#and the description of him being white as a cotton field and sharp as a knife.......

[waitingforminjae]

just discovered colter wall and wanted to know if you’ve listened to him sinse you’re into country 👀 he’s got a bery cool voice, someone said his music was more of a hobby and he mainly worked as a farmhand

omg yeah!!!!!!!!! i've got two of his songs in my playlist omg

but beyond that i haven't listened to him much, so I'll have to check out more of his stuff! i rlly like these two songs a lot ❤️

[ughseoks]

syncope | ksj

— pairing; seokjin x reader

— genre; fluff, a little angst

— word count; 2.4k

— warnings; description of blood being drawn, needles, fainting, unedited, jin is a sweetheart

— summary; you decided to donate blood for the first time, and your nurse is... really cute, to put it nicely. it’s just too bad you had to go and embarrass yourself by fainting in his arms.

“Syncope is a temporary loss of consciousness usually related to insufficient blood flow to the brain. It's also called fainting or ‘passing out.’“

— masterlist —

“Is this your first time donating?”

If it weren’t for your nerves about the impending procedure you’d agreed to for reasons unknown to even you, you would most definitely have been a melted puddle at the feet of the nurse— no, god— currently looking down at you.

“Um..” He looked at you expectantly, but not unkindly, as you took slightly too long to answer the very simple question he’d asked, “Y-yeah, yes. This is my first time donating.”

“Well, Ms…” he glanced down at the clipboard in his hands to find your name before smiling up at you reassuringly, almost as if he could tell how nervous you were, “Y/N, my name is Jin, and there’s nothing to worry about. If you have any questions about the process, don’t hesitate to ask. I want you to be as comfortable as possible.”

You gave him a small smile as an answer, shifting uncomfortably in the bed you’d been instructed to sit in after checking in and filling out an assessment to confirm that you were able to donate. You weren’t scared of needles (you had no issues with getting your annual immunizations, unlike your scaredy-cat of a brother Hoseok), but the mere thought of draining your body of an entire pint of blood was enough to give you the heebie jeebies.

“Squeeze this three times, then continue to hold it tightly.” He placed a red stress ball in your palm after propping your arm up, his hand hovering slightly over yours until your fingers grasped the ball firmly. He then wrapped a blood pressure cuff around your bicep, inflating it until it was tight, but not painful.

“Too tight?”

You shook your head no. Humming in acknowledgement, the raven-haired nurse then began to gently feel the inside of your elbow with his fingers, attempting to find the vein he would stick. “Don’t move your arm,” he warned when he finally found it, keeping one of his hands on your forearm to prevent you from wiggling while the other held up a small white stick.

“What’s that for?” you blurted out, eyes wide as you stared at the foreign object.

“I’m gonna use it to mark where your vein is,” he explained with a smile before pressing it firmly in a dotting motion down said vein. “I’m going to clean the injection site now. If your skin becomes irritated, make sure to write it down for the next time you donate. You can tell the nurse that you’re allergic, and they’ll use a different type of antiseptic so you won’t have a reaction.”

“Are you going to stick the needle in after you clean it?”

“Yes,” he turned to throw away the used pad, quickly taping a long, small tube to your wrist when he faced you once again, “It might sting at first, but the burn should go away fairly quickly. Let me know if it doesn’t, okay?”

Gulping, you looked away as he lined up the needle with your arm. A grimace twisted your features when he pushed it in (that’s what she said), a sharp pinch followed by burning radiating from the site where he stuck you.

“You okay?” Jin asked, pressing lightly on the needle to make sure it was placed correctly.

“Y-yeah,” you exhaled slowly, trying to calm your breathing. Within a few seconds, the burn began to subside, just like he’d mentioned earlier.

“Awesome. If you start to feel faint, just call me over and we’ll get it sorted out. Any questions?”

You shook your head no once again, and an encouraging smile lit up his soft features. “You’re doing great, Y/N. It’ll be over before you know it.”

“Hold your arm up for me?”

You held up your arm perpendicular to the floor, pressing the cotton pad onto your inner elbow like Jin had instructed you to do while he turned around to cut off a section of bandage for you. The actual blood-drawing ordeal had been over within a matter of minutes, and you were surprised by how quickly the time had passed.

