#and they’re neither of them my dogs so there’s the added annoyance of the fact that. it wasn’t my responsibility to train them

[jimmyandthegiraffes]

I am not going to lie folks. I am at the end of my ROPE I’m going to SNAP

[theoreticslut]

“I know what it’s like...” 

pairing: george weasley x reader

 requested: no

word count: 4.3k

warnings: depression, mentions of anxiety, mentions of no appetite, kinda angsty, maybe kinda really fluffy at the end??

A/N: I really hope this doesn’t suck. I really hate to admit it, but I’ve been having so many insecurities in my writing lately. First I didn’t have the time, then I didn’t have the energy, & now it’s a lack of inspiration and just total self-criticization of my work. I don’t think this is the absolute worst thing I’ve written - it’s kinda cute at the end - but it’s also not my favourite. Maybe you could let me know your thought on it?? please? Anyways, hopefully you like it! Xx  

Taglist: @justmesadgirl @xuckduck @yikesyikesyikes95 @filipi-yes @aestheticwh0r3 @siredkai @matsuno-nadeshiko @msmarklee1213 @immajustreadwritereblog @msmimimerton @perfectlysane24 @mischievous-queen @bunnyboo7 @grandeoptimist @kaitlynw011 @daddystevee @slytherinxhunter @streetfighterrichie @softlyqoos  @sarcasticallywitty15 @isthereanymorejello @karushinekomiya @p0gue420 @hogwartslut @sebby-staan @darthwheezely @slytherin-7 @callmelilone @teenagesublimefan @midsummernightdream @hufflrpuffforfred @snoopydoop1 @fredweasleypls @hopefullhearts @pandaxnienke @georgeweasleyishot @fredshmeasley @youralternantpersonality @stoopidwithtwohoes

^let me know if you’d like to be added/removed (or add yourself here)! Xx

You're such a disappointment. No one likes you. What are you even doing here? They're all pretending to li-

"y/n? You listening?" hermione asks, bringing you out of your thoughts.

"Hmm? yeah. You were saying?"

She frowns slightly, her brows furrowing in thought, but decides to continue on with her story. Something she had read recently that could supposedly help Harry in his latest ordeal. In all honesty, you had no idea what everyone was talking about anymore.

You were currently sat on the couch in the common room in, hermione and ginny on either side of you. You're legs are drawn right up into your chest as your arms are wrapped around them. Normally you'd be happy here, but today you'd much rather be hidden away somewhere all by yourself. Maybe the library? Or in one of the less travelled hallways?

"Y/n!"

"What?!"

"Grouchy are we?" fred snickers, getting a side-eyed glare from you, and george though that was unknown to you, as he and George sat on the floor in front of all of you.

"What do you think?" Ron asks when you finally turn your attention back to the group.

"Think about what?"

There's a moment when they all look at you, whether it be amazement or annoyance that you haven't heard a word of the conversation. However, there were definitely some looks of concern in there that you pay no attention to, particularly george's.

He was always able to tell when you were upset, even though you really didn't want him to worry about you. You felt silly being in such a mood with no particular cause. There was really nothing he could do for you this time, so you thought the longer you could keep him from worrying, the better.

"What do you think we should do to get past the dog?" ron asks.

"Uh, I don't know. Have you tried giving it a treat? Dogs like treats, yeah?"

He scoffs at you while hermione frowns, knowing something isn't quite right with you, but she doesn't want you to feel like she's pushing.

"I think I'm going to lie down for a bit. I'm quite tired all a sudden." You sigh, pushing yourself up from the couch. You bid your friends a goodbye before disappearing up the stairs to your dorm, missing the way a few pairs of eyes follow after you in concern.

~.~

"Morning, y/n." hermione greets as you sit down with them a few days later for breakfast.

You can't help but relish in the sound of the mostly empty dining hall. You've always enjoyed the peacefulness of the hall in the early mornings of the weekend. Most students preferred to sleep in and you were not going to complain one bit.

Too much noise has been getting on your nerves quite easily lately. You try your best to be polite about it, but you often end up feeling like a bitch for just getting annoyed. You don't even have to say anything and you feel bad.

"Morning, 'mione. Any plans for today?"

"Just to do a little studying. You?"

"I don't know yet. I haven't quite decided."

She nods, watching you as you make yourself a plate of food, noticing how you don't serve yourself much. While you're distracted, she notices just how tired you seem. Not in the way in which you'd carry dark circles under your eyes, but more so in the way in which you unconsciously fold in upon yourself as the weight of holding yourself up is too much.

"Are you feeling alright, y/n?" she asks after a moment to which you nod, sending her a small, yet unconvincing, smile.

"Of course, hermione. Just a bit tired. Must be the stress of assignments and tests and what not."

"Of course." she nods.

"It's all very stressful, but...just take care of yourself. Okay? I'm always here to help you with anything."

You smile and nod, appreciative of your amazing friend, but you know you won't be talking to her about any of it. Not for awhile at least. Your mind won't let you talk to anyone.

You're pathetic. Such a sad bitch. They don't care. You're unwanted. No one likes you. No one cares for you. You're only doing it for attention. You have no reason to be sad. You're just annoying them. Apologize. Apologize. Apolo-

"Woah, y/n. Where are you going?" George asks, chuckling as he holds you in front of him, having nearly bumped into him.

"Trying to trample us, love?" fred chuckles, standing beside the two of you.

You smile, a small blush rising to your cheeks as you didn't mean to not be paying attention...it's just been real easy to get distracted by your thoughts lately.

"Y/n?"

"Oh, yeah. Sorry, George. I-I think I'll be heading to my dorm. I'm kinda tired." You say, hoping to merlin that he buys your excuse.

You and George have been good friends, arguably best friends, since your first year at hogwarts when he and Fred were in their second year. You had somehow managed to share a train compartment with the two of them, and eventually started talking to them, quickly becoming friends with them.

You hadn't planned on talking to either of them. They were older, and dare you say attractive. You didn't think you had any chance at being friends with them. There was no way that you, a measly first year, was cool enough to be friends with these two, redheaded older students.

It wasn't until George had asked if you were alright, having picked up on your nervousness, that you actually started talking to them. Since then, you and him have been real good friends. He could tell when you were upset or anxious, and he could always cheer you up or calm you down - whatever the situation called for. He was the best at making you laugh and smile, and he was the person you could always get a hug from at the end of a long day.

He frowns, taking notice of how distracted you seem even when giving him your attention. He's seen you upset and anxious before, but this is something entirely different.

"Hey, Freddie. You go on, I'll meet up with you later."

"You sure?"

George nods, motioning for his brother to go on ahead. Fred nods and smiles, winking at his twin. Fred knows how dear you are to his brother, he's often tried to get george to just tell you how much you mean to him, but he is stubborn if not anything else.

"Why don't you come along with me, yeah?" George suggests, his arm instinctively resting around your shoulders as you two walk together.

"Where are we going?" you ask after a moment.

"You’ll see."

You frown, sighing but nodding as he leads the way to whatever destination he has in mind, his arm never leaving your shoulders.

~.~

"And I believe that's checkmate, Harry." you can hear ron say as he wins yet another round of wizard chess.

You've been laying on the couch, curled up with George for about an hour now after spending a couple hours secluded in the astronomy tower together. He didn’t bother you for any answers, just asked if you were okay and let you be when you told him you were fine. He just let you sit there and stare out att he grounds, holding you when you’d let him. It did feel nice being held by someone, but you still felt like you were being a bother.

"Are you ever going to beat me? Honestly, Harry, I've beaten you how many times now?"

"Hey, george? Will you play a game?" ron asks as Harry takes a seat on the other side of the couch from you two.

"Not right now, little brother. Maybe later."

"What about you, Y/N? Think you can beat the champion?" he asks.

You close your eyes, letting out a deep breath. For whatever reason, Ron's gloating was getting on your nerves. He always did this, so you should be used to it by now, right?

"Y/N?"

"I think it'd be better if I didn't play right now."

"How come? Afraid of losing?"

"Ron." george warns, feeling your body tensing the longer he continues talking.

"What? I don't think any of you have ever really beaten me on a good day. Only when I've been distracted."

"We get it, Ron. You're the absolute best at wizard chess. Maybe you should join a tournament for it?" You quip, a bit of sarcasm and bite laced through your words.

"What's wrong with your girlfriend, george?"

You can feel your frustration starting to boil and you're trying your absolute best to keep it under control. the last thing you need to do is snap at one of your friends, who is also your best friend's brother.

Ron and Fred have always teased you and George for being so close. It was annoying, sure, but you had gotten to the point where you could just ignore it. You wouldn’t mind dating george, in fact you often thought of asking him, but you figured it’d be safer to just stay friends. Neither of you really seemed to mind it, anyways. So why did it bother you so much having him joke about it?

"We're not dating, ron."

"Is that why she's upset?"

"Ron, why don't you try shutting your mouth for a bit? You know that george and I are friends. Have been for years. It’s not going to change anytime soon." You quip.

You can feel george starting to rub your arms, attempting to calm you down, but it's not really doing much today.

"You're being kind of rude today, y/n."

"well you're being kind of annoying."

"you're never this mean." he pouts.

"So sorry to disappoint you, ronald. Do you think you could manage being happy every single second of the day? Do you think you could manage being the one everyone turns to when they're upset?"

"But you always tell us to come to you!"

"Yeah, I do. You know why, Ron?”

“I figured it’s because you're just really kind and caring.”

“Partly. Mainly it’s because I know what it's like to be upset and feel like there's no one there to listen or to care. I know what it's like to feel like you have to push through the day feeling like utter dragon shit. I know what it's like to feel completely numb and alone even when surrounded by friends, and I don't want anyone else to feel like that."

"It's bloody hell, ron. Not that you could imagine, you know, being mr. wizard chess champion and all." you huff, pushing yourself up from the couch and out of George's arms before you're storming over to the stairs for your dorm.

"Way to go, ron. Can you really not read the room?" george sighs, getting up to go after you.

~.~

"Y/n?" you hear george call as he knocks on your door, opening it up slightly.

You knew he would come after you, but you had really hoped he wouldn't. You didn't want him feeling bad for you. You were a big girl. You could handle yourself. You also didn’t want him to yell at you for snapping at Ron. You already felt guilty enough.

"I'd like to be alone, george."

"I don't think you do. You just don't want to bother any of us."

You sigh, not bothering to respond to him as he shuts your door and makes his way over to your bed. He slips off his shoes and crawls into the bed beside you, gently pulling you into him.

He slowly starts rubbing your arms as you’re curled up against his chest, his scent of vanilla, bonfire, and rain filling your senses. You can’t help but feel yourself relax in his arms. Carefully you turn over on your other side so your face is buried into his chest, his scent only stronger in this position.

"Why do you think you need to handle everything yourself?" He quietly asks after a few moments, his fingers gently running through the strands of your hair.

“Because I’ve always had to.”

“You don’t need to anymore, though, darling. I hope you know that.”

“Don’t I?”

“No. You have all of us here for you now. Hermione, Harry, Ginny. Ron and Fred even though they both can be a git at times. But you’ve got me, always.”

You smile lightly, keeping your head buried in his chest. Sure you’ve found him attractive since the very first time you laid eyes on you, but you never planned on falling for him. He didn’t need to know just how happy his words made you.

“You’re sure I won’t be bothering you if I do?”

“Y/n, I would rather you feel like you’re bothering me 24/7, even though you never could, than feel as if you’re alone."

“Why don’t you tell me what’s been going through you’re head this last week?” He suggests, his one arm sliding down to your waist to pull you into an even tighter hug, his other hand still playing with your hair.

You sigh, trying to figure out how to even start. There’s nothing that’s really been wrong...just your mind. You can’t focus, your thoughts are becoming more and more negative, you’re just tired all the time, you have no energy, and you’re just...numb. You’re not happy, but you’re not really sad either.

"Y/n, darling?"

"I don't know where to start, george. Nothing is wrong, I'm just...not happy."

"That seems like a good enough place to start to me. So you're just not happy. It happens. What else have you been feeling?"

"I'm just so tired, georgie. I honestly don't ever want to leave my bed. I just want to stay wrapped up in blankets, not doing a single thing. But I should be doing something. I'm pathetic if I stay in bed all day not doing anything. I mean, I'm pathetic now, not really doing anything I need to be-"

The rest of your words are mumbled as george clamps a hand across your mouth after pulling you back from his chest to see you. You look at him with large, pouty eyes. His own eyes stern and staring at you, his brows drawn in a frown.

"Don't you say that. You are not, and never will be, pathetic."

"But George-"

"No."

You frown, not liking that you've upset him. You're not sure why he's upset though, you're only stating the truth.

You're a pathetic, sad bitch who is only faking her feelings for attention. Why would he want to be friends with you? Why would you think he'd ever see you as more than a friend. You're beyond lucky to have him consider you a friend.

"Stop putting yourself down. You wouldn't do that to anyone else now, would you?"

You shake your head, eyes dropping contact with his.

"Hey," he say, lifting your chin back up so he can look into your eyes. He needs to know that you're hearing him and understanding.

"If you wouldn't ever put someone else down, why do you do it to yourself?"

"I-I don't know. I deserve it."

"No. Nuh-uh. You're one of the most wonderful people I've ever met. So you're not having a good week with your mind, that does not mean you deserve the criticism you're giving yourself."

"Tell me one thing you like about yourself. Anything." he states, pushing some hair out of your face.

You frown, not sure why he's asking that of you. There's nothing you can think of that you like about yourself. Not right now at least.

"George, why?"

"Just tell me one thing. What is one thing you like about yourself?"

"I don't know. I guess I like my hair?"

"Yeah? What do you like about it?"

"I like the length of it? The colour is nice at times. I think it's usually pretty soft." You shrug, you're not really sure why george is having you do this.

You watch as george smiles, nodding at you in approval. He knows how hard you get on yourself when you're stressed or upset, he can only imagine how judgmental you are of yourself while depressed. He's learned that getting you to say some things you like about yourself disrupts the cycle of judgement and criticism you fall into.

"Anything else you like about yourself?"

"I guess I'm a nice person at times. I'm almost always there to cheer people up."

"Good. You want to know what I like about you?"

He chuckles, sending you a full smile as you furrow your brows in confusion. He's always found you adorable, pretty much since he first saw you on the train, but his favourite look of yours was your look of confusion. The way your brows furrowed, your bottom lip pouts out just the tiniest bit, and the way you always cock your head to the side no matter how minute the tilt.

"I like a lot about you, darling. There's a reason we've been friends for so long now." he chuckles.

"I like you're hair, too. I love the colour of it and how it compliments your skin tone perfectly. I love how soft and silky it is. I honestly have no idea how you get it so soft, but it's the most wonderful thing to play with. The feeling of it sliding between my fingers is just magical."

You can't help the blush that rises to your cheeks. You try to bury your face into his chest again, but he just chuckles and brings his face closer to yours, his forehead resting against yours so you're looking at each other eye to eye.

"I really like how kind and compassionate you are to everyone unless there's a reason to be otherwise. I can't tell you how many times I've seen you drop your own commitments just so you can listen to some random classmate who's having a bad day. And they always leave you so much happier. I swear to merlin, you must be gifted in cheering people up."

"But I also really like how fierce you get when someone pushes you past your limits or does something disrespectful. Remember that time in your third year when you sent malfoy running scared after picking on some poor first year? I vowed to never get on your bad side that day because I never wanted to be on the receiving end of that."

You can't help the small chuckle that leaves your lips as he tells you this, his own chuckle tumbling from his chest.

"I can be a bit, hot-headed sometimes, can't i?" You smile, looking up at him.

"I think you get more than just 'hot-headed,' love. I'm pretty sure you could've done anything you wanted to malfoy that day and not one of us watching would have said a single thing about it."

"You were somehow so collected, yet extraordinarily ferocious. No one in their right mind would dare go up against you because you have the heat, the words, the maturity. You scared me worse than my own mother, y/n."

"Well I don't want to be scary!" You giggle.

"That's the thing though! Normally you're not scary, darling. You're like this soft little cupcake; just so sweet and comforting. But then you go and do that. And it's just-It's terrifying because you don't often get angry like that. So when you do get like that, we can tell you mean business." He chuckles, a large smile on his face as he sees you smiling now.

"You know what else I like?"

"What else do you like about me, weasley?" you smile.

"I mean, there's a lot of things I like about you. But I really like how hard you try to be there for everyone, no matter what you may be going through. I think you could be on your deathbed and would still try to make someone else feel better."

You chuckle and shake your head, trying to hide the smile that threatens to overtake your face.

"That kind of goodness takes dedication. It takes a conscious choice to do that day in and day out. And yet you do so without even being asked. You just, you take care of people and I think that's what I like the most about you." he sighs, pushing away the hair that's fallen in front of your face again.

"You're always taking care of everyone else. It's time you let someone else take care of you."

"And who would that be, george? I've always ended up being disappointed by those I let take care of me."

He frowns, watching you for a moment as you watch him. How you would love to be taken care of and feel completely safe for once. How you would love to not feel like you're walking on eggshells or feel like you're being overshadowed by something more important.

"Me."

"You? Georgie, I know we've been friends for awhile, but I seriously doubt you'd want to take care of me. I mean, with how messy my emotions, my mind, gets at times. You don't want to take care of that, do you?"

"Y/n. Stop criticizing yourself for just one minute. I've wanted nothing more than to take care of and protect you since we first met. do you remember what the first thing I ever said to you was?"

You nod, sighing as you remember your very first train ride to hogwarts. You had sat in a compartment all by yourself, already anxious to start at hogwarts as you were muggleborn and knew nothing of magic except from the letter you had received. Your parents were divorced, so you hadn't even had the support of both of them, if you had support from either of them at all.

Regardless, you were beyond nervous and had no idea what the year was going to bring. It wasn't long after the train pulled out of the station that your compartment door had opened and there stood fred and george.

Fred had been the one to ask if it was alright for them to share the compartment with you, to which you had nodded and motioned for them to sit down, far too nervous to speak. Your nervousness wasn't dying down either as you listened to them talk about their plans for the year as well as previous lessons they had learned and lessons that had heard they were to learn.

"You asked me if I was alright."

"mhmm. I could tell you were nervous when fred and I first joined you, given you couldn't even respond to fred. Then I watched as you only seemed to become more nervous the more we talked about school. I figured it was just first year nerves that a lot of people get, but the more I watched you, the more I realized that it was more than that.”

“From there on I knew I wanted to be there for you, help your years at hogwarts be the best they could be. I knew I wanted to take care of you."

"And I hope I haven't let you down any."

You smile, shaking your head as you bury it into his chest again. This was quickly becoming the most serious conversation you've ever had with him and you weren't sure if you were happy about that, or if you were terrified.

"No, you have not once let me down, george. Quite the opposite actually." you mumble against his chest.

He wraps his arms around you once more, holding you tight against his body as his one hand plays with your hair again. You can't help the smile that takes over your face.

You have always felt safe with george, and it's true that he's never once let you down. He's been the one there for you to calm you after getting stressed out over homework and tests. He's been the one there to comfort you after a bad date, not that you've gone on many. He's been the one to listen to you go on about a certain guy or friend that's done something to bother you.

He's been there for you for every late night study session, every early morning wave of anxiety, every dreary afternoon where you're just worn out from the day. He's been there for you for your first party, your first round as prefect, your first hangover. Every achievement of yours, both big and small he's been there for. Most times, without you even asking.

He's been the one there for you since the very first day you met, and he's never once disappointed you.

"If you'd let me, darling, I would love to be the one for you to rely on for the rest of your life."

"George..."

"Hmm?"

"A-Are you...what are you asking me?" you blush, still not pulling your face from his chest yet. You're far too comfortable, and far too embarrassed at the moment to even consider looking at him.

"You know, even though its beyond annoying and embarrassing some days, my brothers do tend to know how I'm feeling."

"And that means?"

"It means that I really like you, y/n. Have for awhile, I've just been too nervous to say anything. Didn't want to screw up our friendship."

you smile, pulling your head back to look at him as he waits for an answer.

"I like you too, george. Have for awhile, just didn't want to screw up the friendship." You copy, even though it's completely true.

There's no missing the smile that takes over his features as he gently places a kiss to your forehead.

"You're amazing, y/n. You can't ever forget that, even when you do get a bit depressed. If you do forget, there is nothing in this world I won't do to remind you. You are never alone, and you can always rely on me and our friends. I promise."

“Having a rough week with your mind is not the end of the world. It happens to everyone, sometimes just a bit more often to some. That doesn’t mean you’re any more pathetic than the rest of us.”

You nod and smile, pulling yourself into his chest more, drawing a chuckle out of him as he wraps his arms around you more. From here on, he will do everything in his power to remind you how amazing you are each and every day. He’s sure it’ll take some time for you to get used to, but he’s ready for the challenge.

[moonslove7]

Moonys Soft

(Remus Lupin x reader)

Summary: (Y/n) accidentally encounters Moony while having a midnight stroll, what happened next was of course unexpected and highly unusual...

You sighed as you stopped studying, letting the book fall on the table completely out of your hands, you had been studying for three hours straight for a test and finally decided you had done all you could until the next morning so you looked to the window behind you which had a perfect view of the moon that hung ever so beautifully in the sky. Sighing again your thoughts moved to Remus, your boyfriend, you wondered what he was up to with his friends, and if of course when the morning came he would be sporting a new scar or injury. The moon used to be beautiful for you but now it just brought distaste and annoyance to you, for this was the worst night of the month for your boyfriend and probably many others, who are forced to go through it. 

