jingle dogs

close, warm, real. (frank castle)

Originally posted by calif0rnia-lovers

requested by @caryled!! i love my soft boy frankie…

no warnings on this one!!!

tags list: @voidobsession, @twinklyhood, @doct0rstrange!!!

When it rains in New York, it rains. It rains and rains and rains, cold and dismal and windy, and it’s virtually impossible to get anything done. Hell’s Kitchen currently resides under a massive swathe of dark stormclouds, dimming the already dingy streets into complete darkness and drenching everything in icy rain.

Keep reading

Puppy Love

Request


It was no secret that you loved dogs. When you discovered Zoe and Alfie and Jim and Tanya both had dogs, getting a dog with Joe was all you talked about. 

At first it was a joke, you and Joe had only been dating for a few months the first time you brought it up. You and Joe were discussing Alfie’s plan to get Joe a chameleon when you suggested he get something that would actually keep him company. You listened to Joe express his worries and concerns about him getting a dog only to reassure him that he would be able to do it if he really wanted to. The two of you laughed it off that night but the idea of having a dog with Joe never left your mind.

Nearly two and a half years after that initial conversation, you had started to seriously bring up the idea of a dog more often. You and Joe now lived together and had even talked about the future together, a future that involved a dog which Joe wasn’t exactly opposing.

Joe would go through these phases where he would be really keen on getting a dog and then the next day he would doubt his ability that he would be able to take care of a dog when you were gone. After those days, you waited a few weeks before mentioning the idea again. You’d tag him in photos and videos of dogs you’d see on Instagram, only to come home to an unimpressed boyfriend who’s only words would be “One day.”

>>>

Months had gone by since the last time you had brought getting a dog. Things were a bit hectic at work and you were exhausted every night, dare you say the thought had even slipped your mind.

You and Joe were sat on the couch, your head resting against his shoulder, one night after yet another long day at work. You had managed to get home at a reasonable time so you were able to eat with Joe before relaxing on the couch.

You were looking down at your phone when you heard the familiar jingle of a dog food commercial as it appeared on tv. You felt Joe shift under you as if to say, “Hey no comment about the dog food commercial you love so much?” Instead of letting a smile creep across your face and your eyes widen with excitement, you let out a loud yawn as you snuggled closer to your boyfriend. 

You woke up the next morning to an empty bed. You rolled over to grab your phone, reading the text Joe had sent you an hour ago.

‘Had to go out for a bit, be back in a few hours xx’

You thought nothing about where Joe had gone that morning as you pushed yourself out of bed and moved towards the shower. It wasn’t uncommon for Joe to have unexpected meetings Saturday morning so you assumed that was the case. 

After your shower, you made your way downstairs and began tidying the kitchen while simultaneously finding something for breakfast when you heard the front door open. 

“Y/N?” Joe’s voice came from the entranceway.

“Yeah?” You answered before shoving a handful of cereal into your mouth. 

“Oh good, you’re up. Come here.” Joe said as he peaked his head around the doorframe before quickly moving away back towards the front door. 

You furrowed your brows together at Joe’s actions but nonetheless followed him without question. 

“What are you doing?” You asked as you met him in the entranceway, his foot propping the door open, his vlogging camera pointed your direction. 

As if on cue to the sound of your voice, a little brown furred puppy came running through the door and up to your feet, causing you to gasp. The puppy sniffed at your feet, licking them a few times before making its way towards the rest of the flat. 

“Oh my!” You said following the puppy, “Who’s is this?” You asked, not recognizing the dog. 

“What do you mean?” Joe asked following you, camera still in hand.

“Who’s dog is this-hello little one…” You asked but quickly got sidetracked as the pup came back to you. You sat down on the ground letting the dog climb on top of you, licking and sniffing your skin. 

“She’s ours.” Your head snapped over to Joe as he spoke. 

“Are you serious?” You asked hoping that this wasn’t some prank of his. 

“Yes love, I’m serious. I told you we’d get a dog one day.” He laughed as she bent down to pet the dog that had hopped off your lap as you stood up. 

“Oh my god Joe!” You smiled as you pulled him into a hug before kissing his lips.