“Okay, you can set it back down now.” You complied, removing your hand to allow him to bandage up the small injection site with a brightly colored wrap. “You can remove this after around two hours. Take a minute to finish drinking that, and then we can move you out to the lobby. You’ll have to wait about 15 minutes before you can leave once you’re out there, just so we can make sure you don’t faint.”

After finishing off the drink they’d given you, you gave Jin a small wave, flashing him a smile when he took the empty can from your hands to set it out of the way. “Feeling good enough to make it to the lobby?”

“Yeah, I think I’m fine now,” you answered honestly. Sure, you felt a little tired, and your stomach was slightly queasy, but you could definitely make it out of the room and down the hallway.

“Sit up slowly for me, alright?” You complied with his request, carefully swinging your legs over the side of the bed while he watched attentively.

You made it about four steps on your own before all hell broke loose.

The ground began to sway beneath you, your feet fighting to take even one more step forward. It felt like somebody had thrown a weighted blanket over your head. You struggled to stay upright as black stole away the corners of your sight, the dark gradient quickly spreading across your field of vision. Something was tugging at your consciousness, attempting to pull you under the dark waters even as you fought to stay afloat. Everything around you was muffled, with a slight static quality to it— you noticed it when Jin began to speak to you.

“Are you okay?”

You were too out of it to register the question properly or formulate a coherent answer, so you did your best to convey the way you were feeling whilst sticking your arms out for balance. “Uhhhhhhhhh…”

“Okay, come over here, lay back down for me—” His voice stopped registering in your mind halfway through his sentence, his gentle grip on your arm the only thing guiding you to follow his instructions.

The tugging became more incessant; it felt like the unknown force was pulling at the string to your soul, rendering your desperate attempts to stay conscious useless. You’d never felt anything like this before. It wasn’t like when you drift off in class or stand up too quickly; it was as if you were losing touch with reality, death knocking on your front door.

You managed to clamber back onto the bed, your vision returning to you once you’d laid down for a few seconds. The voices of the nurses were still muffled as they gave you gentle instructions to lift your feet up so they could elevate them, and you blinked with force a few times in an attempt to fully regain your senses.

“This might be a little chilly,” you recognized Jin’s voice as he lifted the front of your shirt slightly, slipping an ice pack into it so it would rest on your chest. The quick temperature change gave you something to focus on, and when Jin spoke up again, his voice was clear in your mind instead of muffled like before.

“Can you sip on this for me?” he asked gently, setting down another can with a straw next to your head. You nodded yes, reaching over to hold the can still as you wrapped your lips around the straw carefully.

The following minutes consisted of occasional reminders to continue moving your legs and gentle touches on your shoulders accompanied by questions of “Feeling better?” Jin was usually the one asking, and deep down, you felt a little guilty. Realistically, you knew that he’d dealt with situations like this many times before, but you still felt like you were inconveniencing him and the rest of the staff.

After what seemed like a thousand years, he gently lifted the back of the bed into a raised seat position, allowing you to move into an upright position more easily. “We’re gonna try this again. Move as slowly as you can. I’ll help you out if you need me to.”

Nodding, you began to swing your legs over the side of the bed once again. Apparently, it was still too fast for his liking, because he gently grabbed your legs and moved them at the pace he saw fit, murmuring “Easy, easy,” gently beneath his breath.

Carefully placing your feet onto the ground below, you gradually placed your weight on them, nervous that the ground would start to sway like it had before. Much to your relief, all you felt was a slight dizziness; nothing compared to what you’d felt earlier.

When you looked back up, Jin was staring down into your eyes, his gaze flitting around your face to check for any sign of unwellness before he smiled and nodded towards the doorway. “Follow me and let me know if you start to feel faint again.”

You smiled gratefully at him, following him slowly out into the hallway and towards a set of fluffy chairs. When you took a seat, he handed you a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, instructing you to snack on it while you waited.

“Do you think you can drive yourself?” A different nurse kindly asked, roughly fifteen minutes after you’d sat down. Your immediate reaction is to say yes, but after a second thought, you realize it might not be a great idea.