‘Maybe I could do with some fresh air... Rem did say they usually are in the Shrieking Shack, so what could a little walk do?’ Nodding to yourself in agreement you picked up your textbook and notes, putting them all inside your bag and then took them to your dorm room, grabbing a hoodie that probably belonged to Remus you quickly pulled it through your arms and head, then realised how it had his usual scent of books, parchment paper, chocolate and a woodsy kind of smell, you inhaled it silently smiling at the comforting smell. The hoodie was slightly bigger because of Remus’ height but it was insanely comfy.

Putting your wand in the hoodie pocket you quietly closed the door and descended down the stairs and on your way to the woods. You weren’t going to go far, you just wanted to have walk in the refreshing fresh air near your boyfriend. Walking slowly, your hands stuffed in the hoodies pocket with your fingers wrapped around your wand just in case, as you walked you got a little distracted by the oncoming coldness that came your way, before you knew it you had made it to the lake, looking at it you slowly started to realise it was completely iced over, your breath now visible when you exhaled, the coldness consuming anything warm it could, furrowing your eyebrows you looked around, something didn’t feel right. Out of the corner of your eye you saw a trail of black like an octopus’s tentacle sway behind a tree, you turned instantly to face it but nothing was now there. 

‘I’m being watched, aren’t I?’ You said to yourself, breathing quicker out of fear, you tried to think what could possibly be watching you, remembering the fact it wasn’t this cold when you first started to walk into the forest only one creature came to mind, one which shouldn’t even be there in the first place, you kept denying that it couldn’t be but what other creature turns its surroundings ice cold in seconds. 

Hearing a swishing sound from behind you, you turned quickly around so your back now faced the lake and instead coming out from the trees was a dementor somehow, you slowly backed up as it approached you, you fell backwards onto the ice cold frozen lake which began to crackle at your fall. You thought this was it, you’d never be able to feel properly ever again, you had no idea how to fight them because you had only just learned they existed in class, not how to defend yourself from them. It started to pick up its speed and was now flying fast towards you, you screamed hoping someone was near by, if anyone would help. 

Closing your eyes tightly and flinching, you heard a growl coming from behind the Dementor, you couldn’t see what was happening but little did you know your boyfriend’s werewolf form had ran into the forest a few minutes after you ventured off into it yourself, and right now all he could tell was that his lover was in danger, snarling at the Dementor Remus ran on all fours towards the Dementor making it swoop off further into the air and fly away instead of at you, making Remus stop running and watch it fly away with you. You were so distracted by the Dementor and making sure it left neither you or the lycanthrope noticed the lake was still crackling, becoming unsteady from the warmth of your body and fall, Remus was just at the edge of the lake, and when you looked at him and locked eyes the ice had broken and you had fallen into the freezing water, shivering from the painfully cold water you tried desperately to swim up to breathe, as you swam your limbs felt heavier and heavier, Remus or rather Moony began running again but onto the ice, he ran to where you were, panting profusely he leaned his snout down to grab onto your jumper to try and help you to get out, he even tried using his two front paws but they did little to help, you managed to drag yourself out with the help of your boyfriend who waited beside you for you to catch your breath, whimpering at how you shivered.

Eventually you stood up, still shaking from the cold but you watched Remus, amazed that he didn’t try to kill you at all, instead he protected you. “Moony...” You whispered, smiling slightly you reached out a hand, to him which made him stop whimpering and instead lean his head towards your hand, you slowly stroked his head in amazement, he wasn’t too furry, but he was definitely fluffy. After a moment he looked up and stood up properly, remembering you were still freezing cold Moony started to whimper again, you walked closer to him whispering words of comfort “It’s okay Moony baby, I’m okay and you’re okay.” You reached out again with both of your arms but to hug him, your arms wrapped around his neck, not too tightly though, and the lycanthrope nuzzled his snout into your neck, licking you slightly you giggled at the feeling and at the outcome of the night.

A few moments later Sirius and James came running out next from the dark trees in their animal forms, their worry turning into wonder at what was happening before them. They had always heard that when someone changed into a werewolf they would hunt and kill any human they could, but he wasn’t; not with you. When you caught eyes with Sirius he tried to point his nose back to the area of the whoomphing willow tree, telling you to try and send Moony back to where they knew he would be safe. You nodded and smiled at him, you began to let go of the lycanthrope, who then began to watch you as you moved slightly backwards and he followed instantly to be by your side. “Come on baby, back to the shrieking shack we go.” You whispered to him, as you both walked back to the tree Moony kept bumping his arm or side into you, you guessed it was his way of knowing you were still there without looking, soon enough you and Moony ended up near the tree, you never knew how to tame the tree to go inside so you waited to see if Sirius or James would show you but instead they just raced inside the tree, Moony looked between them and you, and then decided to take matters in his own hands, trying to be gentle he wrapped his paws under your legs and arms, you squeaked as you realised he was going to run inside with you, and he did. It somehow worked, and Moony didn’t let you down until he reached the top of the house, where a bed was and a sofa, the sofa being in the company of the deer and a black dog who looked to be playfully fighting, Moony walked to the bed where he gently let you down from his long arms, he stood back to give you some space, he was panting again from all the running, you sat up on the bed crossing your legs as you leaned your back against the headboard of the bed.

“Come here Moony.” You whispered again, not wanting to scare him, he leaned his head against the side of yours his snout nuzzling into your cheek, his nose was slightly wet making you giggle at the feeling, you reached out again with your right hand, petting his face softly, eventually he started to lay down on top of you, leaving his head to rest on your shoulder. He then began to snore quietly in your ear, and you brought a hand up to stroke his back as he fell deeper and deeper asleep.

When the moon had gone for the morning sunrise, Remus transformed back to his normal self but to his surprise he was in your lap. He looked at you in confusion, pulling his head back to see you had fallen asleep, his friends laid on the sofa also asleep, he thought to himself ‘at least I haven’t hurt them I don’t think’, wanting to know what exactly happened last night from you he slightly shook your shoulders making you begin to wake up, “Rem?” You asked tiredly, you smiled at him, bringing your hand that rested on his back to his messy hair, “(Y/n) ? what happened? Why are you here? Did I hu-” “No Remus, you didn’t hurt me, you did the exact opposite.. you saved me.” You interrupted the worrying Remus, letting him no straight away he had not harmed you in anyway, one of the things he was most worried about in the relationship was accidentally hurting you. “H-how come I didn’t? I’m glad I didn’t but... I’ve never been near a human before while in my uh, other form and not hurt them.” Remus then heard his best friends yawning, having turned back into their own human forms they looked at the pair sleepily, “Well well well lovebirds, looks like Moony is also pinning after you (Y/n),” Sirius said with a smirk, James was smiling almost giggling at Sirius and how Remus arched his eyebrow at him. “Of course you two idiots saw.” He groaned into his hands, “You two are awful at your job by the way,” he added making James then raise an eyebrow at him, “It’s not our fault Moony wouldn’t stop nuzzling his girlfriend.” James said, Remus shook his head at the pair who looked like they had been to a rave instead of helping him not go near any humans. 

“Rem, it’s okay yeah? Also don’t you remember what happened?” You asked worryingly. “It takes a minute or two but yeah, I do. I guess they’re right though, Moony must also love you too.” He kissed your nose, then started to climb off of your lap, wincing every few seconds from the aching and possible bruises and who knows what from him transforming, you tried to steady him by grabbing his upper arms as he left your lap, he laid on the other side of the bed beside you, “Hey guys.. let’s uh, ditch for a day?” James said as he laid back down with Sirius on the sofa, instantly feeling a growing need to fall back into dreamland. “Mhm, I got a test today, so only five more minutes for me, then I’ll help Rem go to the nurse.” You replied, Remus looked at your hand before holding it and watched you as you smiled and slowly closed your eyes to sleep again, he smiled at your sleeping figure, knowing you were probably safe around his other form, which was something he feared a lot about, he slowly started to succumb to the sleep that had captured both you and his best friends as the Sun rose higher in the sky.

This was so long wtf, anywho I hope you enjoyed, if you want to request for a Remus x reader fanfic please do, i love Remus so much I swear this is the longest one I’ve ever wrote. 

[eryiss]

Chapter One - The House

Summary: Freed and Laxus live incredibly different lives. Freed is a corporate lawyer in the capital city, and Laxus works as a handyman in a countryside hotel. Despite their differences, their lives collide when Freed inherits a house in Laxus’ village, and hires him to make the derelict building liveable. But the closer they get, the more they seem to offer each other. [Fraxus Multi-Chapter]

This was written as my admission for Fraxus Day 2020, hosted by @fuckyeahfraxus​. It ended up becoming a multi-chapter, and I thought the first chapter should go up today, as a holloween gift. The next one will be published on thursday, and will continue on weekly.

You can read this under the cut, on Fanfiction, or on Archive of Our Own. You can find the chapter masterpost here.

Chapter One – The House

Freed hadn't expected his mother's death to be so tedious.

He should probably feel more emotional about it. He and his mother had no ill-will towards one another – there was no tragic secret nor history of arguing or abuse between them – but he found himself oddly unbothered by hearing of her death. Not a numbness of any kind either, he felt very much the same as if a colleague had told him their mother had passed. It was just an event that had happened, and something that affected his life, but not his emotions.

His apathy probably came from the fact he and his mother hadn't spoken for years. Again, not for any great reason, just because they didn't. He and his father had always been closer, and when he had died four years prior, Freed had grieved and got over it as best a person can. His mother was the worker of the family, and thus the emotional relationship hadn't been as strong. Neither had made an effort to connect in their adulthood, only really linked by his father. And so once he had passed, there wasn't really any reason to speak. Neither person was overly emotional, so they didn't seek comfort in one another's arms, and instead just drifted off.

And so, the death of his mother was tedious.

Death was followed by a lot of things. The need to plan a funeral, people being completely unaware of how to act around him, and an odd amount of pity coming from people who didn't know him at all. Freed was something of a pragmatist, and as such it became an experience he didn't want to repeat. At least with the death of his father, he'd had his sadness to distract him. But this was just, well… tedious.

Perhaps the worse thing to have happened occurred two days prior. As was customary after someone passes, there was a reading of the will. A pointless exercise for this instance, given Freed had literally inherited everything. Freed knew this already – he was his family's lawyer for god's sake, he drafted the damned thing – but he still had to attend the reading. So, for an hour in a busy work week, he was forced to travel down two floors in his building, and sit there while another lawyer – Natsu Dragneel, who had actually interned under Freed for a year – explained the law and what the will meant. To the man who had taught him it!

Further adding to the annoyance of the situation, almost everything he'd inherited had strings attached. There was a lot of debt, from both loans and gambling, apparently. Freed's credit score was going to take a hit, given how much there was. There were also her belongings, which he would have to look through at some point. She also apparently owned property, which was now his.

This would be good, had it not been for its location. Freed's life was centred in the city, this house was in the middle of the countryside, miles from what Freed considered civilisation. Why she had owned a house there was beyond Freed, she was more metropolitan than him; she lived in Era and Era alone. But unfortunately, now it was his.

So now, he was nearing the end of a three-and-a-half-hour train ride.

He was going to sell the place, of course. Why his mother hadn't done so confused Freed, given her debts. Property values were high in this area, many rich older people wanted to retire there, and a three-bedroom cottage was perfect for that. But he needed to see it, speak with estate agents, and sign away the rights. All in all, tedious.

When he got off the train, he was hit by how different it was to Era. It was open, the air smelt different and it looked like an illustration from a Victorian romance novel. All very idyllic, but Freed had no intention of staying long enough to appreciate it. Instead, he located the taxi service, and ordered a car to his new property.

Apparently Uber hadn't arrived there yet.

The car came soon enough, and after a few failed attempts to illicit more than a curt answer from Freed, it was a quiet ride. It took about forty minutes, and Freed watched as fields passed by, the atmosphere dampened by the scent of manure filling the air. People raved about the fresh air in the countryside, but Freed much preferred the smell of petrol and faint piss of Era to literal crap. Better the devil you know.

Thankfully, the smell of muck spreading was interrupted when his phone lit up. He glanced at the contact name – 'Estate Agent' – before lifting it to his ear and accepting the call. He needed an evaluation for the property, and apparently this man was the best in the area. Hopefully the fastest too.

"Mr Clive," He greeted, leaning back.

"Mr Justine," The estate agent replied in a more jovial tone. "Just to let you know, I'm at the property and waiting for you. There's been a few evaluations over the years and they're all pretty similar, so it shouldn't take long."

"Thank you," Freed nodded to himself, glancing past the front seat to see the GPS saying they should be at their destination in about five minutes. "I'll be there soon."

"Great," Gildarts' grin was audible in his tone. "Sorry that you had to come down here to deal all of this."

"It's not your fault," Freed said placatingly, though not honestly. "The sooner it's done, the better."

"Couldn't agree more," Gildarts grinned.

"Why had it been evaluated before?" Freed asked, brows furrowing slightly.

"Apparently your mother has tried to sell it a few times. Twice with independent online stores, and once with an estate agent. Clearly it didn't go well," The man laughed. "But we'll be more successful. We know what we're doing."

After some pointless pleasantries, the call was ended. Freed found himself frowning; a cottage in this area should have been sold without any difficulty. The fact this one hadn't, despite its perfect position and seemingly positive qualities, didn't bode well. He tried to be optimistic, but at this point, it was almost certain that even selling the house would further add to his annoyances.

It was ten minutes later – it took longer than expected because he got caught up in traffic caused by a heard of cows crossing from one field to the other, followed by an uncaring farmer who glared at the taxi as if it were an affront to his lifestyle – when he saw the house.

It was clear as to why his mother couldn't sell it.

The place was practically derelict. In its prime it would have been the ideal village cottage, with white walls and a slated roof. It would have had a garden filled with perfectly trimmed flowers, a large but well-groomed oak tree, and most likely a cliché dog running around. Unfortunately, the house's prime was clearly centuries ago because it embodied the world decapitated in a way Freed had never seen. The roof was falling apart, the garden filled with so many overgrown plants nothing else could be seen, and a window was hanging out of the wall. It was unliveable, and practically unlovable.

Perfect. His mother had left him debt, three wardrobes filled with wrinkled clothes, and a building nobody could use without a death wish. Now his hopes of selling the place was unrealistic.

As he approached the building, a man made his presence known by leaving a car with a smile on his face. He was older than Freed, in his late forties if Freed was being kind, and he gave a polite 'Hello' as he approached. It was clearly the estate agent, who was showing a lot more optimism than Freed felt at that moment.

"Mr Justine, nice to meet you in person," He greeted.

"Likewise," Freed nodded, though his tone didn't reflect the sentiment. Gildarts laughed.

"I can see from your face that you were expecting something a little… different," The man chuckled, and Freed found himself annoyed by the man's enthusiasm. "You probably thought it'd be a little more liveable, didn't ya?"

"Something like that," Freed agreed, looking at the building almost accusingly.

"Well if it's any kind of relief, the building's structure is actually very secure. I won't lie, there's probably hundreds of problems going on in there, but at least the roof isn't going to collapse on our heads," The agent laughed, and in any other situation it might be less grating. "I can explain the details as we look through it, I'm sure that you want to get this done quickly."

"If that's possible."

Gildarts nodded, then jogged back to his car. When he returned, he was holding two hardhats that one would see on a building site, and Freed looked at it warily. Gildarts smiled and patted him on the shoulder with an unneeded amount of strength.

