#i used to have a german shepard and she was so fun to rough house with

[creaturefeaster]

On a scale from 1-10, how would you rate my dog?

everyone always bullies him for being a German Shepard with ears permanently down. (there’s nothing actually wrong with him, it’s just his ears never went up, they’re too flimsy)

10/10 10/10 10/10!!!!!!!

HE LOOKS LIKE SUCH A SWEETHEART! I want to jostle him around, playfully of course.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

By Your Doorstep (Part 1)

Summary: When the reader is looking for her teenage sister’s service dog one day, she runs into Dean Winchester who thankfully saw him run past. When she arrives, her sister is fine aside from a sprained ankle but Dean’s decided to follow along and help get her sister home...

Pairing: Doctor/Neighbor!Dean x reader

Masterlist

Word Count: 3,200ish

Warnings: language, minor injury, mention of car accident/death

A/N: Parts of this series are told from two different POV’s. Dean’s POV are written from limited third person. Reader’s POV are second person (like a typical reader insert). Please enjoy this first part! …

_________

“Toast! Toast!” you shouted as you ran down a street. “Toast boy!”

“Uh, you okay?” said a guy walking on the other side of the street. He was raising an eyebrow and you shook your head.

“Toast is a dog,” you said.

“Oh, gotcha. I thought you were nuts for a minute,” he chuckled.

“You haven’t seen a german shepard around have you?” you asked.

“I saw one run down the block a few minutes ago,” he said. You looked the direction he pointed and you started sprinting. “Hey!”

“Sorry! Can’t talk!” you shouted back. You ran down the block and across the street over to the park. You ran over to the basketball court and saw Toast there next to Tessa. She was sat up and holding onto his vest when you jogged over to her. “Tess. Are you okay? Did you have a seizure?”

“No,” she said with a laugh. She was holding her ankle and you saw the swelling. “I think I broke it playing. My phone’s over in my bag. I told Toast to get it but I guess he ran home and got you instead.”

“He barged in through the doggy door, I thought he was just nuts at first,” you said. You heard footsteps behind you and the man from the street was there panting.

“You found your dog,” he said as he caught his breath. 

“Yeah,” you said, the man wincing when he saw Tessa’s ankle. “We’re all set.”

“She needs a doctor,” he said.

“Tessa, you okay here while I run home to get my car?” you asked.

“Yeah I’m fine,” she said. “Toast’ll stay.”

“I can carry her,” said the man. You both stared at him and he shrugged. “Save you a trip.”

“Are you some kind of weirdo?” you asked. 

“Says the woman running through the neighborhood shouting Toast,” he smiled back.

“Alright. Tess if you’re cool with it…” you said, the man nodding.

“Dean Winchester.”

“Dean will carry you back to the house and I’ll drive you to urgent care,” you said. “If you do try anything though Dean, Toast will rip your face and junk off, just to be clear.”

“Got the message,” he said. Tessa climbed on his back and he was careful of her ankle while you grabbed her bag. You walked with Toast by Dean’s side back the few blocks towards home. “I think it’s just a sprain actually. I wouldn’t worry too much.”

“You play basketball?” you asked.

“No. I’m a doctor is all. First glance it doesn’t look too bad.”

“Are you single? Y/N’s single,” she said.

“You’re a little shit, Tessa,” you said. Dean chuckled and Toast bumped his leg. “He wants you to get on the sidewalk.”

“Will do,” he said, Toast giving some space once he’d stepped up off the road. “He’s very intelligent.”

“We’ve only had Toast two years but he’s been very good with us,” you said. “He’s Tessa’s. I just feed him and pick up his poop.”

“I have school, loser.”

“I have work, loser,” you said. 

“You guys must be sisters,” he said. “I’m a big brother. I would know.”

“If your younger brother is single and half as good looking-”

“Keep it in your pants, Tess,” you said. 

“I like you two,” he chuckled. “Sorry Tessa but he’s probably a little too old for you.”

“They always are,” she sighed.

“You’re seventeen. You’re fine,” you said. “Besides college has way more attractive guys and stuff.”

“Oh yeah, Elmdale community college. Known for it’s hotties,” she mumbled.

“Elmdale University has some good choices,” you said.

“I thought it was too expensive,” she said.

“Well I was gonna tell you this at dinner but I applied for a different job awhile ago. I heard back this morning. I accepted. It’s double what I was making before.”

“Really?”

“Yes. With your grades you can get a half-ride and I figure between inheritance and my new salary, you can do your four year out of the gate without loans,” you said.

“Thanks, Y/N,” she said quietly. “Really.”

“You still need your part-time job if you want to get stuff for yourself though. I’m sorry. I can’t make it work if-”

“S’okay,” she said. “I can’t believe I can go to the university.”

“I called up the school earlier and talked to your guidance counselor. We gotta work on your application but we can make it work,” you said.

“Can I get a car? I know I can’t afford room and board but maybe I can get something used so you don’t have to drive me all the time?” she asked.

“Tessa…” you sighed. You knew you couldn’t afford insurance on two cars at the moment and everything else and she wouldn’t make enough part time to cover all the car expenses herself. “I-”

“I can pick up more shifts,” she said.

“Tessa, I want you to enjoy college. I sure did. I’ll give you rides whenever you want. I’ll drop you off in the morning and pick you up at night. That would work, right?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I don’t even care about my ankle. I can get my art degree!” she said.

“Tessa.”

“I’m joking,” she laughed. “Art minor?”

“You can minor in whatever you like but please for my sanity major in something you can get a job in?” you asked.

“Yeah, yeah,” she said. You rounded a corner and started to walk up a driveway, Dean setting Tessa down in the passenger seat of your car. You opened the back and Toast jumped in, Dean smiling when you shut both the doors.

“Thanks,” you said. “For helping us out.”

“Sounds like you two know how to solve problems on your own,” he said. “Happy to help. Here.”

He dug in his back pocket and pulled out a card.

“If you ever need a doctor, I’m two blocks over,” he said. “Or just to talk.”

“Thanks,” you said. “I’ll see you around, Dean.”

It was around nine when you were sitting on the front porch with a glass of whiskey in your hand. You drank slowly, eyes catching a man in a baseball cap and reflective shirt jogging by.

“Do you always run at night?” you called, Dean stopping at your front walkway. “Cause I never see you run at night and I sit out here a lot.”