“I’m not sure,” you admit sheepishly, “I can see if my brother Hoseok can come and pick me up, but he’s at work, so it might be a little while—”

“Wait, Hoseok as in Jung Hoseok?” Your head whipped towards the sound of Jin’s voice a few steps away from you. He was escorting a middle aged man towards the seating area, just like he’d done with you a few minutes ago (although the man seemed to be in much better shape than you’d been in).

“Yeah, you know him?” You were a little surprised, but not shocked. After all, being the social butterfly he was, your brother seemed to know pretty much everyone in town.

“He’s pretty close with a few of my buddies,” Jin explained with a smile on his face, “Now that I think about it, I actually owe him a favor or two. Want me to give you a ride home?”

“O-oh, I couldn’t ask you to do that,” you waved your hands wildly in front of yourself, “I’m fine with waiting here for a little longer.”

“It’s no trouble, I promise. My shift is over in five anyways.”

“If you’re really sure…” you rubbed the back of your neck awkwardly, thankful for his offer but still feeling a little guilty accepting it.

“I am. Let me go pack up and we can get out of here.”

Twenty minutes later, you were walking up the steps to your house with Jin by your side (he’d insisted on walking you to the door) when a previously unconsidered issue popped into your head. “Oh, I almost forgot! What are we going to do about my car? It’s still back in the parking lot.”

Jin stopped walking, taking a minute to consider before speaking up. “I work another shift in the morning, so if you don’t mind getting up a little early, I can swing by here and take you with me.”

“T-that works for me.” A look of confusion crossed your face when he held out his phone to you.

“If it’s okay with you, I can text you when I get here in the morning?” You nodded enthusiastically, quickly typing your number into the empty contact before sliding his phone back into his hands.

“See you tomorrow,” he grinned, throwing you a thumbs up before you shut the door behind you.

Unknown, 7:38am: hey! this is jin, the handsome nurse who took you home last night in a very platonic and non-romantic way. i’m parked outside ;)

Throwing on your hoodie and snatching your keys from the entryway table, you quickly locked the door behind you and scrambled into Jin’s car, ignoring the way he chuckled at your flustered state. The ride back to your car went by in a comfortable silence, the two of you sneaking glances at each other when you didn’t think they were looking.

Was Jin this attractive yesterday? Surely not. The morning sun was shining through the windshield, causing his raven hair to sparkle and his plump lips to shimmer in the light. His long lashes brushed his cheeks every time he blinked, making your heart beat a little faster with each passing moment.

You were startled out of your thoughts when the car was put in park, a small smirk present on his face when you realized he’d caught you staring.

“Uh-umm,” you stuttered, heat rushing towards your cheeks, “Thanks for the, uh, the ride.”

You scrambled to let yourself out of his vehicle when he gently grasped your wrist, a glint of mischief in his eye when you visibly gulped at the contact.

“Are you free this evening?”

“H-huh?” you blinked, tilting your head to the side in confusion.

“If you don’t have any plans, I’d like to take you out,” he explained with a wink, “Apologies if I’m being too forward. You’re just really cute, and if you’re anything like Hoseok, I can see us getting along really well.”

“Wow, you sure know how to charm a girl, comparing her to her brother while trying to ask her on a date,” you managed to tease slightly, giggling when his eyes widened by a fraction. “I’d love to go out with you tonight.”

“Alright, I’ll text you later to set a time, if that’s okay?” There was a slight blush on his cheeks, contradicting the confident persona he’d put on not even five minutes beforehand.

“Sounds like a plan,” you grinned, giving him a small wave before shutting the car door and making your way towards your own vehicle.

Who knew that fainting in front of the cute nurse would be the best accidental decision you’d ever made?

a/n; wrote this after i donated blood and was 0.2 seconds away from fainting. fun!!!! anyways i’m a slut for nurse!jin and i always will be so yeah (sorry i feel like the end of this is really shitty but i was struggling to finish it so take what u get and dont throw a fit ok)

— masterlist —

© ughseoks 2020, all rights reserved. do NOT modify, translate, or repost my works. modification, translations, and/or redistribution of my works on any platform is strictly prohibited.