"The roof itself won't fall, but there's always a chance that the ceiling tiles might, so we can't be too careful, can we?" He chuckled loudly, placing on his hat, and walking into the building. Freed, after a moment of hesitation, joined him.

~~~

"So, you're sayi-" A small scratch. "-basically unsellable."

Freed ground his teeth together slightly. He was pacing down a village high-street, holding his phone to his ear and trying his best to listen to Evergreen's stuttering voice. Apparently random country roads were perfectly fine with phone signals; but for the most built up area for miles, it was practically impossible to have a conversation without some kind of interference. It was something very quickly grating on his nerves.

"Essentially, yes," Freed sighed, sidestepping a couple walking towards him. "It's too run down for anyone to want to buy it. My estate agent said the best thing to do is to see if a property auction will take it and sell it cheap."

"Why don't you-" Another scratching sound. "-it down. Sell the land-" A quick, high pitched noise. "-farmer or property developer."

Freed's muscles tenses slightly at the suggestion. He had thought about that, but of course when he had told Gildarts that it was the logical course of action, the man had looked at him with something akin to pity in his eyes. He had then patted the man on the shoulder – again making Freed's body jerk slightly with the power behind the action – and added another layer of annoyance to this ridiculous situation.

"Apparently it's a listed building, and has some kind of historical preservation status," Freed sighed, slowing slightly when the buzzing on the phone went quiet. Hopefully, he had a stronger signal now. "Essentially meaning, the building has to stay."

"If it's so important, why did they let it get so run down?" Evergreen asked, voice clear now.

"They didn't, my mother has been receiving phone calls and letters from local council about it for years," Freed wiped at his eye with his free hand, deflating slightly. "Which I will now be getting, I suppose. Along with the letters and phone-calls from debt collectors, no doubt."

"How much would it sell for as it is?"

"Optimistically, 25 thousand. Since you can't make any modifications to the outer building, something in this state is hard to get customers for."

It wasn't anywhere near enough to cover his mother's debts, even when combined with the savings he was unwilling to give up. Though a successful corporate lawyer and having saved a substantial part of his earning for over ten years, Freed was by no means rich. His family came from money, but never gave any to him as they wished for him not to be spoiled. So far it hadn't mattered, but now with six figures of debt from nowhere, his comfortable life seemed unstable. This wasn't helped by the fact he only wanted to use his savings as a last resort; he'd saved this money for himself, not to give to online casinos because of his mother's apparent addiction.

"Couldn't you make it a bit more marketable," Evergreen suggested, and Freed found himself irrationally irritated by the chewing he heard. They were colleagues, and he knew that her lunch break wasn't for another hour. "Tidy it up slightly."

"It's not run down, it's unliveable," Freed grunted. "The windows are boarded up, the garden practically a jungle, bare floorboards, furniture that is practically rotting, and a bird had nested on the oven."

"Maybe plant some flowers and bake a cake when showing people around," Evergreen joked, and Freed almost laughed.

He couldn't resent his mother. He did love her, and perhaps if he had made some kind of effort in talking to her then maybe the debts wouldn't have happened because she could talk to him about her gambling. Of course that regret was pointless now, thinking about what he could have done wouldn't change anything. He just had to deal with the consequences.

"You'll figure something out," Evergreen spoke up again.

"I know," Freed nodded. "But I'm not quite sure exactly how, yet."

"Well, I've just checked, and there's a nice-looking hotel near you," Evergreen smiled, and Freed could hear the clicking of a computer mouse through his speakers. "All good reviews, apparently a brilliant kitchen and very nice staff."

"Good for them," Freed said with furrowed brows.

"I've booked you a room," Evergreen declared, clearly grinning. Freed went to speak but Ever went first. "You're staying there for a week. You can either spend it thinking what to do next with your house, or just have a nice break, which you're overdue. Climb one of the mountains or something. I'll have a suitcase sent down with everything you need."

"No," Freed said firmly.

"I don't believe I gave you a choice, dear," Evergreen smiled. "And I've already paid for it. If you stay, consider it a gift. And if you don't, you'll be in even more debt, and I'm much worse than any bailiff you can think of, and we share an office, so I will make your life miserable."

"You're both blackmailing and threatening me," Freed grunted. "I could technically sue you for workplace harassment."

"Yeah, but you're my lawyer so you'd have to argue with yourself," Evergreen laughed. "Which you could, you've got an ego big enough you probably crop up on those reddit pages about people who think they're really smart," Freed let out an indignant sound at that, and Ever just laughed. "Just take some time off, you know you have to have a week off eventually. Why not just do it now? Enjoy the countryside, smell the fresh air, read a book."

"I read constantly, the fresh air is laden with the scent of literal shit, and so far the countryside is a pointless expanse of green that makes me want to take on more cases against environmentalists."

"Oh stop feeling sorry for yourself," Evergreen laughed. "Find your hotel, get yourself a drink, and relax for a week."

After a second of consideration, and a deflated sigh, Freed spoke again. "What's the hotel called."

"Fairy Tail Inn," Evergreen read aloud. "Sounds a bit cliché, but the rooms look great and the reviews are all good. Should be at one end of the high street, at the top of the hill."

Freed looked back over his shoulder, he had walked past the hotel in his search for a reliable amount of signal. He hadn't paid it much attention, as it was at the start of the conversation and he'd been attempting to understand any of what Evergreen was saying, but it looked nice enough. The only real reason he had actually remembered the place was because he was fairly sure they had mistaken the two spellings of the word Tail. He started to walk back up the steep high-street, telling Evergreen that he knew where the place was.

"Okay, I'll leave you to it then," Evergreen smiled, and the buzzing on the phone returned slightly. "See you in a week. Oh, and text me a picture of the house when you're tetchy so I can make fun of you. Bye!"

She cut herself off before Freed could reply, and the lawyer rolled his eyes slightly.

When he reached the top of the hill, he walked through a quaint beer garden and into the Fairy Tail building. He was confronted with a small front desk, behind which a woman with a light bob smiled up at him. He walked towards her, scanning the name tag – Lisanna – before she gave a polite introduction to the hotel.

"Are you here to eat, or to stay sir?" She asked, voice enthusiastic and happy.

"To stay," Freed explained. "I believe my friend just made a reservation for me. Freed Justine."

"One moment," She smiled, leaning down, and typing on the computer.

As she worked, Freed glanced around the lobby area. From the outside, the building had been incredibly rustic looking, and Freed had feared slightly that it was going to be as old fashioned and outdated inside as well. But it was contemporary, clean, and relatively nice. It was clear that it was made to look farmhouse-ish while keeping all the needed amenities, making a distinction from the branded hotels while also keeping to a high quality.

They had a few certificates hung on the walls, mainly hotel awards from different companies. There was also something proclaiming 'MAGNOLIA: Village of the Year 2019' in proud prominence. Freed vaguely wondered if this was something all businesses got, or if Fairy Tail was some kind of hub for the town.

"There you are," Lisanna said suddenly, and Freed turned back to her. "Room 17. If you'd like to follow me, I'll take you there. I can carry your bags if you'd like."

"I don't have any bags with me, actually," Freed said, and Lisanna looked at the floor with a frown to confirm his words. "This is rather impromptu, I'm afraid. I'm having a suitcase sent down here, I expect it'll be here tomorrow."

"Oh, okay," Lisanna smiled, though Freed could clearly see she was somewhat confused. "What brings you to Magnolia, if you don't mind me asking? We don't get many people here in autumn, you're our only guest actually."

"It's not for pleasure," Freed explained. "I inherited some property, and selling it isn't as easy as I thought, so I'll be here for a little while."

"Is that the Albion House?" She asked as they turned a corner.

"Yes," Freed answered a little slowly.

"Oh, sorry, that probably sounds a bit creepy that I know it so fast," She laughed. "It's just that news sort of travelled about it getting a new owner. It's been run down for a while, and people thought that maybe the new person would try and renovate it. But if you want to sell it then that's your choice of course, I hope it goes better than it did with your mother-" She stopped talking, and clearly looked uncomfortable. "Oh, I'm sorry. For your loss, and for that."

"You don't need to do that," Freed waved her off. "I'm not going to start crying at the sound of her name."

She looked relieved at his reaction, and Freed tried not to show a small scowl on his face. The young woman hadn't done anything wrong, but the fact she knew both the house and the fact his mother had died meant that other people knew as well. He had hoped that, at least for one week, he wouldn't have to deal with people knowing about his bereavement. Apparently he wasn't even going to be given this.

"Is the house important for some reason?" Freed asked as they climbed the stairs. "It's got historical preservation, and you said people were interested when they found out I own it."

"Not exactly," Lisanna smiled. "I think all the buildings in the town have that status, they want to make it look like it did when it was made. Personally, I think they do it because the council makes a lot of money from film shoots coming here," She laughed a little. "And we're a fairly small community, so news gets around. They were the same when it got sold last time, actually. They thought it'd get renovated too."

"So my mother wasn't the reason it looks like it does, then?"

"I've never seen it in a better state," Lisanna shrugged, before pausing in thought. "I think there's a painting of what it used to look like in your room. That's a coincidence."

She laughed to herself before continuing to walk, Freed following her. They walked through a few more corridors and up another staircase before they stopped at the old looking door of one of the rooms. Lisanna pulled a key from her pocket and opened the door, revealing the room that was to be Freed's home for the rest of the week. Freed walked in after, and looked around.

It was a nice room, also designed to look like it belonged in a farm house while still being relatively luxurious. It was on the smaller side, clearly Evergreen hadn't wanted to spend too much if the single bed was telling, but nice enough. A private bathroom, TV, and area for making drinks. It was essentially everything one could want from a hotel room. Although the fact that the slanted roof above the bed was low did make Freed pause; he would have to make sure not to bang his head when he awoke.

His eyes fell to a painting on the wall. Sure enough, there was an illustration of the house he'd been inside, only in a much better state. It looked rather homely.

"It's nice, isn't it," Lisanna smiled. "I think that's why people want to see it renovated. Just because it's nice."

"Well, perhaps soon it will be," Freed mused. "I'll most likely have to sell it to a retail auction, they often attract people looking for cheap property to work on, or so my estate agent said. So perhaps that'll happen."

"You don't sound enthusiastic about the idea?"

"I was hoping for more than an auction house would be willing to pay, I must admit," Freed sighed, still looking at the painting. "It's a last resort, but I doubt I'll find a better offer over the next week."

"You could renovate it and sell it when you're done?" Lisanna suggested.

"My knowledge of property development extends to the legal side only," Freed chuckled to himself. "If I were to try and work on it, there's a good chance I'd set it alight. I expect that doesn't align with the preservations society's rules."

"I suppose not," Lisanna laughed. "I should get back to the desk and leave you alone. Breakfast is served from six until twelve, you get it included in the price of the room. And if your bags come I'll bring them up for you, or have my brother do it since he's working the desk tomorrow If there's anything else you need, just call reception," She smiled. "And we hope you enjoy your stay."

Freed watched her leave, before standing alone in the room and letting himself decompress for the first time since he arrived.

Peculiarly, he found his gaze land on the painting.

[admiralty-xfd]

Culmination

Mulder and Scully live separate lives but can’t seem to forget each other. They begin work on the X Files again and slowly begin to reconnect.

This is chapter 17. To go back to the beginning of the story please click here.

Side note: This is probably my favorite chapter in this story. (Read: Daggoo!)

ISOLATION

SCULLY

(pre S10/ My Struggle I)

Loneliness is a choice.

It’s a choice she’s making again, but this time it feels different. This time she feels like she has no choice. She could be lonely with him, or be lonely without him.

The thought of being lonely with Mulder was the more painful of those two choices. So she left.

Trying to adjust to a life without him has not been easy. She knew it would be a huge change, but she hadn’t anticipated how every single facet of her life would be completely new. New living space, new routine, new acquaintances, new mindset. She supposes that’s what happens when you're so utterly dependent on another person.

Scully had always vowed not to be that person, not to be someone whose very existence relied so heavily on another, let alone on a man. But she broke that vow to herself years ago, she knew it then and she knows it now. She’s left herself completely vulnerable, no safety net in sight. He was her only safety net. Extricating herself from his orbit has been more difficult than she’s comfortable admitting.

The first few days had been a relief. After that it became torture.

It was a horrible feeling, knowing he was a phone call away and she couldn’t talk to him. She had arranged with one of her doctor colleagues to check up on him weekly and refill his prescriptions, which he agreed to wordlessly. She'd told her colleague to contact her if she'd encountered any problems or was ever unable to contact him, and so far she'd heard nothing. This satisfied her, for the time being, in regards to his health.

Divorcing him was something she’d never seriously considered. She tried to convince herself she avoided the topic because she didn’t want to go through all the paperwork and rigamarole involved in dissolving their relationship legally, but she knew that wasn’t the truth. The truth was, she couldn’t do it. She wouldn’t do it. Regardless of whether or not they’d ever get back together, he’d always be joined to her somehow. The thought of adding to both their heartbreaks with such a request was unfathomable to her, at least right now.

Twenty years. Twenty years together and somehow they'd made it all go away.

She buries herself in her work every day, knowing every life saved is one more that isn't her own. She's trying to be happy, but without him, she's lost. She doesn't feel regret, or acrimony, or bitterness; just loss. She's lost the person she cares about more than anything in the world.

She hasn’t spoken to him, other than words necessary to get her things moved out of their house, in ten months. She took what she needed, left everything else behind.

She knows it’s because she secretly hopes she will be back someday, but whenever she thinks about the possibility of this she can’t bring herself to call him. It’s as if they are arguing again about Bigfoot or Big Blue or Big Whatever Else, and they both want to be right, and they can’t both be right, but neither can be proven wrong, so they’re left in an infuriatingly frustrating stalemate. She thinks about this, then, just as quickly, the desire passes and she puts the phone down and continues to learn to live without him.

She’s never gone this long without speaking to him since they met. The gravity of that fact is only setting in now.

Her phone rings. She looks at the caller ID, and doesn’t know why she picks up. She wants to be mad at him but she’s not mad at him, she’s just sad about the whole thing. She’s needed this space to re-establish herself as her own person, her own being. Someone outside of his magnetic pull. But she can’t help but miss him. She’s ignored his calls for months and he hasn’t given up. A small part of her is hopeful that he hasn’t given up.

“Hello?”

“Oh… hi. You picked up.” His voice sounds good, he sounds good. He sounds more like himself again. She’s glad to hear that. After she left she’d worried about the very real possibility he might relapse. The familiarity of his voice hits her in the gut, not to mention how sexy she’s always found it. She tries to ignore that errant thought.

“I did.”

“So… how is everything?”

She pauses. “Okay. How are you?”

“I’m doing all right. It’s been really quiet around here.”

“I’ll bet.”

“Yeah, I’m thinking about getting a dog.”

“You are not,” she says incredulously. She’d floated the idea of getting a dog before but he’d never bitten. He had always been more of a fish kind of person.

“No, I’m not. Just wanted to see what you’d say,” she can hear him smiling. She smiles and rolls her eyes in spite of herself.

“I’d have one by now if my apartment allowed them,” she admits.

“How’s work going?”

“Mulder, did you really just call to chat?”

“Yes. Is that so wrong?”

She’s quiet for a second. Sighs.

“Look, Scully, it’s silly for you to avoid me like this. Just because things didn’t work out for us as a couple it doesn’t mean we can’t be friendly.”

She wants to tell him that yes, actually, that’s exactly what it means. It’s only been ten months. What does he think this is, a vacation? She knows where being friendly with him will lead. It will lead to a place she doesn’t have the willpower to say no to, and then they’d be in trouble all over again.

She can’t tell him the reason they can’t be friends; she’d be admitting a weakness. He’s left her without a choice. She suspects, as usual, the motherfucker knows exactly what he’s doing. A brief flash of annoyance comes over her and she grits her teeth.

One point to Mulder.

“You’re right,” she concedes.

“Okay, friend, so how’s work?" She can practically hear him grinning on the other side of the line. She gives in, because in spite of everything she does miss him.

“It’s fine. My hours have been pretty crazy, but it’s a good thing.” She doesn’t complete the thought, that it’s a good thing because she has less spare time to think about him. But he’s probably completed the thought without her. He tends to do that.

“Yeah, I know what you mean. My hours around here are completely nuts.”

She hears a basketball bounce across the room and pictures him in their living room, probably wearing jeans and a T shirt, laying on the couch. She’s sure he’d been spinning the ball and had just lost hold of it. The place is probably a disaster without her around. She can’t help but smile.

“So what have you been up to?”

“You really want to know?”

She really does. “I really do.”

“Well, believe it or not, I’m writing a book. I’ve been following your advice.”

She’s stunned. “That’s… fantastic. I’m glad to hear that, honestly.”

“Thanks. You’re in it, you know.”

“I… really?” She hadn’t much thought about it but of course she would be. How could she not be?

“Of course, how could you not be?”

“Can I read it?” The words are out of her mouth before she gives herself a chance to think this through.

“Sure, but I’m not finished. Actually I’d really appreciate your help, I don’t have access to our files so I’m doing it mostly from memory.”

“It’s not all about UFOs, is it?”

“Well, I’m not gonna lie to you Scully, they play a part. Does that surprise you?”

She sighs. “No, it doesn’t. I’m just… done with all of that, Mulder. UFOs, aliens, all of that stuff had a stranglehold on my very existence. I’d rather not revisit it.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “Well, tell me how you really feel.”

“I’m sorry, that came out wrong.” She cannot get pulled back into his world. “You know what I mean.”

“Well, would it surprise you if I told you it’s mostly about us?”

Something stirs in her belly. It’s a feeling she knows well: Comfort. Familiarity.

Love.

She wants to push it away but it’s strong.

“You mean… you and me?”

“Yeah.”

She smiles and for a moment neither of them speak. It’s such a small thing, maybe even a silly thing, but it’s so meaningful to her. His life on the X Files in a book and it’s mostly about the two of them. She’s touched.

“Well, I’ll do what I can to help.”

She can't believe she’s essentially committed to helping Mulder write a book within five minutes of being on the phone with him. Between this and getting her to agree to a friendship she starts to believe the man truly is a dark wizard of some kind.

“Thanks, Scully. That’s… that’s big of you.” He says it genuinely, no sarcasm. For a moment they just sit quietly, together and apart, breathing on either end of the line. She wants to hang up almost as desperately as she doesn’t.

“Well, I should probably go.”

He sighs. “Yeah.”

“I’ve got some work to do.”

“Scully, I miss you.”

A knot forms in her stomach. The words are out now, and they can’t be taken back. She misses him too. She’d never want him to know how much, but he’s said it now. She doesn’t speak for a long time.

“You don’t have to say anything. I just want you to know.” He sounds sincere. He’s trying. She does appreciate his effort.

She can’t let this phone call take that kind of turn. She can’t get sucked back in. So she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. She needs to let him go, now.

“Okay. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Okay. Bye.”

She clicks the phone off and sits at her kitchen table. It’s a small table, the smallest one she could find, but it’s still meant for two.

***

Scully goes to the mirror and cleans up the spots of blood on her neck from the surgery she’d been performing. She quickly removes her scrubs in the locker room and changes into her street clothes. She touches up her makeup and straightens her hair. It’s the quickest she’s ever had to prepare for anything resembling a date. Last but not least, she pulls out her black Jimmy Choos and slips them on, replacing them in her locker with the sneakers she’d been standing on for hours.

God, she could use a drink.

She’d tried to go out with other men over the last year or so. After nearly two years without Mulder she thought she might be ready. She’d made a solid effort to find someone who could fill the gaping hole she created when she removed him from her life. But it would always go the same way: some perfectly nice guy engaging her in some perfectly boring conversation which, in the end, could never be a substitute for what she and Mulder shared. Always just some guy who wasn’t Mulder.

She could accept no substitutes. There was no relief in a silhouette.

It won’t stop her from trying. She’ll be damned if she can’t beat this. She beat cancer, for God’s sake.

She exits the hospital and Tad O’Malley is waiting for her, holding the door open to his limousine. She smiles and allows him to help her inside. They sit down and he immediately pours two flutes of Dom Pérignon. She’s impressed, in spite of herself.

“So… tell me more about your work on the X Files, Dana. I’m extremely interested.”

Christ. She doesn’t want to disappoint him the second this thing begins so she decides to indulge him for a bit. “What do you want to know?”

“Well, how do you feel about all this? Do you believe in the paranormal?”

A memory stirs and she thinks of Mulder, young and eager, asking her basically the same question over twenty years ago. Why can’t she stop these memories from persisting?

“I was assigned to the X Files as a scientist, so I come at things from a more rational perspective. But over the years I’ve had… experiences that defy explanation.” She’s recited this mantra so many times she wants to laugh.

“What kinds of experiences?”

She’s not sure where to start. The truth is, the most amazing thing she experienced was Mulder. But she can’t tell him that, especially after the way she practically badmouthed him to Tad earlier. She feels a little bad about that now.

She digs up a couple stories to placate him, and after a few minutes they are chatting companionably, sipping champagne. It feels like the beginning of a nice date. Until:

“And what about Fox Mulder? Does he really believe in these things? He seems a little disillusioned. Not what I expected, actually.”

She hesitates, not sure where to take this. “And what did you expect, Mr. ‘O'Malley?”

“Please, call me Tad.”

“What did you expect, Tad?”

“From what I’ve heard, he’s… passionate, driven, dedicated. Earlier today he just seemed a little… lost. Standoffish.”