“Whew well let’s stop that charade cause running is so not my thing,” he said. He breathed hard for a moment as he walked up the steps. You nodded to the other chair and poured him a glass, Dean drinking it down. “Your sister okay?”

“Yeah. Just a sprain,” you said. “Still gotta pay the deductible for the x-ray though.”

“How old are you?”

“How old are you?” you asked.

“Thirty one,” he said.

“Twenty eight.”

“Where are your folks?” he asked.

“They and Tessa were in an accident two years ago. It’s just us two now.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m slowly getting used to be a guardian,” you said.

“I raised my little brother. My parents are still around but they fought a lot. I get becoming the parent when you’re not ready.”

“Do you ever get to just be a sibling again?” you asked.

“Yes. But they have to grow up first and you got a few more years ahead of you before it happens,” he said.

“I figured.”

“What does she have? Toast is a service dog I saw.”

“She gets seizures sometimes. It’s from the accident. She hasn’t had one in seven months. Fingers crossed we got her on the right mix of meds finally,” you said.

“So who takes care of you?”

“My buddy Jack Daniels. Sometimes I hang out Jim Bean too.”

“I’m partial to Johnny Walker,” smiled Dean.

“Very nice. I don’t drink much. Too tired most of the time,” you said.

“So nobody takes care of you then.”

“Who takes care of you?”

“Good point,” he said. “But I didn’t have it this rough.”

“We’re getting by. We always do.”

“I have no doubt that you can,” he said. “Take care of yourself every once in a while is all.”

“When she’s done with school I will.”

“She’s got five years left. You won’t last that long,” he said.

“Watch me.”

“Who worked on your sister at the urgent care tonight?”

“Dr. Novak. Why?”

“Cas is a good friend. I’ll see about getting that x-ray test off the bill,” he said as he stood up.

“Dean, you don’t have to do that.”

“It’s no trouble,” he said, heading down the steps. “You want me to leave you alone from now on?”

“...No.”

“You want to go on a date tomorrow?”

“Okay,” you said.

“I’ll pick you up at noon? I’m buying. Nothing too fancy,” he said.

“Okay,” you said. He smiled and nodded, spinning around and sliding right off the last two steps to his bottom. You rushed down them and he groaned, shaking his head. “Are you okay?”

“Yup,” he said, grunting as he stood. “Oh my ass hurts.”

“That’s what she said,” you said, Dean laughing.

“I definitely like you,” he said as you helped him take a few steps. “I’m alright. I’ll swing by tomorrow then.”

“Bye Dean,” you said.

“Bye Dean!” called Tessa from her bedroom window upstairs.

“Oh my God, go to bed!” you shouted back.

“It’s nine and I’m not twelve,” she said.

“Goodnight ladies,” chuckled Dean, waving as he headed back down the path. You gathered up the bottle and glasses, bringing them inside and locking up for the night. A few minutes later you were upstairs in Tessa’s room, frowning as she giggled while looking through her phone.

“Oh come on,” she said as she rolled her eyes at you. “He’s cute, he’s a doctor, he’s single and he’s a dork that just fell on his butt in front of you cause he’s so nervous and trying to play it cool. Like what is wrong with him?”

“Nothing. We have a date tomorrow,” you said, leaning against the doorframe. 

“We used to talk about guys,” she said. 

“I know,” you said. You picked at the wood, Tessa putting her phone down.

“Y/N. You’re not my mom. I know you gotta act like her sometimes but you’re not. Mom and dad would want you to go on dates and stuff. I haven’t seen you do anything fun in years.”

“I barely knew how to be an adult for just me,” you said. “You’re my priority now.”

“I’m not in a hospital bed anymore. My seizures are under control and I got Toast to watch out for me just in case. Dean had a point. You gotta take care of yourself,” she said. “Including me going to community college.”

“Tessa-”

“It’s both our inheritance and you can’t spend all of it on me. I can do two years at community and transfer to the university after.”

“Tess. You don’t have to do that. I did the math and it’ll work out.”

“When’s the last time you bought something for yourself? Seriously when?”

“I bought a new bedspread two weeks ago.”

“You needed one. That doesn’t count. When-”

“Before mom and dad died, Tess. Is that what you want me to say? They made good money but you had medical bills. Do I want a new winter coat? Sure. Do I want to splurge and by myself a nice pair of leggings? Of course. I want things. But I want us to stay in this house. I don’t want us to get shoved in a tiny apartment. I want you to be able to go to college like I did and not worry about this crap. I’m the grown up, not you. I choose how to spend the money.”

“Fine,” she said. She grabbed the crutch by her bed and got up, going to her dresser. She opened her jewelry box and grabbed a wad of cash, holding it out to you. “It’s three hundred. I want you to have it.”

“Tessa, no.”

“I earned it. I get to choose how to spend it,” she said. “You’ve always told me that. Buy a coat and leggings and whatever else you want.”

“Tessa. It’s yours. You were saving up to buy an iphone.”

“I don’t need a fucking phone. I need my sister to stop looking like she cries herself to sleep every night. Just take it,” she said. You shook your head and she shoved the money in your hand. “Y/N, take it.”

“Alright,” you said. 

“Good.” She waited a beat before pulling you into a hug. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you said. “You got plans tomorrow night?”

“I was gonna sleepover Hailey’s house if that’s okay?” she said.

“Yeah. You guys have fun,” you said. “Just be careful on your ankle.”

“Duh,” she said. “Do you want to watch a movie or something?”

“I’m kinda beat. Sunday for sure?” you said. 

“Okay. Night,” she said.

“Night, Tess,” you said. You went next door to your room, opening your desk drawer and opening the envelope inside. You counted the money she’d given you and added it to the front. You definitely had enough for her phone now and her birthday was only a few weeks away. You smiled and put it away, writing out a few bills before you gathered up your pajamas and walked down the hall to the bathroom. You kept going though, down to the shut door. You pushed it open, the room cold and dark. You flipped on a light, a coating of dust on everything again.

“Y/N?” said Tessa from the other end of the hall. You turned off the light and shut the door, Tessa by the bathroom when you walked back. “You okay?”

“Yeah. I’m gonna shower quick before bed. Shout if you need something.”

“Yeah. Night.”

Dean POV

“Hey, Sammy,” said Dean after he’d gotten out of the shower and was laying in bed. 

“Hey, Dean. What’s up?” asked Sam on the other end of the phone. 