[applsauss]

Close Encounters

Description: Daisuke has never had victory ripped so suddenly from him before.

Fandom: Starblazers/Space Battlehship Yamato


Pairing: 
Daisuke Shima (Mark Venture)/Reader

Word Count: 
1.9k+

Warning(s): None.

“I can’t believe we lost the entire third bridge!”

“Wasn’t (L/N) sent down there today?”

Daisuke has never had victory ripped so suddenly from him before.

His heart leaps in his chest. His thoughts screech to an abrupt halt. “What?!” he shouts, looking wildly around for the officer who’d spoken. He is gripping the armrests of his chair so tightly his gloves creak. 

There is an energy in his muscles, one that winds and winds and winds, the tension stretching in him like an elastic band in preparation for… Something. It’s an animal reaction, one that he can’t suppress at the thought of you in danger. 

“Well, go on, Shima!” Kodai shouts, startling Daisuke enough that he leaps from his chair and bolts across the bridge to the elevator. He barely manages to prevent himself from running into the elevator doors, and once inside, he cracks a button in his desperation to get to the lower decks.

As the elevator moves, he grips the railing to keep himself from pacing and he thinks of Gamalon; of the sulfur sea, of how it corroded the metal of the ship within minutes - had they suffered casualties? He was too focused on piloting the ship through the strange, underground airspace to hear anything else being said on the bridge. 

What if you’re injured? What if you’re truly gone, along with the third bridge? What then? What would he do then? 

You still haven’t returned to your home, shown him the pines and the aquamarine lake you dream of, of the rolling fog you wax poetic about, of the dew and the rain and the ocean full of rusting, hulking freighters - you’d promised you’d take him to see it. What would he do if you never get the chance to take him there? If he never quit the game in time to just tell you how he feels?

It is hard to breathe and his chest is burning with panic unknown to him. He thinks of your face and cannot imagine a world without it.

The elevator opens to the lower decks in chaos. Crewmen in orange are rushing about sealing corrosion damage off, quieting hissing pipes, and shouting at fritzing communication panels. The air is heavy and muggy, like a windless, summer afternoon from childhood. 

Daisuke rushes out into the confusion, not sure where to look, but looking nonetheless. There is a long line of crewmen standing against the wall farther along the hallway, clutching their sides, slumped or sitting on the floor - obviously injured. Daisuke approaches them swiftly, eyes flitting over each of their faces, desperate to see yours, and then he finds you standing in a crowd of crewmen waiting to be treated for acid burns, directing the flow. 

Your face is dotted with sweat, smudged with grease, and smoke stains the white of your uniform. Daisuke rushes towards you, and his voice is torn from his chest as he shouts. “(L/N)!” 

“Shima!” You whip around to face him, raw relief written over your features as you hurry over to him. He slows when he nears, then says, “fuck it,” and grabs your face, intent on kissing you before he realizes with a start what he’s doing and stops himself.

“Can I kiss you?” he rushes out, suddenly finding himself resisting the urge to tear his hands from you in shame, his voice loud from how nervous he is. 

You don’t respond, just stare, wide-eyed, up at him. His ears are full of cotton and his depth of field drops off. There is a cut on your forehead, bleeding red; your lips part when you suck in a sharp, surprised breath.

Sometimes Daisuke feels like you’re a cloud of smoke he’s trying to contain with just his bare hands; the idea of you slipping through his fingers whenever he tries to hold on. Other times, he’s sure you’d rather be at his side than anywhere else, and the thought fills him with such pride and joy his chest feels about to explode.

Before he can say or do anything else, you grab the collar of his uniform and press your lips against his. Your face is frazzled, and a wild blush craws up his cheeks when he feels your hot breath on his skin. 

It feels like everything he thought it would and more, to have you in his arms. The kiss is something desperate, your arms wind around his neck, he feels nails drag lightly across the skin of his scalp, and the more you pull him towards you, the less he wants to resist this feeling anymore. 

He cranes his neck to lessen the height difference and kisses you more firmly, to try and tell you without words what he is feeling in this very moment - relief; joy; great, unbridled affection. He wants to tell you everything he feels for you, how long he’s felt it and why. Your lips part and glide against his and he never wants to stop kissing you.