Scully tenses a bit. This is unexpected, something she hadn’t anticipated. “He’s... had a rough few years. It’s been rough for us both.”

She’s instantly uncomfortable, not sure how much she wants to reveal. Unfortunately she fears she’s given too much away already.

“So… you two were in a relationship.”

She looks at him. “Is this really what you’re trying to ask me? Because you could have just asked me, so we can move on.”

“I’m sorry, Dana. I didn’t know it was a sensitive subject.”

She doesn’t want him to know how rattled she is. “It’s fine. Mulder is just… whenever these sorts of things take hold of him, he goes somewhere that it’s very hard for him to come back from. I worry about the effect it has on his health, that’s all.”

He looks confused. “But you two are… not together anymore, right?”

She looks Tad directly in the eye. “He’s been my whole world for the better part of two decades. I’ll always worry about him, whether we’re together or not.”

He looks a little chagrined. “I’m sorry, I really am. I didn’t mean to denigrate anything. Just trying to figure out where I stand here, is all,” he grins.

She smiles at him. Tad isn’t a bad guy, and he’s nice. He’s good looking, and charming. He’s a fucking Republican, it would never work for the two of them in any long term sense, but maybe just for tonight he could make her forget about everything else.

She tries to imagine what it would be like to wrap her legs around his face but as usual these thoughts always morph into Mulder being there instead. She flushes at a thousand memories that leap to her mind, and one very specific memory of the two of them in a limousine very much like this one.

“Do you need me to turn the air conditioning on? You look warm,” Tad offers.

She looks away towards the tinted glass. “I’m fine,” she replies.

Dana Scully is always fine.

MULDER

(S10/ post-Babylon)

Living without her has been nearly impossible. Actually impossible.

More than impossible.

As with most impossible occurrences in his life, Mulder has been forced to believe it, and motivated to search for the answer. He doesn’t have her with him this time, so it will be harder.

Waiting until he’d surfaced from his depression to leave him was such a Scully thing to do, it brought him comfort in a strange way. He knew she’d worry about him, and she was careful to leave him a lifeline. Her colleague had been courteous, punctual, and efficient, just like Scully always was, and he felt so guilty for hurting her enough to make her leave that he’d done everything the doctor asked of him to keep Scully’s mind at ease.

He didn't want to add to her pain. He hadn’t wanted to be the cause of it in the first place. He hadn't wanted to become the burden he’d so desperately desired her to be rid of.

It was strange… taking the meds and doing what he was supposed to do to get healthy was easier after she left, not harder. He wanted to be better. His only goal in mind was to make everything okay again, to get her to come back to him. It was all he thought about every day. It consumed his waking mind.

How do I make this right? What can I do to deserve her?

It wasn’t a new thought; it was something he’d thought about many times in the past. He’d never truly felt worthy of her and she finally told him with her actions he hadn’t been.

When she told him how she’d felt that night in his jail cell he felt something awaken inside him; something he’d known for a long time but hadn’t allowed himself to truly feel: he needed to earn her. Even though he’d allowed himself to be with her, to love her and let her love him, he knew he had work to do. He'd allowed his obsession to take hold of him in a way that should only have been reserved for her.

He doesn't fully understand this yet, but he's trying to. He will try as long as it takes, until he gets this right. Until he gets her back.

***

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” Scully laments as they drive towards the airport, the scruffy little dog in a cage in the backseat. “My building manager is never going to let me keep him.”

“Why’d you take him, then?” Mulder isn’t angry, or annoyed. Just curious.

“I don’t know, his name is Daggoo. It’s like he was meant for me. I couldn’t just leave him there all alone.”

They’ve been back on the X Files for a few months now and Mulder feels a sense of relief that things are starting to feel somewhat normal again. Well, as normal as things can be when the woman you love isn’t in love with you anymore, but is working with you; isn’t living with you, but is still married to you. That kind of normal.

He should be used to that kind of normal by now.

At least they’ve fallen back into the work as if they’d never left. He’s been needing something to focus on, and when Skinner asked them both back he didn’t hesitate. Scully didn’t either, though for understandably different reasons.

Getting officially reinstated into the Bureau was not the ordeal Mulder had feared it might be. A couple signatures here, some training courses they’d had to retake there, and they were officially FBI agents again. It was strange after having been on the run from this very organization for so long to be back in its midst, being given the trust he thought he’d lost so many years ago. He’s hardly certain he wants to give them his own trust again. But he feels content; back where he belongs. It’s nice to be Agent Mulder once more.

It was awkward when he had to disclose their marriage to the Bureau, however. The FBI doesn’t have an official policy stating partnered agents couldn’t be married, but Mulder was forced to admit they weren’t together anymore even though they hadn’t signed any dissolution documents. Skinner seemed genuinely disappointed by this turn of events, which Mulder found somewhat comforting.

He was a little ashamed that he was still susceptible to the pull of his obsession, however, and was worried that all that Sveta stuff had rubbed Scully the wrong way. But he knew Scully understood that there was something going on that was important, perhaps even important enough to put aside their differences and work together on the X Files as they always had to find a common goal; to search for a common truth.

He isn't sure yet if they share another common goal, which is finding their way back to one another. He feels as if this reassignment to the X Files was somehow fated; that it means something, not only for the X Files but for the two of them. He can only hope she can find it in herself to feel the same way.

Now they are driving in their rental car with a couple suitcases and a dog, like a family headed home from vacation. And apparently this dog is not going to have a home when they get back.

Scully’s hand is on her brow, looking sadly out the window. The sight of her in this state makes Mulder react more quickly than he expects.

“I’ll keep him,” he offers.

She looks at him, upset, and shakes her head. “Oh please, Mulder. You hate dogs.”

“I do not hate dogs,” he responds, somewhat affronted.

“You never wanted one when we were together.”

“There were a lot of things I didn’t do when we were together,” he says, turning his head to look at her.

She stares at him with her hands in her lap. He’s noticed this lately, she keeps her hands very close to her body most of the time, as if she can’t trust them around him.

“You don’t have to do that,” she says quietly. “I’ll find someone to take him.”

For a moment he decides to maybe just let her find someone else. He doesn’t really want a dog, he’s just trying to be helpful. He just wants that sad look on her face to go away. If it were anyone else he’d never have said a thing. But then he realizes what this could mean for them. If he takes her dog, and she allows him to, that could be a sign that she’s open to seeing him socially. If she wants to see the dog, she has to see him. It would be worth all the hair and the drool and the shit to get to see her at all.

He’s decided. He’s the one who’s going to take her dog, dammit.

“He’s going to live with me, Scully.”

She lifts her head up, wearily. “Are you really serious? Can you even care for a dog?”

“Scully, I had a dog once. I think. Plus we have- I have that big yard. He’s going to love it.”

He can tell she’s in already, but she’s faking mulling it over. He just keeps on driving because he knows she won’t say no.

“Okay.” She smiles at him. “Maybe this will be good for you. Dogs are great company.”

“I know you worry about me all alone in our little house,” he points out. He doesn’t correct himself and neither does she. It is their house. Both their names are still on the deed.

“You never cease to amaze me, Mulder.”

***

Daggoo has been great company, and no one is more pleasantly surprised than Mulder. The dog is perfect. He listens, is housebroken, and he doesn’t even shed. It’s as if he’s Scully in canine form.

Maybe that’s why Mulder loves him already.

“Daggoo! Here, boy!” He takes the dog out into the front yard and throws a tennis ball for him. It’s hard to do this on the weekdays, but weekends have become surprisingly filled with Daggoo-related activities. It’s nice to have something to put his energy into that isn’t self-destructive.

Weeks have passed and the two of them have fallen into a comfortable routine. They wake up together, Mulder lets him into the yard and feeds him, and just before he leaves for work Daggoo climbs the stairs and snuggles into Scully’s old side of the bed, napping for most of the day. It’s where he spends most of the day, most every day. Mulder never showed him where to sleep; the dog decided this was his place. The symbolism is not lost on him.

Mulder’s plan has worked; Scully visits at least once a week. For the first few weeks she focused on the dog, bringing food and treats and toys, maybe out of obligation or guilt that she’d saddled Mulder with this animal. But after a few weeks her focus is back on him. Some days he will sit out on the porch and see a familiar SUV pull up without any warning, Daggoo fast asleep upstairs. She doesn’t ask about the dog. Those are the visits he lives for; when she arrives for him.

They are slowly becoming friends again, partners again, and definitely not out of obligation. She wants to be there. Daggoo has become a buffer, an excuse for her to come visit, and he’s grateful for it.

“So it looks like you two have been getting along nicely?” Scully asks one day as they sit on the porch together, Daggoo running around the yard.

"Yeah, I guess I’m a dog person after all.”

“You see?” She smiles. “You look good, Mulder. You look really good. I’m glad.”

He grins at her, relaxed and happy. “I feel good.”

“How are you doing with your meds?”

“Stopped. Two weeks ago.”

She’s quiet and looks at him. “Are you sure that’s the wisest course?”

“I’m doing okay, Scully. I feel like I’ve found my way again. I haven’t felt this good in years.”

She looks genuinely happy, and tilts her head a bit. “I’m glad to hear that, really.”

He looks her right in the eye and says it. “I’m doing it for you, you know.”

She looks away, uncomfortable. It doesn’t matter. He will not give up, not ever.

She gazes out across the yard at Daggoo, jumping and biting at flying bugs. “He doesn’t try to run away?” she asks idly.

Mulder hasn’t moved his eyes from her face. “No. I think he might like it here.”

She finally looks back at him. “Dogs are simple creatures, with simple needs. I’m sure you can give him everything he could possibly want.”

“I guess so. He’s stuck around so far.”

This is what they do. This is how they operate. Dancing around a topic they need to discuss but cannot get down to it. He’s used to it, frustrated by it, but he can’t push her now. This needs to be on her timetable.

She holds all the cards. He only has a dog.

“I’m glad he seems to be happy here. I really appreciate you giving him a home.”

Mulder nods. “Anytime.”

Hours later, after she’s been gone for awhile, Mulder lays in bed and thinks about her. He does this every night, every night since she left. He imagines her laying next to him the way she used to, and he can almost sense her presence until Daggoo hops up onto the bed and reminds him she is gone.

The dog nestles into his side and falls asleep more promptly than any sentient being should be able to. Mulder scratches Daggoo’s head and tries to remember a time when he wasn’t so lonely, a time when she needed him the way this dog does. A time when he should have taken better care.

It doesn’t matter how long it takes. He’s on a mission. He’s going to make her see she needs him again too.

***

So much has happened and yet nothing has happened. Maggie Scully passed away, and Scully had asked him to go the funeral with her, but the sadness of the event had weighed upon them both far too much for him to consider any improvement in their relationship.

He’d been close to Maggie, especially since he and Scully married. It was an unforeseen side effect of marriage he enjoyed immensely: gaining back a family.

A large chunk of time had passed where they hadn't spoken to any of the Scullys while they were in hiding, and it’s one more thing Mulder can’t help but feel guilty about. She’d given up seeing her own family so that she could be his.

William’s adoption had been the last straw for Bill Jr., however. They’d seen Bill and his family once since they got married. As usual, he blamed Mulder for his family’s misfortune and as usual, Mulder took it to heart. He couldn’t deny responsibility even when Scully defended him. Bill Jr. and his family had been stationed in Germany years ago and he and Scully had kept their distance.

Maggie, however, had always cared for him like her own son, like he suspected a mother is supposed to. And he cared for her. After they’d come out of hiding she’d become his family too, and he loved having a real family again.

Now that she’s gone, it should be another reason for Scully to bring her walls down. But she hasn’t. She lets him support her however he can, but he can’t help but wonder if it’s only because she has no choice: he’s literally all she has left now.

He hates to see Scully hurting, especially when they are in this state of limbo, where he doesn’t know how to comfort her. He doesn’t know the right way. He will do anything and everything she needs, as long as she’s willing to tell him what that is.

The only thing he feels comfortable doing is listening, and holding her. She allows him to. So it’s what he does.

***

The months go by comfortably, although he can’t help but notice the time passing. Every time he and Scully see each other, be it at work or when she visits Daggoo, they fall more and more back into the way they used to be. At least, the way they used to be before Scully came into his bedroom that night and changed both their worlds forever. It’s hard for him to believe something so meaningful that took so long to happen could be undone so easily.

Being here again in this place, however, feels like a step backward this time rather than merely an interim because he knows their potential. He knows how great they can be when they are everything to each other.

He wants to get back there, desperately. But for now, he can only be content with their friendship. They’re spending most of their time together nowadays, and he can’t complain. It feels like old times, whether they are in the field chasing after a Band-Aid Nose man or strolling quietly around the house discussing heavenly trumpets. It feels like everything is settling down.

“What are you up to tonight, Scully?” he asks as he puts some files into their office cabinet and closes it, another long work day over. They’d spent the past three evenings together and he was hoping to make it four.

“I think I’m going to head back to my place tonight, Mulder. I’ve got some things to take care of.”

He tries not to be disappointed, but he has a sneaking suspicion she wants to keep some distance between them. He can’t decide if she’s just sick of him, or if she’s keeping some kind of arbitrary boundary. He doesn’t think they are quite in a place where they’d be in danger of crossing some physical line, but he’s not in her head.

Her feet are up on the desk and she’s perusing some autopsy photos from earlier that day. She tilts her head up and grabs the side of her neck, stretching it. Hearing her wince in pain, Mulder seizes an opportunity.

“Let me get that.”

Before she can protest, his hands are on her shoulders, kneading them the same way he would when she’d arrive home from a long day at the hospital. She puts her feet and her photos down but doesn’t try to stop him. He knows she won’t make him stop. A bath and a neck massage are the two indulgences even a Flukeman couldn’t get in her way of.

She breathes deeply and allows him to make her feel better. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” He knows they’re both actively trying not to think about where such an activity would typically lead them. Considering they haven’t said a thing regarding the status of their relationship, the concern seems to be unjustified, at least for the moment.

As he kneads the tension out of her shoulders he feels her relaxing. It’s been so long, so long since he’s been able to touch her like this and he misses it so much. He misses her so much.

“That feel okay?” he asks.

Her eyes are closed and she hums a bit. “No, you’re terrible at this.”

“You realize it’s a serious crime to lie to an FBI agent.”

“Okay, it’s wonderful. Thank you.”

He doesn’t want to say anything, he wants to just enjoy what’s happening but he can’t help himself.

“How do you like living alone?”

She doesn’t respond for a moment. “It’s been fine.”

Of course she’d say that. She’s always fine.

“I haven’t thought it was fine. Not for a long time. But having Daggoo around has been really nice.”

“I’m really glad that worked out.”

He can sense she’s not going to offer much, but he can also sense she’s open to hearing what he has to say, so he goes on. “It’s kind of like having you around again. He’s clean, and he likes to cuddle.”

“He’s like me? Does that mean he bites?”

“No. He kisses me when I get home from work, though.”

He isn’t sure how long they can continue this particular round of bantering before crossing into awkward territory. But then she does something he is not expecting. She reaches up to her shoulder and puts her hand over his. She pulls his hand into her cheek and slightly tilts her head into it.

“I’ll bet he'd never leave you.”

His heart stops. He knows it’s not possible but it feels that way. He can’t see her face, so he just looks at the back of her head. He squeezes her hand.

“He doesn’t have a reason to.”

They stay that way for what feels like a long time but is probably only a few seconds. Time always seems to slow down when clarity comes to the forefront.

She squeezes his hand back and then the moment is over. She stands and heads towards the door to get her jacket.

“Thanks for the back rub, Mulder. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She gives him a gentle smile, her eyes not hiding the sadness there.

“See you.”

She heads out the door and he just stands there, not moving an inch until he hears the elevator door closing.

***

He turns his key in the lock and enters the darkness of the house. The usual clattering of doggy nails doesn’t reach his ears and he instantly feels a sharp jolt of fear.

“Daggoo? Here, boy!”

Nothing.

Mulder’s long work hours required him to leave a doggy door for Daggoo to go out and do his business, but the dog always returned. He had never gotten around to building a fence because he’d simply never felt the need.

He goes from room to room, searching, but Daggoo is nowhere to be found. He goes upstairs to see his usual spot on the bed, a tiny indentation against Scully’s pillow.

Vacant. For the second time.

The sight of it brings him to the floor. He weeps for his lost friend but mostly for what his disappearance represents.

***

He must have fallen asleep because he wakes to Scully’s hand on his shoulder.

“Mulder? Mulder, it’s me.”

He opens his eyes and it’s still dark. She’s still in her work clothes.

“Scully? What are you doing here?”

“I… I changed my mind. I didn’t want to be alone after all.”

He smiles, then remembers Daggoo. How is he going to tell her?

“What’s wrong, Mulder? Why are you asleep on the floor?”

He can only pull her into a hug. She lets him and they sit together on the floor.

“I- I lost Daggoo.”

“Oh, Mulder,” she says, and just lets him hold her. “I’m so sorry.”

This entire thing is so confusing. Daggoo is his dog, but also hers. They share the burden, as always. But the walls won’t come down. The goddamn walls won’t come down. Someone has to start removing bricks.

“I don't know what I'm doing, Scully. I don't know how to do this. I miss you so much,” he cries into her shoulder. “This is so hard, I just wish you could feel what I’m feeling.”

Her arms go around him and she holds him close. After a moment she responds. “I miss you too, Mulder. I do.” Like any time she sees him break down, he knows she is crying now too. “Please don’t be upset. I’m here, okay? I’m right here.”

Her hands go to the back of his neck and she brings his forehead to hers. It’s a start, a real start, the way they have always started.

“Thank you,” he whispers. “Thank you for coming.”

She kisses his forehead and squeezes him tightly again. Something has changed, something has shifted. Daggoo may be gone, but Scully is here, and for now, that’s enough.

Thanks for reading! I’ll be posting a story about what happened to Daggoo later today :)

[bamby0304]

The Hart II: Highway

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

Bamby’s Masterlist

The Hart Masterlist

The Hart II: Highway Masterlist

Part Twenty-One: Heat of the Moment

Warnings: Some violence, some angst,some death...

Bamby

SPOV

Heat of the Moment by Asia woke me up as the radio next to on the bedside table woke me with a start.

Telling you what your heart is

My eyes snapped open before I sat up in bed and looked over to Dean as he sat on his bed tying his shoes.

"Rise and shine, Sammy!" He grinned.

I rolled my eyes, nodding to the radio. "Dude. Asia?"

"Come on. You love this song and you know it."

"Yeah, and if I ever hear it again I'm gonna kill myself."

Reaching over, Dean turned the volume up instead of off. "What? Sorry, couldn't hear you," he yelled over the music, causing me to laugh.

It was the heat of the moment

He started bopping to the music, dancing a little as he got to his feet. I shook my head in amusement, throwing the blanket off as the music continued on.

Heat of the moment

Heat of the moment

Showed in your eyes

EPOV

I stood in the doorway of the guys' room, waiting with Sam as Dean took his time to get ready.

"Whenever you're ready, Dean," Sam said out of annoyance.

Dean looked through the bags on the counter, pulling out a familiar black lacey bra. He grinned, swinging it around his finger as he turned to give me a wink. "This yours?"

Seeing as we move around a lot, our clothes got messed up quite a bit. Sam had even found a pair of my underwear in his bag once… and totally freaked out. But I didn't care. It was all clean, and just clothes.

Rolling my eyes, I sighed. "You know perfectly well that it is."

Laughing lightly, Dean put the bra back on the bench before looking through the bags again. "Bingo." He reached in and pulled out his gun, turning for the door and heading towards us finally. "Now who's ready for some breakfast?"

...

Walking into the diner with the brothers, I was a step behind, looking around.

"Drive safely now, Mr Pickett," the cashier told an old man as he handed over some change.

The old man nodded, though was clearly a grump. "Yeah, yeah."

"Can't stay unless you order something, Cal. You know the rules," A waitress told a man who appeared to be homeless.

He pulled some change out of his pocket and handed it over gingerly. "Some coffee."

Reaching a booth, Dean took a seat, sliding over so I could sit next to him while Same sat across from us, in the middle of his side of the booth.

"Hey." Dean pointed to the menu, a smile on his face. "Tuesday. Pig in a poke."

Sam raised an eyebrow at his brother. "You even know what that is?"

When Dean didn't answer, I chuckled lightly, shaking my head. "It's a sausage cooked in batter," I told him.

The waitress came to our table then, friendly and welcoming as she pulled out her notebook and looked to each of us. "Are you three ready?" she asked as I read her name tag, 'Doris'.

"Yes." Dean nodded. "I'll have the special, side of bacon and a coffee."

"Make it two coffees and a short stack," Sam added.

"Actually, three coffees. Oh, and some scrambled eggs with a side of bacon as well," I finished, smiling at Doris kindly.

Doris wrote it all down, nodding. "You got it."

Once she was gone, Dean lifted his arm to rest it behind me as he got more comfortable in his seat. "I'm telling you, Sam, this job is small fry. We should be spending our time hunting down Bela."

Sam had found the job, and I hadn't minded going for it, but Dean was determined to find Bela and get the Colt back. Oh, and kill her. He wanted to kill her.

I was having mixed feelings though. Bela was a pain, yes. But she could be useful. Plus, we had a past. As distant as that past may be, and as much as neither of us seemed to care about each other that way anymore, I couldn't deny the fact that Bela was probably the closest thing to an ex I had, and that meant something to me. Not much, but something.

Sam shrugged. "Okay, sure, let's get right on that. Where is she again?"

"Shut up," Dean responded instantly.

"Look. Believe me, I want to find her as bad as you do. In the meantime, we have this." Sam pulled some papers from his jacket pocket.

Taking the papers, Dean gave it a look over. "All right, so this professor..."