“I think I just went full on weirdo on this girl I met today.”

“Well that’s obvious but what’d you do? You didn’t like stalk her or anything.”

“She lives in the neighborhood. I kinda went jogging past her house tonight and she was sat on the front porch.”

“Okay that’s kinda creepy,” said Sam. Dean ran his hand over his face and sighed. “Did you talk to her?”

“Yeah. I don’t think I gave off creeper vibes but she might have just been polite. I don’t know. We’re going out tomorrow,” said Dean. He was quiet as he shut his eyes. “Which sucks cause I really like her too. I hope she doesn’t think I’m weird.”

“Maybe she’ll have pity on you and let it slide. Where’d you meet her? I thought you swore off women after your last hookup went bad,” he said. Dean didn’t speak and ran his hand over his face again. “De I know something happened that night.”

“Sammy I got tired of hooking up. I’m too old for it. I just want a girl to go home to at the end of the day and laugh with. That’s all there is to it,” said Dean.

“Dean I was still living with you at the time. You were off for days. I know-”

“If you’re gonna bring this shit up again-”

“I’m just saying it’s nice to hear you excited about a girl again...and you can tell me anything. Anything, Dean. I’m not a kid anymore.”

“You’re twenty seven. You’re a kid,” said Dean. He rolled over on the bed and lay on his stomach, putting his hands under his chin. “Some things I just don’t tell you about, Sam.”

“Dean, I asked you to stop raising me awhile ago. You’re not my father anymore.”

“I still gotta protect you from stuff,” said Dean with a shrug.

“I get that. But my mind has gone to the worst case scenario on this more than once. Just promise it wasn’t that,” said Sam.

“Sammy, I called to talk about a girl.”

“You want things to work out with her? Then figure out whatever the hell happened in the past so it doesn’t happen again.”

“You don’t understand,” said Dean. 

“Whatever. Just crack a joke next time you see her,” said Sam. He hung up and Dean looked at his phone, sighing before he jammed his face in the bed. He gripped the sheets tight and felt his heart rate pick up, bile rising up in the back of his throat.

“Stop. It,” he said to himself, forcing himself to sit up. He wiped off his eye and dropped his head to his chest. “It’s just a fucking girl. It’s just a girl, it’s just a date. It’s all it is.”

He saw his phone light up and Sam’s name appear. He swiped and put it on speaker before he faced away from it.

“I’m sorry,” said Sam. 

“It’s okay,” said Dean, freezing when he sniffled. He stared at the phone and Sam cleared his throat.

“You alright?” Dean stared at the phone and shook his head. “De, you there?”

“Are you alone?” he asked.

“Yes…” said Sam. “It’s just me.”

“You repeat a word of this to anybody or you laugh or you tease me or-”

“Hey. I’d rather we not have this conversation over the phone. I can be there in an hour.”

“...Fine but you better bring some pie with you.”

“I’ll see you in an hour, Dean.”

______

A/N: Read Part 2 here!

[abbatoirablaze]

Teller Morrow Tragedy, The Prequel, Chapter 12

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: mentions of violence, gun violence, murder, stab wound scars.

Alicia's POV

"Mommy, I don't want to go," she cried looking at me, "I want to stay with you and Auntie Tara. Why can’t I stay?"

"baby," I said, bending down to her level, "you told daddy you would come see him, remember? Mommy is going to drop you off with him, but she's got to go to New York for work."

"I wanna come with you then," she pleaded as we drove to Jackson's house, "You'll get to spend time with Aunt Mandy and talk about going to first grade....and Aunt Missy turned 11. Grandma gave her a bunch of make up and you can play dress up with her. And daddy said that he got the room painted in your favorite color."

"Blue?"

I nodded, "pretty blue. And he got you a big girl bed. It's bigger than your one at home."

She stopped fidgeting in the back seat. I drove to Jax's place. His bike was in the driveway, along with Ope's. They were both working on something in the garage. I pulled in and the boys came out to greet us, "be nice to your daddy."

She rolled her eyes at me, "I will. But I’m doing it for the big girl bed."

“That’s my girl.”

He went straight to the back seat and began unbuckling her, "hey sweetheart."

She smiled and helped him undo everything, "hi daddy."

"I've got a lot of fun things planned this summer," he said. I got out of the car and hugged Ope, "mommy said I could keep you until your birthday. Mommy will come back down for that, and we are gonna have the biggest party at the club. It’s going to be crazy!"

"Really?" she asked. Her eyes got wide. Jax nodded. I smiled at Ope. It was nice that he was getting to finally bond with our daughter.

"You gonna stay?" Ope asked, "Kenny was born a few weeks ago..."

I shook my head, but smiled, "Donna sent me the pictures. You guys are adorable though. Give her my best."

He nodded and I turned my attention back to Jax and Mikayla, "you okay Mikey?"

Mikayla rolled her eyes at me, "why do you call me that?"

"Someone's sassy," Jax laughed, looking at me, “she have a nap today?”

"Mommy calls me that a lot…sassy.... What is that?"

"I thought you said she liked the nickname Mikey?"

"Not since H-A-P-P-Y and I broke up," I admitted. Jax sighed, “it was ‘their’ thing together.”

"Well what am I going to do with this?" Jax asked, going to the garage. He came back with a small garage shirt from TM that looked like it was her size. The name embroidered on it was 'Mikey', "your grandpa and I had this made for when you work at the shop with us."

Her eyes got wide as it was a blue shirt, "you got me this?"

"Yes ma'am. You going to come work with me at the garage?" he asked, “help us fix up some cars and work on some bikes?”

She excitedly nodded, "YEAH!"

"Good," he smiled. He turned towards his best friend, "can you help her put it on? We actually gotta go down to the garage in an hour…Clay said that Lowell hasn’t shown up again."

"Yeah," Ope said, leading her into the house. Jax turned towards me.

"Sure you don't want to stay a little bit?"

I shook my head, "gonna drive back to the airport. My flight leaves in a few hours and it'll take that time to get everything checked back in."

"How are you doing?" he asked. I looked at the ground, "have you been alright? Chibs said you won’t go to the therapist the doctor recommended."

"It's been rough," I admitted. "Everything healed all right, but I just feel so anxious all the time. I feel so afraid. I bought a guard dog. The neighbors are watching her. She's a giant German Shepard. I like it when I'm at work, because I'm busy. I don't know what I'm going to do in New York...without her."

