about her. Is that what you wanted to hear?" He snapped. 

Everyone stared at him in shock. 

"You did what?" Hunter asked. Wrecker following echo. "We'll find her, Sarg." And with that those two were off to look for you. 

"Tech, go check the transmissions. Make sure she hasn't tried to contact us." Hunter ordered, and his younger vod nodded as he headed off into the other room. Leaving Hunter and Crosshair alone. 

"Why would you do that?" He snapped. Noticing Crosshairs' look of guilt. "She's nothing but sweet, 'nd kind, 'nd all around loving towards you. Hell, she does love you and you know it." 

Crosshair let out a long sigh. Rubbing his forearm. "I know," "then why say you don't care about her?"

There was a long pause. Until he turned to head towards the exit for the Marauder. "Because I may as well hurt her now before it's too far along." 

Hunter grunted, grabbing him by the shoulder to stop him. "No, you better find her and at least apologize. She thinks the world of you and I know you think the same of her. I can sense it for kriffs sake. I know it's scary, but we're clones. We don't get many admirers, you need to cherish this for now." He speeched. Crosshair tugging himself from Hunter's grip. "Fine." 

You were in the old tree hut the six of you found on the planet you were sent to scout. Just as Echo assumed you would be. He knew you better than the rest. You knew each other from the 501st, after all. 

"Y/n.." he called, and you inhaled. Watching as Wreckers head peaked through the entryway. "You were right, She's here!" He shouted as you moved to stand. 

'Hey, hey, are you alright?" The pale trooper asked, and you merely nodded. Rubbing your eyes. "We heard what he said to you." Wrecker piped. 

You frowned, looking down. 

"It ain't true, you know." 

You shrugged, scuffing your feet. "It sure felt like it was." You spoke quietly. Looking up to Echo and Wrecker. 

"If I know my brother, and I do." Wrecker started. Approaching you slowly. "He does care about you. He's just scared." 

You chuckled. Wiping a few more tears away that fell. "Scared? So saying no one cares about me is how he shows fear? Good to know." 

"Y/n, it's not just fear. He does care, he just doesn't want you too attached in case something happens. I've watched him long enough to know this." Echo spoke. Reaching out to pull you in for a hug. Which you gladly accepted. Chuckling as Wrecker pulled the two of you closer for a group hug, as he proclaimed. 

"He talks about you when we go to 79s and you stay back on the ship, or at the barracks. He says how," "no other girl can down a shot like you can." Crosshair interrupted from behind. Causing you all to look towards the entrance. 

"How sweet," you spoke, though your voice was laced with sarcasm. They all picked up on it. 

"I talk about how it's no fun without you. Too. You make everything fun." He admitted, and you shuffled your feet some more as Echo and Wrecker stepped aside. Watching as Crosshair neared. 

"And I don't talk about feelings much, you know this best." You nodded at his words. Watching as he side eyed his brothers and they left the hut. 

"Y/n," you refused to meet his eyes. Until his hand reached out to cup your face. To which you glared at him and flinched away. 

"Why are you here? Thought you didn’t care about me. No one does." He sighed. Licking his lips as he watched you. 

"You're stubborn, you know that?" "Go fuck yourself," you spat. Crossing your arms before turning away from him. 

He sighed. Rubbing the side of his head. "It ain't the same without you, though," you rolled your eyes at that. "What do you want? If Hunter sent you here don't bother. I know your words are probably forced." 

He sighed again. Pulling you back into his chest. Which you squirmed to get out of. But his grip only tightened. 

"Please just listen," he requested. 

You decided to still in his grasp. Which told him you were cooperating, a little. 

"What I said earlier, I didn't mean it." 

"It still hurt," you snapped. 

"I know it did, but I'm just scared to get too attached. I'm a clone. I was built for war, not life." 

You felt a wave of guilt rush over you. 

"Forgive me?" He questioned. "I need you," he finished. 

You pondered, then leant back against his chest. "I will, but you can’t do that anymore. You scared me and.. You hurt me. You know I already feel like no one cares about me, and that the world's out to get me. Stars, that's where we're similar." You told him, and he only nodded. Hiding his face in the crook of your neck. "Won't happen again." He spoke. Kissing the skin that bridged from your neck to your shoulder. 

You exhaled. Craning your head to the side. "If it does, I won't be this willing to come back." He hummed at that. It was an agreeing, 'I know,' sort of hum. As he rested himself against your back. 

"Can we head back?" He asked, and you nodded. "Sure, but I'm still mad." He shrugged. "I know, I'll make up for it." "You better, I thought I lost you over something I did." 

Crosshair shook his head in disagreement. Turning you so he could pull you in for a proper hug. Resting his chin on top if your head. Standing like this for a moment before pulling you back to tug you back to the marauder. To which he drug you to his room to hold you in his bed. Not letting you go until Hunter insisted the both of you eat. 

[highqueenofelfhame]

An: I’ll add tags later, i just wanted to get this posted because I’m like pretty happy with it, it’s alright. So i hope you guys enjoy! I’ll also attach links and stuff later, I’m posting this from my iPad and i just am too lazy for the tagging process. Me wants to sleep. This is part of the Disney au! Shoutout to @tangledraysofsunshine and @punkassbookjockey26 for the help on this one! This is mostly fluff (i know, how wild) but don’t worry i’m working on some angst for you soon. Fafs update soon too! I’ve already started on it and I’m going to keep working on it as the week goes. Thankfully it’s an easy chapter for me to write bc i have plenty of OG stuff to pull from. Okay, anyway! Enjoy!!

With every second that ticked by, it was getting harder and harder not to rummage through his belongings like she lived there. Even worse was that Rowan was sneaking glances at her with a smirk on his lips like he knew she wanted to. It made her scowl, a frown line appearing between her eyebrows as she glared into his back.

“I’m making you dinner, and you’re still finding a reason to be unhappy with me?” He asked her, putting down the spatula and turning to lean against his counter. The man looked criminally good in an ivory cable-knit sweater and dark jeans, an outfit combination that Aelin had never seen him in before. Thinking back on it, she was positive that when he wasn’t in a costume at work, she had only ever seen him in jeans and a t-shirt. There was also the single flannel he’d worn on Halloween, but all of that was simply incomparable to how he looked now.

“You said dinner would be ready ages ago.”

“I said it would be ready in half an hour when you got here, which was twenty minutes ago. I still have ten minutes before you get to hound me about lying.”

“Maybe if you’d prepared an appetizer…” she teased, hoping with every cell in her body that he knew she was kidding. When Rowan had said he wanted to cook her dinner, she’d been floored. The only meal that she could successfully make was breakfast, and the options were limited. Additionally, she couldn’t remember the last time a romantic interest had cooked for her at all. Probably Sam several years earlier, and it had been so bad they’d relented and settled on drive-thru burgers instead.

Rowan’s eyes narrowed at her, and she knew she’d missed the mark with her joke. The date had been going well so far; not much could have been ruined. He’d kissed her hello once, or four times, then told her to make herself at home. Rowan even had a beautiful arrangement of kingsflame at the table in the dining area. Their banter had ensued as it always did, casual teasing comments. Until she went too far. Obviously.

He turned his back, and Aelin tensed, moving across the kitchen to get to him. Just before she touched him, he turned back around, eyes widening almost comically when his elbow nearly hit her temple. Without her boots, her footsteps had been near-silent on his hardwood floors.

“I’m sorry,” he chuckled, fingers brushing her temple where his sweater had grazed her face. “Hi.”

“Hi.” With their dinner sizzling in the background, she was sure that he could hardly hear the soft whisper of her voice. That didn’t seem to matter because Rowan leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, short and sweet and leaving her wanting more. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Rowan’s brows knit together, green eyes tracing over every feature of her face before settling to meet her gaze.

“Being… me? Teasing? I don’t know. This is a date, and you’re so nice to be making dinner, and I shouldn’t be--”

“Aelin,” he laughed. “You wouldn’t be you if you weren’t busting my balls for something. I don’t think we would be us.” At the mention of them as an item, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth to ward off the embarrassingly large grin that was threatening to take over her face.

“That doesn’t mean I can be rude,” she grumbled, earning another smile from the man in front of her.

“You aren’t.” Rowan turned away from her for a brief moment. When he faced her again he held half of a cookie in his hand. “You just get hangry.”

She stared at the small offering in his hand before accepting it with a smile. Not only was he making her dinner, but it seemed he had also baked her double chocolate chip cookies. It made her heart squeeze in an almost painful way, but she took the cookie and nibbled on the corner. Whatever recipe he had used was perfect. It only made the rumbling in her belly worse, but she was determined to finish it without chocolate smeared all over her mouth.

“I’m almost done with dinner. Go snoop. I know you’re dying to.” Aelin wrinkled her nose, and Rowan was quick to kiss the tip of it, despite her failed attempt to swerve. Not that she wanted him to miss, really. Aelin wanted to beg him to kiss her until she was physically sick and couldn’t stand to feel his mouth on her body ever again.

The apartment was simple. It had one bedroom and an open living and kitchen area. Rowan had a small table that could seat four between the two rooms. It was sparsely decorated but had a few personal touches here and there that provided a glimpse into Rowan’s life. She walked around the living room, noting the pile of books stacked neatly next to the TV contained some of her favorites. She hadn’t pegged Rowan as an avid reader, but she realized that despite working with the man for the past two years, there was still so much she didn’t know about him.

And she realized, more than anything, that she wanted to know everything.

Furthermore, she’d been right about the books stacked on the coffee table. They were travel books, some of them with tabs and post-it notes sticking out of the sides. With a sly glance to the kitchen, she perched on the edge of the couch and pulled the biggest of them with the most annotations toward her, flipping through the pages to see what all he had bookmarked.

One of the first pages was a map marking all the parks and their major attractions. It seemed Rowan had a key for himself, little stars, triangles and squares marking various locations.

“The stars are my favorite places I’ve been,” Rowan said, pulling her gaze from pages of mountains and canyons and over to his green eyes.

“Is this what you do when you aren’t working?” Aelin closed the books and restacked them neatly on the table. Rowan was carrying two plates of stir-fry over to the table. In a few steps she joined him, sliding into the seat beside his.

“When I can, yes.” She was so hungry that she merely nodded, taking a too-large bite of food and meaning at the taste. Rowan’s eyebrow quirked while he took a bite of his own, and to avoid speaking with a mouthful she gave him a thumbs up.

“So good,” she reiterated after she swallowed, clearing her throat.

“I’m glad you like it. I was worried you wouldn’t.”

“It’s food. I like food. And you baked cookies,” Aelin reminded him, popping another bite in her mouth. The tickle she seemed to be developing in her throat worsened, forcing her to clear her throat again after she swallowed. Actually, the tickle was becoming an insatiable itch that she tried to chase away with water. She had no luck. “Is your um— is your throat itchy?”

“No…?” Aelin tugged on the collar of her shirt, nodding her head instead of responding. Rowan leaned over to brush his fingers along her cheek, worry settling in the wrinkle between his eyebrows. “Are you allergic to anything?”

“Gods, my mouth is itchy,” she mumbled, mostly to herself, while she downed the rest of her water so quickly a drop slipped down the side of her chin.

“Aelin. What are you allergic to?”

“I’m not allergic to anything,” she insisted, despite the way her tongue felt undeniably too big for her mouth. Rowan had already left the table, though, disappearing through a door off the living room and coming back with a small white bottle. His phone was also now in his hand and the numbers his thumb was pressing looked a lot like 9-1-1 from her vantage point.

“Take these,” he said softly, holding two pills to her lips that she opened her mouth for and downed with Rowan’s full glass of water.

“That’s dramatic.” She nodded at his phone. “I can breathe fine. My mouth is just itchy. And my tongue is a little too big.” To prove a point, she stuck her tongue out. Rowan’s eyes were saucers and he was ready to hit the call button.

“Your tongue is twice the size it usually is!”

“Did you do this on purpose? Is this getting me back for the syrup?” Aelin was kidding. Half-kidding, maybe, but kidding all the same. When she spoke, drool dribbled down her chin that she wiped at with the collar of her shirt. The whimper that sounded in the back of her throat wasn’t voluntary. It was their first date and she managed to drool on herself in front of him. Aelin Galathynius was the epitome of cool.

“This is not getting you back for the syrup.” Rowan’s voice was sharp, if still soft around the edges while he watched her carefully. His thumb was still dancing over the call button, but Aelin refused to be carted out of his apartment on a stretcher. She took his phone, locked it, and held it hostage in her lap while he fussed and mumbled about how big her tongue was. “What are you allergic to?”

“I didn’t know I was allergic to anything,” she swore again, grabbing his water for another long drink.

It went on like this for several minutes: Rowan listing the ingredients for the stir-fry that she may not have had before, or maybe she’d not had it in such a long time she forgot she had a mild allergy to it. MSG, soy, celery, sesame, carrots, on and on. He ran through everything twice before Aelin asked him to please stop, she had no idea and listing them over and over wasn’t going to spark a memory or knowledge she didn’t have.

The signature frown he wore most of the time was all the more prominent the droopier her eyes got; the effects of Benadryl were hitting her harder than she cared to admit, but her throat wasn’t as itchy and her tongue was feeling closer to normal. Rowan held both of her hands and guided her to his bedroom. Aelin wanted to make a joke about how this wasn’t what she’d had in mind, but she was too sleepy to find the words.

Rowan undressed her, pulling her jeans off before guiding her to sit on the edge of the bed. The duvet was softer, fluffier than she’d anticipated him to sleep on, and she wanted to burrow down into it as he replaced her shirt with one of his own. When he pulled back the blanket, she crawled under and didn’t settle until he laid down with her. His sweater was soft beneath her cheek and she felt like she was cuddling with him on a cloud. Gods, his bed was so comfortable she wanted to sleep in it forever.

“I’m sorry for ruining our date,” she mumbled, tilting her head back to look at him beneath heavy lashes and heavier lids.

“I’m sorry for accidentally almost killing you.” Despite the way his lips were turned down, there was amusement hidden in his words. Aelin smiled and tilted her head back enough for him to take the hint: she wanted to be kissed. A half smile spread across his lips and he kissed her gently, fingers brushing loose strands of her hair behind her ear.

“This isn’t how I imagined our date ending,” she grumbled, ducking her face down into his sweater. Rowan chuckled and Aelin knew that it wasn’t what he had in mind, either. “I thought I would end up in your bed but not to sleep. I mean, maybe after you fucked me senseless, but I didn’t think we would be skipping that part altogether.”

“I didn’t think I would make something that had flare up an obscure allergy you didn’t know you had, either. So I guess we’re both surprised.” Aelin snorted, sitting up enough to tug on the side of his sweater. Rowan took the hint, sitting up to pull the sweater and his shirt over his head. While in the process of undressing, he stood and pulled his jeans off, too, tossing them over the back of a desk chair in the corner of the room. Aelin swallowed, eyes dipping over the expanse of golden skin he’d exposed.

Her eyes caught on a scar on his lower abdomen, zeroed-in on the trail of hair that disappeared into his briefs. It dawned on her then that she hadn’t seen him completely naked. At work, they saw each other in various stages of undress while changing costumes, but the only time they’d had sex had been a quickie in Lorcan’s bathroom. They’d both been mostly clothed for that. She was making it a goal to see him entirely naked in the next twenty-four hours, because he looked so good like this it was unfair.

“Maybe I’ll feel better when I wake up,” she said, breathlessly. Rowan grinned, a dimple appearing in his cheek that she didn’t see often enough.

“I’m counting on it.”

[morizoras-cave]

Purple Patches

Benedict Cumberbatch x Teen!Co-Star!Reader, Tom Holland x Teen!Co-star!Reader

Genre: Angst, fluffy ending

Description: Filming the newest Dr. Strange movie (in which Tom would also appear), you grow quite close with the two leads, Tom and Benedict. But you’re hiding something alarming from them. Four months in the entire crew get a week off to see their families for Christmas, and when you return Tom and Benedict can’t help but feel troubled, as your body is rippled with purple patches.

Warnings: CHILD ABUSE, physical abuse, broken family, alcoholism, depression, anxiety??

A/N: I had another imagine written but im ngl its kind of.. weird? its unconventional for sure. and its definitely bad. so, maybe ill rewrite someday or something? ALSO SORRY IF YOU DONT CELEBRATE CHRISTMAS, JUST IMAGINE YOU HAVE SOME SORT OF EVIL CHRISTIAN STEP DAD WHO FORCES IT INTO YOUR FAMILY

The taxi you sat in drove slowly in the New York traffic, as snow fell outside, coating the entire city in blinding white. You couldn’t enjoy it however. Your entire body hurt, and yet you still couldn’t find even a moment to worry about your health. All you could think about was them.