"Dexter Hasselback was passing through town last week when he vanished," I noted. "His daughter says he was on his way to visit the Broward County Mystery Spot."

Doris arrived then, carrying a tray with three coffees and a bottle of hot sauce. "Three coffees, black, and some hot sauce for the-" She gasped as the hot sauce fell off the tray and smashed as it landed on the floor. "Whoops. Crap! Sorry." She turned to the counter behind her. "Clean-up!"

...

Walking down the path on the main street, between the brothers, I smiled at the dog tied to a bike rack as it barked and whined at us.

Snatching the Mystery Spot flyer from Sam's hands, Dean sighed. "Sam, joints like this are only tourist traps, right? I mean, you know, balls rolling uphill, furniture nailed to the ceiling, they're only dangerous to your wallet."

"Okay, look, I'm just saying, there are spots in the world where holes open up and swallow people," Sam argued. "The Bermuda Triangle, uh, the Oregon Vortex-"

"Broward County Mystery Spot?" Dean was unconvinced.

"Well sometimes these places are legit."

"It happens, Dean," I agreed with Sam.

"All right, so if it is legit, and that's a big-ass if, what's the lore?"

"Well-"

Before Sam could go on, Dean collided with a blonde girl who'd been walking the other way, carrying a stack of flyers.

"Excuse me," she mumbled as she continued walking.

Once we were walking again, Sam went on. "The lore's pretty frigging nuts, actually. They say these places the magnetic fields are so strong that they can bend spacetime, sending victims no one knows where."

Dean shook his head. "Sounds a little X-Files to me."

"Told you it wouldn't fit," a guy said as he and another man- both of them were movers- tried pushing a large wooden desk into a building.

The other guys stopped and glared at the first man. "What do you want, a Pulitzer?"

"Dean, Sam isn't saying this is a definite thing, but there's a chance. We should at least check it out. See if there's anything going on, maybe we can do something?" I suggested.

"All right, all right," Dean gave in. "We'll go tonight after they close, get ourselves a nice long look."

SPOV

I followed Dean and Lizzie into the Mystery Spot, walking down the double spiral black and neon green hall. Coming to the end, we opened the door and entered the next part, where all the furniture was placed on weird angles and was even upside down, hanging from the roof.

"Wow. Uncanny," Dean scoffed sarcastically, shining his torch to the upside-down table on the roof.

Pulling out my EMF I started scanning the place, while also looking for any other signs that might be able to help us.

"Find anything?" Lizzie called.

I sighed, lowering the reader. "No."

"You have any idea what you're looking for?" Dean asked.

"Uh... yeah," I answered, but when he raised a sceptical eyebrow at me, I let out another sigh. "No."

Shaking his head, Dean turned to keep looking. Lizzie and I did the same, still scanner and searching the space. None of us noticed another person walking into the room.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

The three off us turned, shinning our lights at the person, both Dean and Lizzie pulling out their guns at the same time. But at the sight of the owner aiming a shot gun at us, they quickly lowered their weapons.

Dean slowly started to put his gun away. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Whoa. We can explain."

The owner turned his gun to me. "You robbing me?"

"Look, nobody's robbing you, calm down," I told him.

He aimed at Dean. "Don't move!" he warned him.

Dean kept moving slowly, putting his gun away. "Just putting the gun down."

Suddenly the gun went off as the owner fired at Dean. All I could do was watch as Dean fell to the floor.

My heart stopped as I watched as if it were slow motion. Dean was unmoving with holes in his chest from where the shards had hit him. Blood began to pour out as he died right there on the ground of this crappy Mystery Spot con. Right there in front of me.

"Dean!" I rushed over to him as quickly as I could, falling to my knees. "Hey!" He was struggling to breath. I turned to the owner. "Call 911."

The own stuttered. "I-I didn't mean to-"

"Now!"

"I got it." Lizzie pulled her phone out and began to dial, her voice and hands shaking as her wide eyes stared at Dean, tears threatening to pour.

Looking down at Dean again, I held him to me. "Hey, hey, oh, no, no, no. Not like this..." As I held him against me, Dean went still, his eyes closing. "Dean?"

...

Heat of the moment

Telling you what your heart is

My eyes snapped open as I sat up in bed, looking around. Next to me, on the other bed, sat Dean, tying his shoes with a smile on his face.

"Rise and shine, Sammy!"

The heat of the moment

Showed in your eyes

"Dude. Asia." He grinned.

I had no idea what was going on here... but something was very, very wrong.

"Dean..."

There was a rushed knock on the door. That hadn't happened before...

"Oh, come on, you love this song and you know it." Dean reached over and turned the music up as he bopped along and stood, moving to the door.

The moment he began to open it, Lizzie rushed in. Just one look at her and I knew, she was just as confused as I was.

"Anyone else freaking out?" she asked, looking to both of us.

"No, why? You have a weird dream or something?" Dean asked, moving to the bathroom. "Was it clowns or midgets?" He grinned.

EPOV

Everything was happening exactly as it had yesterday. Only yesterday is today... it hadn't taken me long to realise Sam was experiencing the same messed up timeline like me. The way we both watched Dean getting ready, we were both confused, relieved and freaking out.

Entering the diner, Sam and I watched everyone as they did everything the same as yesterday.

"Drive safely now, Mr Pickett," the cashier told the old man as he handed over some change.

The old man nodded, though was clearly a grump. "Yeah, yeah."

"Can't stay unless you order something, Cal. You know the rules," Doris told Cal.

Cal pulled some change out of his pocket and handed it over gingerly. "Some coffee."

Dean moved to sit in the booth like he had yesterday, sliding over for me. "Hey. Tuesday. Pig in a poke." He smiled.

Sam looked between the menu and his brother. "It's Tuesday?"

Dean gave a short nod. "Yeah."

Doris came over, smiling. "Are you ready?"

Dean smiled back at her. "Yes, I'll have the special, side of bacon and a coffee."

As Sam stared, clearly confused, I took control. "Nothing for us thanks."

Despite everything being weird, I was trying to act as normal as possible. I mean, maybe Sam and I had a shared vision or something? Maybe we were connected through our abilities or something?

"Let me know if you change your mind." Doris shrugged before walking off.

Dean rested his arm behind me like he had before. "I'm telling you, Sam, this job is small fry. We should be spending our time hunting down Bela." When Sam kept staring after Doris, Dean snapped his fingers in front of his brother's face. "Hey. You with us?"

Sam turned to him. "What?"

"You sure you feel okay?"

Sam sighed. "You don't- you don't remember? Any of this?"

My eyes went wide at Sam's willingness to speak up about the weirdness. "Sam..."

Dean frowned, looking between us. "Remember what?"

"This. Today. Like it's- like it's ... happened before?" Sam asked.

"You mean like déjà vu?"

Sam shook his head as Dean. "No, I mean like, like it's really happened before."

"Yeah. Like déjà vu," Den repeated.

"No, forget about déjà vu." I turned to face Dean more. "Sam and I... it's like we're reliving yesterday. All over again."

Dean looked between as. "Okay, how is that not dé-"

"Don't. Don't say it!" Sam snapped. "Just don't even-" He cut himself short as Doris came back with Dean's coffee.

"Coffee, black, and some hot sauce for the-" She gasped as the hot sauce fell, "Oops! Crap!"

But before it could smash on the floor, Sam caught it.

We all froze, looking from the bottle to Sam. He was just as stunned, handing it back to Doris.

"Thanks." She smiled as she put the bottle on the table and left.

Dean turned to his brother, impressed. "Nice reflexes."

Sam and I shared a look without saying anything. Both of us were just as frustrated and confused as the other. As each second went by it was becoming clearer and clearer to me that we weren't dealing with some kind of joint vision. No, what we were dealing with was something weirder and worse.

...

I didn't look at the dog this time, as it barked and whined at us. I just looked to Dean, hoping he'd understand what we'd just explained to him. Sam and I had tried our best to tell him what was going on. But seeing as we had no real idea, we hadn't made much sense.

"I'm sorry, but I don't know what the hell you're talking about.'

Sam sighed. "Okay, look. Yesterday was Tuesday, right? But today is Tuesday, too!" His frustration wasn't getting any better.

Dean shook his head. "Yeah. No. Good. You're totally balanced."

"So you don't believe us?!" Sam asked, hopeful.

The blonde bumped into the Dean again. "Excuse me," she mumbled, walking on.

Dean looked back at her for a moment before turning to his brother and I again. "Look, I'm just saying that it's crazy, you know. I mean, even for us crazy. Dingo-ate-my-baby crazy. Hey, maybe it was another of your psychic premonitions."

"Lizzie doesn't have premonitions," Sam noted. "Besides, it was way too vivid. Okay, look, we were at the Mystery Spot, and then-" He stopped himself.

"And then what?" Dean pressed.

There was no way we could tell Dean he died, so I skipped that part. "I don't know about Sam, but I woke up in my room."

Sam nodded. "Me too."

"Told you it wouldn't fit," Mover-one snapped.

Mover-two glared. "What do you want, a Pulitzer?"

"Wait a minute! The Mystery Spot." Sam looked to us, a little excited as if he was on to something. "You think maybe it..."

I understood where he was going. "We gotta check that place out." When Dean scoffed, not interested, I insisted. "Just go with us on this, okay?"

"All right, all right." Dean sighed. "We'll go tonight, after close, get ourselves a nice long look."

Both Sam and I came to a stop. "No!"

Dean stopped as well, looking to us, now even more confused. "Why not?"

"Uh..." Sam shrugged, dodging the question. "Let's just go now. Right now. Business hours, nice and crowded."

Dean watched his brother, slight concern and more confusion in his eyes. "My God, you're a freak."

"Dean," Sam insisted.

"Okay! Whatever. We'll go now." Shaking his head, Dean turned to walk, taking a few steps on to the read.

Suddenly a car came flying out of nowhere, hitting Dean. Dean flew through the air as the car came to a stop a few feet away, the tired screeching to a halt.

"No!" I ran, moving to Dean.

"Dean!" Sam was right behind me, the two of us kneeling by Dean on the road. Sam pulled his brother to him. "Dean, no, no, no."

My eyes took in the vast amount of injuries covering Dean. He was barely moving as Sam turned him over a little more.

"Come on! Dean." Sam shook him carefully. "Hey. Dean."

But it was too late...

SPOV

Heat of the moment

Telling you what your heart is

My eyes snapped open as I sat up in bed, breathing heavily. What the hell is going on?!

"Rise and shine, Sammy!" Dean grinned from where he was sitting on the bed next to mine, tying his shoes.

The heat of the moment

Showed in your eyes

...

Lizzie sat next to me, the two of us watching Dean carefully.

He smiled at the menu. "Hey. Tuesday. Pig in a poke."

I just got to the point this time, not wasting time. "Okay, would you listen to us, Dean? 'Cause we're flipping out."

Doris came by, smiling. "Are you ready?"

"He'll take the special, side of bacon, coffee, black. Nothing for us, thanks," Lizzie told her curtly, without looking away from Dean.

Doris hesitated before shrugging and walking off. "You got it."

Dean looked shocked at first, before he grinned. "Liz, I get all tingly when you take control like that."

She sighed, frustrated. "Quit screwing around, Dean."

"Okay. Okay." Dean nodded, looking between the two of us. "I'm listening. So, so- you think that you're in some kind of a what again?"

"Time loop," I answered.

"Like Groundhog Day."

I relaxed a little, glad he understood. "Yes, exactly. Like Groundhog Day."

"Uh-huh..."

Lizzie shook her head, frustrated. "You don't believe us."

He laughed. "It's just a little crazy. I mean even for us crazy, you know, like, uh-"

Lizzie and I finished for him. "Dingo ate my baby crazy?"

Dean paused, his smile falling. "How'd you know I was going to say that?"

"Because you said it before, Dean, that's our whole point," I told him.

Doris came by with Dean's coffee and the hot sauce. "Coffee, black, and some hot sauce for the- whoops! Crap."

I caught the sauce and handed it back without even blinking.

"Thanks…" Doris put the bottle on the table and left, looking at me surprised and a little weirded out.

"Nice reflexes." Dean looked impressed.

I shook my head. "No. I knew it was going to happen."

Dean sighed. "Okay, look. I'm sure that there's some sort of an explanation-"

"You're just going to have to go with us on this, Dean, you just have to," Lizzie told him.

"You owe us that much," I added, getting more and more annoyed.

I understood why he didn't believe us, but it didn't make anything any less annoying. Lizzie and I were the only people who seemed to be able to remember everything from the day before, which never actually happened. We were stuck with the memories of Dean dying.

There was no way in hell we were going to go through that anymore. So no matter how long it took, we were going to get Dean to believe us, and we were going to stop whatever the hell was happening.

He leaned forward, keeping his voice low. "Calm down-"

I cut him off, "Don't tell me to calm down! I can't calm down. I can't. Because-"

Once again, I couldn't seem to tell him. Telling him that the way each day had ended so far was after he died... I wasn't too sure how he'd handle that news.

"Because what?" he pressed.

I was surprised when Lizzie answered, honestly. "Because you die, today, Dean."

Dean shook his head, not believing her. "I'm not gonna die. Not today."

I took a deep breath. "Twice now we've watched you die, and I can't- we won't do it again, okay? You're just going to have to believe us. Please."

Hearing it from me, looking at the desperation in our face, Dean finally nodded. "All right. I still think you're nuts, but okay, whatever this is, we'll figure it out."

EPOV

The dog barked, the woman bumped into Dean and the mover's argued. It was all the same. Not only was this confusing, it was getting old fast. With Sam and I the only people different each day, we relived through a lot of the same stuff. This place was going to get on my nerves really fast- and that's got nothing to do with Dean dying.

"And you think this cheesy-ass tourist trap has something to do with it?" Dean asked us.

Sam shrugged. "Maybe it's the real deal, you know? The, the magnetic fields bending spacetime or whatever."

"I don't know, it all seems a little too 'X-Files' for me." Dean wasn't convinced.

"Well, I don't know how else to explain it, Dean!" Sam snapped.

"All right! All right. We'll go tonight after they close, get ourselves a nice long look."

I grabbed Dean's arm as I came to a stop, shaking my head. "No, we can't."

"Why not?"

"Because y-y-ou-" Sam couldn't even say it.

"I what?" Dean pressed for an answer. When Sam and I just gave him a look, he understood. "I die there?"

Sam nodded. "Blown away, actually."

Dean looked surprised. "Huh. Okay, let's go now." He started forward.

Sam and I rushed at the same time, grabbing him right before he could step out onto the street. Less than a second later, a car sped past.

Mr Pickett yelled out of his window. "Stay out of the way!"

The three of us stared after him.

Dean laughed, turning to Sam and I. The unamused and stressed looks on our faces stop his laughing. "Wait, did he…?"

I sighed. "Yesterday."

"And?"

Sam looked confused. "And what?"

"Did it look cool, like in the movies?"

"You peed yourself," Sam told him, irritated.

Dean shifted a little, uncomfortable and embarrassed. But he tried to hide his feelings. "Of course I peed myself. Man gets hit by a car, you think he has full control over his bladder? Come on!"

This time, we all looked both ways before crossing the road.

DPOV

"I can't tell you how much I appreciate this. We could use all the good ink we can get." The owner of the Mystery Spot smiled at the three of us.

"How long have you owned the place, Mr Carpiak?" Sam asked.

"Well, my family's been guarding the secrets here since you don't want to know when."

Liz nodded. "So you'd know if anything strange happened?"

"Strange? Strange happens here all the time. It's a Mystery Spot." The owner chuckled.

Sam frowned. "What exactly does that mean?"

"Well, uh... it's where the laws of physics have no meaning."

"Okay, like how?" Sam was clearly getting annoyed and agitated.

I still wasn't sure what was going on between Liz and Sam, but whatever it was it was getting to them. If they were telling the truth and they really were stuck in some kind of Groundhog Day thing, then I wasn't sure how much longer they'd last before going nuts.

The owner grinned. "Take the tour."

Before Sam or Liz could say anything, I spoke up. "The guy who went missing, Dexter Hasselback, he take the tour?"

"Uh, uh..." The owner's smile fell as he looked to each of us. "Hold on a minute, what kind of article is this?"

"Just answer the question," Liz snapped.

"The police scoured every inch of this place. They couldn't find that man. I never seen him before. We're a family establishment-"

Sam stepped forward, getting in the owner's face. "Listen to me. There is something weird going on here. Now do you know anything about it or not?"

Shaking by Sam's behaviour, the owner finally told us the truth. "Okay. Look. Guys. Um. Give me a break. I bought the joint at a foreclosure auction last March, all right? Hell, I used to sell bail bonds."

Seeing Sam still glaring at the owner, I stepped forward, grabbing my brother's shoulder. "Okay, Kojak, let's get some air." Steering him towards the exit, I nodded to Liz who also looked pissed. "You too."

SPOV

With my hands shoved in my pockets to keep myself from fidgeting out of annoyance and frustration, I walked along side Lizzie, following Dean on the path along the main road in town.

Dean sighed. "Well, I hate to say it, but that place is exactly what I thought. It's full of crap."

"Then what is it, Dean, what the hell is happening to us?" I snapped.

"I don't know. All right, let me just-" He stopped himself, turning to Lizzie and I. "So, every day I die."

I gave a short nod. "Yeah."

"And that's when you two wake up again, right?"

Lizzie nodded. "Yeah."

Dean shrugged. "So let's just make sure I don't die. If I make it to tomorrow, then maybe the loop stops and we can figure all this out."

Could it be that easy? "You think?"

"It's worth a shot. I say we grab some takeout and head back to the motel, lay low until midnight," Dean suggested, earning a hopeful and anxious nod from both Lizzie and I. "All right, good. Who wants Chinese?" He started walking again.

But after a few steps, a heavy wooden desk fell on top of him, crushing him… to death.

Lizzie and I looked up at the same time to see a snapped rope and the two movers looking down at us.

...

Heat of the moment

My eyes snapped open as I sat up in bed.

"Rise and shine, Sammy!" Dean smiled from where he sat on his bed, tying his shoes.

Telling you what your heart is

The heat of the moment

With a heavy sigh, I laid back down shaking my head.

Shown in your eyes

It was the heat of the moment

EPOV

I was exhausted. Not only were we repeating the same day and watching Dean die over and over, but we were exhausting ourselves. Sam and I were tired, confused, and desperate. So desperate, I was almost ready to make some kind of deal with whatever demon I could find.

Almost that desperate. But not quite.

Dean watched us carefully, having heard us explain most it to him. "I still think you're nuts, but... whatever this is, we'll figure it out."

"Thanks," Sam muttered.

"So, uh... if you're stuck in Groundhog Day, why? What's behind it?" Dean asked.

I shrugged. "Well, first we thought it was the Mystery Spot. Now we're not so sure."

"What do we do?"

"Well, we keep you breathing," Sam started. "Try to make it to tomorrow. I mean, that's the only thing I can think of."

Dean shrugged. "Shouldn't be too hard."

Sam scoffed. "Yeah, right. Dean, we've watched you die a few times now and we can't ever seem to stop it."

"Well, nothing's set in stone. You say I order the same thing every day, right?"

"Yeah." I nodded. "Pig in a poke, side of bacon."

Dean turned to Doris as she stood at the counter talking to the cook. "'Scuse me, sweetheart?" he called, causing her to turn to him. "Can I get sausage instead of bacon?"

She smiled, giving a short nod. "Sure thing, hon."

Dean turned back to us, giving a short shrug. "See? Different day already. You see, if we decide that I am not gonna die. I'm not gonna die."

Doris came over and placed Dean's meal in front of him with a smile.

"Thank you." He nodded to her before stabbing one of the sausages and taking an exaggerated bite.

Sam and I grinned at his enthusiasm. That was until Dean started choking...

"Dean…" I shifted in my seat.

Sam's eyes went wide. "Dean?"

SPOV

Heat of the moment

My eyes snapped open as I sat up in bed, looking around. God damnit!

Bamby

[kpopfanfictrash]

Begin (M)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: You / Baekhyun

Rating: 18+ (Explicit sex, dirty talk, light choking)

Word Count: 4,104

Summary:  After moving into a new building, you keep running into the same man. The same, annoying, impossibly beautiful man - who just might like you back. (HAPPY BIRTHDAY, TO THE WONDERFUL @knockknocksoosthere ! Here’s your Baekhyun, the number two EXO bias)

You’re barely awake, the first time you meet.

When the elevator doors open to floor thirty-six and he steps in with his dog, you can’t help but think about that one joke. The joke about dogs, who look like their owners. Or maybe it’s the reverse – owners, who look like their dogs. Whatever the case, it’s oddly applicable for the two of them. The man is medium height, lean with blonde-brown hair – his dog is similarly well-groomed.

He enters quickly, as though he’s going somewhere and not just walking his dog. You watch him from the corner of your eyes, looking down when he suddenly looks back – awkward, embarrassed, at having been caught staring.

The man stands close to you, though careful not to encroach on your personal space. He’s dressed in a dark grey pea coat, holding his leash in one hand – which honestly, doesn’t seem necessary, given the extremely well-mannered appearance of his dog. He sits patiently, watching the crack in the elevator doors while the numbers tick by. In contrast, your own puppy – Kookie – leaps up the second they enter. You yank him back quickly, coaxing him to sit but still he’s excited, wagging his tail happily while he looks at the strangers.

The elevator falls silent, from floors thirty-six to the lobby. When the doors open once more, swishing aside with a ding – the man glances sideways. “Puppies respond to a firm hand,” he blinks, a small smile on his lips. “Even if you’re still training him, you shouldn’t be afraid to be stern.”

Your mouth drops, since you can’t recall having asked for this man’s opinion. It’s true, Kookie is still being trained. It’s also true, that he jumps a little too high – but then again, Kookie himself is little. He’s a tiny mess of golden fur and big eyes, so you glare at the man as you step from the lift.

“Thanks,” you nod, turning the collar up on your coat, “for telling me. If you see any good sticks in the park – let me know! I won’t have Kookie chase them, I’ll save them for later.”

The corner of his mouth tilts. It’s a pity that the man is such an ass, because he’s really quite attractive. Pointed face, delicate features, tousled hair. The man grasps his leash tightly, sticking his free hand in his pocket. You note with some annoyance, that his dog continues to sit patiently on the ground beside him.

“Cookie?” he asks, confused. “Like – the kind that’s baked in an oven?”

“No, Kookie,” you correct, hand on hip. “Like the kind that’s a little bit crazy.”

He laughs, which surprises you. It’s a startled, bright sound and when he laughs, his expression brightens considerably. “Funny,” he remarks – a statement. Then the man shrugs, turning around. “Nice to meet you, Kookie.”

You stare after, and by the time you come to your senses – the man is too far for you to tell him your name.

The second time you meet is in the mail room, with neither one of you holding onto your dogs. He enters while holding a phone, running a hand agitatedly through his hair while biting his lower lip in frustration. You glance up, since the door is rather noisy – and your eyes widen, recognizing him. The man doesn’t see you, not at first, which gives you ample time to look at him.

Now that you’re awake, now that you’re fully dressed and aware – you recognize the guy isn’t just cute. He’s ridiculously handsome, which makes your pulse flutter as he nears.

“I hate people,” the guy grumbles, slipping his phone into his pocket. When he sees you he blinks, startled to recognize he’s not alone. “Oh,” he smiles, lips lifting. “It’s you.”

“It’s me,” you agree, sliding your key into your mailbox. “My friends call me Y/N. What about you?”

“I’m Baekhyun,” he nods, reaching for a mailbox further down. “My dog’s name is Joseph.”

You pause in your motions, arching a brow. “I’ve never really trusted people naming their dogs human names.”