“I started looking into it more about a month ago and then you got really busy with work and thought that this would be the best time to get one since you would be too busy to suspect anything.” Joe said, letting you go so you could chase after the puppy once again. 

“Does she have a name?” You asked, ignoring his last comment. 

“No, we have to give her one.” Joe said pointing the camera over to go and the new family member. 

“Hello little one, what do you think your name should be?” You said letting the pup lick your nose, “Do you have any ideas?” 

“We could name her Bailey or Chloe.” Joe said as the dog hopped back onto to the ground and continued to explore her new home. 

“Don’t think she likes those names, how about Bella or Sadie?”

“What about Nutella?” Joe suggested, “She kinda looks like Nutella don’t you think? We could call her Nut for short.”

“Or Ella.” You said, making the puppy run back to you, “Ha I think she likes Ella.” 

“Come here Nutella!” Joe said in a high pitched voice causing the puppy run to him next. “Well there you go. Welcome to the family little Nut!” Joe said pointing the camera at her only to make her sniff it.

You shook your head as Joe pointed the camera back to you, “Nutella is kind of cute, I could live with it.” 

“Then that settles it guys, we finally have a dog! Start placing your bets on how long you think it will survive-OW!” Joe cried out into his camera as you punched his shoulder, “I’m kidding love.”

“You better be-no no no!” You said as you stood up and ran over to Nutella who was getting ready to wee on the floor.

“Alright guys, I’m going to end the vlog here, we have to go potty train a puppy.” Joe signed off his vlog before getting up off the floor to go help you.

Hey dog

“Good boy,” Frank grunts, carding his fingers through Kohe’s hair and down all the way to cup his neck. Kohe doesn’t say anything, he’s too busy panting with his tongue out and staring up at Frank with big, puppy dog eyes, glazed over puppy dog eyes that slip shut when Frank pulls on the collar around his throat. The metal dog tags jingle quietly, smacking together when Frank wraps the attached leash around his knuckles and yanks.

Kohe whines, sounding just like a naughty little puppy, but he’s a good boy and doesn’t move. He keeps staring at Frank, licks his lips and lets his tongue hang out again and god he looks beautiful. Frank never would’ve guessed Kohe was into pet play but he isn’t surprised, not really, Kohe loves being told how good he is, how pretty and perfect. And now, wearing fake dog ears and a plug with a short fluffy tail, and wearing a dog collar with metal tags on them with its own leash, Kohe looks like the best boy.

Keep reading

Good Boy (G-Dragon)

“Hello?” You peek past the front door. Silence. You pout. “He told me he’d be here.” You enter the apartment, closing the door behind you, when you hear the quiet jingle of Gaho’s dog-tags. He trots to your side and stares at you, expecting Jiyong. “Hi~” You squat down and squish his wrinkly face together. “Daddy left you here all alone again. He’s so mean to us. Isn’t he?” Gaho’s happy panting turns into a solemn look which makes you laugh. You stand up, hands on your hips. “Who needs him! We can have fun ourselves.”

Jiyong pushes the door open several hours later and hears your voice from the bedroom. He’s beaming as he heads in that direction. He leans against the door frame, still smiling. You sit cross-legged, back against your side of the bed, with Gaho sitting in front of you.

“Beg!” He listens and sits on his rear, front paws together. “Ooh~ You are a good boy~” You sing along to Jiyong’s song, squishing Gaho’s face again. 

“Having fun?” Your head snaps up and you meet Jiyong’s gaze. He walks towards you, sitting on the bed. You frown and redirect your attention to Gaho. 

“Plenty of fun without you. Isn’t that right?” You stand up, leaving the room.

“Gaho, Come here.” Jiyong moves to the floor and has his arms wide open.

“Gaho~ Daddy left you here all alone. Come to Mommy.” Gaho looks back and forth. He takes one more look at you then runs to your side.

“Yah!” Jiyong jumps up. “Did you forget who raised you?” You stick your tongue out and pat Gaho on the head. You then make your way to the kitchen to grab a drink. Gaho follows.

Jiyong sits at the bar, resting his weight on his elbows and frowns. “Seems like you didn’t miss me at all.”