Tom and Benedict. Your sweetest coworkers, and at this point your closest.. anything. Family, friends? Who cares, you had no one else. You’d gone back for the holidays like everyone else, even though you wished you could have just stayed at in your trailer. Your dad, like any other time you saw him, had used this time to pour his anger and alcoholism out on you. Your body which had finally begun to heal, was now back to square one, covered in cuts and bruises. 

You knew what would happen if anyone found out. You’d be taken from your family. But in truth, although you hated being around him, you wanted to wait for your dad. You wanted to wait for him to get over his alcoholism, you wanted him to get better, and then he’d treat you better. 

But they would find out. You were covered in bruises and purple patches. Your face was fine, except for your neck, but the rest of your body was ruined. Ugly. You could hide most of it, but it hurt. Even just sitting there, in the soft and plush taxi seat, you body was aching and wailing like a police siren. 

And what if they noticed you foundation-covered hands? Or the movie required you to wear something more revealing? 

“You okay?” the deep voice of your taxi driver ripped you from your thoughts. A single tear had slid down your face. You cleared your throat and nodded, wiping the tear from your cheek. 

You arrived at the set, and an impossible knot had been tied in your stomach. Nervousness tingled in your heart and your legs, but you got up anyway, trying to calm your breath. The moment you stood up, you winced and stopped. 

You managed to roll your luggage to your trailer, biting your lip continuously in order to keep yourself from screaming. You threw it on the floor of your trailer, whimpering and doubling over in pain. 

“Y/n!” a rapid knock on your door, interrupted you. It was Tom’s voice. You took a shaky breath, closing your eyes, and then opening the door. Tom stood there in your doorway like a smiling idiot. Your lips widened into a smile just from seeing him.

“Y/n!” he repeated stepping inside and wrapping his arms around you in a hug. You bit your lip again, hiding your pain-wrenched face in his chest, before hugging him back. He placed his head on yours sweetly. “I missed you!” he gushed. 

You hit his chest playfully, “I missed you too,” you frowned for a moment and looked away. Tom’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Are you okay?” You simply nodded. Tom stared at you for a moment and then shook his head. “Anyway, um, Benedict asked me to tell you that he’s invited both of us youngsters out for dinner tonight. Just as one last ‘fuck you!’ to work, before officially start back up tomorrow.”

“That does sound like something he would do,” you agreed and Tom laughed, punching your shoulder playfully. You yelped loudly, retreating quickly from him. 

“Woah,” he exclaimed, holding his hands up, “Are you okay? What happened to your shoulder?” 

“I fell,” you said. Nervousness jabbed at your ribs. You’d barely talked to Tom for a minute and he’d already asked if you were okay twice. He seemed to buy your explanation, and apologized for accidentally hitting your sore shoulder, to which you nodded absently. 

Tom was silent for a couple of heartbeats. He studied you. You were not usually like this. Or maybe you had been a little like this those four months ago, when you first started filming. He didn’t understand what caused you to be that way, so distant and unhappy. 

“Hey, anyway, I’m gonna go, I’m trying to actually read the script this time,” he joked, and you laughed because you knew it was a hopeless task. 

“Have fun,” you mumbled, and as soon he left, you body slid down against the wall, and your facade crumbled, tears leaving your eyes.

___________________________

Before the dinner, you took three pain killers. Then, you waited restlessly, hoping that the pills might kick in. They did but your body felt strange and buzzy. You ignored it, a blossoming hope forming in your chest that you might be able to conceal your pain in the pills and the clothing. 

Benedict came knocking on your door around 7, a smile on his face. “Y/n!” he said, and you both hugged. A small smile had formed on your lips, when you actually managed to deal with the ache, now much weaker than previously.

You both then walked to Tom’s trailer, and then the three of you walked to a restaurant, not too far from your filming location.

“So, what have you two been up to in our little break?” Benedict asked once you all sat down, having ordered already. You glanced at Tom, hoping that he’d start. 

“Me and my brothers went back home to our mum and dad. Had a pretty regular Christmas. I gave the best gifts. I got some pretty cool socks,” Tom joked around. You and Benedict stifled a laugh. Then both Ben and Tom looked at you, and you realized it was your turn to tell them about what you’d been up to. 

“Oh, well, I.. I spent Christmas with my parents. My grandparents and cousins also came,” you were lying through your teeth. You avoided their eyes, sipping your soda. 

“Got any presents?” Benedict asked and you cursed at yourself internally for forgetting such a simple part of Christmas. And for making things awkward. 

“I got some clothes, some books. Pretty standard stuff,” you forced a smile, “What about you, Benadryl?”

Benedict rolled his eyes at your comment, making you and Tom fist-bump one another, giggling quietly as he told you about his own Christmas. The night was going alright, except for that rough start. Mostly you avoided any talk of your family, and you could feel yourself getting better, the further the conversation got from your family. Until-

“Y/n, what’s that on your hand?” 

Instinctively, you pulled your hand to your lap, straightening yourself up and gulping. You looked down, pretending to inspect it and then looked up. 

“It’s, uh, it’s dirt. Wow, I should really go wash my hands, haha-” Tom grabbed your hand from under the table, pulling it towards him. Your foundation was wearing off, a large purple patch stemming from your wrist and snaking up your hand revealing itself. 

You couldn’t breathe. Both Tom and Ben just stared at it. You tried to pull back but Tom was much stronger than you. Tears blurred your vision. 

“Y/n, what is this?” Tom whispered, and you felt his fingers rubbing the bruise gently. The tears finally fell, and now both men were looking at you. Benedict looked serious. It was an expression you’d never really seen on his features before, at least not outside of your acting. 

“I-I fell..” you mumbled, but you knew it was useless. 

“Y/n.. Who did this?” Benedict’s voice was low, gently setting a hand on your shoulder. You flinched. 

“I don’t know.. I don’t..” 

“Y/n!” Tom’s voice was raised. You immediately jumped away from them both, putting your arms in front of you in fear. Several people turned to look at you three. Shaking, you lowered your hands, and saw Tom and Ben staring at you worriedly. Tom had tears in his eyes. 

“Let’s talk about this back at the studio, okay?” Benedict, now afraid to touch you, spoke slowly and comfortingly. You nodded and then two men got up, standing on either side of you, grabbing one of your hands each. 

“Was it your dad?” Tom growled as you walked in the night, moon rising in the sky. 

“Yes..” you whispered, so low you wondered if they heard it, but they did. They both exchanged glances. Tom was furious. Benedict was too, but he was collected. Tom itched to ask you more and help you, console you right there on the street, but Benedict sent him a warning look not to. 

You walked back to the studio in silence. The three of you entered your trailer and you quietly wished you had predicted something like this would happen, because the bottle of strong pain killers was still out and open on your kitchen table. 

Benedict spotted them immediately and grabbed them. His eyes narrowed as he read the bottle description. Then he looked at you and then it again. Tom watched helplessly, holding your shoulders gently. 

“How many more are there? Bruises.” Ben was clearly angry. He was losing his cool, hands shaking as he grabbed your hand to pull up your sleeve. You tried to move his hand away, but he slid the sleeve up to your elbow and just stared at the blue, yellow and purple that littered your arm. Tom was frozen beside you. 

Ben slid up your other sleeve, breathing speeding up as he saw more, and then he tugged at the collar of your turtleneck, exposing the jarring and ugly sight of a red handprint. He pulled away suddenly, walking away from you. 

“Fuck!” he yelled, hitting the wall of the trailer. He hung his head low. You jumped and turned around, but Tom simply embraced you, and then sat you both down on the floor. You hid your face in his neck, sobbing again. Tom’s hands slowly rubbed your back. 

“Okay..” said Benedict after a while. You could hear that he’d calmed down. Ben angrily wiped a few tears from his face, turning to you and Tom on the floor. Tom was simply frowning now. He never wanted to let you go. He never wanted any harm to come to you. 

“I’m gonna call the police and get your dad arrested,” he said, and you heard his footsteps, as he wondered what to do next. 

“No!” you exclaimed, scrambling to your feet away from Tom. Both men looked at you in confusion. “No! You can’t do that, he’s- he’s just trying to get better. If I wait a little longer, he’s going to get better.” 

“Y/n..” Benedict whispered sadly and you ran to him hoping to stop him. “You can’t wait for him. You’re putting yourself in danger..” you shook your head, but Ben grabbed your shoulders and looked into your eyes, “he’s a grown man, Y/n. He doesn’t deserve pity or patience. Not after doing this. Nothing excuses this. Nothing.” 

You swallowed the lump in your throat, lip quivering, but still you nodded. 

“Can your mother take care of you?” Ben asked, piercing blue eyes still staring into your soul. There was no point in lying anymore, you knew. 

“No.” 

“Alright, then you’ll stay with me.” Ben declared, “You’ll stay with me until we can find someone from your family who can take care of you.” You looked up at him with shining eyes. Despite the uncomfortable situation you found yourself in, a genuine smile broke out on your face. 

You hugged him, thanking him breathlessly. Ben and Tom made eye contact, and smiled gently at each other. Tom had cried silently at your interaction. The thought that someone would hurt someone he loved so dearly shattered his heart completely. 

“Now,” Benedict said finally, “we need to drive you to the hospital.” 

You agreed and while Tom drove, Ben was in the backseat on the phone with the police department. You just watched the beautiful neon lights shining in the pitch black night, snow illuminating the ground. People still littered the streets. 

You knew it now. Your father didn’t deserve your waiting, and though it would take very long to finally live with and truly understand, it was worth it to start the fight. You truly owed it to the two jerks you worked with. What would you even do with out them?

[sneezyminniejo]

Could you maybe do one where Taehyung has really bad hay fever and they're filming (perhaps a run episode) outside and his bf Jimin can't properly comfort him because of the cameras but since Tae is a mess and none of the footage is useable, he completely gives up on subtlety later on to help him

Here you go hope you enjoy

Greenhouse of Misery

The members of BTS were gathered in the parking garage of their dorm, waiting to be picked up. They were going to be heading to the location of their next RUN episode, but their manager hadn't yet told them where they were going.

“Hyungs, what do you think we’re going to do today?” Jungkook asked as the vans pulled up. Namjoon wrinkled his forehead in thought, “I’m not sure Kookie, but I think I heard some of the staff talking about a scavenger hunt of some sort.” The others hummed in acknowledgement, some began excitedly discussing what they might have to find as they piled into the vans.

Jimin was sat next to his boyfriend, Taehyung, who was sniffling a bit. He had woken up sneezing like he normally does in the Spring, but his meds hadn’t fully kicked in yet, so he was a bit sniffly. Jimin offered the younger a travel pack of tissues he had onn him, and his boyfriend gladly accepted them. Taehyung could then be heard softly blowing his nose.

When they pulled up to the location at which they were going to film, they got out of the vans and were a bit awestruck at where they were. They were filming at a zoo and greenhouse. The greenhouse was a massive glass building filled with plants from all over the world, which was fitting, given that it was part of the adjacent zoo.

Namjoon, who’s currently nursing a sprained ankle, is acting as the MC. He’s handed the note cards from one of the producers and began speaking.

“So today we’re going to be doing a scavenger hunt. The teams are going to be the hyung line vs the maknae line. One group will be in the zoo, while the other is in the greenhouse. The teams will be taking pictures of the things they have to find when they find them.” The others nodded in excitement, some cheering. Once it quieted down, Namjoon continued.

“To determine where each team wi-”

“hih-EEISHHH. Sorry hyung continue.” Taehyung blushed as he used a sleeve covered hand to scrub at his nose.

“To determine where each team will be going, one person from each team will play rock, paper, scissors. Winner gets to choose where their team goes.”

The hyung line nominated Hoseok while the maknae line nominated Jungkook. The first two rounds were a tie, and then on the third, Hoseok won. “We’re going to do our hunt in the zoo with the cute animals.” The maknae line groaned because they also wanted to go to the zoo portion. The two teams collected their scavenger hunt lists and went on their way.

The maknae line was standing outside the door to the greenhouse looking at the list. "Okay hyungs, we need to find a fern leaf, a red orchid, a peo-" "hih-nxtshh, HEH-STISHHH." Taehyung turned away as much as possible in order to not deafen his team mates then sniffled wetly.

Jimin and Jungkook gave Taehyung a sympathetic look. "You okay Tae?" Jimin asked, concern evident in his voice.

"It's just allergies Minnie, I'll be fine." Taehyung scrubbed at his nose, trying to will the ever present itch away. Jungkook finished reading the list to his hyungs then the three of them entered the greenhouse.

The second they opened the door, Taehyung could have sworn he was practically hit in the face with a handful of pollen. His breath immediately began to hitch and he hurriedly turned away from the cameraman that was paired with him.

"Hih-tiew, hep-tschh, heh-stishhh, HEH-ISTIEW. Ugh" Taehyung groaned at the mini fit he just had and pulled out some of the tissues Jimin had given him and blew his nose. "Bless you hyung. I'm going to go start looking for items on the list. Don't wait up." Jungkook darted off, his cameraman trailing behind him.

Jimin decided to hang back with Taehyung, concerned for his well being, he really wanted to care for his boyfriend, but with the cameras rolling, he couldn't be as attentive as he wanted to be. All he could really do at the moment was offer sympathetic looks and the occasional blessing. He just hoped that Taehyung would be able to get through the filming without too much consequence.

Due to either his meds deciding not to work today, the presence of too much pollen in the greenhouse, or a combination, Taehyung unfortunately, was left with a near constant runny nose that was also unbearably itchy. He was doing his best to hold in the inevitable explosions that were building in the depths of his sinuses, but the sensation eventually got the better of him.

"Hih-nxtshh, heh-stishhh, heh-istiew, heh-istchhh, HIH-TIEW!" Taehyung did his best to keep the explosions contained, but they had been extremely wet. His hand was now covered in mucous and spit. He used his other hand to reach for the travel pack of tissues and groaned internally when he realized he had literally already blown through the package. He pulled out the final couple of tissue and blew his nose. He then hoped with all his might that he'd be able to get through the shoot without being a complete mess.

Jimin had been right next to Taehyung during the fit and was a little shocked to see the travel pack of tissues empty. Unfortunately, he didn't have any more, so all he could really do was offer a sympathetic look.

Around ten minutes later Taehyung was an absolute mess. Because he had run out of tissues, he decided to keep his hand over his in order to keep his leaky faucet of a nose somewhat contained. Although every once in a while he would need to wipe his hand on his pants then repeat the process. The sneezing wasn't helping matters either. Over the course of the ten minutes, Taehyung had sneezed eight more times. He just wanted to be done.

Jimin's heart broke at how much his boyfriend was suffering, bit couldn't do anything to help because of the camera.

He mulling about looking at the plants to see if anything in the vicinity matched the list Jungkook ran off with before texting them a picture, when he overheard a hushed conversation between his and Taehyung's cameramen.

"-no one is going to want to see this. None of this footage is usable except like the first fifteen minutes. The poor man is clearly mis-" Jimin tuned out the rest of the conversation. With the footage of them not being usable, he could care for boyfriend.

Jimin quickly grabbed Taehyung's arm and pulled him out of the greenhouse. The cameramen weren't even following, instead deciding to enjoy the plants inside. Jimin brought Taehyung to a nearby bathroom and grabbed a handful of paper towels. He pulled Taehyung's hand away from his face and covered his boyfriend's nose with his own towel covered hand.

"Tae-Bear blow." Taehyung was so desperate for some form of relief that he didn't even question his boyfriend. He blew into the towels Jimin was holding, and it was a gurgling and messy blow.

Jimin disposed of the first set of towels and grabbed some more. Right as he was placing the towels over Taehyung's nose, the younger's breath began to hitch. "HIH-TIEW, HIH-NXTSHH, HEH-STISHHH." Taehyung blew his nose into the tissues after the mini fit then removed his face from Jimin's hand. He smiled gratefully at him before moving to the sink to wash his hands.

Once they finished cleaning up, Jimin led Taehyung outside where Namjoon was doing stuff on his phone while waiting for the others to finish. The leader gave the duo a questioning look which quickly morphed to one of understanding when Taehyung pitched forward with another bout of sneezing.

Jimin walked with Taehyung over to Namjoon. “Hyung, do you know if any staff have any benadryl on them or something?” Namjoon nodded and quickly sent a message to the medic that they always had with them just in case. After a moment the medic showed up with the medicine and gave it to the younger 95 liner. Jimin then pulled Taehyung over to a shady spot under a tree and had Taehyung rest his head in his lap. With the exhaustion from all the sneezing and the medication slowly kicking in, it didn’t take long for Taehyung to drift off into a peaceful slumber for the rest of the shooting.

A while later Jimin woke Taehyung up because everyone had returned with pictures of the items they needed to find. It turned out that Jungkook had scary good knowledge of plants and had managed to find everything he needed to in the greenhouse by himself and still managed to beat the hyung line team. Because of Jungkook’s win, the production team editing team decided to use what little footage of Jimin and Taehyung they had and made them look completely lost and confused, rather than scrapping or re-filming the episode.