He put his hands on either side of me, and began rubbing up and down my arms, "if you need anything, call me."

"Isn't that supposed to be my line?"

He smiled softly, "Leesh, I know it's been rough for you. But you got Tara up there with you. You aren't alone. And you always have us down here."

I nodded, "I know Jax."

"I'll always be here for you," he whispered. I felt his arms snake around my waist, and I put my arms around his neck. We just stood there, staring at one another for a few minutes, "I miss you."

"I miss you too...every day Jax..." I admitted, "but you know we can’t be together...we’ll never be able to work out."

"I know."

I leaned forward and placed the smallest of kisses on his lips. I felt him lean into it as I pulled away. He kept his eyes closed, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he whispered hoarsely. He opened his eyes and I saw something I hadn't seen in his eyes in a while. Lust. For me. I felt my breath hitch in my throat as he leaned forward and returned the kiss. This time I felt my eyes close first.

He backed away quicker than I would have liked, and it was his turn to apologize.

"You’re right. We shouldn't do this," he sighed. I nodded, agreeing, before turning back to the car and grabbing Mikayla's bag, “It’ll just confuse us…and Mikey…”

"Thank you," I whispered as he took it, agreeing with his statement, “I-I should go.”

"Call us when you land?" I nodded and he kissed my cheek. Our daughter came out running from Jax's house, and I got caught up in my thoughts. This is how it should have been all along. Him and I, a house...a family.

I shook the thoughts from my head as I said goodbye to our daughter and got back into the car. I pulled away as Jax lifted her up to wave me off. I smiled. Maybe he can still be a good father, yet.

I made my way back to the airport and got everything checked in. I fell asleep thinking about Jax finally being a father to our daughter...and our kiss.

When I woke up, the flight attendant was helping me get ready to de-board the plane. I apologized for holding her up and made my way to the baggage claim. When I made it to the pickup area, I saw my boss Michael Emory. He had told me that we were on our way to pick up some 15-year-old hacker. He'd managed to hack into a major government website, and they'd tracked him down to a place in the Bronx. We were to meet with him and discuss a deal.

When we got to the station, we were met by the FBI, "what's the updates boys?" Mike asked.

"He's refusing our offers. Said he wants to speak to a lawyer. We got him some public defender, but he won't talk, so we are bringing you guys in to negotiate a deal. He's a major hacker. He erased files for the Leone family."

I felt sick to my stomach. My hand instantly went over my stomach as I could feel every single old stab wound. I thought of my unborn son. Mike looked at me but said nothing. Instead, he turned towards the agents, "And what do you want us to do?"

"We need him on our side. He'd be a great asset to the agency. Full protection. Updated status as an untouchable."

Mike nodded and the men walked away. He turned to me, "I didn't know it was the Leone family, Alicia you can rec-"

"I'm not recusing myself," I said immediately. I gripped my briefcase a little tighter, "let's go flip this kid."

He smiled and patted my shoulder, before we met back up with the agents and made our way to the room. The agents opened up the door and I saw a small Puerto rican teen looking at us, "Michael Emory, Alicia Morrow. I'd like you to meet Juan Carlos Ortiz."

I don't care what you guys are trying to get me to do," he said with a laugh, "I don't know shit. I don't know what you want me to do...but I ain't doing it."

"Mr. Ortiz," Mike said, "we know that you have erased files for a Frankie Leone. These were government files that were encrypted. That's highly illegal."

"I don't know shit," he repeated once more, “does anyone have the time?”

"Mr. Ortiz is refusing to answer any questions about the matter," the public defender said. I nodded at Mike and began to set out my files for Leone across the table.

"You want coffee?" Mike asked the public defender. He didn't respond, "come on. Let's get a cup. Take a break."

"I'm not leaving my client to be questioned without representation. He's a minor."

"She's not a lawyer. Anything he says without you will be inadmissible. The FBI has authorized any offer I deem worthy. This falls under that jurisdiction." Mike waved his hand and the camera's set up in the corners in the room stopped recording, "she's just going to set up files, so Mr. Ortiz realizes what he's looking at with and without our help."

The public defender nodded and told the kid that he'd be back in ten minutes. The kid shook his head and watched as the public defender left with my boss. He nodded over at me, "so what are you then? You aren't a lawyer."

"I'm his intern," I said, setting the last of the files from my brief case out, "I also know what it's like to deal with the Leone family. His family has reach in Chicago too. It's not as big as here in New York...but it exists."

"I'm not going to help you guys," he said slowly, “I don’t care what it is that you think you can offer me!”

"They threatened to hurt you?" I asked.

"I wouldn't care if they hurt me," he said, “I’m not what matters.”

"Your family?"

"I have a mom and sister," He admitted, "I do what they say, and they make sure we don't end up homeless. My mom busts her ass with two different jobs...and before I started helping them, we were so behind on bills."

"So money and protection," I said, "you know...they'll kill you and your family when they are done with you."

He looked at the photos, and then back at me. I could sense the worry in his eyes. I saw tears forming in his eyes, "what time is it?"

I shrugged, "Why does it matter?"

"They picked me up at 9 PM. It has to be morning by now," he replied, “I-“

"Why does the time matter?"

"I have a drop scheduled today. Proof that the job was done. I'm supposed to be there by six."

"You aren't going to make it."

"I have to."

"If you came in at 9 PM, you've been here a day and a half. It's 11:30."

His eyes got wide, "You're lying. It feels like it's been forever, but a day couldn't have passed."

"I got the call almost 2 days ago," I said, "Since then I've dropped my daughter off with her father in California and taken a plane here."

"I need a phone," he said quickly, "my phone. Can you get it?"

I nodded and stood up before knocking on the door. One of the FBI agents opened it, "get his phone from check in."

They nodded and closed the door once more, "I want you to help us. But you have to know that they are merciless."

"How would you know?"

I began to undo my blazer. I lifted up my shirt just enough to expose my stab wounds, "They did this to me about 7 months ago. I was pregnant. They murdered my son because I was working the first case that got thrown out."

I tucked my shirt back in and buttoned my blazer

"Shit."

"Mr. Orti-"

"It's Juan. Juan Carlos. Please don't call me Mr. Ortiz," he sighed, "I fucking hate that shit. I’m fifteen for christ sakes."