“I didn’t.”

“I know I said I’d be here, but something came up. You know how it is.”

“I’m not mad. I’m just saying that I had fun with Gaho.”

”You’re really trying to make me jealous of my own dog? He’s practically my child.”

“Then you have no reason to be jealous even if that were what I was trying to do, right?” You take your beverage and walk past Jiyong, not sparing him an extra glance as you plop yourself down across the couch.

“Move.”

“Why?” You ask cheekily, sipping your drink.

“Is it a crime to want to hold my girlfriend after not seeing her for a week?” He manages to slid under you, hands around your waist, face in the crook of your neck placing soft butterfly kisses all over it. “I missed you.”

“Then why didn’t you call?”

“You’d be asleep.”

“I would have woken up to take it.”

“I know, but you have work in the mornings.”

“I also,” his breath tickles your neck and you wiggle in his grasp to get him to stop, “have coffee.”

“You drink that stuff like its water. It’s going to catch up to you in a few years.”

“You’re one to talk. I drink it to stay awake during the day, you drink it to stay awake at night. I’d argue my consumption is less dangerous than yours.” You set your drink on the coffee table then sit cross-legged in front of Jiyong. He follows suit and the two of you stare at each other quietly for a moment. “Well? Say something.”

“I’m too busy admiring your beauty.” You grab a pillow and smother Jiyong’s face with it.

“You’re so cheesy!” He retaliates and starts to tickle your sides. Your panicked laughter fills the room and he only stops when you look like you’re about to cry.

“I really did miss you.”

“I know.”

“Does this mean you forgive me for making a mistake on when I’d come home?”

“I’m allowed to be upset once in a while. I can’t always be the accommodating girlfriend of a superstar.”

“Mm~ Okay, be upset. I’ll do whatever you want me to.”

“Then go get ready for bed. Your dark circles are ridiculous.” He happily obliges and you follow him to the bedroom.


You exit the bathroom and crawl into bed beside Jiyong. As you get into bed Gaho jumps up and sits beside you. You coo at him and squish his face again. “Beg!” Gaho does the trick, earning a kiss on the head. “You’re such a smart dog~ Yes, you are!”

“Tch.” Jiyong scoffs grumpily while putting his arms around your waist to pull you away from Gaho. “You haven’t seen me in a week and now you’re ignoring me. I think I might be jealous of my son.” You squish Jiyong’s cheeks together like you had done with Gaho. You laugh at his expression and kiss him. “I said I was jealous of the dog, not that I wanted to be treated like him.”

“Beggars don’t choose. Although, you’re almost as good as Gaho at begging.”

“I don’t beg.”

“Suit yourself,” you shrug before turning off the lamp on your bedside table. You hug Gaho tightly, back facing Jiyong.

“Hey, are you seriously going to be like this?” No response. Jiyong forces you to roll over and face him, but you bring Gaho around with you, placing him in the center. He’s clearly uncomfortable and escapes to his own bed on the floor. “That’s better.”

“Hey! That’s not very nice.”

“You get to spend all the time in the world with him. I’m only here for small periods at a time. Pay attention to me,” he pouts cutely. You have a cheeky smile spread across your face.

“What was that about not begging? I remember someone saying they don’t beg just a minute ago.”

“If I have to, I guess I’ll beg for your attention. Forgive me for being late?”

“That’s a good boy.” You kiss him and return the embrace, drifting off to sleep without another word.

—————————— 

Ayyyy more to come~ I have 2 requests in my inbox right now and I’ll be working on them today. ;) This is actually a super old request that I just finished… Don’t mind me, just being an ass like usual.

Blanket (Frank Castle X Reader)

Originally posted by bernthalus-christ

I was lying in my bed, lolled asleep waiting for him, worrying about what injury he will bring today, but despite this kind of life threatening worries, I learned to sleep with it: it’s like being in a war, it’s a battlefield outside, so every moment precious counts.

I usually know, no matter how deep I am asleep, when Frank is in the room. the pattern of footfalling, it’s kind of a dragged minuet-dance kind of a beat only very slow and cautious; the typical jingle of dog tags, going harmoniously with it: the sways and the frequency usually denote how hurt he is today: the loudest one needed five stitches. today, even my deepest of sleep, i could tell there was no injury: tabula rasa.