[herstoryherlegacy]

Expect the unexpected

(Trigger warning - lots of throw ups)

This has never really been my motto. Most things in my life have been expected or I’ve had signs pointed out to me that gives me a hint of what lies ahead. I was not expecting to be in the ER tonight. Actually I was just about to put my makeup on and do a lovely couples photoshoot with my husband when I got the call to come to the ER for possible blood clot in my lungs. Let me back up..

I had been healing from my port placement 3 days ago. Yesterday I was texting Juan updates on how I was feeling. I’m extremely thankful he was so diligent on checking in on me. My main concern was the tightness in my chest, pressure where the port is. I couldn’t take a deep breath. I felt better resting. I had even been doing light housework to stay up and active. Today he checked in again. The chest pressure was better. I could actually take a deep breath with little to no problem. Fast forward to this afternoon. I had went down to my best friend Sam’s salon to get my hair styled for my photoshoot. She’s on the 2nd floor and we took the stairs. My favorite part. I hadn’t exercised since my diagnosis and it’s been killing me. I was so active. Upon reaching the 2nd floor which was not far, I was winded. I text Juan letting him know, and he didn’t respond right away. I sat down, caught my breath, and got my hair done. As soon as I parked at home Juan called. He was consulting his doctor and advised I go in ASAP to an urgent care to be seen. I needed an x-ray, EKG, oxygen levels checked to rule out a possible blood clot in the lungs. Fuck me..

Disappointed to say the least. I walked into my home filled with laughter from my girls and their cousins, everyone gathered at the table for a meal, my in laws were visiting. All I could say was, we have to go to urgent care. I didn’t even kiss my babies goodbye 😕 I said goodbye to them but not thinking I wouldn’t be back tonight didn’t cross my mind. Now I wish I had. I arrived at a local urgent care before closing and the first thing I noticed in the lobby were vases of fake sunflowers. By pure coincidence, I use a sunflower background when I update my stories about my disease. I immediately knew this was God’s way of telling me he was with me and that I would be okay. I went into a room to be evaluated, and guess what kind of shoes the nurse was wearing? I’d never seen these before, but white vans with yellow sunflowers all over. There are no coincidences! However I wasn’t helped and was told to go to the ER.

No one likes to be in the ER, especially not right now. I had labs drawn, and an x-ray which showed proper placement of the port. Luckily Juan was here working and able to be there for my x-ray. He came to see me once more before he left to tell me he was going to communicate with the doctor about my CT and insulin complications. I had mentioned I was waiting for my husband to bring my charger because I was basically on E, and he graciously went to retrieve his charger to give to me. So extremely thankful for that gesture because alone, with no connection to my family in this place, is NOT the business. A charged phone is a precious lifeline so please always keep yours charged! So now..I wait for the CT.

I had been moved all over that ER. First I came to a bed and talked with a nurse. Then another nurse came in demanding she needed the bed. Once I was done I was booted off that bed so fast and into a chair in a hallway. The place was littered with sick people inside and outside rooms. It was so sad and crowded. I do believe I was mixed with both normal sick people and possible covid patients. To say I was nervous is an understatement. Back and forth I went between rooms, chairs, main waiting room, and scans. The longest wait was waiting to have my CT scan. I was in a room with chemo type reclining chairs. This poor girl in front of me was dealing with pain, bad. I felt so sorry for her. She was doing a good job being quiet but her face and body language looked like she was in active labor, though she was not. After watching I assumed she was suffering some sort of abdominal pain. When it was just us two, I didn’t want to make her talk, but I told her that I didn’t know what she was going through but that I was going to cover her in prayer. Her eyes lit up. She said thank you a bunch and I just assured her that I had her taken care of. I prayed with healing words. No matter what situation I’m in, I would never turn down the opportunity to put myself aside and pray for someone else who needed it more. I have failed this test before many times being too shy to pray, but you never know how those simple words of offering someone prayer may help them feel better. I wanted to cry, yeah I was in here for a possible life threatening issue, but I was nowhere as bad off as these people.

So I prayed for her, and eventually it was my turn to go to my CT. I had an IV put in, flushed, and had 3 medications to help me with my scan. One was Benadryl. I was actually glad to have it because I’ll be receiving it in my Pre-chemo cocktail and I wasn’t sure how I would feel on it. Yes it made me woozy immediately, but it was tolerable. Almost enjoyable in the correct setting. Waiting again, and was wheeled over by this super nice guy who eased the stress with good conversation. If you’ve ever done an MRI with contrast..it’s a fucking insane feeling. I laid down, the nurse flushed my IV and added the contrast. She loaded me in and waited a few minutes for it to kick in. I was in the machine for another few minutes and immediately when I was done I felt the warm rush. I’ve previously been warned it makes you feel really warm and almost like you’ve pee’d yourself. Thank god they reminded me because the warm sensation is explosive. It simultaneously felt like hot water was exploding from both my chest outward and my crotch 😂 indeed I clenched my body in case I did pee, but that’s exactly how it felt!!! So odd. Off to wait again for the results. This is where it for torturous. I am SO thankful for my AirPods and this charger. I have a very sensitive trigger to throwing up. Myself, other people, I can’t handle it. I actually did a good job this last week because both my girls got a virus, and I wasn’t second hand nauseous at all, that’s a victory. But in this ER literally 90% of the patients were vomiting 😑 I cranked those air pods to the max to drown out the sound. Closed my eyes. I don’t want what they got. So I’m in the big chair room again, my poor friend comes back in. Still in pain desperate for relief. Then another person, and another until the whole room was filled with us 5 people. 3/5 with vomiting 😕. Poor baby I prayed for got sick first, she was telling a nurse she was getting sick from the pain itself. Then the girl directly next to me. As she was getting her IV meds she started to get sick. It was a constant rush of nurses trying to get those sick bags in time..bless their quickness. I winced and turned to my left as to avoid being there. There wasn’t anywhere I could go where I wasn’t in the direct line of someone getting sick. I was miserable. Benadryl still kicking, I tried to nap, but had to keep my eyes open waiting for my name to be called. Eventually the time came, I was put in a draw chair outside the big chair room and my doctor read me the good news! I had my IV’s taken out and asked if they wanted me to go back into the big chair room (I don’t want to hog the draw chair in case someone needed it) and he said sure, just as I stood up the first poor girl started wrenching and I said “you know what I’ll stay here” and with a laugh the nurse walked back to their station and printed my discharge papers. I was R E L I E V E D. I was as calm in this situation as I needed to be, panicking and stressing weren’t going to help me. Easier said than done, to just not stress, but knowing how much trauma your body goes through WHEN you stress, it just wasn’t going to work in my favor. I came home famished, ate my dinner at 11:30pm, followed by a bag of popcorn, followed by a small serving of ice cream. Then my blood sugars sky rocketed all night 🙃 eh, not a good thing but I will hopefully have that very taken care of soon. Praise God nothing came out of this, each day has its own surprises, not all good, but also not all bad. The day started well with me sharing that my CT showed no cancer anywhere else in my body. This is EXTREMELY good news, and ended with me in the ER. You just never know how things will play out. So hug your kids, tell them you love them, do something fun. Enjoy the day given, because in a flash it could all be taken away ✌🏻

[nonsensicalobsessions]

A Ruff Day

Author’s Note:

@catsladen wrote: Congrats my dear on your followers! That is amazing and so well deserved! Here’s a conversation prompt I found that I think you can do magic with: Person A: Why are you doing that? Person B: Doing what? Person A:Treating me like a person I picture either Tom or Loki, but I leave that up to you 😊 No smut necessary. Some fluff/angst mixture would be nice (Fangst? Anuff?) Thank you lovely!

After I wrote about having my lovely followers, Life came around and bit me, in the ass, hard. I was left with a large set of dentition marks and a massive infection known as “depression” in its wake. I say this because I know I’ve pretty much fallen off the face of Tumblr, and I am still clawing my way back. I do not have it nearly as bad as some, but I have it bad enough, and I will leave it at that.

When the events that I write about next happened in real life, I could not stop thinking about them, having worked in a veterinary hospital for three memorable years, and I ran the events through my head, over and over. I could see the events as they could have played out...might have played out...most probably played out in some aspects...and then this plot took root, and would not let go.

So, I apologize, @catsladen, for this is not the most original piece that I have ever come up with...in fact, it is derivative, and some may see it as a cheap rip off on a very real event. Still, it will not let me go, and as such, here it is. I present to you, A Ruff Day.

Working on federal holiday weekends in an emergency vet hospital always either dragged, or were so busy I could neither eat nor pee. Today seemed to be the former, and I was grateful for it. The techs were scattered around doing their busy work, while I closed myself in my office, tossing an oversized tennis ball in the air and catching it as I balanced on the back legs of a chair. I’ve done all my charting, there are no patients for me to check on. The last one through the door was a bulldog that came too close to a honeybee, and his already bulbous face swelled grotesquely. A shot of antihistamine, a script of Benadryl, then he and owner went off, right as rain. The airway was never compromised, all’s well that ends well...except for the bee, of course.

Kellie Ashe, one of the techs, came racing into the office without knocking, breathless. “You will no ever guess what is going on at intake!”

I jumped up, grabbing my stethoscope and mask (Thank you COVID) as I glared at her, “What is it and where is your mask?” The laws were quite clear, and stringent on this, and she had no mask on...and what was that twit doing? Brushing her hair and putting on eye makeup, what...? “Kellie! Focus! What is happening? Is it a hit and run, a delivery presenting badly...dog or cat...” I swear this girl has the brain of a flea...

“Tom Hiddleston is here with his dog!”

I look at her blankly. Nothing registered with me except one word—dog. “Kellie, what is wrong with the animal?” I asked, rushing to turn on the lights in the OR, making sure the X-ray machines were on and warmed up, the ultrasound is also on, and proceeding to the exam rooms, turning the lights on in one.

“It’s my turn to be the assisting tech so I ran back here to make sure you knew, it’s my turn not Claire’s, so I get to be the one in the room with you and Tom...”

I stop and freeze her with a glare. “Kellie, I don’t know what in the hell you’re blabbering about, but so far you have given me no information that has been useful to me. Therefore, there is no reason for you to be anywhere around me, the patient, or the owner. You can wait in the back.”

“What? But no...! I’m the one that ran back to tell you, I’m the one that should get to be in the....”

“If you were concerned with the animal you’d be there right now, but no, you were more interested in putting on mascara for chrissakes...get in the treatment room, I don’t even want to see you right now!”

I came to the front area to see a tall man, obviously the owner, who was obviously in a great deal of distress. “I don’t know how many he had..maybe one? It could have been two? And I don’t know if he chewed them, or swallowed them whole...” His voice was muffled by the mask we kept on hand to give to owners as they came in without masks, as they usually did, upset and stressed. Bright flowers covered the lower half of his face, but as I looked at his bright blue eyes, I finally understood what got Kellie in such a tizzy, and why there was an element of suppressed excitement that our usual emergency walk ins did not produce.

Next to him was a calmer woman, who was filling out some of the paperwork, and occasionally passing it to him to sign or for more information. “Tom, I really think it was only the one, and this is a bit over the top. One raisin isn’t worth all this...”

“A raisin, did you say?” My attention was now completely trained on the sad eyed chocolate spaniel at the feet of Claire Peyton, one of the calmest and best techs we had. She had already gotten a temperature and a weight from the little fellow, and was gently guiding the dog and owner into an exam room, while Liz, the receptionist, was explaining to the woman with the clipboard she could not follow us in because of the current COVID restrictions we were under. Only the owner was allowed in the exam room, because of the laws about remaining so many feet apart...and the worst part was, we couldn’t even allow her to wait in the interior waiting room, but she was welcome to stay on the screened porch we were using at the moment. She wasn’t thrilled, but she was accepting.

I quietly introduced myself. “Hi, I’m Dr. Diana Harris, and I’ll be helping...” “Bobby,” the man said quietly. “This is my...Bobby.”

“Okay Bobby, come here and let me look at you, you scoundrel...stealing raisins, are we? When did this happen, Dad?”

“Tom,” he said, distracted. “About ten minutes ago...maybe twenty. I saw that he was snuffling around the plate, and all the biscuits were gone...so were the little cheese squares...and there had been five raisins before, I am sure of it, and when I picked everything up, I only saw four...”

“Very precise,” I noted mildly as I listened to Bobby’s heart and lungs, which were both within normal limits, and made a hand motion for Claire to make a note of it.

“What’s that, that hand signal, what did that mean?” Oh, wow. Tom is very, very upset.

“It’s a signal I’ve developed with my techs to let them know that the patient’s heart and lungs are fine without having to take the time to say it, Tom,” I reply, keeping my life low and mild. The owner’s agitation is passing along to the little spaniel, who is looking around and panting.

“He keeps doing that, he’s panting and looking upset, is he in pain?”

“Claire, liquid charcoal according to weight please,” I murmur, and she promptly replied, “On it,” and she excused herself to open the door...only to find Kellie standing there, clearly eavesdropping. The look I gave Kellie had her scampering...but oh, it will not be far enough. Luckily, Tom did not notice.

“Okay, Tom, here’s how it stands.” I leaned against the exam table, Bobby quivering in Tom’s arms. “You did exactly the right thing bringing Bobby here, and so quickly. Raisins are extremely toxic to dogs, and the fact you got him here so fast really speaks to how much you care about this little guy...so give yourself some credit...”

“I told her...I told her I didn’t want them around where he could get to them...the Bobster is a bit of a food thief,” he muttered.

“Ok, so you’re telling me he’s a dog,” I drily replied. “Anyway, we’re going to take care of this issue right now. I’m going to take Bobby to the back and...”

“Oh no, can’t I go with him?”

Somehow, I saw this being his response. “Tom, we are going to give him some liquid charcoal. It looks like black sludge and it tastes like garbage. He isn’t going to want to take it so we are going to administer it in a way that he will have no choice but to swallow it, but there will most likely be some spluttering. This stuff is a bear and a half to get out of clothes so you do not want to be within spitting radius...and then this little charmkins, after he gives us a horrible stink eye, is going to proceed to vomit, probably in the messiest manner possible, just for spite and revenge, and I don’t blame him one bit. Again, you do not want to be in range! Then depending on what he gives me back, we can go from there. So no, I think it best you stay here...you can wait with your girlfriend, if you want, and I will be right back when I have something to tell you. I promise we aren’t going to hurt him, but we have to get this out, right away.”

“Right, right...don’t waste time talking to me...I’ll just...sit here, if that’s okay.” 

“As you wish, Tom.”

I took the leash from his hand gently. His hands were so cold, I felt pity for him. “I’ll take good care of him, I promise,” I said, and left him standing there, bereft.

Bobby walked with me well enough, and I took him to the treatment area to find Claire had already drawn up the appropriate amount. She quickly got the dog in the appropriate position, and I propped his mouth open carefully and quickly administer the liquid yuck and then closed my hand over his muzzle, blowing softly to stimulate the swallowing reflex. His eyes bulged at the foul concoction, and I tenderly explained,”Ah, such are the wages of sin, my dear thief...and it tastes like ass. Down the hatch...” He swallowed, and I gave Claire the unspoken head nod to release him and step back, which she did...as did I...and Bobby, outraged at this poor treatment, proceeded to sputter and spit like a world champion. Black froth went everywhere, and I couldn’t help but laugh at his outraged expression. “Yes Bobby, that’s right. But I’m sorry, it’s going to get much worse before it gets better...”

After a few minutes, he aggrieved expression turned into the anxious canine smile that presaged a good vomiting session, which was exactly what we wanted. I let him pace about in a small area, until finally he let nature take its course and released the contents of his stomach. Ah, joy, what every veterinarian struggled and sweat blood for, the contents of a dog’s stomach...or a cat, we’re not picky...and hey, I’ll take that over shit, any day...

“Good boy, there’s a good boy,” I soothed him as he retched. He was as miserable as you’d expect, and I kept smoothing my hand over his heaving flanks. I didn’t care about my shoes, they were already black, and just for this reason. Soon I saw a lone offender, and I called for a pair of tweezers to pluck it from the mess and place it on a paper towel. Claire was also consoling the sad little fellow, who was, I hope, reconsidering his evil ways, as I then took a tongue depressor and poked through everything he so woefully bestowed upon us. Yep, cheese...chewed up crackers...mmm, that sausage looked like it was probably expensive...but no other raisins. Just the one. Plus, it hadn’t been chewed, either, excellent! Best of all, it was caught up in all this other stuff. Perfect. Couldn’t ask for better, really.

“Kellie!” I called out. When she didn’t appear right away, my heart sank and my anxiety rose. She wasn’t...she didn’t...

“Hold the leash,” I barked and walked swiftly back to the exam room, and sure enough, I heard her syrupy tones inside...I saw red.