"Juan Carlos," I began. I started walking towards him when a knock came from the door. The agent was back with his phone. I took it and closed the door. I made my way back to him and sat the phone between us on the table, "I need you to know, I'm doing this because I want to make sure you live. They will kill you if you don't accept our help. Juan Carlos...you need to tell us everything.

He took his phone and turned It on, before pressing a series of numbers, "they messaged me."

"What happened?"

He laid his cell phone out and pressed play on a video message that they had sent him. A Puerto rican woman a little younger than him was crying. There was a piece of cloth tied around her hands and she was gagged. The phone moved to an image of an older woman in the same manner. They were both crying. They kept saying that they didn't know where Juan Carlos was. The men wore ski masks. They placed the women in front of a computer in what looked like a small bedroom. I saw the tears on his face fall onto the table as the men yelled at her to log on. When she kept saying she couldn't, they threw her on the bed and shot her.

The younger girl began to cry harder as they placed her in the chair next. She knew the password to log onto the computer and typed it in. The man told her to show them a file. She searched the computer and found it, crying harder, begging them to let her go.

The men laughed from behind her as they watched her shake with fear. She showed the men an empty file and they shot her, execution style. The bullet went straight through her skull and into the computer screen turning it black.

Mike and the public defender walked in as the final gunshot rang out.

"They think I ran." Juan Carlos said simply. The tears fell from his face and onto the table, "they killed them even though they saw I got rid of it."

"Mr. Ortiz I advise you to st-"

"SHUT UP," He all but screamed, "whoever the fuck you are, you're fired."

The public defender stood, with Mike for a moment, unsure of what to do. Mike ushered him out of the room before turning back to Juan, "we're going to have to take that in for evidence, kid."

"I'll sign whatever deal you give me," he cried, tears streaming down his face, "but I can't go home."

"You wont," I said slowly. I took his hands in mine, "you don't ever have to go back there."

"Where can I go though?" he asked, “My mom and my sister…I don’t have any other family…I-I don’t kn-

"You are a minor," Mike said, sitting down, "are you sure you don’t know about anyone else? An aunt? A grandparent? You really don’t have any other family?"

He shook his head, "all I had was my mom and sister."

"We can't put you into foster care," he said, "they obviously think you are on the run."

"He can stay with me."

"Alic-"

Mike had begun, but I cut him off, "I've dealt with the Leone's before...I can handle it. I'll take guardianship since he's a ward of the state."

"I want to go with her," Juan said, "I won't sign any deal unless that's in it. I'm staying with her."

Chapter 13

Tag List: @lohnes16, @evyiione

[bigmountaincat]

Mountain Cat - An Origin Story

My name is Reina Kazuki, and I’m a Macro.

There. I said it.

That’s maybe the first time too.

I know what you’re thinking. How could I be a Macro? Well, it’s true. At 5’3” tall, it’s probably a significant leap of faith to expect anyone to believe that. But I’m lucky in a way. My size fluctuates.

I guess maybe lucky isn’t the right word. Fortunate? Gifted? Those words all have too positive a connotation. See, when I’m calm, or in a relaxed state, I maintain my normal size. 5’3”, 119 pounds. Pretty unassuming when you get right down to it.

But when I get excited or startled? Well, all bets are off at that point.

It wasn’t always this way. I wasn’t born a Macro like most others, and I certainly didn’t develop that power during puberty or anything like that.

No, I got this ability completely by accident.

And I don’t mean a lab accident. I mean, I’m pretty smart, but certainly not smart enough to be in a lab. Actually, when this all started, I was just starting my first job out of college. A secretary, because of course.

In college, I was a Journalism major. I wanted to get out, see the world, and share my experiences with everyone. Unfortunately, I’ve always lacked the… personality for the line of work I wanted. I’ve been pretty small my whole life. Petite, quiet, and physically not very attractive, I’m pretty much the poster child for poor self-esteem. Us Yamapikaryas aren’t naturally very attractive, what with the round faces and standard assortment of brown colors, and I was pretty bland even by those standards. So obviously, Journalism really had no place for me.

And of course, because it was college, people took every opportunity to point it out to me.

Especially Bridget.

Bridget Langford. 5’11”, 155 pound bunny girl, and every college boy’s wet dream. She was a bombshell, and everyone in school knew it. And she knew it. She took every opportunity to take advantage of her looks and her body. The lengths to which she would go just to get ahead were astounding. She offered herself to anyone who would take her as long as she got something out of it. At one point, she was sleeping with 5 members of the football team, including the team captain, and still had time to give the chess club lap dances in exchange for getting her homework done for her.

They say there’s one in every group of people, and Bridget was the epitome of the Alpha Female.

Which obviously meant she had it out for me.

Since day one of our Freshman year, Bridget took every opportunity to make fun of me. Back then, I was maybe 100 pounds soaking wet. I was a late bloomer, and I was still growing into my body. I had no chest to speak of, and I was just pushing past 5’2”.

Bridget on the other hand was already flaunting her knockout body. She wore the absolute tightest clothing she could find, made sure as much fur was showing as possible, and never missed the chance to flash some cleavage. One of her favorite pastimes was talking down at me from over her boobs. Everything from “Wow, Reina, didn’t see you down there!” to “Gosh, if you were just a little taller, we might be able to hear what you were saying!” and even “Sorry, Reina. I know my boobs are blocking out the sun down there. We’ll buy you a tiny tanning booth to make up for it.”

None of these insults were all that clever or creative, but when you hear them enough, they start to hurt. It didn’t help that literally everyone in the department enjoyed her jokes. Even the professors couldn’t hide their smirks and chuckles at her word-vomit insults.

When we graduated, I managed to achieve Magna Cum Laude, but of course, as she was the more popular one, our Salutatorian Bridget was the one to speak at the Commencement ceremony. Truthfully, I was thankful for that; public speaking was still difficult for me, and I really couldn’t have wanted to speak in front of 600 people any less.

And after that day, I thought I was free. Done with all the bigotry, and all the mocking, and all the Bridget. I was ready to move on with my life and pursue my dream of becoming a travel writer.

Which meant getting a job at the local columnist and moving my way up from the bottom. Because Magna cum Laude really just means “the most qualified of the least experienced.” But, after an awkward initial interview and a successful one, I was hired.

And because life is hell, so was Bridget.