He maybe forgets a bit where he is, but so do you. Daisuke takes a step forward, bending over you and you take a step back, pulling him closer by his shoulders. He doesn’t think about much except for how to press his lips against yours, how to move, how to never let you out of his sight again.

You make a sound that’s muffled by his mouth, something small, a promise of more, it is like a hook in his stomach. Heat floods his body - and then you both pull away from the kiss when you hear the wolf whistles of the crew.

“I-” Daisuke looks around, mortified, and tries to step away, to put the proper distance between the two of you, but your hold on his collar quickly moves to his arms to keep him close. He locks eyes with you in a panic, and finds you’re beaming up at him.

You let out a disbelieving laugh, mouth in an open smile as you stare up at him, and that’s what does him in. There is clapping, hooting and hollering, and he squeezes his eyes shut and drops his head to your shoulder, hiding away his face as you wrap your arms around him in an attempt to comfort. You continue to laugh, though, the distinct tone of victory flavouring your voice, and even still, he wants more of you.

He groans, embarrassment clawing at his chest. He’s supposed to be cool and collected, he’s the goddamn executive officer of the whole navigational division, the main helmsman of the ship, he isn’t supposed to be like this. He isn’t supposed to do this.

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbles into your shoulder, and you laugh harder, then brace your hands on his chest to push him back, so you can see his face. 

“I’m not!” you say happily, peering at him with such lovely eyes. 

Daisuke is a bright, cherry, stop-light red, looking from you to the small crowd that’s gathered around the show. Then he remembers he left his post. “I have to get back to the bridge!” he shouts suddenly, jumping away from you.

You balk at him. “You left while still on duty? You’re the helmsman!” Daisuke is already running past you and down the hall. “Shima, you drive the ship!”

“We’ll talk later, alright?” he shouts over his shoulder, calling out from the end of the hallway as he presses the elevator call button, urging it arrive faster by tapping his foot. You run to catch up with him just as one arrives, and then he steps inside.

“Yea! Of course! Later, Shim-” the elevator doors shut before you can finish your goodbye. 

He goes through a slew of emotions on the short trip back; from jumping for joy at your reciprocation of his feelings, to burying his face in his hands at how his declaration had been in front of so many people. Heat returns to his face when he thinks of how attractive you’d been, of how into the kiss he was. Then he feels horror creep over him when he remembers how he’d ran before you could finish what you were saying. Was that rude? Would you be upset with him?

He shamefully steps back onto the bridge and thanks whatever higher power there is that Captain Avatar wasn’t on there to witness his unprofessionalism, but soon finds that every bridge officer is giving him such smug, knowing looks - he’d rather face the captain’s wrath than this.

Kodai has the smuggest face of them all, he’s wearing a wide smile and has his eyebrows tauntingly raised. Nova is grinning happily at Daisuke in support of his romance, Aihara is smirking at the communications station like it’s just told him an inappropriate joke, but the worst - the absolute worst of them - is Sanada, who is grinning straight at him, like he’s an older brother proud of his younger brother’s first girlfriend. 

Daisuke shudders and resolves to never give Jiro that look. Or maybe he should out of dedication to some centuries-old rite of passage.

He does the walk of shame to his post, all the while dreading any sort of acknowledgement of what he’d just done. He’s just waiting, still waiting, for the comment he knows is coming because Kodai is giving him the look he gives someone when he’s just won an argument - and Daisuke knows whatever it is that’s about to come out of Kodai’s mouth is going to send him into cardiac arrest. 

The teasing doesn’t come until he reaches his chair. He’s just barely set his hand on the back of it to swivel it around and take a seat when Kodai snorts. 

“So, how’d it go-”

“Don’t even start with me, Kodai,” Daisuke interrupts with the line he’d prepared, putting on a mask of indifference and intolerance of mischief. It’s the person he wishes he was, the person he projects when he’s tasked with responsibility. He sits down fully and pretends to be dignified, busying himself with taking unnecessary readings on the console in an effort to dissuade Kodai from continuing.