I opened the door carefully, to find her talking to Tom who was standing in almost a corner while she was yapping away. I must have had a look on my face like an avenging goddess, because she immediately began stammering, “I just thought...I could stay and keep Tom company...while you were working with Bobby...”

“Stop thinking, Kellie, it only gets you into more trouble, and it probably strains the gerbils,” I replied softly. “I have a job for you. In the back treatment area. Where I told you to be. Go there. Now.”

She turned towards Tom and said, “So, um...”

“NOW.”

She jumped and scuttled away like a crab facing a boiling pot. Oh, sister...

Tom was blushing and looking at his feet. “It happens all the time. Please don’t be too angry with her...how is Bobby?”

“Bobby is doing excellently and is a trooper. I will be back with you in just a moment. Just...give me a second.”

I flew to the back to find Kellie cowering in a corner. I took a deep breath, and spoke very, very quietly. “You are on such thin ice with me that if you so much as open your mouth, the displaced oxygen pressure will crack the ice and you. Will. Drown. Now. You are going to clean up all of this lovely mess to a surgical grade sterility. I will want to perform open heart surgery on this floor when you are finished. Are we quite clear? Nod if you understand me, Kellie, because you are on such. Thin. Ice.”

Kellie looked around here with dismay. It really was a disgusting mess, and she knew I was going to get down on my hands and knees and inspect the wretched baseboards before all was said and done. I was that pissed.

Claire asked quietly as we walked away, “What do you want from me?”

“I don’t think he absorbed anything. Tom acted too fast, the raisin wasn’t in any way chewed or showing signs of digestion, and it was mixed up with everything else. But pull blood for a CBC-SMAC so we can have a baseline for his kidney values just in case. Better safe than sorry. And then clean up this sad little urchin. I hope you understand now, young man, that crime does not pay...” He looked positively desolate, with his muzzle coated in the foul substance he had to drink and then give back. Activated charcoal really is the worst.

“I’ll make him presentable again. Back in a few.”

I took a deep breath and went to apologize to Tom. Oh, this was going to be fun...

I found him pacing the tiny room, looking at the posters instructing about heartworm prevention and feline leukemia vaccines. “Tom, I really must apologize...”

“No, you don’t. She’s young. It happens all the time,” he tried to brush it off.

“Not when I’m in this hospital, it doesn’t. I’d already given her explicit instructions because she was star-struck, and I will not have it. When someone comes in our door, I don’t care who is on the end of the leash, or holding the carrier. It is irrelevant. What matters is the animal. I give the same treatment and quality of care to the cat from the post office as...well...”

“The dog of some poncy actor,” he concluded wryly.

“Hey, I kinda like some of that poncy actor’s work, so less of that,” I griped, as I blushed and rubbed my forehead, mainly to hide my embarrassment. “Bobby came through wonderfully, and you were right, it was only one raisin...and some crackers, cheese, and what looked like some tasty cold cuts as well. What is great is the raisin wasn’t bitten into or showing any signs of digestion, and as it was caught up in his other ill gotten gains, I think it is safe to say he really got lucky...that, and the fact you acted so quickly. Normally, we’d be talking about having to administer fluids, and have him stay at least overnight to make sure his kidneys were not showing any adverse effects...yes, it is that serious. Especially for a little fellow of Bobby’s size. But he should be fine. I want you to make sure he has access to lots of water. I am having a full blood panel pulled to get a baseline of his kidney values now but that is really just a precaution for when you bring him back to his regular veterinarian...”

“You can’t see him again? He hasn’t needed a vet since we’ve arrived, and I never anticipated having to stay as long as we have...but what if he gets sick, or needs his vaccines updated, can’t we come back here...?”

“Tom, this is an emergency vet hospital, I’m only here on the off hours. My clinic is...well, not here,” I floundered.

“May I have your card, then? I’d really like for you to keep overseeing him...continuity of care, you know,” he trailed off.

“Uh, sure...” I fished one out of my lab coat pocket and gave him one. He looked at it and said, “What should I be looking for, what if he starts getting ill again?”

“Tom, I really don’t think...”

“I can bring him back here, I suppose, I just want to know what symptoms...you said kidney damage...”

“Tom, kidney damage isn’t something you can readily observe...”

“But what if he starts getting that look again, and starts pacing, maybe he’s in pain and can’t tell me...”

“Tom.” He stopped rambling and I held my hand out for my card. Like a child, he held it to his chest. “No, please, I’ll stop...”

“Just give me the damn card, will ya?” I all but yanked it out of his hand, and wrote something on the back. “That is my private cell number. Do not call it, ever! I hate phone calls! Text me. I promise I will lose the cell number you send it from. If you have any questions you can send me video or photos or whatever. Text me...whenever. But keep in mind he picks up on your cues and if you are nervous, he gets nervous. If you are excited, he gets excited.”

He looked at it incredulously, and before he could protest, I waved it off. “Just don’t...I did the same thing for Mr. Puddles.”

“Mr. Puddles,” he repeated dumbly.

“The post office cat...urinary tract infection...anyway.”

Those bright blue eyes stopped staring at the floor impaled me, and said abruptly, “Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Treating me like a person.”

I looked at him steadily and replied, “Because to me, that’s what you are...you’re Bobby’s person. And...well, I know you probably weren’t supposed to stay here this long. You most likely want to go home, be with your family, what is familiar, and god knows what you are living in, some hotel or something suitably sterile...Right now, we all want to hold onto our loved ones a little bit tighter, a little bit closer. I can tell that for you, that’s Bobby. You love him a lot, and take great care of him, even to taking him to an emergency vet on a holiday weekend when the weather is gorgeous and your girlfriend says maybe you could just stay home.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Huh?” Such was my elegant reply.

“No, she’s wonderful, and we’re very close, but it’s not...we’re not...”

I hold my hands up in the air. “It’s okay, you don’t have to explain anything to me...”

 “No I just, erm...”

We spent time admiring the floor when Claire came back, with Bobby cleaned and even faintly smelling of grooming spray, as well as being freshly brushed. 

“Bobby!” Tom cried out, and even though I could not see his smile, I could hear it in the real joy in his voice. Bobby wriggled his behind and danced as he all but leapt into his master’s...excuse me, person’s arms.

“Well, that should settle everything,” I smiled.

“Just a moment.”

I looked up at Tom, confused. He sounded almost stern.

“I think Bobby and I could use some photographs to commemorate the great care that he received here...for our scrapbook.”

“Scrapbook? Really, Tom?”

“Instagram,” he immediately amended.

The buzz that went through the building, I swear was palpable. Of course, I even allowed Kellie to get in the photo, because I am not that bad...and if her scrubs were stained with dog vomit, well, you couldn’t really see. Much. And of course we all had to keep our masks on, so I personally thought it was the dumbest idea I’d heard in a long time, but I wasn’t going to go against the idea. I might have found three of my tires slashed and my favorite coffee mug broken, if I had...and I really like that mug, plus tires are not cheap.

Everyone took their photos, hugged Bobby, gave Tom an elbow bump, and he, Bobby and Not-Girlfriend went on their way...then I went back to my office, made sure everything was documented, and went back to my oversized tennis ball.

I thought everything was over. I could not help was smiling, despite myself. Not too shabby of a way to spend a holiday weekend, making a movie star dog’s throw up...this is why I went through all those years of school, I laughed at myself as I sat down with my frozen pizza and lemonade. I even made a bag of popcorn.

Then, at about ten o’clock, my phone buzzed. I picked it up, expecting it to be my mother, who sometimes forgot about this thing called “time zones” since she moved to Arizona...

Instead, there was a photo of a happy, smiling man, without a mask, and his happy, smiling dog. A text read, “To my favorite doc: Thanks again for helping me. Telling dad all about how the wages of sin taste like ass.”

I winced. I had no idea he’d overheard that.

So I sent a photo back of me. Without my mask, or makeup, or getting a hairdo, because in front of me was the best makeup job ever—my Corgi, Cheeks.

The attached text said, “Stop licking it then...and she says you are very welcome. I don’t know what you did, bro...but check your balls.”

The phone buzzed yet again, this time without a photo, “Thanks a LOT. Now I’m really in trouble...! TH”

“Sorry. Cheeks is still sore over that one. It happened about two months ago and he is still telling the world what a horrible human I am. DH”

“Bobby wants to know...perhaps Cheeks would like to get acquainted and play sometime soon? The dog park close to your clinic looks promising.”

“Cheeks thinks that would be amazing. He is still very much a puppy and has a lot of energy to burn. He’d love a friend to tear around with instead of trying to wrap his leash around my ankles.”

“Maybe...we could have some coffee while they wear each other out?”

“That sounds like a fantastic plan.”

“Could we say...9:00 Wednesday morning?”

“Yes, I’d like that. I’ll be the half asleep one with the hyperactive pooch, I won’t have hours until one o’clock that afternoon.”

“I’ll be the tall one...wearing a mask that is not covered with flowers.”

I laughed out loud.

“I think we will find each other well enough.”

There was a brief pause, and then, “Yes, I think we have. Goodnight, Cheeks, and Diana.” 

“Goodnight, Bobby and Tom...it’s been a ruff day.”

“...I can’t believe you said that.” 

“XD woof.”

Tagging all my littermates: @catsladen, @villainousshakespeare, @winterisakiller, @vodka-and-some-sass, @yespolkadotkitty, @just-the-hiddles, @hopelessromanticspoonie, @theheartofpenelope, @sabine-leo, @wegingerangelica, @ciaodarknessmyheart, @wrathkitty, @rhemasky, @sourpatchkidsandacokecan, @redfoxwritesstuff, @the-insomniac-cat2, @alexakeyloveloki, @myoxisbroken​, @toomanystoriessolittletime​, @ladyfluff, @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi​

[pandjseetheworld]

The Lost Coast

A year ago Pearce booked a “surprise” backpacking trip for me. When we decided we were taking this long honeymoon I convinced him to tell me what the surprise trip was so we could figure out if the surprise backpacking trip was still possible. Surprise!! It’s a 4 day backpacking trek along the California Coast! I was stoked!! And thought this would be the perfect trip to get us moving along with our travels and start us off on the right foot.

Preparation

After reading up on the trail it seemed we had some preparation to take on before heading out. We had to take into account; food and water, ticks/rattlesnakes & Loki, shuttle/transportation, tides, whatever sneaker waves were, and then there is the hike itself!

Food and Water

This was pretty easy because we already had a bunch of freeze dried meals, snacks, and bagged oatmeal from previous camp trips so we just threw in what we had in a bag and called it a day. My mom and I also went to REI to buy a few extra meals and snacks so we had some for our car ride as well (just in case, easy road meals!). For water, there are a bunch of creeks along the trail so all we needed were our nalgenes and a water purifier and we were set. Well, we also needed the jet oil and food but we had already had all that from previous camp trips so food/water was simple to prepare.

Loki/ Ticks & Rattlesnakes

To make sure Loki was ready we had to buy booties because the terrain is rough on his feet. Now, I may be a crazy dog mom BUT I wouldn’t buy him shoes unless it was completely necessary. For the majority of the 24 miles, we were walking on black coarse sand. The sand is so rough that it is known to irritates in between the dog paw pads and make it hard for them to walk. There are also certain areas of the trek where you are walking on big sharp rocks that could tear a dogs feet up. So, we bought Loki booties and my gossssh they are the cutest things ever!! It took some training but he is pretty good with them and doen’t whimper when I put them on him. He definitely needed to training to get used to them so don’t go buying them and think WHOOOO I’m ready! No, it takes time! (And now that I write this post hiking, the booties gave poor Loki blisters and chaffed his dew claw. A week before hiking Loki had to get surgery to get his left dew claw removed from fracturing it somehow, I think it was from the booties but regardless Loki was a week post operation when we did this hike. He is a freaking trooper but the booties are not something I would recommend unless completely necessary or if your pup doesn’t have front dew claws).

Next, my littler sister and her husband got Loki a hiking backpack (THANK YOU) so he could feel like a true hiker. He was able to carry 2 days worth of food and some little odds and ends. Again, I had to train him up for this; first I got him comfortable with the pack and slowly added more and more weight. It took some hikes but he eventually started to like his backpack and while hiking he was super cute and knew when we got him in his pack it was time to walk. We made sure to take his pack off immediately when we got to a rest spot or our actual destination.

TICKS, yuck!!! After reading a bunch of articles, websites, and blogs on this hike everyone mentioned that the ticks were really bad. Gross! So we went above and beyond for protection. Loki got on strong ticks meds, topical tick medication, tick spray, and I even got him organic tick shampoo. Yes, it was probably overboard but it paid off. We took off like 10-20 ticks and they were all dead, so that made me feel pretty good. For us, we sprayed our shoes, hiking pants, packs, and tents with Sawyer Premium Insect Repellent. We had to spray our gear down, let it dry for 2 hour, flip the gear, and spray the other sides and wait. It was a process but Pearce and I didn’t have any ticks!! What a freaking relief!

On to my next enemy, the rattlesnake! Woof! We spoke with Pearce’s co-worker who had done the trail before and he said there were a ton of rattlesnakes!! After living in Cali for 5 years and being a hiker, I always ask more knowledgeable people what to do if a snake bites you and you ALWAYS get a different answer; turniquet, suck out the venom, get comfy while someone goes for help, elevate, use Benadryl, ice or don’t ice?! I’m still not entirely sure what we would have done if one of us got bit by a rattlesnake but thankfully the weather was on our side and we didn’t have to worry about it. It was 60 and foggy most days (Minute a few sunny hours in the afternoon) so we didn’t have to worry about snakes. If it were sunny and 70 I could imagine this have being a much bigger issue. But since it wasn’t, I’ll move on.

Shuttle/Transportation

To start the Lost Coast Hike you need to be shuttled two hours North to Matthole where you begin the hike. If you don’t book a shuttle, you can swap keys with a fellow hiker but with everything we own in the car, I wasn’t going to chance that.

There are only 3 shuttles available

1. Bills Lost Coast Shuttle (707-442-1983) This is an elderly man who runs his own company and is super friendly - he didn’t have room for us and he doesn’t take dogs

2. Lost Coast Adventures (707 -986- 9895) This is a larger company but they charge the most and they charge a fee for dogs

3. Mendo Insider Tours (707-813- 0886) A smaller company that doesn’t charge for pets and is cheaper than Lost Coast Ad.

Tides & Sneaker Waves

We had to print out a tide chart because there were certain parts of the trail that are impassible at hightide. Pearce timed out when we could/couldn’t hike and it was super easy! Not a problemmmm!

Apparently there are these sneaky waves called “sneaker waves” that you have to be careful of. These waves will randomly pop up out of no where and creep 20 feet further than all the other waves. This can be an issue if you’re walking on the wet sand (better grip than the dry sand) and then BAM a wave that wipes you out! I kept a good eye on the waves the whole trip so no sneaker waves snuck up on us!!

[7nosecrinkle7]

Kitten Conundrum

Alex paced back and forth across her dining room and kitchen area. Maggie was nearly an hour late coming home for their regular date night, and the last she had heard from her she was on her way with her partner to investigate a suspect. That was four hours ago. They’d changed their night to a casual one, but she was still really late. The last time Maggie was this late…

Cutting off Alex’s spiraling thoughts, the door to their apartment opened and a disheveled, flustered Maggie stumbled through. She dropped her duffle unceremoniously in the entryway and swung the door shut with a thud.

“Babe, are you okay?” Alex asked, stepping toward her fiancée.

Hih.. Hih’GNXT’shu! *Snnff* Was the itchy, breathy response Maggie gave her.

“Bless you,” Alex said on instinct. 

“Thanks,” Maggie said furiously rubbing at her nose.

When she looked up, Alex gasped in concern, “Oh, babe. What happened?”

The light dusting of makeup Maggie usually put on in the morning was long since rubbed off. Her tanned cheeks were flushed, her nose a deepening shade of red. Her eyes were a light shade of pink. She had brought up both hands now, rubbing at the offending appendage. Alex’s beautiful fiancée was in the throes of one of her allergy attacks. 

Keeping one hand firmly against her nose, Maggie mumbled congestedly, “suspect ran--” *Snnff* “--nd broke into the humane society animal rescue to hihh--hide.”

“Yikes. Here, let’s get you--” Alex stopped talking when Maggie shook her head and stepped back.

Her head tipped back, eyebrows and eyes scrunched, and her lips parted open hitching. Hiih.. Heeeh, hih...  In one motion, she bent over bracing her hands on her knees.

Hii -- haPNCHhoo… hatCHIEWw… After two desperate sneezes, Maggie put a hand over her nose and pinched it shut. hNXxxcht… One last one escaped.

Alex came over and rubbed her back. Maggie sniffled heavily, not moving her hand away.

“Bless you… Babe, you know it’s not good to stifle like that,” Alex said with concern.