The worst thing about this situation wasn’t just that we were working in the same place. It’s that Bridget was hired as a field intern, and I was hired as a secretary.

Yup. Secretary. The best use of my degree that the Harrington Tribune could offer. Meanwhile, Bridget went out on shoots, breaking news reports, and even sat in on a few private city council meetings in place of her mentor when he came down with a terrible flu.

Working in that place was infuriating. But because I’m me, it was an anger I kept to myself. Even when Bridget’s oh-so-clever insults returned, and the entire office joined her in a new posse of never-ending ridicule, I kept telling myself that it was all on the way to achieving my dream. I had taken every step I needed to; I’d moved away from home, I’d earned my degree, and I was working in the field. Sure, I wasn’t an intern, which meant I wasn’t actually working the stories, but I had my own little space, and I was making connections. Even if they weren’t bearing fruit right away, I was going to make it.

But Bridget had other plans.

Somehow, despite my timidity and, shall we say, extreme inexperience, I attracted the eye of one Roger Beaument. Roger was another intern at the Tribune, a rough-around-the-edges German Shepard with all the appeal you would expect from a young dog making waves in the reporting world. He, like Bridget, was on the fast track to success, working hand-in-hand with the Tribune’s most famous and experienced reporter. And because Mr. Florentine was so famous, his intern was constantly sent on errands to grab information and set up appointments. Which meant Roger spent a lot of time at my desk. At first, it didn’t seem like Roger really noticed me. Like everyone else in the office, he came to my desk with a task, and left once it was completed. But slowly, he started lingering a bit more. He would start conversations, asking my opinion on articles, getting me to weigh in on a current affairs topic, and he once even submitted a story idea I had to Mr. Florentine, who covered it and dropped my name in the story as an “acknowledged informant” (*SQUEE*)! Eventually, Roger asked me out. It was an exceptionally embarrassing event. It took me almost 30 seconds to get over my surprise, shock, self-doubt, and second thoughts before I finally agreed amidst cheers and whooping from all around. Apparently everyone in the office knew he was going to do it. Everyone except Bridget. The blonde bunny bimbo had had her eyes on Roger for quite some time. He was about the only person in the office who wasn’t eating off her paw, and she yearned for his attention. Trouble was, Roger wanted nothing to do with her, and everything to do with me. We went out on a few dates, nothing too spectacular, until one night, Roger took me back to his place. I thought it was a nice opportunity to see who he was outside the office and who I saw when we were out and about. I was extremely honored that he would invite me into his own private, personal space. I had absolutely no notion that he had anything more… active in mind. In fact, apparently Roger thought I knew what going back to his place meant. He started making his move, and I… well, I panicked. Sure we’d kissed before, but anything more than that? I was definitely not ready. Now, in his defense, Roger was a gentleman about it. He didn’t try to push me into something I wasn’t ready for, never used sex as any kind of veiled threat or anything of that sort. But I could tell immediately he was disappointed. The night ended awkwardly when he took me home, and the next day, he certainly wasn’t himself. He was normally pretty active in finding reasons to come see me at my desk, but that day it was like he was avoiding me. And, as you can probably guess, that affected me too. And, as I’m sure it goes without saying, Bridget took notice. She had never been more belligerent towards me than she was that day. Gone were the days of her silly insults that still managed to hurt. Now I was “The Bitch,” and “That Slut,” and “The Cat Whore.” She intentionally spilled a cup of coffee on an interview I had been transcribing for hours, forcing me to start all over again. As a result, I was at the office 3 hours later than normal. Which meant I missed Roger after work. Which meant I went home alone, and feeling rather dejected. You can imagine my surprise when I arrived at my apartment and saw a note taped to my door. Roger was the only person I could think of that knew where I lived, so I thought it was from him. The handwritten note was, however, from someone whose words immediately filled me with dread. “You missed your chance, Staina,” the note read. “Your loss is my gain. -B” There was only one person who ever called me that name. In a panic, I ran out of the complex and headed back downtown. I didn’t even bother waiting for a cab. I ran all of 26 blocks to Roger’s place. As I pounded down the streets, a sickly cold came to my skin. It was as if all the people Bridget had helped herself to back in college were floating through my head, whispering about how they were welcoming another slave into their ranks. As if my own growing dread were not enough to set the scene, the sky chose that moment to open up, pouring water down over the streets below. But I didn’t care about getting a little wet. Rain was an acceptable hazard in this venture. When I approached Roger’s house, the first thing I noticed was Bridget’s car in his driveway. The second thing I noticed was that the only light on in the house was in his bedroom. I felt my heart in my throat as I crept closer, the only sound in the neighborhood my own breathing and gasping for air as I tried to quiet myself. As I reached the base of the window, my own breathing was joined by heavy breathing emanating from the room within. Innocent as I was, I didn’t need to guess what that was. But morbid curiosity and terror forced me to inch upwards and peek over the sill. The blinds were not drawn all the way down on one corner, as if they were closed in a hurry. I pulled my face up over the sill and cursed in the back of my mind. The rainwater that had collected on my glasses was obscuring my view. So I took my glasses off and peered into the room with my naked eyes. And as I scanned the room through that small crack, I caught the clear images of Roger and Bridget. Doing presumably what Roger had intended to do with me. I didn’t need to wait any longer. I stood up and ran, not even bothering to stifle my cries. The rain was probably drowning me out anyway, as hard as it was coming down, and even if it wasn’t, I didn’t care. Looking back on that night, I can say honestly that I was not in love with Roger. But at that point in my life, I thought I was, and that was almost worse. Angry thoughts flooded through my mind, a torrent of blame flowing in every direction. How could I have been so stupid to have turned him down?! If I’d just let him do what he wanted, we’d be happy now! That crap-for-brains slut had absolutely no right to even approach Roger, let alone slide herself on top of him and reduce him to a panting, sex-crazed animal! How dare Roger ditch me so quickly, just because I wasn’t ready to give him my body?! Didn’t he have more respect for me than that!? Before I knew it, I had reached the outskirts of the city, where the buildings of business morphed into buildings of industry. Factory smokestacks and shipping yards surrounded me, mostly lying dormant at this time of night. In my haste to leave the scene of my heartbreak, I had run in the wrong direction. I had just about enough time to realize this before a sound from behind me completely grabbed my attention. The squealing of tires on wet pavement made me turn around. A large tanker truck came barreling down the road, its trailer swerving wildly behind it. It was heading towards me so quickly I could only duck and cover, hoping for the best. And just my luck, the trailer swerved and caught a street lamp, whipping the back end around so quickly the entire truck jackknifed. As it screeched down the pavement, the entire vehicle twisted and flipped on its side. The entire mess twisted around itself as it slid, sending sparks shooting out behind it. It came to a loud, smoking stop mere feet away from me.