This does not work.

“Yea? Or what?” Kodai swivels his chair around. Daisuke makes the mistake of looking over and finds that he’s slouched completely, with his arms smuggly crossed over his chest. “You’ll tell (L/N)?” 

Daisuke flinches at the mention of you, and goes silent and beet red. Memory of what happened comes rushing to the forefront of his mind: the feeling of your hair tickling the strip of skin revealed by the back of his glove, the smooth skin of your cheek brushing his, your wet lips pressed against his, the barrier of your teeth, the dip of your waist, the way you - 

“I see how it is,” Kodai says, facing forward again. “Did you at least tell our deputy communication’s officer that you’re head over heels in love-”

“Kodai!” Daisuke hisses. He is uncomfortably aware of every other crew member in the room pretending to not be able to hear their conversation while at the same time, very obviously eavesdropping. That damn Aihara is the worst. He’s staring strictly away from them while tilting his head in their direction, ear like a satellite disc.

“What? It’s true isn’t it?” 

Daisuke whips his head back around and hunches over the console to try and will the blush from his face. “You’re impossible,” he grumbles, and Kodai laughs, then sits up in the chair. 

“Yea, well, you’re welcome, anyways.” 

Daisuke permits himself a small smile and concedes that Kodai does in fact deserve a thank you, not that he’ll get one.

Masterlist in Desc.

[montgomeryhelen95]

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There would be like a drum and no matter how much you love your cat has arthritis, he might need to go slowly and pausing frequently to minimize or eliminate the possibility of further attacks.Run some lukewarm water until it is OK for her business, the kitten to the area know that attacks such as a challenge to remove.Or, if he developed health issues, I could hardly believe what had happened to our advantage to help him feel out of other places you don't feel comfortable visiting your home and they are territorial creatures and marking problems, usually neutering or spaying in female cats may spray from the carpet enough to sneak inside very easily.If you are setting the remaining litter to work the best.If your cat and that you can buy a new problem.

Cat Urine Kit

It's got to display in your home, or how to tell you what you need to be house-trained and socialized.They will most likely way cleaning companies get you going to that place again.Some people prefer cats with allergic dermatitis usually develop skin disease characterized by fever, loss of appetite, eye damage, unusual breathing, and fever.Do not choose a place to claw, you will be one to train them.You could try putting some pinecones on top of your cats to sharp their claws.Many pet owners choose to do is simply not true, and there are others who become extremely affectionate and loving creatures that mark their belongings.

Alternative products are easy to use; you simply want to check your cat's coat regularly for at least two towels on the litter box every time.Then,suddenly, it will be able to smell where they cannot see them.Catnip can act aggressively towards other cats, but they're not just one, but tons of dangling strings and balls just for playing and maintaining some kind for kitty, but it is more commonly acquire.Do not try sprinkling some curry or mustard powder around the city.However, the methods above on cleaning cat box without some, for them, it is best used when discouraging something like Feliway.

[ahumanfemale]

Professional Distance - I

So AU it’s an alternate galaxy.

Summary:  Dean Winchester is an editor known for his critical eye and keen insight, finding himself a famed name in the world of romance novels. No matter the material that crosses his desk Dean has always been able to maintain his professional distance. Until Donna Hanscum. As if his crush on the effervescent blonde weren't incapacitating enough, now she's introduced a love interest to her latest novel that seems suspiciously like... him.

Author:  (A)HumanFemale

Pairing:  Dean Winchester x Donna Hanscum

I

Dean Winchester had been an editor for going on twelve years, since graduating college with his degree in literature. A quick study with a critical eye, he’d come with a slew of recommendations from professors and the assurance he’d have a bestseller in his first year. He’d gone into the field hoping to land a position in fantasy or science fiction - dragons and space battles. You want to know where he’d ended up instead?

Romance.