“I know, but if I don’t, I won’t stop sneezing.” Maggie was insanely congested at this point and was nearly impossible for anyone to understand her… Except Alex.

Alex guided her over to the couch and sat her down. Next, she went and grabbed the box of tissues that sit on Maggie’s side of the bed. 

“Here, blow,” Alex said, handing some over to her.

Maggie, to her credit, did try to blow her nose. But it just didn’t work.

“‘m too congested,” Maggie sighed stuffily.

“It sounds like you need a shower -- wash all that dander and fur off of you. It’ll loosen up your congestion too.”

The only response Alex received was a brief nod. Maggie was too consumed rubbing her nose and her streaming eyes. She still would not remove her hand from holding her nose shut.

“I’ll go start the shower.”

** Four hours earlier at the NCPD precinct **

Maggie was typing furiously on her computer, her phone sandwiched between her right ear and her shoulder. 

-- “We should be wrapping up in the next thirty minutes and then I’ll be home,” Maggie said to her fiancée.

-- “Sounds good, babe. Just be safe. I just got home. I’m going to shower and get ready.”

“Sawyer!” Her partner, Detective Romero, shouted her name and jogged up to her desk. “We’ve got a lead on our suspect. You good to go?”

Maggie sighed. Alex must’ve heard him over the phone.

-- “Don’t worry about fancy date night babe. I could use a night-in anyway. We can postpone until we both are off this weekend.”

-- “If you’re sure?” Maggie asked. She hated having to push their date nights off. They always tried to keep Thursday nights as their standing date for just them. With two busy careers in the NCPD and DEO, they hardly had time to sit-down together.

-- “I’m sure, babe. Just be safe, okay? See you in a few hours?”

-- “Always, Danvers… I gotta run, but I’ll see you at home. Love you.”

-- “Love you too, Mags.”

Maggie hung up her phone and grabbed her keys and oversized police jacket. 

“Where are we headed Romero?”

“About 30 minutes East to Peach Street. Suspect was last spotted hanging in one of the alley-ways.”

… … … … … … … … … … 

“NCPD, LET ME SEE YOUR HANDS!” Maggie yelled when their suspect was within sight. He was standing over a burn-barrel warming his hands. He was wanted for several burglary charges including an attempted armed bank robbery earlier that day.

The suspect’s head popped up, eyes wide. Naturally, he bolted out the other end at full speed. 

“Shit, we’ve got a runner.” Maggie holstered her weapon and took off after him, Romero on her heels but slightly slower. 

Breathing hard, Maggie’s adrenaline kicked in. She found herself gaining on the suspect.

They were coming up to a dead end with a chain-linked fence ahead of them. The suspect was nimble enough to throw himself up and over.

Maggie hoped Romero was able to find a way to cut him off because she was growing annoyed with this chase. She huffed and groaned but went up and over the fence behind him. Her landing, however, was less than graceful. She landed with a grunt and twisted her left ankle. 

“Great,” she muttered to herself and kept running.

By the time she caught up, the suspect had broken a window into the nearby building and crawled inside.

Maggie made eye contact with Romero as he arrived. He went around back and she followed the suspect through the window.

She dropped into what looked like a storage room, the door leading into the rest of the building was still swinging from the suspect running. She took off in the direction the door led and heard the sound of cage doors rattling from the next hallway over.

Maggie rounded the corner in time to catch a glimpse of the suspect noisily tripping over a garbage can in his path. He yelled in pain, and continued to drag himself out towards the door. What grabbed her attention though, was the several swinging cage doors.

“Oh no,” Maggie murmured, eyes opening wide. In front of her were about a dozen cats out either chasing each other or waltzing around in the middle of her path to the suspect. Maggie hadn’t been paying attention to the building but it became quickly apparent that they ended up in the local animal shelter. 

Maggie held her breath. As quickly as she could, she sped through the clowder of cats and out the back door. She heard her partner yell at the suspect to stop.

When Maggie got around the corner, the suspect was heavily favoring his left foot and had reached back to pull something out of his back pocket. She dove at him, bringing him down and kicked away the gun. Romero ran over and helped subdue the suspect. He got his handcuffs on him, and then decided to also use Maggie’s to keep him seated and chained to the fence while they waited for their backup to show up.

“You read him his rights,” Maggie said as she pulled out her phone. “I’m gonna see if I can get a hold of the owner of this place. He opened the cages of at least 12 cats.” 

… … … … … … … … … …  

With backup on the way, Maggie went ahead and called for medics for the suspect, who was moaning and groaning about his leg. Maggie could feel her own ankle swelling against her shoe and had half a thought to maybe get it checked when the paramedics showed up.

Maggie braced herself and entered the animal shelter again. Almost immediately she was greeted by no less than five cats, all of which seemed convinced she had food or catnip.

“I’m going to regret this,” she said as she took another step into the main caged area for cats. At the very least, she was thankful their suspect hadn’t also released dogs or they would have an even bigger mess to deal with.

She had connected with the owner of National City’s Humane Society/Animal Rescue on the first try. At the pleading of the owner, Maggie agreed to get whatever cats she could and put them into the individual cages. They’d sort out the right order later, but the woman did not want the cats wandering about for the 30 minutes it was going to take her to arrive. 

When Maggie asked Romero if he would do it while she babysat their suspect, he begrudgingly admitted that he was scared of cats. Something about an evil childhood pet and his ex-wife, Maggie hadn’t really paid close attention. But he was definitely doing all of the paperwork to make up for it.

The five closest cats were simultaneously rubbing at her ankles already. Maggie bent down and picked one up. She held the purring cat close to her. 

“You’re kinda cute,” she said as she placed it in the nearest cage. Maggie shut the door and latched it.

She brushed her hands together to rid the excess fur from her skin. 

“That wasn’t so bad,” she mumbled to herself. That sentiment was reversed not ten seconds later though, when she bent at the waist with a forceful, desperate sneeze. 

HuhESShheWw!…

“Ugh,” she groaned and sniffled. Maggie wiggled her nose a few times and swiped at it with the back of her wrist. 

“New reaction record… Two minutes.”

She picked up the next cat and put it in the adjacent cage. The process repeated itself with a little more force. She barely had time to bring her arm up.

hUHEsshh-eksshh… hiih uhhh... hihGNXKshew… 

Maggie sniffled before stifling a near silent h--ngt into her elbow. She hoped the owner arrived a lot sooner than in 30 minutes.

** HOME **

Alex took care of Maggie’s dander and fur-ridden clothes and immediately took them down to start the laundry. To give her fiancée some extra time, Alex took the stairs. By the time she entered their apartment again and located the Benadryl stash, the shower had been shut off.

She could hear Maggie blowing her nose and the lid of the trash can shut. A moment later, she exited the bathroom looking a little more relaxed.

Maggie was in a pair of her pajama shorts and one of Alex’s larger t-shirts. As she made her way across the room, Alex noticed a distinct limp.

“Babe, what happened?” She asked and came over to help her.

“Sprained it jumping over a fence. Paramedics wrapped it, but I had to take it off to shower. Can you wrap it again for me, please?” She scrubbed at her eyes and sighed.

“Of course I can. I’m sorry your night went this way.” Alex said sympathetically. She rubbed Maggie’s back and went to move away to grab the ace wrap, but Maggie held on.

Alex fully embraced her into a hug and they stood there for a moment. Maggie wasn’t big on hugs but when work got particularly hard or she wasn’t feeling well, she could become just as clingy as the Danvers sisters.

Alex heard Maggie sniffle and the hitch that followed, but she didn’t let go. Maggie turned into Alex’s hoodie covered shoulder and stifled two sneezes against her. Huh--nxt… nxgt… She sniffled heavily. Alex rubbed soothing strokes up Maggie’s back.

“It’s okay, Mags. You can let them out.”

Maggie knew she needed the relief and was too tired to fight the allergic reaction anymore.

Alex felt her tense before she gave into the fit.

Hih! hiitCHIEWw.. Hih huh HihESShheWw!… hUHEsshheW--eksshhew… *snff* *snff*

“Bless--”

Hiih--hihUHEssshoO!... Hih’GNXT’shu… *snff*

“Done?”

HuhESHheww! *snf*

Maggie pulled back, fanning at her face before pinching her nose shut and stifling another couple sneezes. 

Hih.. Hih’NNXT’chu!... hNXxxcht.

She sniffled hesitantly before rubbing her nose roughly. 

“Bless you!” Alex said, concerned. She grabbed the box of tissues and handed a few to Maggie.

“Thandk you,” she said taking them and blowing her nose.

“I got Benadryl out in case the shower didn’t help. Do you want me to get you one and some water?”

“Ndo,” Maggie said and sniffled again, the congestion starting to clear somewhat. “The paramedics gave me a shot. This is actually a lot better than it was. I thought I was going to have to call you to pick me up. They said if the reaction hasn’t tapered out by ten then I should dose up on more Benadryl.”

“Okay,” Alex leaned in and gave Maggie a kiss on her cheek. 

She helped Maggie to the sofa. Alex made short work of gently wrapping Maggie’s ankle and propping it up on extra pillows. Maggie had turned on a random movie while Alex put ice on her ankle and joined her on the sofa. She laid back into Alex’s waiting arms. They were both snuggled under the large blanket they kept on the sofa.

Just as Maggie got totally comfortable, she found herself burying her nose into the blanket. 

Hih -- HhmMPShu… huhesshew!

“Bless you, Mags.”

Maggie took the offered tissues and blew her nose softly.

“Thanks,” she sighed and yawned. 

Maggie turned in Alex’s arms so she could snuggle into her chest. The exhaustion of the evening was finally catching up to her.

Alex felt Maggie relax in her arms. She was sure Maggie’s captain had already given her tomorrow off. Alex would call off in the morning, too, so she could spend the day with her. They could start their weekend a little early.

Maggie’s soft, congested snores slowly lulled Alex to sleep as well, movie now forgotten.

[capmackie]

no sleep for the wicked

Bucky,

I pray this letter finds you well — it’s been so long, so very damn long. 

I know you’re wondering how I possibly could’ve gotten your address — I’m surprised myself, to be honest, you really did not want to be found lol. I must say, you’ve done a helluva job of keeping yourself off of the grid but I can’t say I’m surprised; if James Buchanan Barnes made his mind up to do something, it was good as done.  I’ve always admired that about you. But if you taught me, anything brother, it’s to take life in my own hands, craft my own destiny and after 10 years, 86 days, 14 hours, and 56 minutes of searching, I’m finally sending this letter off.  I don’t know what I’m expecting out of this but I’m here to ask you to come back home Bucky. I hope that you know that you are missed — shit man. We never expected you to leave and never once thought you’d stay away for so long after that. Nothing could ever take your place here, not even me.  If only for a weekend, please come back.  P.S. — can I still call you Bucky?

Love,  Steve ——————— The smell of coffee is the only thing in the world that can possibly rouse Sam Wilson out of his fitful sleep. Even then, it takes James Rhodes placing the mug directly in Sam’s face for the sheriff to even stir. Long nights at the Handonsville’s Sheriff Department will do that to you. It’s a deep roast, made by some kind of hipster brand that Sam can’t even pronounce and is *too damn expensive* if you ask him, but it gets the job done. And the job needs to be done, unfortunately. What went from an absolutely rarity of Sam staying overnight to work on a case has become a constant in his life. And Sam’s loves constants. He loves a routine, loves order and predictability; loves waking up every morning at 5:45am, going on his morning jogs and greeting the early risers of the town — Mrs. Carter down at the library, Mr. Barnes who own the local meat shop, loves making it back at his cramped apartment at 6:15, not a minute later. And as much as Sam loves the constants in his life, he will never get comfortable with the sudden constant-ness of the disappearances in his town. No matter how many times it happens, no matter how each disappearance closely mirrors the one before it, no matter the same sad looks on each one of the missing person’s families' faces, the collective dread they all seem to share when they come into the office to report that their son, daughter, sister, cousins hasn’t been home in over 24 hours. No, he’ll never get used to that, no matter how constant. Sam stretches, feels his body protest fervently against the position he slept in, hears his bones cracks as he stretches. At only 30 years old, Sam already knows he’s getting too old for this shit. His body continues to groan in protest as he wearily stands, stretching his arms and back once more before grabbing his coffee to take a look at the ‘Missing Persons’ board. He’s been in the station since last night, pouring hours into a case file — which doubled as his pillow, to make some sense of the mysterious disappearance of one Casey Johnson. So deep into the file, Sam didn’t even bother to make the ten-minute trek back to his place, eventually just giving in and sleeping at the office. Casey Johnson was the latest victim in what seemed to be a never-ending cycle of disappearances in the small town. Nothing about Johnson was similar to the case before him; he was young, two weeks removed from graduating from high school. He was a good kid, a little on the dopey side but kind-hearted nonetheless. Anyone who knew Johnson knew he wouldn’t hurt a fly and that made the question of *who would hurt him* that much more pressing. He had no run-ins with the law, on the contrary, he spent most of his free time down at the office with Sam, with dreams of eventually becoming a sheriff himself. So no, there was no pattern between Johnson the last case, Steve Rogers, the soldier notorious for his frequent visits to the station, who disappeared just a few days before Johnson. The only thing they had in common was leaving their respective places with an unspoken promise to be back — Rogers was off to the post office to mail a letter while Johnson was taking the garbage out for Mr. Barnes at the meat shop, never to return again. It made no sense. --- The first instance of someone going missing, it was Pixie Thomas, who was quite as eccentric as her name would suggest. With no reason to suspect foul play and with one of Pixie’s favorite bands on tour one town over, it was safe to say that she left to become one of their roadies. The second, third, fourth and fifth time it happened, well those cases weren’t so easy to write off. The victims ranged in ages, marital status, wealth, race. It was almost like whoever was behind this was choosing them at random which spelled trouble for the small force. With nothing to link the missing together, it was nearly impossible to know when and where the perpetrator would strike next. “Earth to Sam, hello?” Rhodey’s voice and wave of hand brought Sam back to the present. This kind of thing has happened before, Sam becoming so hyper-fixated on a particular case that he forgets to eat, drink, *blink*, but nowhere near this magnitude. Now, more often than not, Sam finds himself lost in his work and the other officers just find him lost. “I know you like to think if you stare at this wall long enough, the answers will appear like you’re in some kind of Sherlock episode but I’m sorry buddy, it ain’t happening.” Sam *might as well* be in a Sherlock episode the way this case is turning out. Actually there’s nothing more in the world he would love more than to ask Benadryl Cumberbatch for help with solving this shitshow but alas. “Go home Wilson”, Rhodey continues, “you need some rest.” “Can’t”, Sam replies. And it’s true; he can’t. He can’t just separate himself from this case, it’s not that easy. He can’t leave it unsolved, can’t chance the townspeople catching word of the seven disappearances within county lines and how their very own sheriff department has no clue what the fuck is going on. Can’t go home to *rest* when people like Casey Johnson or Steve Rogers may never make it back home ever again. Blowing on his coffee, letting the steam of the hot beverage envelop him for a moment, he turns to Rhodey and then back to the corkboard. ———— Growing up in Handonsville, Sam wanted nothing more than to follow in his father’s footsteps and become a sheriff in the town that loved him and he loved back. Handonsville, with all of its small-town charm — small, quaint, stereotypical —  is the only home Sam has ever known. It’s one of those places where no one is a stranger, for better or worse. Here, secrets are hard to hide and even harder to keep. Little to no anonymity is a small price to pay considering how fiercely the small town protects each other and itself. Growing up and until Sam’s third year on the job, there was no crime, no violence, no ... anything to be honest. The sheriff’s department was mostly for show, something to make out of towners reconsider their ideas of fucking with the people of Handonsville. And it worked. But now something had changed in the sleepy town. There were no threats from outsiders; no drifters unaware of the unspoken rules that govern Handonsville causing trouble. No, it was a different malevolent presence blanketing the town, sinking onto the residents, heavy and restricting. Now, the danger came from inside of the town. You could practically feel it in the air. The feeling of dread, of waiting for the first fall of rain to come after the dark clouds move in. The anxiousness of seeing lighting flit across the sky, preparing yourself for the roar of thunder that’s sure to follow. In the three decades Sam has lived in Handonsville, he never had any reason to ever doubt his own safety or the safety of the other 800 residents that called this place home too. Until today. Until Derek Anderson, the town’s resident mechanic, came barging into the office, yelling that he needed to speak to Sam and he needed to do it *right away*. Frantic and upset, Anderson ignores Rhodey’s suggestions to quiet down, the officer throwing an apologetic look over his shoulder at Sam who’s come from the back to see what the disturbance is all about. Before he even reaches the man, Sam knows immediately what all of the commotion pertains to, he can feel it in his gut. The eighth disappearance in less than two months in Handonsville. ———————— Taking the crumpled piece of parchment paper out of the garbage can for the sixth time today, Bucky finds himself staring down at the words of someone he hoped to never speak to again. At the mere mention of coming back home, of *Handonsville*, Bucky felt the floodgates open; nostalgia pouring down on him, pulling him under until he has no choice but to float with the current; had no choice but to let the memories he tried so hard to repress wash over him, engulf him completely. It’s nothing against Steve; no, Steve was a light in Bucky’s life, a light in so many others lives as well. Steve was smart, funny, had a penchant for danger the same way Bucky did. They were brothers in every sense of the word; playing together, fighting together, even crying together once when Sir Snaps a Lot, Steve’s turtle died. They didn’t know it then but it was a reason why they got along so well, like they were actual brothers. Because while Steve was a light in Bucky’s life, smart, funny and a risk-taker, he also was the byproduct of an affair that ruined the Barnes’ home completely. How their father thought a secret of that magnitude would ever remain hidden in a town like Handsonville was beyond Bucky and the ensuing drama drove him and his Ma out of town. It took years for Bucky to even acknowledge his father again, much less his father’s son. And *Steve* — the same Steve who was his age and his height and classmate and his best friend was no longer just that. Steve was his brother and no matter how many times they often referred to each other as brothers before the truth came out, how natural their relationship, the unmistakable bond the two shared, it wasn’t right to refer to Steve as what he actually was. But that was years ago, a lifetime even, and Bucky had made his peace, putting time and eight thousand miles of distance between himself and the sins of his father, only for one measly letter to draw him back, like a moth to an open flame. A small part of Bucky knew nothing good would ever come from him going back home. Knew there, he was more likely to meet his demise than his dawning; but under the incessant need to separate himself from the town that shunned him, turned him away was the egregious *want* to prove that he made it without them. That there was a great big world outside of the small town and that world accepted him even when they wouldn't. With his jaw set and his bags packed, Bucky set off to Handonsville. ————- It’s all starting to run together at this point. And not that Sam isn’t emphatic to the plight of Mr. Anderson — his heart yearns for the other man, the very idea of having to file this kind of report for your child is *traumatizing*, it’s just that he’s seen this scene play out before. He’s seen the frightened look on Anderson’s face before, he’s seen in at least seven times in the past two months. He’s heard the script before, sure the names and dates and last seen places are different, but in the end, it’s all the *same*.