It was a number of moments before I could even react. If you've ever experienced a serious accident, then you know the feeling. Your mind tries to make sense of what you've just witnessed. And seeing as how I'd never witnessed such an event, my brain was having exceptional difficulty interpreting what it had just seen. In fact, if the cab were not directly in front of me, things might have played out in a completely different way. But it was. The heavily mutilated tractor portion of the truck sat on its side a few feet away from me. Through the front window, which was strangely enough still mostly in tact, movement finally snapped my brain out of its shock. A lupine figure inside was waving at me frantically, calling out and trying desperately to get my attention. I realized the sound was being muffled both by the rain and an odd crackling sound coming from the trailer end of the truck. As I said before, I'm a relatively intelligent person. That sound meant fire, the oil tanker’s arch-nemesis. My body began moving before my mind was ready to act. I moved to the passenger side of the trailer and started climbing up the axle. It took some serious effort, as I wasn't exactly in peak physical condition. Once I got to the actual passenger door, about 10 feet up in the air, I realized the door couldn't be opened. I motioned to the wolf inside to shield his eyes. Then I used my heel to kick in the window. After quickly clearing the frame of glass as best I could, I jumped inside, catching myself on the dashboard so I didn't fall directly on the person I was trying to help. Both my tail and my right arm just below the shoulder caught stray shards of glass on the way in, but the adrenaline running through my body kept me from noticing it. “Please!” the wolf pleaded. “You gotta get me outta here!” He was wedged into the space between the door and the steering column and held in place by his seatbelt. It looked like he was having difficulty moving. Carefully, I eased myself down to the seatbelt buckle. “Hang on,” I said gently, “I’m going to release your seatbelt.” As I moved closer, he groaned loudly. “Are you okay?” “Erg, yeah. I think so. I can’t move my legs, though.” Those were words I was dreading to hear. I knew I wasn’t strong enough to pull him up through the cab and out the window. Which meant my only options were to push him, or leave him. And I wasn’t going to leave him. “Alright, this isn’t going to be easy. I’m going to have to push you out. It’s probably going to hurt a lot, and I’m going to need your help. I’m not strong enough to do it myself.” The wolf was clearly unhappy with the idea, but he whimpered his understanding. I took a deep breath, and readied myself to catch him when I released the buckle. “One,” I counted. He nodded at me. “Two.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “Three!” I pressed the button and brought my hands to grab his shoulder. As I expected, he hit his head on the window next to him as his body slid down the bench towards the ground. I was able to pull the force of the blow back a little bit, but his weight actually pulled me further down as well. I ended up splayed across his steering column hovering just above him. He let out a hiss of pain. “Okay!” I called out, trying to keep him conscious and responsive, “Okay! Stay with me. I need you to push yourself up a little so I can get under you and push you up.” “Yeah.. yeah I can do that.” He let out a low growl as he shifted around, trying to get his legs unwedged from under the steering wheel. He moved just enough to create some space between himself and the column. “Hold on! Right there. I can squeeze into that space there!” For once, I was grateful I was my height. I was able to slide over the top of the steering wheel housing and drop down on the other side, in between the door and the bench. The wolf had managed to pull himself out of the collapsed portion of the cab, but his legs were… not good. They were limp and mangled, in absolutely no condition to even be attempting what we were doing. But we had to get him out. “Okay,” I said, “I’m going to slide your legs around the last bit here, and then I need you to start pulling yourself towards the door. I’ll push as best I can. This is definitely going to hurt, so brace yourself.” I waited a brief moment for a response, and when I didn’t get one, I prodded him with a forceful “UNDERSTAND?!” That seemed to snap him out of his daze long enough to nod a response. “Okay,” I said, “here we go!” I turned my attention towards maneuvering his feet. There was next to no tension in either limb, indicating a severe amount of damage to the muscles and ligaments. I also heard soft cracking as I moved them. I was probably breaking them more just trying to get him out. Once his feet were clear of the wheel, I turned my shoulders to his hip and put my feet on the driver side door frame. “Start pulling!” I called over my shoulder. I started to push with my legs, doing my best to keep my back straight against his weight. A couple seconds later, I felt the weight on my shoulders decrease a little. I think he had found a handhold on the seatbelt above and was using it to pull himself up. As we began to move slowly towards the window above us, the crackling of fire and the patter of rain were joined by another sound, a soft hissing, like water being run through a small hole. An odd, green glow seemed to fill the cab, starting from just below my feet. I looked down to see an iridescent green liquid pooling at the bottom. It was cold as it touched my feet, and I shivered involuntarily. “Something wrong?” came the gruff voice from above. “Not especially,” I called back, grunting a bit from the effort of lifting him. “Just getting a little wet down here. Something’s leaking from somewhere.” “Shit!” the wolf swore. Suddenly, all of the weight I was pushing against disappeared. I suppose in hindsight he probably gave himself a good solid tug. All I know is I suddenly had no counterforce keeping me in place. I popped up a little, lost my footing, slipped, and fell down onto the window beneath me. I landed in about an inch of whatever this green fluid was. The fall wasn’t exceptionally long, but it coupled with my already-waning energy made pulling myself out of quagmire forming at the side of the truck a more arduous task. I wasn’t sure what the liquid was, but at the time, I assumed it was whatever the tanker was carrying, and that it was some sort of fuel. It was all I could hope that it wasn’t the flammable kind. “You okay?!” I heard from above. I looked up and saw the wolf leaning through the window above. ‘Well, he certainly got up there fast,’ I thought. “Yeah,” I replied. “I’m fine.” Just as I said that, I felt a stinging sensation in my tail and right arm. The areas that were cut on glass during my initial descent were sitting in the green liquid, directly exposing my wounds to the fluid. I remember thinking ‘Well that can’t be good.’ Just as I thought that, a bright flash, extreme heat, and a very loud noise all accompanied by immense pain engulfed my senses. All of my perceptions were simultaneously overloaded, and I passed out. When I next was aware of my surroundings, I was in a white room, strapped loosely to a bed, with 4 people clothed in white encircling me.