“Yes, well,” Baekhyun sighs. “I tried calling him Rover, but he just wouldn’t respond to anything but Joseph.”

“But how –” you start, confused as to how that even started in the first place.

“It’s a long story,” Baekhyun shuts his mailbox, hiding his grin to look at you. “Are you new to the building? I haven’t seen you around.”

“Yes,” you nod, shutting your own box. “I moved in two weeks ago.”

“Ah,” Baekhyun observes. “New apartment, new dog. Lots of change.”

You swallow. “Yeah, that wasn’t really planned.”

He looks at you a moment longer, seeming to sense what you don’t say – a break-up. An awful one, the kind which devastated you for a long time. You’re only just now starting to feel like yourself again, which explains why all these new things seemed necessary. You wanted to start over, moving here. Wanted to discover what you like – alone, this time.

“I see,” Baekhyun seems as though he wants to say more, but the shrill ring of his cell phone interrupts him. “Sorry,” he winces, checking the caller ID. “I need to take this.”

“That’s fine,” you nod, turning as he answers the call.

Baekhyun becomes business-like, clearing his throat, “Byun Baekhyun, speaking.”

You adjust your mail, offering him a quick smile as you walk past. He couldn’t have meant for you to wait, couldn’t have possibly wanted to discuss your ex-boyfriend – which is why you leave, shutting the door behind you. There’s a small moment, as you pass which makes you wonder if maybe you’re wrong. He tilts his head, a questioning look to his gaze which makes you wonder if maybe, just maybe, Baekhyun wants to continue your conversation.

You abandon this thought immediately, brushing it aside as wishful thinking. A man like him, so put-together and competent would never be interested in someone like you. You’re what you like to call a project, a just-mended mess of person and a guy like that needs more. It’s nice to dream though, you think, walking away.

It can’t hurt, just thinking about him.

A few weeks pass with no noteworthy run-ins with Byun Baekhyun. The two of you see each other occasionally, stepping on or off the elevator. He always smiles at you, a brilliant flash of teeth but then you notice Baekhyun says hello to everyone. The two of you are friendly, always smiling and waving – but nothing more.

At least, this is how things are until the eve of the Holiday Party. A night out for your apartment building, the concept of which is odd to you. You’ve experienced nothing like it at any of your previous residencies, which explains why you spend most of the day getting ready. You have no idea what to wear, how to act – made all the worse by the fact that you’re going alone, nerve-wrecking in itself. Your sister was supposed to come but cancelled last minute, because of the flu.

You toyed with not going at all, but the dress you bought stares you straight in the face. It’s been forever since you’ve had a night out, so here you are. Sliding straps of silk over your shoulders to survey yourself in the mirror. Your hair is up, curled at the ends and you shiver, wondering if this is too much. As you fasten your earrings higher and turn your head from side to side, there’s a small flutter of nerves within your stomach.

It’s silly, for you to keep thinking of Baekhyun. You two have barely spoken, barely interacted beyond casual conversation but still, thoughts of him fill your mind. The way he walks, the way his fingers slide over his keys, the way he cackles when you react to his jokes. It’s just a crush, you know, turning from the mirror. Just a crush, which means there’s no reason for you to be nervous.

Pushing thoughts of Baekhyun from mind, you leave your apartment. In the elevator right down, your stomach is tight with nerves and upon entering the lobby, it’s hard to keep your feet from stumbling. The place is beautifully decorated. You saw this when you first arrived from work but since then, even more lights have been added. The overhead lighting is dim, the room bright instead by twinkling lights and Christmas trees. Directly overhead is mistletoe, something which makes you pointedly step aside –  just in case the strangers get any fresh ideas.

Waiters are carrying trays of champagne – a glass you accept gratefully, thankful for something to do with your hands. Soft, orchestral music is playing as you move towards the wall. It feels safer here somehow, having a wall at your back. It lets you observe the room, lets you see everyone coming and going – which means that you see Baekhyun, when he enters the room.

He’s dressed in a suit. A devastating cut, white button-down underneath and his hair styled dangerously back from his forehead. He looks – you swallow, watching. He looks wonderful, and it’s alarming when he glances your way. Baekhyun smiles, walking forward as you look around, certain he’s going to turn and dodge at the last second.

“Hey,” Baekhyun smiles, stopping before you to snag a glass from a nearby waiter. “How’s the party going? Did I miss anything fun?”

“Tons,” you nod, sipping on your champagne. “You know the woman from the twenty-sixth floor, the one who yells at the vending machines when they’re out of Oreos? Well, she threw a fit when she found out the champagne is actually sparkling wine.”

Baekhyun considers his glass, dubious. “Is there a difference?”

“Champagne,” you wave your flute in mid-air, “comes from one, specific region in France. All champagne is sparkling wine, but not all sparkling wine is champagne. Or so I just learned, from what she yelled at the waiter ten minutes ago.”

Baekhyun blinks, then starts to laugh. “How horrifying for her,” he leans his elbow on the table, glancing wickedly around the room. “You think if I tell her the towels in the gym are from Costco, she’ll pitch a revolt?”

“Definitely,” you nod. “If you ate Oreos while you told her, I think you’d have to go on the lam.”

“Shit,” Baekhyun whispers, leaning in. His eyes are bright, wide. “I need to find a hiding spot, since I just emptied the vending machine from Oreos before I came down here.”

“You’re fucked,” you say to him sadly, shaking your head. “You’ll need to move buildings, switch apartments and start over.”

Baekhyun’s smile disappears. “That’d be a shame,” he muses, “since then I wouldn’t see you.”

The air around you seems to buzz, filled with sudden silence while you find yourself at a loss for what to say. Baekhyun takes a sip from his glass, watching your expression. He waits for your response, while your hand tightens automatically around the stem of your glass. All around you, the party continues.

“I didn’t know you cared,” you say softly, looking away. The revolving door behind you opens, letting in a cold gust of air.

Baekhyun surveys you form the rim of his glass. “I do,” he says seriously. “I like your smile, how it lights up your face. I like how, when I say crappy jokes, you throw them right back. I like that you own the tiniest dog I’ve ever seen, that you named him after a dessert and,” he pauses, flush lightly when he adds, “I like how brave you are.”

“Brave?” you repeat, dazed when he takes a step closer.

Baekhyun nods. “I got the feeling,” he ventures, words soft, “that when you talked about moving the other day – it wasn’t just because of a new apartment. I think it was brave of you, starting over.”

“Oh,” you say quietly. “That.”

“That.” When you look back at him, Baekhyun remains serious. “I like that, about you.”

You stare at him, finger trailing the rim of your glass. “If I’m being honest,” you blush, since you’re normally not this forward, “I like you, too.”

Baekhyun smiles, and you realize then how silly you were to consider all his smiles the same. This one is filled with relief, excitement – a new beginning.  “That’s good to know,” he declares, setting his glass down on the table. “I’ll need people on my side, when the whole ‘Oreo bandit’ thing comes out.”

You snort, turning to place your glass on the tray of a nearby waiter. “I think,” you start – and when you turn back, Baekhyun is inches away from your face.

His chest is practically touching, his breath warm and minty – as he softly, slowly bends his head to kiss you. It’s barely anything, just a quick press of the lips. Your mouth opens though, automatic as his thumb moves to stroke your cheek. His arm wraps around your waist and it’s almost a shock, when your tongue brushes his.

Baekhyun returns the motion, body pressed tight to yours. Just a moment, just a second before he pulls away – eyes fluttering as he opens them. “Mistletoe,” Baekhyun explains hoarsely, pointing vaguely towards the left.

You blink at him, heart slamming against your ribcage – and then, you remember where you are. “You like me, though,” you repeat, and Baekhyun nods his head.

“A lot,” he murmurs, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Then,” your heart races, twisting away. You walk a few steps from him, before looking over your shoulder. “Are you coming?”

Baekhyun’s eyes widen before he nods, pushing himself quickly from the wall. He catches up to you at the elevators, hand sliding into yours as he stands beside you. The air is thick, tense with unsaid words. The music is softer here than in the hall and when the elevator dings, doors sliding open – Baekhyun practically drags you inside.

He waits until the doors close, waits until the room starts to move before finding your body. His hands push into your hair, lips eager while backing you against the mirror. Baekhyun’s lips are hot, needy as his hips move slowly below. You gasp, turning to a groan when his mouth slides down your throat. Baekhyun sucks at the base, finding where neck meets collarbone as you push against him in pleasure.

It’s hard to concentrate, with him looking at you like that. With him drawing back to stare, before dropping his hands around your waist. Baekhyun kisses lazily, tenderly – though his lips harden, when you yank his body to yours.

The elevator dings and you enter the hall, continuing to kiss as Baekhyun fumbles with the key in his door. He pushes you to the wood, turning his key in the lock while his lips tangle with yours. When he pushes open the doorwa, you stumble inside – Baekhyun flicking on his lights with one hand.

His apartment is cluttered, things tossed haphazardly onto counters and chairs. “Sorry,” he winces, tugging his blazer free. “I didn’t think this would happen. Not,” he hastens, as you step closer, “that I think something will happen. I mean – I’d like for something to happen.”

You stop inches away from him, unable to keep from smiling. “I’d like that, too.”

Baekhyun exhales, sliding his hands to the curve of your wrists, stopping at your elbows to pull you forward. He moves closer, body finding yours as his fingers drift under the straps of your dress. “This,” he breathes, tugging the sleeves lower. “Is a criminal piece of clothing, which shouldn’t be allowed.”

“Then take it off,” you breathe, and Baekhyun does exactly that.  

His hands follow the strap, eyes darkening as more and more skin is revealed. “Turn around,” he demands, and you obey. Placing your palms flat on his counter, his fingers skimming your sides as he tugs your dress down to your waist.

You lean forward, pressing your ass to his crotch while Baekhyun sharply inhales. He says nothing at this, just yanks your dress fully to the ground. Stripping you entirely to leave you bare. Standing in just your panties, since you weren’t wearing a bra with the outfit. You shiver, surprised at the touch of Baekhyun’s lips on skin.

His hands graze your front, cupping your breasts while sliding your nipples between his fingers. Tugging with thumb and forefinger, rolling until they’re hardened peaks. “Turn around,” Baekhyun instructs, voice low and when you oblige – you spot the obvious signs of his erection. “Take off my tie.”

You do this quickly, unknotting the object to toss it aside. When it’s on the ground, you start on his buttons. Shoving his shirt from his shoulders, only to stare at the sight of his chest. His muscles are long, lean – Baekhyun’s hair falls forward when he takes you by the hand. He doesn’t say a word at this, just tugs you into the living room.

When he sits onto his couch, you straddle his waist. Baekhyun’s eyes widen, hands reaching up to cup your ass. His thumbs slide under the thin material of your panties, hips shifting beneath the weight of your thighs. When you kiss him readily, he catches your lower lip between his teeth. Pulling you close, grinding from below and when he lifts you up – flipping you beneath on the couch, Baekhyun’s eyes are dark with hunger. He lowers his head to your neck, teasing until his mouth finds your breast. He kisses lazily, sucking until you’re hard and your thighs are wet with wanting him.

Your legs frame his waist, clutching him tight as he thrusts against you. The fabric of his pants grinds into your frame, making you gasp while reaching a hand between. He’s already half-hard, pressed to your body and your thumb strokes lightly up the length of his cock. Baekhyun lifts his head, dazed when you palm him over the crease in his pants.

“Do you,” he groans, struggling to concentrate, “want to go to the bedroom?”

You nod, saying nothing when he stands from the couch. Baekhyun pulls you with, walking the two of you backwards down the hall. He doesn’t bother to be careful with his lips, his grip – which is bruising, on your ass – and by the time you reach the room, you’re groaning his name out loud. Baekhyun leads you to his bed, yanking his zipper down and stepping quickly from his pants.

Baekhyun lowers his hands to either side of you on the bed, kissing you as his hands find the last material left on your body. He slides your panties down, letting cold air hit your center before dropping them onto the floor. Baekhyun’s hands start to wander, tracing the smooth lines of your body as he lowers himself onto the bed.

When he drops between your legs, he looks up. You’re already wet, so much so that his first finger slides in easily. You groan at the intrusion, biting down on your lip as his finger curls upwards. Baekhyun presses a kiss to your hip, teasing while his finger moves slowly in an out of you.

When you’re aching, begging him for more, Baekhyun adds his tongue. He presses his lips between your legs, playing with your clit while his finger continues to fuck below. His tongue traces circles, flattening and dragging upwards before sucking again. He repeats this motion over and over, alternating until you’re a soaking mess beneath him.

Your hips buck upwards, trying to find a rhythm as Baekhyun pins you tighter to his bed. “Do you like being talked dirty to,” he murmurs, looking up as his finger traces around your opening.

You nod, gasping brokenly when he eases two fingers inside you.

“Do you like,” Baekhyun drops a kiss to your hip, “being told what a sweet, little cunt you have? Like hearing how badly I want to fuck this tight,” he curls his finger, “pussy of yours.”

“God,” you groan, as Baekhyun flicks his tongue over your sex, “Baekhyun.”

“That’s it,” he murmurs. Baekhyun sits up, spreading your legs to watch his fingers enter your body. “I want to hear you moaning, when I fuck you into my sheets. Want to hear how wet you are,” he sighs, pulling his fingers back out. You whimper at the loss, until he closes his mouth around one finger and sucks – which oddly enough, is the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen from a guy. “You’re fucking drenched,” Baekhyun observes, looking down at your cunt before him. “I really want to be inside you.”

You nod because you want this too, you want him and Baekhyun quickly leans to yank open the top drawer of his dresser. He finds a condom quickly, pulling back to rip open the packet.

Meanwhile, your fingers work on his underwear – you groan at the sound of his cock, hard against his stomach. Baekhyun rolls his condom onto himself, stroking his shaft with one hand while leaning forward. He rubs the tip against your opening and it’s a struggle, not to slam him onto his back and drop your body on top of his.

“You want more?” Baekhyun murmurs, watching your face while teasing you. He pushes into you halfway, then stops – smirking at the way that you moan. “You want to fuck yourself on my cock?” he asks, watching your hips push fruitlessly against him. “Go ahead,” he says silkily, bending to kiss the column of your throat.

Lifting your hips, you force him deeper and Baekhyun groans. He gives up on teasing, too caught up in how good this feels – in how good you feel, as he sinks fully into your body. When he starts to move, it’s at a slow pace – a speed which intensifies, when he lifts himself onto his elbows.

“Y/N,” he groans, sliding into you. “You’re so fucking tight. I swear – how,” he grunts, hips slamming into yours, “can you be this fucking tight and wet?”

You whimper, wrapping your legs tighter as Baekhyun sets a more punishing pace. He lifts himself higher, fucking you harder while his lips find your own. The angle deepens, as he finds a part of your body which makes you tremble – then Baekhyun pulls out entirely, grabbing you around the waist.

He flips you onto your stomach, barely pausing before yanking your ass into the air and thrusting back inside. You gasp, clutching the sheets tight because it’s so much deeper this way. Every thrust Baekhyun makes hits your core. He fucks you slowly, leisurely as his hands knead your ass from behind.

“Do you need more,” he murmurs, wrapping one hand around your waist. His fingers slide between your legs, teasing your clit while you tremble. “Do you want to come, baby?”

You nod, unable to say more. “Yes,” you moan, while Baekhyun’s hand slides to your throat. “God, yes,” you groan, and he pulls you upright.

It’s so deep like this, the back of your body flush to his as he slides in and out of you. One hand on your throat, the other slowly circling your clit. Baekhyun fucks you this way, making you clench around him. “Baekhyun,” you gasp, unable to hold yourself together, “I need to come.”

“Good girl. Come for me, baby,” Baekhyun murmurs, releasing his hand from your neck. Air slams back to your lungs, his hips bruising as you shudder apart his arms. “I want you to come all over my dick,” he murmurs, grabbing your ear between his teeth, “you’re already so fucking wet.”

His words, hips, cock are too much for you and your vision blacks out slightly as you lose yourself. Nothing but his body, his hands holding you up while as he finishes inside you. Baekhyun groans out your name, pulling you backwards as the two of you fight to catch your breath.

When you’re slightly less sensitive, breathing slowed to normal, Baekhyun pulls out. He cleans himself off, tossing his condom into the garbage as you collapse down onto his bed. When he turns to meet your gaze, his face brightens in another one of those smiles. Baekhyun flops down next to you, pulling you tight in his arms.

“Stay,” he murmurs, lips brushing your temple. “I want you to stay.”

You nod, hardly able to believe your luck. It’s hard to believe, as his finger trails your side, that he’s all yours. Baekhyun pulls you closer, pulls you to him – and you realize then, that you’re already far deeper than you could have imagined. You realize, staring up at him, that this just might be the start.

“I’ll stay,” you smile – and begin again. 

Author’s Note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, FAL! *devil grin*

[moderndaymiserypodcast]

The Night of the Escape by Alex Kelly

“Did you hear that?” Keith turned around to face his cohorts, enabling him to fully present his mockingly shocked face.

           “Man don’t do that, I’m trying to stay chill.” Jake, oversized navy hoodie slumping with his shoulders out of tired annoyance. He didn’t really hate Keith’s jokes, it was a reprieve from the eerie place they were walking around in but read the room.

           “I know neither of you are actually paying attention, but there was the sound of something knocking against wood.” Victor said, matter of factly.

“Knocking against wood, eh? Doesn’t sound too bad to me” Keith smirked at Victor, expectantly, an eager dog waiting for their owner to make the slightest sign of approval. It never came. Keith rolled his eyes, turned back, and they continued into the living room. They had just entered the house, via the front door and tight entryway, but it was already clear the people who took care of this place didn’t believe in swiffers. The house’s style was as if someone collected newspapers as a job. Stacks filled the floor and gave way to dated, Victorian style furniture.  

Jake held Victor's sister’s camera, panning around the floor and walls to capture the detail. This was his fifth time recording for the guys and one could say he was still getting the hang of it. He wasn’t a professional cinematographer yet so the shakiness added to the realism they were all looking for. Victor researched the facts, directed, and led them through investigations. He was the one who introduced the other two to the world of paranormal mysteries earlier in the semester and Keith was the brains -if you can call it that- who saw the potential in a YouTube series of three college friends investigating ghosts. Enough people are jumping on this bandwagon, why shouldn’t they? Victor thought it would give his research an outlet, and although he’d never admit this, getting to discover a ghost or some paranormal entity with video proof made him excited to get up in the morning. These three boys just happened to attend Fairfield together and were only a twenty-one-minute drive to the Warren Occult Museum, they’d be poor ghost hunters if they didn’t investigate this.

“I was simply mentioning that we should be alert. Jake, you’re recording, yes?” Victor looked at Jake who nodded, intent on not making any sounds.

           Keith, not known for giving up the last word, replied, “Victor, we’re surrounded by a forest, inside a big old house with a shit ton of windows, and there’s a breeze. Everything is making the sound of something knocking against wood.”

           The living room had an open hallway entrance in the back, it glowed red. They naturally gravitated towards it, assuming the destination. The hallway was crammed with large paintings and terrifying sketches of screaming faces and messy, haunted houses. Several reddish-orange light bulbs were attached to the upper part of the wall, an attempt to dress the place up that ended up making everything look stained with fresh blood.

Victor led the way, already in the zone, “Donna was this nursing student who got the doll from her mom as a gift-”

Keith popped in, “That’s a weird gift-”

“-anyways, it started to move around when no one looked. Donna and her roommate started finding strange notes on the ground that they couldn’t explain. When the doll’s hands had what looked like blood on them-”

“-the doll...had blood on them,” Keith said in between laughing.

Victor gave a terse look, “So they called a medium who said that the spirit of a 7-year old girl found her home in the doll, her name was Annabelle.  Touched, Donna let her stay in the doll. However,” Victor turned and stared into the camera, “what some might not know, is that demons can supposedly appear as small children to seem unassuming and garner trust from mortals.”

“Mortals? Vic!”

“I’m just trying to get the info out.” Jake remained silent while the two bickered. Victor continued, “and one of Donna’s friends, Lou, had supposedly gotten scratches from the doll. They got in touch with a priest who connected them with Ed and Lorraine Warren, who confirmed the doll was being controlled by a demonic spirit, not a ghost, who was looking for a human host and had the capacity to kill.”

This time, Keith stayed quiet with Jake. Jake kept the camera on Victor as they crept slowly through the hallway.

“The Warrens noticed the doll was dangerous to drive with and brought it home to try to exercise it. The first priest to insult the doll immediately found himself in a car crash later that day, which led to a series of car collisions with people who mocked the doll.”

Keith finally spoke, “So, what I’m hearing, is that I shouldn’t make fun of Annabelle?”

Jake swung the camera back and forth from him to Victor. Vic replied, “I can’t control what you say but if you do say something I don’t agree with, we’re driving back separately. We’re about to enter the room.

The hallway spit them out into the room that they had broken in to see. They wouldn’t have broken in normally, they’re not stupid, but the place has been closed for two years and if they didn’t explore it, the place might get torn down and replaced with a parking lot in mere months. Seizing the opportunity and already getting this far, the three of them walked inside. This was the artifact room, the place that held the world’s most dangerous and historically supernatural items. A vampire coffin stood upright on one wall, right next to one of probably fifteen demonic masks that looked like they were probably made of coarse, gritty material and hair.

Victor continued to talk, which Jake was thankful for, “That right there is ‘The Shadow Doll’ that you can make attack people if you try. There’s a doll from the New England Witch Trials, and again don’t touch anything, we’re not here to disturb, only communicate.  And here…here’s Annabelle. You see the box she’s kept in? The Devil tarot card was stapled to the wood by Ed Warren, he also soaked the wood in holy water cause that’s what had kept her at bay.” Victor took out a vial of holy water and gave it a brief shake to demonstrate he brought it for emergencies. “We’ll be right back.”