[athena-athena]

Story Time

So Friday night, I was literally exhausted. I’ve been sick and I hadn’t slept in over thirty hours, but I was just waiting for sunset. I took some Benadryl at 7:30 and got in bed, and I was out by 8:00. Being that tired and being under the influence of Benadryl, it was going to take a lot to wake me up.

At 3:58 AM, I woke up out of a dead sleep and heard… something howling outside my bedroom window. For context, my neighbors have several dogs that they keep outside in pens, and they’re kinda close to my bedroom window. I complain about them ALL THE TIME because they bark constantly. They bark at each other, their owners, leaves skittering across the yard, the wind, cats, other dogs, me, absolutely nothing. Like, it doesn’t take much to set them off. And when one starts, they all start.

So you would think that when I was awakened at 3:58 AM, my first thought would have been, “Those stupid dogs.” But it wasn’t. Because I instinctively knew, within three seconds of waking up, that whatever was howling was not a dog.

“What was it?” you may ask. “I have no idea,” I would answer. Because I don’t know.

Now, I’m not one for a fanciful imagination when it comes to things outside at night. I live in Alabama. I’ve seen some things. I’ve heard some things. And you do not look outside at night when you live near the woods. You just don’t. Not if you know what’s good for you.

So I didn’t look.

But I had no choice but to listen.

And I was freaked the heck out.

I can’t even explain the howl. It was so crystal clear and each recurring howl was exactly like the one before. It didn’t get higher or lower or longer or shorter. It was just… the same exact, repeating noise. It was the eeriest sound. And with where it had to be standing? The neighbor’s dogs would have definitely seen it.

But did they bark? No. The neighbors might as well have not even had dogs. They didn’t make a sound the entire time. And this went on for about five minutes, as I lay huddled under the blankets, shivering and freaking out.

And then finally, finally, the howling started to move away, in the direction where I knew there were more dogs. But did those dogs bark? No. It was like this howling nocturnal creature left terror in its wake, silencing everything in the vicinity. Nothing wanted to draw its attention.

By that time of morning, there are usually frogs, maybe a couple of early birds, and, occasionally, another neighbors’ rooster making noise. But not then. It was utterly silent except for the howling and the pounding of my heart.

After I finally stopped hearing it in the distance, I decided to dare to go to the bathroom because I had to pee. When I opened my bedroom door, my cat, who never sleeps by the bedroom door, was squeezed in between the spare room door and a bookcase right outside my room, and she was terrified. I comforted her, used the bathroom, and then decided to make sure she still had some food in her bowl in the kitchen.

For more context, my cat has recently discovered the kitchen window, and she messed up the blinds at the bottom, so I’ve had to raise them about three inches so she can get in the windowsill without destroying the blinds completely. Which means there’s a three-inch gap at the bottom where I can see outside and, theoretically, something can see me from outside. This gap has been there for, I’d say, two months or so, and I’m in the kitchen at night all the time and it has never bothered me before. That window looks out onto the backyard, and nobody can see me unless they wander into the yard, which is not really likely.

But I digress.

I walked into the kitchen to check her food bowl and my eye was inexplicably drawn to the three-inch gap of the blinds, through which I could see nothing but solid darkness, but I felt something watching me.

Y’all.

When I say I ran back to my room and hid under the blankets? I ran back to my room and hid under the blankets.

When I finally felt brave enough to stick an arm out from beneath my protective blanket shield, I grabbed the remote and turned the TV on so I wouldn’t be alone in the dark.

They say we don’t have wolves around here, but they also say we don’t have bears, and I’ve seen several of those with my own eyes within a mile or two of my house, so you know, it’s hard to trust the sources. But a wolf is unlikely. And I’ve heard coyotes in the yard. A pack of coyotes yipping and howling in your yard on a winter night is terrifying and something you won’t soon forget.

But this? This did not sound like that.

Part of me wishes I had gotten up to look out the window to see what it was, but the other part of me knows that nothing good would have come of that.

[the-real-anywolf]

Destiel Advent Calendar 2019

Title: My Black Cat Brings All the Boys to the Yard

Tags: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Benadryl Makes an Appearance, Curses, Movie References, Cutesy pet names, multiple POVs, You're Welcome For The Earworm, Happy Friday 13th

Summary: When a cute black cat turns up at the bunker, the Winchesters realize it isn't quite as it seems. Also, despite it triggering Dean's allergies, he can't help liking the little furball. It's a shame he can't keep him.

Written by: @eyesofatragedy67​ (Eyes_of_a_Tragedy) & @punk-is-notdead​ (tfw_cas)

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21775495

Day 13:  My Black Cat Brings All the Boys to the Yard

Dean was walking through the door of the bunker when a dark blur ran in front of him and down the stairs. What the hell?

"Sammy! Something's headed your way!"

Sam looked startled as the blur shot towards him, and brushed against his legs. He looked down at it and his features softened. “It’s a cat. What’s it doing in here?”

Eyes watering, Dean started heading toward the bathroom. "Hell if I know. Be right back. I'm gonna grab some Benadryl."

He rushed down the hall, nose already starting to run. Crap, he needed to nip this in the bud. Rifling through the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, he swallowed two of the little pink pills dry and shoved some tissue up his nose.

When he got back to the library, Sam had the furry menace on the table and was lightly petting its head. “Where’d you come from, huh?” he asked curiously.

"Dude, don't get attached. You know we can't keep it," Dean mentioned, somewhat regretfully, as he passed through on his way to grab a bottle of water from the kitchen.

“Shame,” Sam said sadly. “He’s a friendly little thing. And look at his eyes… they’re blue!”

Dean poked his head out the kitchen door. "Blue?"

“Yeah, bright blue. I’ve never seen them on a cat before.”

Water in hand, Dean stepped into the room, took a swig out of the bottle, and wandered closer. He was about ten feet away from Sam and the cat when he started sneezing, completely dislodging the tissues. "Man, I hope this stuff kicks in quick."

“Don’t worry, I’ll put him back outside soon. I just wanna give him some water first. Maybe some bacon.”

Dean moved close enough to pass Sam his water bottle. He had to wipe the tears from his eyes to do it, though. "I didn't think cats were supposed to eat bacon. I don't want you to make him sick." He paused, "Wait, how do you know the cat's male?"

Sam scrunched up his nose, and thought for a moment. “I… don’t know. I just got this feeling, you know? I could just tell.” He shrugged for emphasis.

"You could just tell," Dean repeated with a mocking quirk of his eyebrow. "Okay, Dr. Doolittle. Well, since you're so in tune, why don't you find out if the little guy has a home? I'm sure someone's missing him."

Sam rolled his eyes and shot Dean one of his best bitchfaces. “How the hell am I supposed to do that? I don’t have a microchip scanner, and I can’t exactly ask him… her.”

The cat hissed, and Dean said, "Uh, think maybe you had it right the first time, Sammy." Whereupon, the cat meowed then plopped his butt down on one of the books on the table. "Huh…"

“It’s about curses and how to remove them.” Sam peered closely at the book and some of his hair draped onto the cat. Dean could have sworn that the cat gave a look of distaste before it got up and moved away from the dangling locks.

"What if this is like The Colonel?" Dean asked. "I'm not drinking the fur, dude. It's your turn to take one for the team."

Sam didn’t look too pleased at that suggestion. “I don’t think anyone will have to drink any potions, Dean. This isn’t Hogwarts. But I do think it’s trying to communicate with us.”

Damn, Dean was kinda looking forward to seeing Sam chase bugs. "It'd be easier if you drank the potion, just sayin'."

“Not if I don’t have to,” Sam muttered, then spoke directly to the cat. “What are you trying to tell us, little buddy?”

"Yeah, little guy, did Timmy fall down the well?" He could swear he saw the cat roll its eyes.

“Very funny,” Sam said, and he definitely did roll his eyes. “Can we be serious now, and not piss him off?”

Dean looked away from the furball and over to his brother. "What? You're the one who refuses to drink the drink so I don't have to die." And he promptly started sneezing again.

Sam sighed, and ran his fingers through his hair. “You sure are set on me drinking that potion, aren’t ya? Let me just try something first, okay?”

"Fine, but if it doesn't work, you suck it up and chug, 'k?" He glanced over just in time to see the cat bat the bottle of water off the table.

“Sure,” Sam huffed. “Nothing I want more than to talk ‘cat’.”

"So, what's your idea?" Dean hollered, grabbing a dish towel from the kitchen to mop up the spilled water.

“Observe and report,” Sam replied. “Before one of us goes off half-cocked, let’s see if he can communicate in his own way.”

"I don't know about you, but I always go off fully-cocked. You know, they make pills for that now, Sam." Dean draped the towel over the back of a chair and turned to see the cat twirling around Sam's legs. "Sounds like the little guy likes your idea, though."

“Your jokes aren’t getting any funnier, Dean,” Sam said, reaching down and scooping up the cat. “What do you think, cat?”

The cat purred, then gave Dean a disapproving look - at least that’s what it looked like, anyway.

“Let’s give it twenty four hours, and if we can’t figure out what he’s trying to tell us, then I’ll drink the potion. Deal?” Sam added.

"Fine. Whatever," Dean muttered. He walked past them, but couldn't resist scratching the cat behind the ears as he passed. His eyes started watering as he left the room.

***

Later that night, Dean walked into the kitchen to find Sam there with the cat. He was sitting at the table, placing random types of food in front of the feline. Dean watched with fascination as the cat repeatedly turned his nose up at the different options.

With a sniffle, Dean turned to the fridge and started pulling out ingredients to make hamburgers. He washed his hands thoroughly before unwrapping the beef and adding some seasonings. He was shaping it into patties when he heard a plaintive yowl at his feet. Looking down, he saw a pair of electric blue eyes staring up at him.

"Hey, cat," Dean started, only to be interrupted by the animal leaping onto the counter next to him. "Hey! You can't be up here, fuzzball."

The cat did what cats do: ignored him. Instead, it stared intensely at Dean's hands and the raw meat he was working into a thick ball to be squished flat.

"Mrow," the cat trilled, head tilting to the side.

"Sorry, little guy. No hamburger for you."

The cat pawed at the package of sliced cheddar and looked back up at him with wide eyes.

"Not gonna work on me, fluffy. I've been on the receiving end of puppy eyes the likes of which you'll never know."

With a tail twitch of disgust, Dean watched as the cat hopped back off the counter and moved back to Sam. His brother scooped the cat up in his arms and sat him down in his lap.

Dean continued cooking his burgers, listening as Sam had a one-sided conversation with his new friend.

“It’s no use looking longingly at Dean’s burgers. I know they look delicious - and they are - but they’re not cat food. You’re supposed to eat fish, or chicken, or… what the hell do cats eat? Not gonna tell me, huh?”

Sam sighed, and shook his head. “You must be hungry by now. Just try some of this tuna? Mmmm… tasty,” He said, unconvincingly.

Dean put a burger on the table for Sam and said, "Dammit, Sam, don't feed him that. What if he's like one of those gremlin things from the movie and you're not supposed to feed him after midnight?"

“This is real life, not a movie.” Sam rolled his eyes (one of these days he was going to get stuck like that), as he picked up the burger and took a bite. He and the cat stared at each other for a moment, and Sam wagged his finger at the feline. “Sorry, dude, this is mine.”

The cat hissed and hopped off Sam's lap, trotting over to Dean.

"Don't look at me, Gizmo. I'm not the pushover in this household."

“Yeah, sure you’re not,” Sam laughed. “A pretty bartender just has to call you handsome, and you’re like putty in her hands.”

The cat appeared to be particularly pissed at Sam’s remark; he skulked over to the corner and sat, apparently ignoring them both.

"I had an idea. I mean, it seems like he understands us, so what if we try some kind of written communication?" Dean asked, shooting the cat a questioning look.

“A pencil and a piece of paper?” Sam asked with a grin. “Yeah, I can make dumb jokes too.”

The cat raised its head and looked over at them, but stayed where it was.

“Do you mean something like laying letters out and asking him to pick the right ones?” Sam asked.

"Sure, like Scrabble tiles, or a ouija board… hell, even just drawing letters on a sheet of paper for him to point at," he shrugged and looked over at the cat. "What do you think, Gizmo?"

“That’s actually a pretty good suggestion.” Sam looked impressed. “I don’t think drawing letters on the paper would work though, unless we cut them out. They need to be spaced out so that it’s clear which ones he picks.”

"I'm going to go see if I can find the Scrabble game, maybe the ouija board. I'm pretty sure they're in a closet in the hall."

“Okay, I’ll take him outside, in case he wants to do his business,” Sam said, picking Gizmo up and carrying him in the direction of the stairs. The cat struggled in his arms, and Dean was pretty sure Sam got a couple of scratches at least, with the way he cursed at the creature.

The first closet he tried was full of boxes of Sam's books. Nerd. Digging through the second closet, Dean found the stash of board games, revealing Scrabble and the ouija board. He grabbed them both, just in case, and returned to the war room.

Sam was descending the stairs, looking pretty pissed, as Gizmo ran in front of him. “I thought we were friends, but the little fucker sure has some vicious claws. I hope he doesn’t feel the same way about word games.”

Dean pulled the ouija board out of its box. "I thought we could try this first, since it has 'yes' and 'no' options. Figured maybe we could try asking some questions first." He looked down at the cat, "How's that sound, fuzzball?"

The cat didn’t look too interested either way; for some reason he seemed to be trying to stick his tongue in Dean’s coffee. That was just weird… cats didn’t drink coffee, did they?

“What are we gonna ask him?” Sam asked, picking up Dean’s cup and taking it to the sink. “Is there anything you like eating other than burgers?”

The cat jumped up on the table and put his paw down on 'yes'. "Huh," Dean pulled his henley up over his nose and called out to Sam, "Looks like it's working!"

“Huh,” Sam remarked. “Wish I could work out what it was. Got any other ideas for yes or no questions?”

"Uh, hmm…" Dean made some serious eye contact with the cat. Quirking a brow, he continued, "Okay, so is it safe to assume you're cursed?"

Without hesitation, the cat placed his paw on ‘yes’ again.

“Good one,” Sam said. “Er… I don’t suppose you know how we can break the curse?”

The cat insistently tapped the 'yes' and looked up at them.

"Well, okay, then," Dean replied with genuine curiosity. "How complex should these questions get, Sam?"

“Hmmm, good question. He seems to understand everything we say, so I think we can go with quite complex. What do you say we try with the Scrabble tiles now, so we don’t have to stick with yes or no?”

Dean opened the box and grabbed the purple Crown Royal bag they kept the tiles in. Emptying it onto the table, he started flipping all of them face up. "Let's give it a shot."