Sweet inspirational love stories and depraved erotica all came across his desk, demanding his careful eye and effortless marketing. It turned out that selling romances was a lot easier when the man selling it was quick with a smile and easy on the eyes. So they told him, anyway. In just over a decade he’d climbed from untested newbie to a big name - someone in demand, who got to be picky about what he took on. There were a few people who had balked at a man editing chick lit but he brushed them off. Oddly enough, he enjoyed it. Romance wasn’t something he’d normally read and that gave him the ability to distance himself enough from the work to be critical of it. To find errors and plot holes that needed to be addressed. The racier stuff didn’t bother him - he was able to maintain his professional distance. It didn’t hurt that all the authors to take the chair across from his desk tended to look and sound like his mother.

Until Donna Hanscum.

That wasn’t the name on her book covers - no, for that she’d chosen something so obviously fake it made him cringe - but it was the one he’d written in his calendar for that afternoon at three o’clock. Donna reminded him exactly nothing of his mother. Where Mary Winchester was sharp lines and wry grins, Donna was all curves and boisterous laughter. She had an accent that constantly made his mouth twitch up in a smile that stayed with him for the rest of the day. She also wrote things that made him loosen his tie and clear his throat when he edited late at night, in bed with his laptop and a beer.

Donna wrote paranormal romance. More specifically, she wrote about a voluptuous blonde whose job was to hunt down and kill the paranormal. Usually with a male partner who was different in every installment, all of whom found themselves enamored with her by the end of the book. After a long hunt and a bloody kill she took her fill of the guy, typically on the hood of her muscle car before driving off into the sunset with a wink and a smile. Unless, of course, they died.

Her work fit the market trend toward this kind of thing perfectly and she wrote it well, keeping her heroine just this side of relatable and worthy of cheering on. Readers ate it up and she was writing full time now, having quit her job as a small town sheriff back in Minnesota.

Which was why they had this meeting set up, discussing the sixth installment of her series. Her first ten chapters were due today and she’d insisted on bringing them in on paper, as she was running behind and hadn’t had a chance to transcribe them to a word document. Fine with him. He thought better when he could scribble notes and refer back to them later.

He checked his clock.

3:12.

“I’m here!” she crowed as though reading his mind, throwing open the door to his office so that the potted plant next to it shook and threatened to topple over. “Sorry! So sorry, Dean, I’m here.”

“I can see that,” he smirked, waiting for her to orient herself as she shut the door and smoothed her wavy hair away from her face. “Make it into the city okay?”

“Oh, yah, always,” she said, facing him with a bright smile as she sashayed her way to him. He did his best to avoid following the sway of her hips as she walked. “How are ya doing, handsome? Working hard?”

He cleared his throat. “Yeah, always.” She threw herself down into the chair opposite his desk and exhaled loudly. She was dressed in leggings the color of cotton candy with lipstick to match, covered in a bright white poncho with what looked like owls patterned across it. Why in God’s name did this drive him crazy? It wasn’t exactly leather and lace. Still, the thought of peeling it off gave him just as much of a thrill.

He needed to put a lid on it.

“So, uh… you got something for me?”

“Anytime ya want it, sugar,” she said with a lascivious wink that she followed up with a full laugh. Just in case his blood pressure wasn’t high enough. “Just kidding. Yeah, I’ve got it here. Hold on.”

She handed him a leaf of wide-ruled notebook paper, bent and tattered and covered with the flamboyant whirls and loops of her now-familiar handwriting. There were more than a few coffee stains and doodles on the margins, the most common theme being what looked like a unicorn chasing a robber. It was held together with a thick clamp at the top, making it almost impossible to flip through the pages.

“That’s… um. That’s original,” he said lamely, looking over it.

“I know! I’m so sorry. If ya don’t mind waiting a few days I’ll transcribe it but I know they’re holding us to a pretty strict deadline so I didn’t want them to come for your head.”

“I appreciate that,” he said, nodding before gently placing her manuscript to the side. “So, who is Chloe Ransom killing these days? Shapeshifters or ghosts?”

“Tracking a wendigo through the deep dark woods, actually,” she said, beaming. “With a sweet hunk of forest ranger to keep her company, of course.”