Jake pointed the camera towards Annabelle and Keith and Victor set up two candles on either side of the doll’s box. Annabelle was kept in an arcade-game sized wooden frame with dusty glass windows. The red light washed over everything, and that included the raggedy-ann doll with large, black, empty button eyes. It’s hair was casually tossed around its head and it sat in the middle of the wooden bottom like it was waiting to be served tea, not attempt a murder. The entire case was taller than them and it gave it an edge of intimidation, despite the doll’s small size. A devil’s trap was carved into the floorboards beneath the case and painted in thick black acrylic directly above. Lots of stone chains and sigils surrounded the case, assumedly for extra protection. They lit the candles and the room somehow gets more unnerving with two flickering lights. Victor’s face remained stone-cold with focused intent but there was an eager hopefulness in his eyes. Keith still had one eyebrow raised and arms crossed.

Victor started, “Hello. We’ve placed two candles on either side of you. If you would like to communicate, turn off the candle to your right.”

They waited.

Victor continued, “If you are upset at our presence, turn off the candle to your right.”

Flickering.

The left candle flame danced, and then the candle on the right went out.

Jake spoke, “Uh. Guys did you see that?”

           Keith looked at him, “Of course we did, the wind unlit our candles because that’s how small fires work.”

           Victor held up a hand to stop Keith, “I’m going to continue. We do not want to upset you, we just want to talk. Do you feel trapped here?”

The flame returned to the candle. Everyone stopped breathing.

Everything just stopped.

           “Do you want to kill us?” Keith broke the silence.

Victor instantly turned on him, “What would compel you to say something like that? I know you don’t take this seriously but come on.”

“Guys,” Jake mentioned. Both the candles were out, “Should we leave?”

The candle on the right fell to the floor. Both Jake and Victor jumped. Keith would refuse that he jumped. Jake looked at Victor for their next move. He nodded in silent agreement that their time here was complete. Victor said to Keith, “Jake has to wake up early, let’s call it,” he looked at the camera, “That was our interaction, and the most recent conversation, with Annabelle.”

           Quiet again, Victor deftly picked up the candles and returned them to his back. His eyes straight ahead, lost in thought. Keith resumed looking around the room at the other strange objects. Jake stopped recording. The three of them started down the hallway but halfway through, a loud sound of breaking glass stopped them all in their tracks.

           Jake stuttered, “Oh my god I’m so sorry, I bumped into one of the picture frames with the camera bag, I’m so so sorry.” He dropped to the ground and began sweeping up the shards with a rag.

           “Jesus, you almost had me going! That was hilarious. How long did you have that planned?” Keith asked.

           “It wasn’t a prank! I’m really sorry!”

           “It’s okay,” Victor said, “This place is closed so I don’t think you’ll be in trouble-”

The house creaked again. They sighed.

           Victor continued, “You finish cleaning, I forgot to get a picture I wanted. Once second.” Before either could refuse, Victor was gone. Keith’s attention span had fallen to zero and Jake hurriedly swept the glass as much as he could, only receiving minor scrapes and major shame.

           At least two minutes had passed, Keith was playing an app game on his phone, and Jake was ready to not be there anymore. Another two minutes. Keith and Jake made eye contact.

           “Do you think-”

           “-It has been a while” They started at the same time. Keith carried on, “let’s go grab our lovable ghost-nut, I want to go home and you still have class.”

           They returned to the room, walking confidently but their stomachs were not quite so calm. Returning to the room wasn’t any easier than the first time for Jake, and Keith went directly to Annabelle’s case. Strangely, the side pane of glass to the case was broken and the doll, as well as Victor, were gone.

           Jake’s eyes had widened to golf balls, “What the fuck-what the fuck-Keith where the fuck is Victor?!”

           “Relax, Victor knows this was a useless trip and a dull episode, start recording, he’s clearly pranking us. I’m just surprised he broke the glass, that’s commitment.”

           Jake was shaking his head. His heart was pounding. He turned on the camera and started panning over the scene. Footsteps on the wood behind him sounded and grew closer…”AHH!” Jake yelped in alarm as a totally fine, undisturbed Victor emerged from another doorway.

           “Oh? Didn’t mean to startle you.”

           Keith smiled, “Su-ure you didn’t and I’m sure this just happened randomly.”

           “What do you- WHAT?!” They hadn’t heard Victor’s voice raise above indoor-level, “Where’s the doll Keith? What did you do?”            “Nice try man, I’m not falling for it, ‘Oh let’s go drive to the Warren's house, the doll that inspired all those movies lives there, oh? The dolls gone? Oh my pearls!’” Keith’s mocking Victor voice wasn’t half-bad.

           “This isn’t a prank, not everything is a joke. You messing with the doll and breaking property isn’t a joke either. We’re going to look for the doll and one way or another, it’ll show up. Maybe on its own, maybe you’ll suddenly find it. I have my body cam on me, I’m going to scope out the box, you two spread out to the hallway and the living room. Keep yelling out to each other to stay together.” Victor was dead serious. Also perturbed that Keith wasn’t.

           “Fine! Fine, we’ll entertain this thing for you, that’s how good of a friend I am.” Keith walked away and Jake stared at Victor who gave him an intense look, and then he followed Keith.

           The two now walked down the hall again.

           Victor shouted, “Here.”

           Jake shouted, “Here.”

           Keith was playing an app game.

           Victor shouted, “Keith?”

           Keith tuned in, “Yes, I’m here teacher.”

           They returned to the living room, Jake still recording, and scanned the room, looking under couches and tables and behind piles of newspaper.

           A few minutes had passed and Jake’s camera battery was running low.

           Jake shouted, “Here - guys the camera’s almost dead.”

           Keith responded, “Here. I’m good to go.”

           Victor didn’t respond.

           They waited, still nothing.

           Keith turned to Jake, “Oh man let’s go back to the room and see what our maestro of tension has cooked up next.” Jake grimaced, and the two returned to the room for a third time. They walked in, both shouting for Victor more. Keith said, “Alright Victor, you are the master of pranks, the prank master, and you got Jake really good with this, but don’t you think it’s time for us to go back to the dorms?” Still no response.

           Jake rounded a corner of shelves and faced the Annabelle case. His eyes caught a shine on the ground, a watch. He was relieved for a split second when it wasn’t the doll on the ground, waiting for him, but the relief drained from his body, replaced with an overwhelming amount of dread and numbness. He stared. Victor could not stare back because his body lay lifeless on the ground, arm with watch splayed outward, perhaps trying to grab onto something for purchase before…

           Keith noticed Jake unmoving and walked over, the color leaving his face immediately, “He planned this, right?” No response. “He got blood packets and he was tired of me shitting on his ghost shit and this is him getting back at me?” No response. Keith crouched down and moved Victor’s head, his eyes starkly open and tongue lolling out of his mouth. “Fuck!” Keith jumped backwards. Jake somehow mustered the courage to shakily reach down and close his eyelids. Nothing could be done about his torso, Victor’s shirt had been torn to shreds to reveal several long claw marks through his body. Blood was starting to pool wider around the floor. “We gotta go Jake, we gotta get out of here and get the police.”

           “...Police?”            “Yeah fucking police, someone’s in this house fucking with us and just murdered our friend.” Keith was whispering now. He grabbed Jake’s arm and the two began running out. They ran past the New England doll, they ran down the hallway, pictures still screaming at them, a few bits of glass still on the ground, they ran to the entry room and Keith reached for the doorknob. It didn’t give. “What the fuck?”

           But there wasn’t time for Jake to answer, he turned around and Annabelle the doll was laying in the center of the living room, facing the ceiling. “Keith, break the door.” Jake did not give commands, but Keith listened and took a step back and kicked the door down. It took two kicks. They ran out and started running down the long driveway, surrounded by tall dead wild grass. They parked on the side of the street but they still had a ways to go. They were both running as fast as they could but the camera was heavy for Jake. He started to slow.

           “No no no, Jake we can’t slow down, here give me the camera.” Jake panted heavily, a smaller frame, and figured that Keith would be alright taking on the extra load. Jake hazarded a glance behind him and sure enough the doll lay in the middle of the distance they had just run.

           “Keep running.” Jake said. They ran for their life through the biting cold Connecticut night, not a breeze in the air. They finally reached the car and Keith put the camera on the hood of the car and began fishing for his car keys. It was taking longer than either of them wanted.

           “Oh come on. Here!” Keith found them and unlocked the car, they were inside faster than they thought possible, camera thrown in too. They started to drive down the street fast. The car shook and then it shook again, bigger, but there were no potholes on the road. “What did Victor say about people driving away? He said something, I just didn’t pay attention!”

           “He said people who mocked them usually die in a car crash once they leave the place.”

           “Oh that’s perfect! Did Victor say anything about killing it? Or keeping it trapped again?”

           “He...he-”

           “-come on!”

           “He had the vial of holy water on him, we didn’t grab it we’d have to go back.”  

           “Fuck that! I’m not letting a doll stop us.” He pushed his foot down harder on the pedal and the car sped down the street faster, shaking continuing.

           Jake chimed in, “I’ve heard, and Victor talked about this too, burning it could work.”

           “Burning it! Okay when we get to the dorms we’ll use the lighter, you still have it on you?”

           “Yeah.” After a minute, the shaking stopped all at once. They continued to fly street by street, no one out here in this empty farmland.

Jake turned to look out the rear window, and he wished he just hadn’t looked, yet again. Jake had no stomach for scary nonsense, he only came with Victor and Keith cause they were his friends and looked out for him. Now Victor was gone. The doll was in the middle of the backseat, black eyes and permanent smile staring back.

“Jake? Jake you okay?”

“Uh, Annabelle is in the...backseat.”

“WHAT.” The car slightly swerved at Keith’s shock but then he maintained. “Can you throw it out the window?!”

“It’ll just keep following us home,” Jake said under his breath.

“What was that, Jake?”

“Nothing. Give me a second.” Jake unbuckled his seatbelt and climbed into the back seat.

“I don’t think that’s the best idea!” Keith yelled.

“I’m going to fix it. Just keep driving, and don’t look back.”

“Okay?!”

“Thanks.”            “Are you thanking the doll?”            “Thanks for making me less scared.” And with that, Jake grabbed the doll with one arm and the other opened the back-right door. He leaped out, the doll held tightly to his body, and together they flung out of the car.

“JAKE, WHAT THE HELL!” Breaking the rule, he looked backwards and saw the lump of Jake on the black top, already getting smaller in the distance with the speed of the car, and then the lump set ablaze. The fire grew and grew until it was taller than the trees. The fire wasn’t just yellow, it was a deep red like the light in the room.

Keith cannot recount how he got home that night, he doesn’t remember.

August 14, 2020, 3 AM. Annabelle escapes the Warren house. Due to sensitivity and the lone survivor’s firm request, the boy's presence there that night was taken out of the official document.

[copperbadge]

Answers About Induction

I didn’t reply to everyone who gave their thoughts, but I wanted to say thank you to everyone who did! I know what to look out for and what to avoid now. :D

darael replied to your post “lillianmmalter OMG! Do not get an induction cooktop! I’ve cooked on...”

Induction hobs share one of the great annoyances of coil-electric hobs, which is that they aren't very responsive at all: they take irritatingly long to heat up and cool down. Gas is definitely best (but electric ovens all the way). Without that option I might be tempted to go induction, but *anything* is better than ceramic-plate electric.

I’d definitely prefer gas, for sure. I was given to understand induction was super fast -- I wonder if there’s a difference from a full range to a hob. It occurs to me if I did buy a hob I could test whether I liked it before buying a full cooktop. 

rosestonewrites replied to your post “ranuel replied to your photo “It’s cooking day! In fact it’s probably...”

Absolutely get an induction cooktop, omg. My mother's been replacing every stove in every house we've lived in for the last few years with induction ones and I figured it was just one of her idiosyncrasies; now that I'm living on my own with one of the heated-up-metal sort.... AUGH. So slow. I've never come around to her point of view so quickly :P

LOL! Well, if you happen to think of it next time you’re talking to her, get the brand name of the cooktops she’s using :D Sounds like they’re a good brand. 

ameliahcrowley replied to your post “lillianmmalter OMG! Do not get an induction cooktop! I’ve cooked on...”

I have an induction hob and hate it: there are a lot of things that are probably useful if you like them (like the fact that it doesn't lose heat immediately, so you can turn it off and finish cooking on the residual heat) but there are a lot of things that annoy (like the fact that you can't cheat and boil water in the kettle before adding it to the pan as the hob won't heat up with a hot pan on it). I suspect it's very much a case of personal cooking-style.

Do you know it had never occurred to me to boil water in a kettle and then add it to a pot? I suppose it’s because I don’t make much tea. I can see how that would be an issue if it’s something you’re used to, though about half the commenters reported that an induction cooker is much faster for boiling water anyway, which is interesting. 

junker5 replied to your post “lillianmmalter OMG! Do not get an induction cooktop! I’ve cooked on...”

My nephews broke their induction top with the cast iron skilket. My brother just swallowed hard and dropped the cash to get a new gas range. But that's easier in a house than a condo. I know you are limited by what the building will allow.

It’s more what the infrastructure will allow -- for a gas stove/oven you have to have the building itself connected to the city gas line, and I would imagine it was too expensive for the landlord when the building was apartments and then the condo board when it went condo just never bothered. I think probably everyone would be okay with having gas, it’s the getting it -- connecting to the gas line, piping it into everyone’s unit. That gets costly fast. I’m surprised that the cooktop, being glass, didn’t come with some kind of repair guarantee, but I suppose those run out after a while. 

whatdoyoumeanitsnotawesome

@copperbadge the induction eye is kinda amazing tbh? (fucking magnets, how do they work?)

i can boil an 8qt pot of water in 2 minutes!!! that’s so cool!!! the biggest pain is definitely replacing all your pots and pans. remember anything that will stick a magnet will work on the induction eye. one thing i have noticed (after having one for like 5 years) is that they do started to loose a bit of power after a while but it’s only a little bit and it hasn’t impacted my cooking at all.

the only other annoying thing is that if you have all the eyes going at once sometimes it makes this weird high pitched whine, but apparently (according to my spouse) only the dog and i can hear it, so ymmv

Well, most of my pans are Induction friendly anyway -- cast iron and aluminum-clad copper (though I don’t know how well the aluminum-clad will work, a magnet still sticks to it!). It sounds like you’re getting a lot more speed out of yours than some people -- what brand do you use?  (Also has your username ever been more apt :D)

lillianmmalter replied to your post “lillianmmalter OMG! Do not get an induction cooktop! I’ve cooked on...”

My mom's is neither responsive nor intuitive to use (and I have one at home). Mine is not responsive, except if you happen to spill water that runs over the buttons, thereby turning all the burners off at once. Or if you happen to set a hot cookie sheet on top of it, then it beeps. Or if you set anything on top of it, then it beeps. Heaven forbid it locks and you need to unlock it to cook anything. It will not recognize your fingers wet, dry, warm, or cold. It hates you.

When you say it will not recognize your fingers, you mean the button panel, yes? I can see how that would be ultimately annoying. It sounds like user interface is definitely something to look at, as well as perhaps some of the safety features (I do use my stove top as a cooling rack for cooking sheets often). 

[brinazzle]

5

We always have a choice. That’s not so clear-cut when the subject is triggers and our response to them. The terms trigger and response suggest an uninterrupted A-to-B sequence with no breathing room for hesitation, reflection, and choice. Is that true? Are we so easily triggered? How does a trigger actually work within us? Are there moving parts between the trigger and the behavior. If so, what are they? When I was getting my doctorate at UCLA, the classic sequencing template for analyzing problem behavior in children was known as ABC, for antecedent, behavior, and consequence.  The antecedent is the event that prompts the behavior. The behavior creates a consequence. A common classroom example: a student is drawing pictures instead of working on the class assignment. The teacher asks the child to finish the task (the request is the antecedent). The child reacts by throwing a tantrum (behavior). The teacher responds by sending the student to the principal’s office (consequence). That’s the ABC sequence: teacher request to child’s tantrum to hello principal. Armed with this insight, after several repeat episodes the teacher concludes that the child’s behavior is a ploy to avoid class assignments. In his engaging book, The Power of Habit, Charles Duhigg applied this ABC template to breaking and forming habits. Instead of antecedent, behavior, and consequence, he used the terms cue, routine, and reward to describe the three part sequence known as a habit loop. Smoking cigarettes is a habit loop consisting of stress (cue), nicotine stimulation (routine), leading to temporary psychic well-being (reward). People often gain weight when they try to quit smoking because they substitute food for nicotine as their routine. In doing so, they are obeying Duhigg’s Golden Rule of Habit Change—keep the cue and reward, change the routine—but they are doing it poorly. Doing thirty push-ups (or anything physically challenging) might be more effective than eating more. Duhigg provides a terse, vivid example of the cue-routine-reward loop in action—and how we can use it to break a bad habit. A graduate student named Mandy bites her nails, habitually and incessantly until they bleed. She wants to stop. A therapist elicits from Mandy that she brings her fingers to her mouth whenever she feels a little bit of tension in her fingers. The tension appears when she’s bored. That’s the cue: tension in her fingers brought on by boredom. Biting her nails is the routine that fights her boredom. The physical stimulation, especially the sense of completeness when she nibbles all ten nails down to the quick, is Mandy’s reward. She craves it, which makes it habitual. The therapist instructs Mandy to carry an index card and make a check mark on the card each time she feels the finger tension. A week later she returns to the therapist with twenty-eight check marks on the card, but she is now enlightened about the cues that send her fingers to her mouth. She’s ready to replace her routine. The therapist teaches her a “competing response”—in this case, putting her hands in her pocket or gripping a pencil, anything that prevents her fingers from going to her mouth. Eventually Mandy learns to rub her arms or rap her knuckles on a desk as a substitute for the physical gratification that nail biting provides. The cue and reward stay the same. The routine has changed. A month later, Mandy has stopped biting her nails completely. She’s replaced a harmful habit with a harmless one. I don’t take issue with the first and third segments of Duhigg’s habit loop, whatever terms we use—antecedent andconsequence, cue and reward, stimulus and response, cause and effect, trigger and outcome. I want to modify the middle part—the routine. The habit loop makes it sound as if all we need is an awareness of our cues so we can automatically respond with an appropriate behavior. That’s fine with habits. But when we’re changing interpersonal behavior, we’re adding a layer of complexity in the form of other people. Our triggered response can’t always be automatic and unthinking and habitual—because as caring human beings we have to consider how people will respond to our actions. The fingernail doesn’t care if we bite it or leave it alone. The glass of wine doesn’t care if we drink it or spurn it. The cigarette is indifferent to our craving for it. But the people in our lives care enormously whether we yield to our first unwelcome impulse (for example, rudeness, cruelty, rage) or we stifle the impulse and come up with a better choice. With people in the mix, mere habit can’t guide our behavior. We must be adaptable, not habitual—because the stakes are so much higher. If I surrender to my nicotine craving and smoke a cigarette, I hurt myself. If I lose my temper with my child, I hurt my child. In the matter of adult behavioral change, I’d like to propose a modification to the sequence of antecedent, behavior, and consequence—by interrupting it with a sense of awareness and an infinitesimal stoppage of time. My modified sequence looks like this:   I’ve isolated three eye-blink moments—first the impulse, then the awareness, then a choice—that comprise the crucial intervals between the trigger and our eventual behavior. These intervals are so brief we sometimes fail to segregate them from what we regard as our “behavior.” But experience and common sense tell us they’re real. When a trigger is pulled we have an impulse to behave a certain way. That’s why some of us hear a loud crash behind us and immediately duck our heads to protect ourselves. The more shrewd and alert among us aren’t as quick to run for cover. We hear the sound and look around to see what’s behind it—in case there’s even more to worry about. Same trigger, different responses, one of them automatic and hasty (in a word, impulsive, as in yielding to the first impulse), the other intermediated by pausing, reflecting, and sifting among better options. We are not primitive sea slugs responding with twitchy movement whenever we’re poked with a needle. We have brain cells. We can think. We can make any impulse run in place for a brief moment while we choose to obey or ignore it. We make a choice not out of unthinking habit but as evidence of our intelligence and engagement. In other words, we are paying attention. For example, in 2007 I was a guest on the Today show’s weekend edition, interviewed by Lester Holt. Guests are warned that the time on camera goes by very fast—a six-minute segment feels like sixty seconds. It’s true. My interview went well. I enjoyed myself so much, in fact, that I was stunned when I heard Lester thanking me for being on the program—the customary cue that the segment is over. I couldn’t believe it. We’d just started. I had a half dozen additional points to make. Lester’s words triggered an impulse in me to say, “No, let’s keep going.” And in fact, the words were on the tip of my tongue. But this was national television, with four million people watching. I was keyed up, mindful of every word and gesture. In that nanosecond before the foolish words could pass my lips, I paused to reflect on the consequences of doing so. Was I really considering telling the Today host that I didn’t want the interview to end? Did I want to be the guest who overstayed his welcome? In the end, I took Lester’s cue and responded with the customary, “Thank you for having me.” I’m sure anyone watching the segment’s final seconds saw a guest behaving on autopilot. That’s what most exchanges of gratitude are—formulaic gestures, neither distinctive nor attention-grabbing. A viewer wouldn’t have an inkling of the split second drama in my head during the interval between Lester Holt’s triggering words and the response I finally chose. Though it looked like rote behavior, it was anything but casual or automatic. Even with a trigger as minor as being thanked for showing up, I was weighing my options. I had a choice. If we’re paying attention (and being on national TV will increase anyone’s level of awareness), this is how triggers work. The more aware we are, the less likely any trigger, even in the most mundane circumstances, will prompt hasty