Sam and Dean spent the next couple of minutes spreading the tiles over the table’s surface, removing the blank ones, as they worked. Dean couldn’t help spelling out a couple of naughty words, but he quickly shuffled the tiles around again, hoping Sam hadn’t noticed.

“Okay, what are we going to ask first?” Sam asked, addressing Dean, before staring inquisitively at the cat.

"What's your name?" Dean had jokingly been calling the cat Gizmo, but if he had a real name...

The cat began walking amongst the tiles, obviously looking for a particular letter. He stopped when he found it, and tapped his paw on it as he’d done with the ouija board.

“C,” said Sam, excitedly.

They watched as the cat began searching again, then indicated another letter.

"A," Dean added, then looked over. "We know you're a cat, dude. How about we just stick with Gizmo for now." He glanced at Sam and wondered out loud, "I wonder how he got cursed?"

The cat pushed an 'I' to the center of the table, then found a 'D'...

"Dude, I think he's calling us idiots," Dean scoffed.

“No, I’m sure he isn’t doing that. Especially as we’re trying to help him.”

The cat carried on, finding an ‘I’, and a ‘T’.

“I think you might be right.” Sam frowned down at the cat and its growing collection of letters.

Dean sat in one of the chairs, sneezing into his sleeve. "Bobby? Is that you?"

The cat meowed and put his paw on his head in what looked like exasperation, then touched an 'M'.

“M,” Sam said, peering at it as if he was trying to calculate pi in his head. “Mom? No? Er… my name is…? Are you Crowley and you’re calling us morons?” He turned to Dean and sighed. “This isn’t working out so well, is it? So far we’ve got a C-A-D-I-T, and an M. What the hell is that supposed to spell?”

Dean sniffled and said, "Man, I wish Cas was here. He could just interrogate you to get the answers."

The cat yowled and walked over to him. "Dude, back off a bit. I'm allergic to you."

The cat didn't listen, though, and sat back on his haunches and reached up to tap Dean on the forehead.

“He might understand what we’re saying, but he’s kinda heedless when it comes to personal space, isn’t he?” Sam chuckled. “You’re gonna make Dean sick if you keep getting in his face, buddy.” He leaned over to move the cat away from Dean, and got a scratch on his arm for his troubles.

Dean reached out and grabbed the cat, picking him up so they were on eye level. "Hey, you. No hurting Sam. He's trying to help you, you know."

He started coughing and passed the cat off to his brother. "I've gotta get out of here. Sorry. Good luck with this."

Dean left the room, trudging to the bathroom to pop some more meds before going to his bedroom to grab a change of clothes. He needed a shower asap.

***

Sam rested his elbows on the table and huffed in frustration. He felt bad for Dean - his allergies were a real pain - but at the same time, he hadn’t exactly made the situation any better. Despite his protestations that he only went off fully-cocked, his attempt at working out the cat’s message seemed to annoy it more, and now he was left alone to try to decipher what he was trying to tell them.

“Hey, cat,” he said in what he hoped was a placating tone of voice. “What did you want to tell us? I promise I won’t interrupt you any further.”

The cat paced around amongst the tiles once more, this time finding an ‘S’. It pushed the tile towards the others, then sat itself on the table and looked up at Sam.

“C-A-D-I-T-M-S… Nope, that’s not a word. Is it an anagram?” Sam wondered out loud.

Sam didn’t think it was possible for the cat to roll its eyes, but somehow it did.

“You’re gonna have to help me out here. I’m not getting it.” Sam gave the cat his best puppy dog eyes, and hoped that would work on the feline.

The cat stood up again, and began pushing the tiles around. When it had finished, Sam looked at what it had given him, hoping it was a better clue.

“A-C-S. It still didn’t mean anything.

Wait !

“C-A-S… are you telling me you’re Cas?” Sam felt like a prize idiot… of course it was Cas. All the pieces of the puzzle suddenly fell into place, and he beamed at his friend before scratching behind his ear.

“Dude, I’m so sorry for not realising sooner. No wonder you didn’t want me to take you outside for your business… awkward. But what happened to you? How can we undo the curse?”

Sam stopped talking and slapped his own forehead. “I’m gonna go tell Dean right now. He needs to know.”

He took off towards the bedrooms, with Cas hot on his heels. However, bursting into Dean’s room with the news, Sam saw that his brother was fast asleep.

This could wait until morning, and in the meantime, he and Cas could work on the cure. Maybe he would even be back to himself by then.

Unfortunately, Cas’s skills at letting Sam know how to cure him using Scrabble tiles were severely limited. After about an hour of frustrating attempts at trying, Sam felt his energy sapping and he laid his head on the table for a couple of minutes. That was all he needed… just a few minutes...

***

Dean woke up from a Benedryl-induced sleep and glanced over at his clock. It read 4:01. There was a warm weight on his chest, and he looked down to see Gizmo curled up on top of him.

He carefully reached over to the bedside table and grabbed a couple tissues. Shoving them in his nose, he gave in to temptation and stroked down the cat's back. His fur was so soft, and Dean could feel the rumble of purring with each pass of his hand.

"You sure are a cute little guy. I hope Sam had some luck figuring out how to help you."

The cat woke up at his voice, and stretched full-body before standing up and leaning over to nuzzle Dean's cheek.

Dean gripped him tight as he suddenly sneezed. "Okay, bud, I think it's time for another dose of allergy meds for me. What do you say we go grab some food, too?"

The feline headbutted him and licked his cheek. Taking that as an affirmative, Dean got up and carried Gizmo with him into the bathroom. He snagged the meds and continued on toward the kitchen.

Due to the watery eyes, he could barely make out Sam passed out at the table, Scrabble pieces scattered around his head.

In the kitchen, he set the cat down on the counter and grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge. He washed his hands in the sink, then grabbed a loaf of bread and the peanut butter out of the pantry. It was some organic, hippie brand that Sam insisted on buying, and Dean would never admit it to him, but it tasted better than the Peter Pan that had been his preferred choice.

He looked in the fridge for the jelly, but looked like they were out. There wasn't any in the pantry either. Dean shrugged and spread peanut butter on both slices of bread.

He was going to just slap them together and take his pills, but Gizmo knocked over Cas's bottle of honey. "Guess that could work." After drizzling a little on the slices, he put them together and took a bite. "Mmm, that's pretty tasty," Dean said with a full mouth. "Thanks for the suggestion, buddy."

Setting the sandwich down on the counter, Dean uncapped his water and swallowed down two more pills. When he reached for the pb&h, Gizmo swatted at his hand and quickly took a bite.

Dean was about to object to the sneak attack on his sandwich, when there was a sudden flash of light which prevented him from seeing anything for a few seconds. When his vision was clear again he could no longer see the cat, but Cas was standing there instead.

Where did he come from ?

"Cas?" He looked around, searching for Gizmo. Maybe… "Did you see a black cat?"

“Dean, do the letters I-D-I-O-T mean anything to you?” Cas asked. He stared into Dean’s eyes, but didn’t say anything more.

"Yeeeaaaaah," Dean drawled, looking at his friend who seemed to be covered in black hairs.

“That’s a fancy looking gizmo you’ve got there,” Cas stated drily, pointing at the waffle iron. He really seemed to be speaking in riddles today.

Dean was starting to put some pieces together when Sam burst through the door. His hair was a mess, and there was a Scrabble tile stuck to the side of his face. “Cas!! You’re back… how? How did you…?” He pulled Cas into a bro-hug and slapped him on the back.

Dean poked Sam in his tile and said, "You knew?"

“I worked it out last night,” Sam said, letting go of Cas, and pulling the tile from his face.

Cas coughed and gave him a pointed look.

“Oh, er… Cas helped me to understand last night,” Sam corrected himself. “I was gonna tell you, but you were asleep and I didn’t want to disturb you.”

"Thanks, I guess," Dean responded, half bitchiness, half honesty. "I still don't understand what broke the curse, though."

“I had to eat something after midnight. I understand the irony, as you made me watch Gremlins, and I think the witch that cursed me did too.” Cas gave a little laugh.

Dean stared, mouth hanging open. "You mean, this whole time it was a bad movie reference?"

“It would seem that way, yes. Some people love movies as much as you do, apparently,” Cas replied.

Sam slapped his hand over his mouth and chuckled. “Dude, that’s a whole new level of nerd.”

"Shut up, Sam." Dean shot him his own bitch face, then turned to Cas and sneezed. "You're covered in fur. Unless you want me to look like a walking plague victim, you'll go take a shower."

“Yes, that is a disgusting image you’ve painted for me, Dean. I’ll take a shower now.” Cas started towards the door, when Dean suddenly put his hand on his shoulder to stop him.

"It's good to have you back, Gizmo," Dean snarked, then pulled Cas into a hug. Whispering in the angel's ear, he asked, "Mind if I join you? Somebody slept on top of me last night and got me dirty."

“If you’re really good, I’ll let you tickle my belly,” Cas growled back into Dean’s ear.

“I know what you’re doing, by the way,” Sam complained. “You guys are gross.”

Dean looked over at his brother and grinned. "Then this won't come as a shock."

He grabbed Cas's ass and stroked a hand up his back. Cas rubbed against his cheek, and Dean couldn't help but dive in for a kiss. It was kinda gross, given his current state of sniffles, but Cas responded with enthusiasm.

"C'mon, kitten, it's bath time."

“Rawr,” Cas purred.

The End

[lowlywriter]

Allergic Reaction

Back with another Colby x Reader Fic, because I really don’t want to do my homework. This one’s mostly about filming a video with Sam and Kat (and some cute Colby towards the end), because I feel like I’m leaving Sam out a lot- but it’s like weird writing x reader stuff about him because he has an actual girlfriend.  

**Goodbye for now Sam and Colby 2.0, gonna miss these videos tbh. Paused my writing to watch the video :( Hope our boys are all good and get back to doing some (not horribly dangerous or demon contacting) videos.**

Warnings: Reptiles, Allergies

Word Count: 2,953

“What’s up guys!” Sam greeted his camera, hand flying over his head enthusiastically. “Today I’m here with my girlfriend Kat, and our friend Y/N, who also happens to be Colby’s girlfriend.” Sam explained to his camera. The three of you were sitting in Sam’s apartment, lined up on three dining chairs. Sam was in the middle, and you and Kat on either side.

“Hi,” Kat waved at the camera, grinning widely as she set her head on Sam’s shoulder.

“Heyo!” You exclaimed, throwing up a peace sign.

“So, today I’ve got a little something planned for these ladies,” Sam grinned at his camera, gesturing to the both of you, “something very, very fun- well, for me at least!”

“Sam!” Kat groaned jokingly, ending up laughing halfway through.  

“Kat and Y/N have no idea what we’re filming,” Sam laughed, beaming apologetic looks towards the both of you.  

“Kat just told me we were hanging out,” you pouted, glaring lightly at your friend. 

“Sam didn’t tell me we were filming!” Kat defended herself with a laugh, raising her hands up in surrender.  

“Yes, I didn’t tell either of them,” Sam told the camera with a smug look, “so, I’ll explain now. I’m going to blindfold them, and you both are going to be holding some creatures I have hidden in the bedroom. These are my friend David’s pets, he’s just in the bedroom with them. So, they won’t bite... probably,”  

“...probably?” you whispered, shooting Sam an unsure gaze.

“Sam, I swear-” Kat warned, glaring wholeheartedly at her boyfriend.  

“Okay! I’ll go get the blindfolds.”  

You and Kat shared an unsure look as Sam disappeared into one of the rooms. Seconds later he appeared with two folded up bandanas.  

“Dibs red!” you grinned, leaving Kat with the orange one. Sam tied each of the bandanas around your eyes.

“Okay, Y/N slide onto the middle chair since I won’t be sitting with you guys anymore until the end of the video,” You slid over slowly, almost falling off the chair- but regaining your balance and seating yourself firmly. You felt the movement at your side as Sam moved the empty chair out of the frame.  

“So, I’m going to go see which animals we’re bringing out first. David has two of each animal, so you guys will be holding them at the same time, okay?” Sam explained to the both of you. By the way he sounded, he was crouched down in front of the both of you “you’re going at the same time since it’s kind of a competition, guess the critter first and you get a point!” Sam said loudly, talking to the two of you, as well as the camera set up a few feet ahead.

“Roger,” you nodded, vision darkened by the blindfold. Sam then patted your knee (and probably Kat’s as well) and stood, leaving the two of you in silence. Kat patted your leg and you took her hand.  

You heard was beating fast, anxious to see what Sam had hidden up his sleeve.  

“These better not bite us, Sam,” Kat whined quietly but loud enough that Sam heard from the next room (he laughed).  

You weren’t too scared. This type of video could only mean one thing- and that was creepy critters. Corey did it with a snake and giant frog to Devyn, Aaron did it with lizards, snakes and fake spiders to Sam and Colby- and a bunch of other Youtuber’s videos had had roughly the same concept.  

Now, not a lot of people know- but you were pretty allergic to fluffy animals. The slimy, scaly things were nothing- but a fluffy little puppy would puff up your face and give you itchy hives in minutes.  

That said, it didn’t stop you. You really loved dogs and cats. You were always found petting Circa, Navi and Buddy whenever you were at the trap house. But you’d always prepared yourself beforehand with Benadryl. You enjoyed playing and cuddling little fluffy animals- and puppies were still your weakness.  

“Okay, we’re coming out- this is David by the way,” Sam explained.  

“Hi David,” you chimed into the darkness, being the only one to not have met the man beforehand. Kat had been banging on Colby’s apartment door asking for you to come over about ten minutes before you’d been blindfolded.

“Hey,” a male voice greeted.  

“Okay, you two ready? We have the first animal species. These ones aren’t too bad,”

“Cup your hands together, they’re kind of long.” David told the two of you. You did as told, flinching your head back as something long and slim was set in your hands. Little claws settled against your hands, and the creature's toes were weird. Whatever it was had a tail that was hanging off the side of your hands.  

“What the hell?” You mumbled quietly as Kat let out a surprised cry, you continued your train of thought, “a lizard?”

“Y/N got it! What kind of lizard though?”

“You want us to guess the kind of lizard? Sam, I’ve never even held a lizard,” Kat laughed.  

“No idea,” you giggled as you slowly maneuvered the little lizard into you right hand, lifting the left to stroke over its little head.  

“Alright, alright,” Sam sighed, “lift the blindfolds- I'll let you guys check out the animals you’re holding because I’m not mean.”

“Awh, they’re so cute,” you cooed after you nudged your blindfold up with your shoulder.  

“These little guys are leopard geckos; their names are Dale and Gracie.” David explained to you and Kat.

“Look at their little spots,” Kat grinned, glancing at you.

“Okay, hand the geckos back, and blindfolds down. We’ll be back with the next pet!” Sam took the little leopard gecko from your hands and you reached up to pull your blindfold back into place.  

You listened for the footsteps, and prepared yourself for the next critter.  

“Here we go, we’ll just set these guys down in your laps...” Sam paused, “watch out for the teeth.”

“Sam!” you gasped, instantly raising your hands away from you lap as something was set down. It had claws, not very pointy, but they were there.  

“Y/N, have you touched it yet?” Kat asked hesitantly from your side.

“No, you?” you replied, hands gravitating over your lap carefully.

“No- it’s got claws. Sam, why are they in our laps?” Kat asked quietly. Sam simply laughed, urging you guys to touch the creature. You let your hand fall, and you were greeted by a fluffy texture. Apparently, you made a face, as David and Sam laughed.

“It’s fluffy,” you told Kat, who then made a weird noise before humming quietly.  

“A rabbit?” Kat guessed.

“Yeah, definitely a bunny,” you agreed, running your hand over the silky ears and down it’s fluffy back. You were mainly allergic to dogs and cats. Littler animals just gave you a stuffy nose and made your eyes water occasionally.  

“You guys are right, blindfolds up!” Sam enthused, “Kat gets the point this round!”

“Y/N is holding Honey, my Holland Lop, and Katrina is holding Gizmo, who is a Cashmere Lop.” David explained. You cuddled Honey, rubbing your cheek against her soft fur.

The guys let you cuddle the bunnies for a few minutes before once again the creatures were taken from you and the blindfold replaced.  

“There’s only a few more left,” Sam called from his bedroom. You pointlessly glanced in Kat’s direction; vision still black from the fabric covering your eyes.  

“Okay, here you go,”

You yelped out, hands recoiling as something pointy brushed against your hands.  

“Y/N? What?” Kat called desperately, but seconds later she yelped out as well.

“Sam, what the hell is that?” you whined.

“Hold your hands out,” Sam replied instead, voice even but it was clear he was finding this hilarious. Your hands shook as you held them out, palm up. Something was set in your hands. You drew in a calming breath, feeling some part of whatever this thing was brushing against your thigh.  

“These guys are harmless, it’s the last one you need to worry about,” David said calmly.  