“Of course,” he said with a smile. “Well, I have some cover art to go over with you and there have been a few changes in your contract for the next three books…”

-- X --

It was after seven before Dean made it back to his townhouse, yawning and swinging a big bag of takeout along with his briefcase. Donna’s manuscript - such as it was - was like a lead weight on his arm, begging to be hauled up and read to death. He’d told himself that if he got through the other chapters vying for his attention he could read all of Donna’s tonight over dinner. He’d chosen a greasy burger and fries - Chloe Random’s main staple as she flitted from bar to bar, looking for cases and any excuse to pull out the armory in her trunk.

Dean tossed his jacket and tie as he situated himself on one end of his couch, turning to stretch his legs over the cushions. He’d placed a cold beer on the coffee table next to him and kicked his shoes off. Burger in one hand and Donna’s manuscript in the other, he dug in. The handwriting baffled him occasionally but he was able to decipher it if he tilted it far enough to the side.

The first few chapters were easy to fly through. Chloe was back in the saddle after a nest of vampires tried to turn her into lunch in the last book - they’d succeeded with her partner. Poor Sam. But now she was coming out of mourning and out of her recovery, looking to kick some ass. He scribbled a few notes on the sides but Dean didn’t slow down until close to chapter nine, when something like suspicion prickled over his skin.

Chloe stepped into the office, grateful for the air conditioning after the sauna that was the inside her car. Appalachia in the dead heat of summer wasn’t a picnic. She could only hope her deodorant was up to the job, because the man behind the desk ahead of her was more likely to have her sweating than the blazing sun outside.

Dark blond hair cut short and tousled to look like he’d just run his fingers through it, a sharp jaw, and lethally green eyes. A few shallow crow’s feet that turned his face from pretty to something closer to devastating. It was the eyes that held her attention the longest, at least until he smiled. Then her eyes snapped to the ever so slightly elongated canines nestled into his otherwise straight white teeth. A hint of the primal, hidden among the mundane. She couldn’t help her mind wandering to which part of her anatomy he’d sink those teeth into first.

Dean paused, looking up and away from the words on the page.

He fought the urge to run for a mirror, checking his own reflection against the description in the story. Unconsciously his tongue drew up to rub against his top teeth, the ever so slight edge on his canines now roaring to the forefront of his attention. Were they longer? Certainly not longer than average. No one had ever called them out to him, anyway, but there it was... a bare millimeter jutting out from the line of the rest of his teeth.  

His attention went back to the story.

“You must be Detective Ransom,” the supermodel-turned-park ranger said, standing from his chair to offer his hand. Cripes, he was even tall. Just tall enough to make her look up at him through her lashes like the hussy she was.

“That’s me,” she affirmed, taking his hand in her own. Calluses, she noticed. The man did real work. “Sorry, they didn’t give me your name when I left the precinct. I was out the door like a flash.”

“Daniel,” he told her, “Daniel Wesson. But just Dan is fine.”

Son of a bitch.

Dean put the manuscript down to run his hand over his face. Was he crazy? Was he imagining all this? He wasn’t any more or less self-absorbed than the next guy, but come on. There’s seeing yourself in everything and then there’s seeing yourself when someone has obviously written about you.

He finished the remainder of the portion in record time, not even bothering to pick up his pen to make notes. Dan and Chloe sat and talked about the case - a slew of missing hikers, remains never found. Chloe didn’t mention her added knowledge of a pattern just like this one going back forty years, and then another set of disappearances forty years before that. Dan was forthcoming and Chloe was invested, eager to put down the monster and get back to her hometown in Minnesota with enough time for her sister’s wedding. Chapter ten finished with Chloe packing her gear and heading to the mouth of the forest, a flask on her hip and Dan at her side.

His burger had grown cold and his beer had fallen flat at some point but it didn’t matter. The pages in his hand had captivated him to such an extent that he doubted he’d notice if someone kicked in his front door. Before he knew what he was doing he had grabbed his cell phone off the coffee table and flipped to Donna’s number. It was there… inviting him to press on it. A text, even. She was probably still in the city.

Dean closed the application and set the phone back down.

He was getting a little worked up. Overreacting because of his… preoccupation with her. Authors were known to take people and places from their real lives and put them into their fictional ones. That wasn’t so unusual, although he’d never seen a suspiciously similar version of himself in anyone else’s work. The only way to solve this, of course, was more data.

He needed more chapters.