unthinking behavior that leads to undesirable consequences. Rather than operate on autopilot, we’ll slow down time to think it over and make a more considered choice. We already do this in the big moments. When we go into our first meeting with the company’s CEO, we are mindful that every word, every gesture, every question is a trigger. When we’re asked for our opinion, we don’t say the first thing that comes to mind. We know we’ve entered a field of land mines where any misstep may have unappealing consequences. We measure our words like a diplomat facing an adversary. Perhaps we’ve even prepared our answers ahead of time. Either way, we don’t yield to impulse. We reflect, choose, then respond.Paradoxically, the big moments—packed with triggers, stress, raw emotions, high stakes, and thus high potential for disaster—are easy to handle. When successful people know it’s showtime, they prepare to put on a show. It’s the little moments that trigger some of our most outsized and unproductive responses: The slow line at the coffee shop, the second cousin who asks why you’re still single, the neighbor who doesn’t pick up after his dog, the colleague who doesn’t remove his sunglasses indoors to talk to you, the guests who show up too early, the passenger in the next seat wearing super-loud headphones, the screaming baby on the plane, the friend who always one-ups your anecdotes, the person standing on the left side of the escalator, and so on. These are life’s paper cuts. They happen every day, and they’re not going away. They often involve people we’ll never see again. Yet they can trigger some of our basest impulses. Some of us suppress the impulse. Whatever the reason—common sense, fear of confrontation, more urgent things to do we opt to ignore the triggering annoyance. We disarm the moment. If there are no bullets in the gun, the trigger doesn’t matter. On the other hand, some of us are easily triggered—and can’t resist our first impulse. We have to speak up. This is how ugly public scenes begin. These tiny annoyances should trigger bemusement over life’s rich tapestry instead of turning us into umbrage-taking characters from a Seinfeld episode. Even more perilous are the small triggering moments with our families and best friends. We feel we can say or do anything with these folks. They know us. They’ll forgive us. We don’t have to edit ourselves. We can be true to our impulses. That’s how our closest relationships often become trigger festivals with consequences that we rarely see in any other part of our lives—the fuming and shouting, the fights and slammed doors, the angry departures and refusals to talk to each other for months, years, decades. For example, your teenage daughter borrows the car and two hours later calls to say it’s been stolen. She left the keys in the car while she ran into a convenience store for a snack. A low-probability event (the theft) made more probable by a silly mistake (forgetting the keys). As a parent, how do you respond? Your daughter wasn’t harmed. She’s not in danger or legal peril. She’s a victim. At worst, you’ve lost property. What’s your first impulse? You can get angry. You can do a variation on “I told you so” or “You always do this,” reinforcing the message that 1) parent knows best or 2) your daughter is not as smart as she thinks she is. You can be consoling. You can ask, “Do you need a ride home?” You have options. I don’t have the perfect answer. I do know that this phone call is a supercharged triggering moment, even though it is brief and unexpected and in the grand scheme of things, small. The damage is done. It’s not a tall tale to entertain your grandkids years from now. But how you respond is important and consequential. Will this unfortunate event trigger more damage in the relationship between parent and child, or will something good come out of it? Will you give in to the perfectly natural impulse to express your scorn, or will you take a breath and make a smarter choice?

[inu-jiru]

Tomoe, The Eastern Tigress - Chapter Four

Chapter Four - The Assassins’ Mission

Silence lingered as the two groups stared at each other. Only the cicadas and grasshoppers dared to make a noise, their nighttime ballads filling the air. Out of the corner of her eye, Tomoe could see Smith hobbling to the front of the Ohu platoon. The Shepherd above watched him intensely, his eyes locked on the Spaniel’s. When Smith was satisfied, he came to a halt and began to speak. “Who are you? What are you all doing here?” “We’re no enemies of yours, old man,” the Shepherd responded in a low, matter-of-fact tone. It instantly shot a bolt of annoyance through Tomoe. The nerve of this guy, speaking to Smith that way. “Oi!” Tomoe suddenly spoke up. “Who do you think you’re calling “old man”? Have some respect for a Sergeant of Ohu, you bastard!” “Tomoe!” Jiyū scolded. “Don’t interrupt like that. And such unladylike language, too...” Tomoe snorted. “Easy, Tomoe,” Smith said, giving the young female a grateful nod. “Let me handle these dogs.” “Mmm...” Tomoe grunted, unsatisfied with having to remain quiet, but wanting to respect the older male nonetheless. “Tch...” one of the Shepherd male’s comrades scoffed, a Gascon Saintongeois, judging by the look of him. “Wild dogs, eh, Jerome?” “What was that, you floppy-eared piece of shit!?” spat Kagetora suddenly. Smith’s head snapped towards him. “What did I just say!?” “But Uncle, he--!” “Enough!” Kagetora shrank back, an embarrassed expression on his face as he stared at the ground. Sighing, Smith turned his attention back to the Shepherd, Jerome. “Continue, Jerome, is it?” he barked. “Mmmph...” Jerome grunted. “As I was saying...we’re not your enemies. We’re contract killers, trained by humans to hunt and kill P4?” “P4?” “Yes. P4 was meant to be an experiment of human science, but he escaped. We’ve been sent to find him and destroy him. You all need to stay out of this; We’ll be the ones to kill the one you call “Kaibutsu”.” Neither Tomoe nor Kagetora could hold back a growl. Shooting them both another warning glare, Smith gave his response. “Tell me more about this “P4”,” he said. Jerome hesitated, taking note of the Spaniel’s appearance. From the scars on his back to his missing leg, this Smith was a warrior in every sense of the word, even if he was a pet dog. Jerome had to respect that. Looking up towards the starry sky, he cleared his throat. “It started four years ago,” he began. His mind wandered to the laboratory that he and his comrades once guarded. “We were being trained by the humans to protect a section of the humans’ facility known as P4. It was an animal experimentation unit, and “Kaibutsu” was their latest test subject. Four years ago, he turned his fangs on the scientists. We dogs did everything we could to subdue him, but he was too powerful. A swing of his paw fractured my shoulder. He escaped after that, and we spent months trying to assassinate him. There used to be fifteen dogs under my command, but now...” Jerome glanced between the dogs standing near him. “I only have four.” Everyone was silent as they took in the information. It was now Jiyū’s turn to feel anger. She’d always hated humans, but to think they’d create a monster and let wild dogs take the fall for their incompetence. Tomoe looked back at her, sensing an aura of pure rage radiating from her. “Mom?” she said. The panda female didn’t answer at first, her body trembling from the rage she felt. Suddenly, she looked up at Jerome and his followers, her eyes blazing with the fury of a soldier. “Even if your job is to take Kaibutsu down,” Jiyū finally spoke up. “We lost our Paradise and our friends because of him. The Ohu Army won’t stand back and watch.” “Mrs. Jiyū...!” Ken gasped in disbelief. “Heh,” Jerome scoffed. “Do what you want.” He suddenly shot down the side of the hill, his allies following close behind. They took a sharp turn just in front of Smith, kicking up dust and small stones as they took off in the direction of Kaibutsu’s scent. “Get a load of those guys,” Kagetora grumbled. “They’re so fast...” said Weed in awe. He padded after them, stopping to watch them disappear into the distance. “There’s no way we could keep up with them,” GB added, looking towards Smith. “We should leave things to them, right, old man?” “Speak for yourself.” The muscles in Tomoe’s legs tensed as she prepared herself. She licked her chops before racing off after the assassins. “I’m not standing around and letting a bunch of smartasses do our job!” “I’ll go, too!” Weed was quick to follow behind the Shepherd bitch. “For Father’s Paradise!” “Weed...!” GB called after the Akita mix, to no avail. The puppy’s mind was made up. “Well, you all?” said Smith. “What are you waiting for! Follow Weed and Tomoe! If this is our chance to kill Kaibutsu, then we’ll have to take it!” The decision was made. The dogs of Ohu, followed by a reluctant GB, were on the trail of Kaibutsu, following the five assassins. Weed and Tomoe took the lead, their speed matching either other, the blood of their father’s coursing through their veins. Up ahead, the Saintongeois glanced back at the approaching youngsters. “They’re following us,” he announced. The Labrador next to him chuckled. “Those brats really think they can keep up with us?” “Let’s see how far they go to impress us, hmm?” Jerome said, not even bothering to look back. A large gorge separated this section of the woods from the Ohu base and Gajou. The assassins wasted no time making the leap, clearing it with no trouble. Weed and Tomoe arrived next. While Weed managed to stop himself at the edge of the gorge, Tomoe, without thinking, launched herself into the air, soaring over the gorge without even realizing it. She looked down, seeing that she had inadvertently taken the test of the Ohu soldiers. Every Ohu soldier had to clear the gorge at least once in their lives. If Tomoe made it, then her place among the ranks would be complete. Her heart pounded as the other end of the gorge grew closer and closer; her paws stretched out, ready for the landing. As soon as she felt stone under her paws, she darted forward, now slowing until she’d nearly collided into the Saintongeois. The male was too stunned to be upset, though. All of them were. This young female had really jumped the gorge before their very eyes. “I did it...!” Tomoe whispered herself as she caught her breath. “I really did it...! Ha!” She looked over to the other side. Weed was still standing there, gazing down into the dark abyss below him. The rest of the Ohu dogs had nearly reached him. “Oi! What are you waiting for, kid? Hurry up and jump, already!” “Gyah!” a thunderous cry erupted from the platoon. One by one, dogs began leaping across the gorge. The assassins continued to watch in awe. Jiyū looked over at Smith, smirking at him. “Just like old times, eh, Smith?” she barked at him. Smith smiled back at her. “Heh,” he laughed. “Yeah. Let’s show these youngsters how it’s done.” Both adults took the leap, Smith’s being quite impressive given his physical handicap. They reached the other side with little trouble, though Smith’s hind paws had slipped off the ledge behind him. He began falling back, but Ken and Kagetora were quick to grab onto his ears. “Excuse us!” they both cried through long, black fur. They pulled the older male gently back onto the stable ground. “Ahh...” said Smith sheepishly. One could just imagine how hot he’d gotten under his fur. “Thanks, boys, heheh...” GB and the young Golden Retriever, Mel, arrived last at the scene. The Setter yiped in panic upon seeing the massive gorge that lay before him. “Everyone else jumped this!?” GB shrieked in fear. “They’re all so powerful...” Mel sighed in admiration. He looked to Weed expectantly. “We’ll jump across too, right? We won’t be able to fight if we just stay here.” “No, Weed!” GB argued. “It’s way too dangerous to try and jump this gorge! Maybe it’s best if we stay back.” “Oi!” shouted Tomoe, her tail lashing impatiently. “You three coming over or not?” Jerome, meanwhile, watched Weed with interest. Of all the Ohu dogs, that pup had an aura about him that made the Shepherd curious. Weed’s claws scratched the ground, his muzzle wrinkling in frustration. I shouldn’t have to be told to do this. I have to be brave and strong, like Father. I’m an Ohu soldier...! “I...” Weed began, taking a few steps back. “I’m...” “Weed?” asked GB curiously. “Are you scared? You don’t have to do it. We can always just turn around and leave.” “No...” Weed’s ears stood erect, and his muscles tensed. “I’m the son of Gin, and I’m...!” He took off towards the gorge. “An Ohu dog, too!” “NO!” GB clamped his eyes shut. “WEED!” “Weed!” Mel followed Weed’s example, taking the jump. “If you’ll do it, then I will too!” “GB!” barked Smith. “This is your last chance to join us! Make the jump, or turn around and head to safety!” “Guuuhhh!” The Setter whined in defeat. “No matter what I say, everyone else just goes on ahead...! Come on, GB...! Are you really gonna go on being a coward forever!?” GB’s eyes snapped open. Smith could see a new fire in his eyes; his decision had been made. With the bravest yell he could muster, GB leapt over the gorge. He could feel the chilly winds blowing up from the darkness below; they seemed to help him glide over to the other side. Tears streamed down his face, partially from terror and partially because he was doing it. He was being brave. Weed and Mel had landed already, and made room for him to land. Unfortunately, GB’s jump had been a bit off. His front half reached the other side, while his back half slipped and dangled off the side of the cliff. “Aah!” GB cried. “Wait...! No!” “GB!” Weed yelled. He was about to run to the Setter’s aid, when the Saintongeois suddenly appeared in front of him, gripping GB’s foreleg and stopping his fall. “You whine a lot,” the male snorted. “You know that?” “That guy...” Kagetora muttered. “You helped me?” GB said, dumbstruck. The Saintongeois didn’t reply, instead pulling GB onto the ledge and out of danger. Never before had GB been so grateful to be on solid ground. The Saintongeois returned back to his comrades. The assassins, once staring at the group of wild dogs with contempt or indifference, now gazed upon them with respect. Jerome took a step towards the Ohu dogs, his expression noticeably softer than before. “You’re all very brave,” he commented, his eyes falling on Weed. “Especially you, kid.” “Me?” Weed couldn’t help but smile proudly. Nearby, Tomoe scoffed. What’s he getting all the praise for...? she wondered, annoyed. He jumped just like the rest of us. Jerome nodded to the rest of his squad. Aside from the Saintongeois and the Labrador, there was also a Doberman Pinscher and a Hokkaido Inu who were members of the team. “Let me introduce you to my comrades,” the Shepherd continued. “This is Hoiler, Robert, Rocca, and North.” Each dog nodded as his name was mentioned. “I’m Weed,” Weed introduced himself. “My father’s Gin, leader of the Paradise here.” “Gin, eh?” said Hoiler. “I’ve heard of him. Heh, no wonder a kid like you is so strong.” “Shouldn’t we be going already?” Tomoe suddenly snapped. Everyone looked at her, seeing her tail lashing. Jerome stared at her for a moment, before nodding to his followers. His tail beckoned for the Ohu dogs to follow him. “She’s right,” he grunted. “We don’t have time to waste.” The group was off, making the short journey to the stronghold. Along the way, Kagetora leaned close to Tomoe. “Hey...” he barked. “Someone got a bit snippy earlier...” “Piss off,” Tomoe grunted, earning herself a laugh from the Kai. “What’s the matter? You jealous of that kid or something?” “No.” A growl came from the female’s throat. “It’s just annoying hearing him call himself the son of Gin over and over and over again. Even if Gin is his dad, he doesn’t need to go around flaunting it.” “So you’re saying he can’t be proud of who his dad is?” Kagetora cocked a brow. “No, you idiot. I’m just saying...this kid shows up and immediately everyone’s up his ass about how great he is. He didn’t even do anything all that special yet.” “Well...” Kagetora shrugged. “Yeah, I guess that’s a bit annoying. But you have to admit, he looks a lot like Gin. I think everyone’s just excited to see what kind of male he is.” “Mmm...” Tomoe grunted. She didn’t say anymore after that. Son of Gin or not, that Weed would have to earn her respect before she sang his praises. The shadow of Gajou loomed over the dogs. Kaibutsu’s scent was its absolute strongest, and the blood from his earlier wound had dried on the rocks. A deep rumbling emitted from inside: Kaibutsu’s breath. Ken turned towards some of his subordinates. “We shouldn’t be far from the entrance of the tunnel,” he said quietly. “Tell everyone what’s going on. We might need reinforcements.” “Sir.” The dog nodded, and was off immediately. “It’d be foolish to go in all at once,” Jerome announced. He turned back, looking down at Weed. “I’d like for you to help us, Weed.” “Mmm?” Weed perked, ready. Tomoe, meanwhile, rolled her eyes and flashed Kagetora a look that translated to, “See what I mean?” “We need you to lure Kaibutsu out into the open, “ continued Jerome. Weed stiffened, his eyes widening at the idea of entering the monster’s lair. “Don’t be ridiculous!” Jiyū snapped, stepping in between Weed and the male Shepherd. “He’s just a boy! Put one of your own dogs in danger instead of throwing his life away.” “No, I’ll do it,” Weed insisted. He pushed past Jiyū, looking up at her with narrowed eyes. “Don’t look down on me because I’m younger. I can do this.” Jiyū was about to argue, Jerome interrupted. “Ma’am, just step back,” he said. “I already have it planned out so that Weed will easily avoid Kaibutsu’s fangs. The tunnels of Gajou are small enough for Weed to escape easily. He won’t be doing any actual fighting. You all might’ve noticed that the exposed flesh on Kaibutsu’s body is weaker than the rest. Our plan is to attack his chest, tear the arteries, and pierce his heart. The rest of you can act as distractions when Kaibutsu comes out but absolutely none of you are to get yourselves killed. This mission is to avoid needless deaths.” “We get it, jeez...” Tomoe huffed. She was growing more irritated at this Jerome guy the more time passed. Jerome flashed a sharp look at her. Beside her, Kagetora was snickering. Jiyū shoved her muzzle into the male’s face. “If he dies, Kaibutsu’s the last thing you need to worry about,” she threatened, before backing off. Weed padded up to Jerome, nodding to signify that he was ready. “North will guide you,” Jerome instructed. Weed nodded, and the small group began climbing up towards the entrance of Gajou. The rest of the dogs began sitting down. There was nothing for them to do now, so it was best to rest while they could. “Those dogs have spirit,” Smith commented to no one in particular. “They’re too cocky, that’s what they are,” replied Jiyū. “All that talk about being trained by humans and they need a puppy’s help?” “But, Mom,” said Tomoe, a coy smile appearing on her face. “He’s the son of Gin, remember? He can do anything and everything, you know?” Kagetora laughed as Jiyū rolled her eyes. Ken rubbed his temple with a paw. Inside Gajou, Weed followed behind North as they walked through the narrow tunnel. Weed looked around. The rocks and boulders had been packed together tightly, forming walls, ceilings and floors that were almost indestructible. Almost. Some rubble dropped down from above, landing near the pup’s paw. He jumped, turning around quickly. There was nothing behind him except for the rubble and the passageway he’d just come from. “Stay close,” the Hokkaido called back. “And don’t be scared. It’s starting to get narrower, so I might have some trouble making my way back. You need to be ready to run back out.” As North spoke, Weed felt a presence looming over them. He looked up, seeing two red eyes glowing from the dark space between the stones and branches. Weed screamed. “What?” asked North, looking back. “Is he here? Where is--” A claw suddenly swiped out from the darkness, catching North in mid-sentence. The claws raked against his body, forcing him to scream as he was launched back out of the stronghold. Weed ducked, just barely avoiding the Hokkaido’s body. Outside, everyone looked up. “What happened!?” Ken shouted. In response, North’s body shot out of Gajou, tumbling out onto the ground. Four large, deep cuts had been carved into his body. His blood spilled out onto the floor, his eyes glazed over in death. Jerome and the rest of his squad looked at the body of their comrade, before staring back into Gajou, as if nothing happened. “Their friend died and they don’t even care...!” Tomoe growled. “Weed’s still in there!” Jiyū hurried to her paws. Everyone else was quick to do the same. “I knew this would happen!” “Damn it...” Smith seethed. His fur bristled as dread clung to his heart. In his mind, the memories of Tokimune, Tony, Fuyu and Sakura flashed in his mind. All these dogs died and he had been unable to stop it. Would Weed meet the same fate? The stronghold trembled. Kaibutsu was definitely beginning to move about now. There was no telling how close to death Weed was. Finally, the Spaniel darted forward. “Uncle Smith!” Kagetora called, before he and the rest of the Ohu dogs began to follow.

“Stay back, all of you!” Smith demanded suddenly. The soldiers skidded to a halt. “Are you crazy, Uncle!?” Tomoe argued. “As a Sergeant of Ohu, I order you all to stay back!” Smith continued on while the Ohu soldiers reluctantly hung back. Tomoe attempted to follow, but Ken caught her by the scruff of her neck. “Let go, Ken!” the young Shepherd ordered. “Someone has to make sure Uncle Smith doesn’t die in there!” “Trust in his strength, Tomoe!” replied Ken through a mouthful of fur and flesh. “You’ll have the chance to fight once they both lead Kaibutsu out! Just wait it out!” While Tomoe continued to struggle, Smith reached the mouth of Gajou. Rocca stepped in front of him. “Stay back,” the Doberman commanded. “Let us handle this.” “Let me pass. I owe it to the boy’s mother to keep him safe.” “You’ll die,” Rocca warned. “Better I die than the boy,” said Smith bluntly. He then pushed his way past the Doberman, padding towards Gajou’s entrance. The rest of the assassins looked to Jerome to stop him, yet, to their surprise, Jerome made no move to do so. “Jerome, he’ll ruin the plan!” Robert huffed. “It’ll be fine,” the Shepherd assured. “That guy’s no ordinary dog. He’s got a warrior’s spirit. I trust him.” The back of Kaibutsu’s paw smacked into Weed, slamming him into the wall. The puppy’s entire body ached. He’d lost count of how many times he’d been thrown into something. Due to how small he was, he was able to avoid the claws when he was hit, but Weed wasn’t sure how long he could keep running. There was only so much space in the chamber, and Kaibutsu was blocking the exit. The Akita mix looked at the monster’s chest, recalling what Jerome mentioned before. If Weed could just cut into Kaibutsu’s chest, he could finish him right then and there. He’d finally be the hero he was meant to be. With that surge of confidence, Weed leapt at Kaibutsu’s chest and bit into the exposed flesh. ROOOOOOOAAAAAR! Gajou shook as the beast bellowed with pain. Despite this, Weed’s teeth couldn’t penetrate any further. Come on, come on...! The thoughts in his mind were frantic. I have to break the skin! Tomoe did it; so can I! Kaibutsu began thrashing about, desperate to shake the dog off him. He’d forgotten about his previous injury, however, and as he slammed his injured paw into the ground, a fresh wave of pain shot through him. With an agonized howl, Kaibutsu stumbled back, bashing into the wall behind him. More rubble fell from the ceiling. Though Kaibutsu was focused on his own pain, Weed realized that he needed to move. Bringing in his hind legs, the pup launched himself off of Kaibutsu’s body as a large boulder slammed into him. Kaibutsu groaned as massive rocks rained down on him, striking and cutting his head and muzzle. “Hah!” Weed grunted as he landed on his paws. He continued watching Kaibutsu closely. He might’ve failed the first time, but he wouldn’t give up. Gin wouldn’t have... “Weed!” Smith’s voice echoed through the chamber. Weed looked up in surprise. The Spaniel had arrived at the scene, looking around at the situation. Kaibutsu hadn’t prepared to attack yet, his tongue running over his wounded paw. “Smith!?” Weed cried. “Get out of here, boy!” Smith turned towards the monster, lowering himself in preparation to strike. “I’ll distract him.” “But...!” Weed rushed to the Spaniel’s side. “I can help! I can--!” The puppy’s cries were silenced as Smith bit his scruff, tossing him back out into the tunnel. Weed looked back at him, wide-eyed and mouth agape. “Your time will come, Weed!” Smith called as he pounced on Kaibutsu’s paw. The torn skin was easy to penetrate, and Smith fangs were wickedly sharp. “Go! GO!” Weed could only watch as Kaibutsu and Smith fought. The monster waved his injured paw violently in desperation, staggering back on his hind paws until he slammed into the wall. He brought his muzzle close to take a bite, but even with a missing leg, Smith was much too fast. Kaibutsu chomped down on his paw with enough force to cut all of his toes off. GRAAAAAAAAH! GYAAAAAAAAH! The pain! The pain was so great! Kaibutsu could only throw himself into the walls again and again in some attempt to find relief. The chamber couldn’t take the abuse. Smith looked up, seeing the ceiling beginning to cave in. Turning, he raced towards the tunnel, scooping up Weed in his mouth as the stones came crashing down. The light at the end of the tunnel grew closer and closer; the stars in the sky glistened like beacons of hope. Like a shooting star, Smith shot out of the mouth of Gajou, Weed clinging tightly onto him. They’d done it. They’d beaten Kaibutsu.