“Don’t say that!” You hissed, lowering your hands against you lap and carefully parting them so the thing was settled against your thighs and you could actually touch it.  

It was long, flat and kind of round, as well as really pointy. The skin was rough and little spikes ran along its body. Kat was making little horrified, yet confused noises as you two tried to figure out what the hell you were holding.

You pulled back quickly as your fingers brushed along bigger spikes around its head. It was...

“Oh, I know what this is,” you grinned. “It’s a bearded dragon!”

“Oh! Two points for Y/N. That’s exactly what they are- blindfolds up,”  

“Oh-” Kat nodded. You both took off your blindfolds to look at the pointy little creatures. Kat was still cupping her lizard while yours was lounging calmly in your lap.  

“These two are Ginny and Missy,” David told you. They were really cool looking, but also kind of creepy.

“They’re so pointy?” Kat’s eyebrows furrowed and her mouth formed an ‘o’ shape as she stroked to fingers from the bearded dragon’s head down to the tip of its tail. Sam laughed, leaching down to stroke the lizard in his girlfriend’s lap.  

You carefully picked up the lizard in your lap, handing it to David who took her back with a small smile. Sam picked up the lizard from Kat’s lap, following David to his bedroom as he called a hurried “blindfolds!” over his shoulder.  

You and Kat exchanged nervous glances as you both pulled the blindfolds down for hopefully the last time. David had said that this animal was the one to be afraid of.  

You rubbed your hands together nervously, heart pumping in your chest.

“Back, without an animal. I’m going to give you each a wet-wipe since this animal is kind of sensitive and David wants to keep everything healthy and happy. Just a safety precaution,” Sam explained and he popped open the wet-wipes container, seconds later a wet cloth was set in your hands and you vigorously rubbed your hands together.  

“A precaution?” Kat asked as she accidentally elbowed you while wiping her hands, “sorry.”

“No problem,” you mumbled staring straight ahead as you toyed with the wipe.

“Yeah, nothing that will harm humans, but like I said, this animal is sensitive.” Sam took the wipe from you hand and you heard him walk into the kitchen, then job back to the bedroom.

“Ready, girls?” He called, and you could hear the smirk in his voice.

“I’m so scared,” Kat whispered, leaning towards you.

“Me too,” you agreed quietly before shouting back to Sam, “ready!”

The footsteps were loud, but muffled out by the beating of your own heart. Soon, Sam was stood in front of you and you could feel his presence.  

“Should we actually do this?” Sam asked, voice low. Your anxiety spiked, because he wasn’t talking to you- no, he was talking to David.

“I mean, the probability they’ll bit is pretty low...” David replied.

“I’m pretty scared just holding it, and I’m wearing the gloves-”

“Sam! You’re wearing gloves?” Kat shouted, and then there was the sound of a chair screeching along the floor.

“No, thank you!” You yelped. Something was set in your lap and you froze. Completely still, hands mid-air.

“Kat,” Sam groaned, “shh, Kat!” and everything fell to silence. “Y/N if you guess this animal, you win as Kat took her blindfold off.”

Your hands shook as they lowered towards whatever was in your lap. It was fuzzy-

“It licked me!” You cried out, cringing lightly and flinching away from whatever it was. You took a wild guess, just wanting the game to be over, “is it, um, is it a dog?”

“Yes! Our winner is Y/N with four points- Kat is our loser with one point, sorry Kat.” Sam exclaimed, telling the camera the final stats.  

You were quick to take off the blindfold. Happiness filling you as you stared down at the fluffy little guy in your lap.  

“He’s so cute!” You gasped, lifting the little puppy up, “goodness, he’s adorable.” You cooed.  

“Oliver and Sydney, two-month-old Corgi puppies,” David grinned. “They’re almost ready to be rehomed.”

“They are so cute!” Cat squealed as she sat herself on the floor. You and David joined her, and the puppies played between the three of you.  

“Colby home, Y/N?” Sam questioned, looking at you before gazing towards his door.

“He was editing when I left,” you explained, rubbing your arms as the itching started. Your eyes were watering, and your skin was starting to blotch- soon to be covered in hives, but there was no way you weren’t about to play with these two little corgi puppies.  

Sam was gone for about ten minutes. In that time span, you and Kat had each picked up a puppy to cuddle and were sitting together on the couch- invested in the puppies. David had gone to sort out the rest of the animals, as he had a bit of a car ride and would be leaving soon.  

You could already tell your face was swelling, not bad, but slightly uncomfortable. Your arms burned with hives- which you simply pulled your sleeves down to hide. Your eyes were damp, and there was a slight scratchiness to your throat- but all in all, this was a pretty mild allergic reaction. You used to react way worse when you were little.  

You hid your face in the Oliver’s soft fur, (not the smartest idea on your part, but whatever) when Sam’s apartment door opened.  

“What did you want to show me?” You heard Colby, refusing to look up- because he knew, you knew he knew.

“Puppies!” Sam exclaimed, plopping beside Kat and allowing Sydney to stumble into his lap. The little corgi licked his fingers as he stroked her back.  

“Puppies?” Colby smiled. He walked further in, eyes trailing from Sam and Kat to you.  

“Aren’t you just the handsomest little puppy in the whole wide world?” You asked the little puppy, nuzzling his fur, ignoring Colby’s presence.  

“Y/N...” Colby started slowly, “aren’t you like really allergic to dogs?”

You continued petting the puppy, but slowed slightly chewing on the inside of your lip. Yep, he knew.  

“Maybe,” you said already knowing what was going to happen, your fingers curled into Oliver’s fur as Colby moved towards you.  

“Y/N’s allergic to dogs?” Sam sounded very confused, “but at the house, you were always playing with the dogs.”

“Yea,” you said slowly, not looking up, “I was drugged up on Benadryl...”

“Your voice sounds weird,” Colby told you, arms cross across his chest, “hey, look at me.”

You huffed out, glancing towards your boyfriend who was stood in front of you. He gave you an unimpressed look, reaching over to trail his fingers across your reddened cheek. His frame was blurry due to your watering eyes.

“Y/N, babe, your eyes are so red,” Colby furrowed his eyebrows. You sneezed suddenly, covering your face.  

“It’s fine,” you told him, hugging the puppy, knowing your time with him was ticking. Colby was kind of a worrier, and there was no way he’d let you keep touching the dog if it was making you sick.  

“Show me your arms.” Another irritated sigh from you as you pushed the sleeves up.

“Jeez, Y/N.” Colby frowned, his fingers now trailing lightly along the hives. “I think we should take him away...” Colby suggested, lifting Oliver under his little arms and picking him up, “and go see if I have any Benadryl in the medicine cabinet.”

Colby set the corgi puppy in Kat’s lap, then moved to help you stand up.

“Thank for being in the video,” Sam smiled, “a heads up about your allergy would’ve been nice though.” You laughed, it sounded nasally, and you ended up coughing after but it was still pretty funny.  

“Feel better, Y/N,” Kat smiled, Sam nodding as he also wished you well.  

“I’ll be good as new by tomorrow,” you promised. At least, if you got some Benadryl in your system soon.  

“You know I love puppies,” you pouted, sniffling as you plopped down on Colby’s couch.  

“I also know that dogs literally close off your airways,” Colby narrowed his eyes at you before continuing to the bathroom. He came back a few seconds later with a box of meds. You’d been together for quite a while now, so it made sense that Colby would accommodate your allergy- especially since things like today could literally happen any time.

You took the required dosage, then leaned back against the couch, closing your sore, itchy eyes for a bit. When you opened your eyes, Colby was seated beside you and he was rolling up your shirt sleeves.  

He applied a lotion to your rash covered skin, and the itch lessened. You moaned quietly as Colby’s hands ran along your arms, and he laughed quietly, kissing your lips.

“You know this doesn’t change anything, if I see a dog- I'm going to love it,” you told him, completely serious.

“Yes,” Colby nodded, “I’m aware- just give me a heads up so I can come with Benadryl so we can get all this under control faster.”  

You grinned, pulling your shirt up, exposing your belly, “will you put lotion here too?” the words accompanied with a suggestive wiggle of your eyebrows.  

Colby huffed a laugh, muttering about how lucky you were that you were cute under his breath before slowly lathering a some of the cooling lotion into your skin.

Colby really was a good boyfriend.  

[macgyvermedical]

Improvised or self-surgery for Danny and Steve (no real preference as to who's the patient) from Hawaii 5-0 please! (I love and appreciate your blog and all the effort you put into it!)

***Not affiliated with the official “Bad Things Happen Bingo” writing challenge***

“H-help me out here Steve, I think I’m hearing things- did someone on your end say I had to pull this thing out myself?” Danny asked. He waited for an answer, extremely disconcerted by the several seconds of inaudible conversation on the other end of the phone line. “Yo, still here, can definitely hear you, what’s-”

“That’s right, Danny.” Steve’s voice confirmed. It was not the answer Danny was hoping for.

“Thought that was something we didn’t do. In fact, I clearly remember ‘pull the impaled thing out’ was on the don’t do list.” Danny let his voice get a little exasperated for emphasis and hoped the sentiment got through.

“Detective Williams,” Dr. Silvia Reyes interrupted. Danny wished she could see his face right now because a phone connection was not nearly the right medium to display his level of incredulity. “Almost any other circumstances yes, you’re right- the risk of severe bleeding, additional tissue damage, it wouldn’t be worth it.” She paused. “But in this case we have to consider the bigger threat.”

“Walk me through that- what’s the bigger threat than the explosion I was just in and the metal sticking out of my leg?” He’d been investigating a remote lab with an enforcement ranger when the man had tripped some kind of self destruct, triggering an explosion. Danny had been far enough away to only get thrown backwards, several pieces of metal debris embedding themselves in his upper right thigh in the process. Even he had to admit it was a lucky break, but it didn’t change the fact that the conversation he was now having was one of his least favorite kinds of conversations.

“Danny, after you left this morning, we looked over the pics the Park Service sent over.” Steve explained. “The FBI field office confirmed the lab may have been equipped with nuclear materials.”

Danny’s heart sank. “So the self-destruct was a dirty bomb, right?”

“We believe so, unfortunately. The concern now is that the whole area is contaminated.” Dr. Reyes continued. “There is no way to know how badly until we can pull together a trained team, but until we know more I would recommend spending no more than an hour where you are.”

“Is the shrapnel in my leg contaminated?” Danny asked, suddenly very much wanting it out of his body.

“Most likely.” Reyes replied.

“You’re gonna have to walk out of there Danny- we’ve already thought it over. The terrain’s too rough to send a vehicle, and we can’t risk sending a rescue team on foot until we know how bad the radiation is.”

“What about a chopper?” Danny asked. Under another circumstance he might have felt embarrassed asking for a helicopter, but at the moment he felt entirely justified in the request.

“Sorry Danny, we talked about that too- there’s a risk it could stir up the contaminated particles and the wind could spread them to a populated area.” Steve said it in such a way that Danny knew he’d agonized over it beforehand.

“Listen, I think you’re all forgetting I can’t walk. I almost passed out just getting my leg underneath me to stand a few minutes ago. I tried. The terrain walking in was rough enough when I could move my leg.”

“Based on the the pictures you sent, once it’s removed it will still by painful, but you’ll be able to bend it and bear some weight- you should be able to make it to the nearest road, where we can meet you with an ambulance.”

“I’m really not getting out of this, am I?” Danny asked.

“No, and the sooner we can start, the lower your total exposure will be.”

“Great.”

“Okay, is where you are still safe for you?” Danny looked around. There was a tinge of smoke in the air, but he was far enough away from the wreckage of the building that the still-smoldering pieces didn’t pose a threat to him. There was also no sign that the lab’s owners had sent anyone to assess the damage yet. He figured pointing out the looming threat of agonizing death by radiation wouldn’t help much.

“Yes.” He answered grudgingly.

“And you can still feel and move your foot and toes?” Dr. Reyes asked. “No numbness or tingling?”

“Yeah, still good there.”

“And no pain anywhere else, difficulty breathing, headache, vision changes, anything you haven’t told me?”

“No.”

“What supplies do you have with you?” Miraculously, his backpack had stayed on his back through the explosion. He was leaning against it, but forced himself to sit up painfully and pull it off his back.

“Uuuh, I got half a water bottle and a protein bar, some of the testing strips for the lab, a couple of pens, a pad of paper, a backpack, baseball cap, most of my clothes are intact, and a first aid kit.”

“What’s in the first aid kit?”

Danny opened the kit and dumped the contents onto the back of the backpack. “First aid kit’s got some, uh, band-aids, antiseptic, gloves, tweezers, ABD pads, some of those forehead fever things, tape, a tourniquet, trauma shears, some butterflies, tylenol, benadryl, one of those eye wash squeeze things, an ace wrap, and a little pocket guide.”

“Okay, I’m going to have you cut your pant leg away from the injury as much as possible. If some of the fabric got pulled in with the shrapnel that’s okay, you don’t have to take it out yet. You’re just trying to get the best view of the wound you can.” Reyes said.

“Yet she says. Sure.” Danny gritted his teeth. His hands shook as he hooked the shears into the pocket of his khakis. They cut easily through the bloodstained fabric, but each shaky cut pulled painfully at the piece of metal in his leg. He stopped more than once to catch his breath, trying not to let on that even this simple act had been difficult. He couldn’t imagine what he was about to do with actually removing the pieces.

“I don’t think there’s going to be much of a problem with severe bleeding, but I don’t know how deep the piece goes and it’s better safe than sorry. I’m going to have you put the tourniquet on about two inches above the shrapnel, but don’t tighten it down. Can you do that?” Reyes asked. As a police officer he’d gone through the obligatory first responder course, and once during an active shooter situation he’d put a tourniquet on someone else, but the idea of putting on no his own leg felt foreign and ominous.

“Yeah.” There was no way he’d be able to slip the tourniquet over his leg without tightening the muscles around the wound, so he pulled one side of the fabric completely out of it’s slot, slid it under his leg above the wound, and put it back together, tightening it just far enough that it wouldn’t come off. “Done.” He said.

“Good, still doing okay?”

“Let’s get this over with.” He ground out. Everything felt hot, he was covered in sweat, the

“Okay, I’m going to go over this first, don’t do anything until I tell you.” Reyes started. “You’re going to want to relax your leg as much as possible. Then get the best grip you can on the part of it that’s outside you. You’re going to pull it straight out at a 90 degree angle. It’s going to tug more than you think it will, but try to do it in one fluid mot-”

Danny nodded and waited several seconds for more instructions. “Dr. Reyes?” No response. “Steve?” Danny scrabbled on the ground for his phone. Please. It could have been a call drop. It could have been a volume thing.

It wasn’t. The low battery icon flashed briefly on the screen. C’mon, please. Danny wanted to scream. An explosion. Shrapnel in his leg. Radiation. The fact that he would have to pull this damn piece of metal out of his own leg because there was no one alive to help him. And now his phone was dead at the worst possible moment. Get a grip Danny.

He took a few steadying breaths. If nothing else, it sounded like he’d gotten the important parts from Reyes before the line had gone dead. A rendez-vous point with the ambulance was also no problem- if he could make it back to the ranger’s van, that would presumably be where Steve would send it.

There was just one thing standing in the way of safety now.

Relaxing his leg was harder than he wanted it to be. Everything felt tight just from the pain, but the muscles in his leg seemed to have protectively clenched around the offending metal. He took a steadying breath, gripping the protruding part of the shrapnel the best he could. Even the shaking in his hand sent pain into his leg.

F*ck f*ck f*ck f*ck f*ck

He could scream. He could scream as loud as he wanted and no one would hear him. Okay. He could do this.

1….

2….

“AHHHHHHHHAHAHHAHHHGHGHGHHHHHHHHHHHHH”

He screamed as loudly as he could, all thought, and all effort went into the scream. It didn’t drown out the pain, but he wasn’t expecting it to. It distracted him just enough that when he closed his mouth, tears streaming down his face, and opened his eyes, he saw a bloody piece of metal in his hand.

He couldn’t even describe how proud he was of it.

Panting, lightheaded, and feeling like he might puke, he stared down at the wound the metal had left. Satisfied the seeping blood wouldn’t kill him, he let himself lay back.

“Done.” He sighed.

He lay on the grass for several long seconds, waiting for the curls to fade from his vision and the pain to ebb away. Then he sat slowly. He took one of the ABD pads from the pile and pressed it lightly against the wound and wrapped the ace wrap around in. It wasn’t a perfect dressing, but it just had to hold up until he got to the ambulance. Gingerly, he tested if he could bend his leg.

To his great excitement, it was just as Reyes had predicted- it was painful, but possible now to bend his leg. He stood carefully, testing the weight he could bear in spite of the wound. It wasn’t much, but he was mobile. He picked up the water bottle, took one quick look at the pile of supplies, decided it wasn’t worth it, and began limping painfully towards the vehicle.