Waking up in a strange place, surrounded by people you don’t recognize isn’t the most comfortable of situations. What made it all the worse was I was immediately aware of the fact that I was strapped to this table and could not move. My immediate reaction was to start squirming, trying to break the restraints holding me down as panic gripped my mind. If anything, the straps felt tighter against my wrists and ankles. As I struggled, the figures around me began moving agitatedly, a few of them setting down clipboards I hadn’t noticed before and approaching my bedside. “Please, Miss Kazuki, calm yourself!” a surly voice called from my right. “You’re okay! You’re in the hospital after a serious accident. Do you remember the oil tanker?” I stopped struggling as my mind cleared and replayed everything leading up to what was now obviously an explosion. That did let me calm down a little, but I was still very disoriented. I surveyed the room around me more closely. The walls were lined with numerous instruments all beeping and displaying their findings. Findings which I could not make out as I didn’t have my glasses. “Who are you?” I asked the room. My voice was almost non-existent. It wasn’t just the hoarseness that altered my voice; when I spoke, I felt a soft, scratchy fabric move across my face as well. Looking down at the rest of my body, I realized that thick gauze was loosely packed over my entire body. As loose as the wrappings were, I still felt some gauze tight against my flesh. It struck me as odd that I was wrapped so heavily, but I thought little of it as the same doctor responded to my question. “I’m Dr. Freemont. I’m in charge of your recovery. There was an explosion, Miss Kazuki. It was frankly a miracle you survived at all. We’re… honestly a little surprised to see you conscious right now. Your burns were extremely severe, and there have been… complications.” That certainly didn’t sound good. I groaned as a wave of nausea overtook my senses for a moment, then asked what I didn’t want to. “What do you mean, complications?” Dr. Freemont cleared his throat. “Well… we’ve had significant difficulty confirming your vitals. Namely, the data we have on file from your last physical doesn’t match what we’re getting now.” “What… does that mean?” I was already disoriented, but listening to him talk was making things worse. He was talking like a doctor, and I was getting even more lost trying to understand what he was talking about. “That’s just it. We’re not entirely certain. We thought at first there might be an issue with our instrumentation. We tested your blood, looking to see what sort of donors we should be finding, and our tests came back inconclusive.” “B positive,” I croaked out. The straps on my arms still felt way too tight. The fabric of the material felt hot against skin I was starting to realize hurt from the contact. “Again,” he replied, a certain level of hesitation in his voice, “that is what your file says. But we tested your blood to be sure and… well, our instruments can’t identify your blood type at all. We’re receiving data that implies it’s something completely different from anything we’ve ever recorded.” I was quiet for a minute. I was starting to get a headache, both from sheer confusion and the inability to see anything clearly. “I’m not sure I understand… but can I please have my glasses? I can’t see.” The fuzzy figure to my right that I had since associated with belonging to Dr. Freemont shifted oddly. It was a few moments before he said anything else. “Another complication there, I’m afraid. We believe your personal items were destroyed in the explosion. Over the last four days, we’ve -” “Wait… four days?!” “I’m afraid so. You have been unconscious for that long.” I was incredulous. I’m not one for sleeping very long, so the idea of spending that long unconscious was simply unfathomable. The good doctor continued talking, though I was only partially paying attention. “As I was saying, over the last four days, we have tried to obtain numerous glasses in your size, but each new pair doesn’t quite fit. It seems the… measurements keep changing.” Thinking back to the truck and all of the events leading up to the explosion, I suddenly remembered that I hadn’t been there alone. Not really processing what had just been said, I tried to sit up forcefully and immediately regretted it. My wrists caught in the restraints, and I squeaked as the tight straps squeezed against extremely tender flesh. I was able to sit up, though, so I fought through the pain. “The wolf! What happened to the wolf who was driving the truck?!” The fuzzy shape took a step back and raised what must have been his hands. “Miss Kazuki! Please, you must remain calm!” It was nearly impossible for me to be calm in that instant. I was so fraught with worry about the wolf. I never even got his name! “Is he alright?!” I urged. I was hardly paying attention to what was happening at that point. Looking back at it now, I know I heard a couple of pops, and the tension in the straps went slack instantly. The voices of the various shapes behind me began talking excitedly, calling out at each other with commands I’ll never remember. The shape that was Dr. Freemont took another step back. He seemed to almost shrink in on himself when he did that. His out-of-focus form seemed to gesture wildly. “Miss Kazuki, I’m sorry, but we’re going to have to sedate you.” I felt a pair of oddly tiny hands grab my arm, and shortly after, a sharp jab in my forearm. I turned to look… And every train of thought in my mind immediately derailed. That close, it looked like a child’s hands were on my arm, and the needle (which looked quite large in comparison to the hands that were holding it) looked like a small toy. I glanced back down at my body and saw that the bed I was sitting atop was abnormally small. My bandaged feet hung out over the edge, and sitting up I felt the pillow just under my lower back. As silly as it seemed, I was far too large for this bed. Me. Little, tiny, puny me. I also noted that the bandages that once were so loose on my body were tight, and parts of my skin were showing through the spaces in between. Squinting as I looked around the room, every shape seemed absurdly small, like the people were babies and the machinery were all props made for playing house. I felt the sedative began to kick in. It was harder and harder to stay conscious. I turned back to the shape that was Dr. Freemont, now smaller than he was mere seconds ago. “Wha’ happened?” I mumbled out. From somewhere far away, he responded. “We’re trying to figure that out, Miss Kazuki. You were the only one we recovered from the accident, and we don’t know yet what happened to you. But I assure you, I won’t rest until I can find a way to help you.” My head became too heavy to hold up. I fell back onto the bed and felt the whole thing give way under my body. I hardly felt the short drop to the floor, and I remember the cold of the linoleum touching my feet just before I drifted off into the blackness of drug-induced sleep. Since that day, my life has never been the same. That was my first experience with the changes my body had gone through, and it really only got more bizarre after that. Dr. Freemont became my closest friend, and he has helped me in more ways than I can count. I had no idea what was in store for me then, and had I known, I would’ve asked the good doctor to end it before it got out of hand. But the details of all that are for another time. Though this day started me down the path that would become my life, it wasn’t the most important point along that path. The real story started the next time I woke up, when Roger came to visit...