‘Frank….‘ I arched my back up and rested my frame over my elbow, but there was no Frank… his boots littered, his guns shoved under the larder, but no Frank…

‘Frank, are you in the washroom?‘ the very thought send a shiver down my spine. Yes, it’s been three months since we started living in, but we weren’t that intimate, I did not force him to be: he was already getting over his wife and children’s death and I really know how that feels. He always allowed himself to be a little more physical each day, but it was not enough. So every time I heard him bathing, each time he was shirtless, I flushed like a high school kid. I was waiting for him to make a move, which will be better for everyone else.

But where the hell was he?

‘Frank? Frank where are-‘

I suddenly felt something my feet, beneath my blanket–my motor reflexes kicked in and my nerves went all code red. With a terrible scream, I kicked the moving mechanism with all my strength and with a loud thud and a groan, I understood what went wrong.

I kicked Frank out of our bed.

he was on his ass, rubbing his back and looking increduled: hurt, annoyed and territorial… he had been trying to give me a ‘surprise’, he had been wanting this, he thought he should make a move, after a very very long time…

And I, the greatest paranoid little shit, kicked him out of our bed.

‘Shoulda told me that you didn’t wan’ that–’

even though he was joking, tears welled up in my eyes and a sniffle escaped me like I was a five year old again. I covered my eyes and wept and wept, and I felt the bed sunk a little with Frank’s weight shifting towards me and pulling me into a hug. His natural musky smell calmed my nerves a little and I rested my head on the crook of his neck where his strong arms kept me in.

‘Frank… Frank I am so sorry, I didn’t wanna-‘

‘S’okay Kid, I understand… look if you don’ wanna then don’-‘ he pulled me away from his frame and his dark eyes traced over my tears as aptly as his long thick fingers, ‘what’s goin’ on kid?‘ his tone was much authoritarian and firm. His ‘dad-moves’ were sneaking in, as if did someone misbehaved with my little girl in the playground?

‘no Frank it’s nothing-‘ I tried to shrug him off, knowing his scary power to look through into people’s soul. I have seen him in action: he read out Karen page like it was some six-year old’s nursery poem book.I attempted to move away but he trapped my waist in his strong arm. I felt myself crashing over the bed, and Frank positioning me on his lap in the most friendly, comforting way, for whatever ‘talk‘ he was going to give me.

‘Tell me what is it… For someon’ who can stitch a battered up guy in the dead o’the night without battin’ an eyelash, can’t be just jittery and shit like that.‘ his voice dropped and his finger picked my chin to his eye level… my shifting gaze wasn’t helping, his eyes followed my every movement. I buried my head in his hand that was resting on my cheek. I took a deep breath and took his hand in my relatively tiny palms, and forcing all my guts into an overdrive, I slowly led him at the hot hollow between my legs… his eyes all over me, surprised and flustered, but even in his most cautious moment, there was a time when his eyes filled with wonder.

‘I thought you…. how, why–’

‘Go a little inside Frank…’

His hand was exactly where I meant him to be, tracing over the spot over and over. ‘don’t look at me like that Frank, I knew you will hate it… you will hate me when I tell you–’ I started to sniffle again, 

‘How did this happen.‘ His voice clear, cautious and almost intimidating. He removed his hand to place his both ones either of my bare thigh. I gulped and took the situation in, cautious and scared.

‘I was twelve, it was winter and I was alone.‘ I closed my eyes, and grabbed his wrists to stabilize myself. ‘I was sound asleep in my quilt and I felt someone beneath it… I couldn’t scream and there was the knife on the spot… it hurt… it hurt..’

My floodgates crashed all over. This was the story which I told no one except my mom and dad. ‘I tried… I tried… to get–over it, but whene’r I–’ my eyes were so blurry with tears that I couldn’t even tell that whether I am seeing Frank’s face or a beaten lump of meat, ‘Whenever I tried to engage, guys walk away and they–’

Frank just dropped everything and hugged me like I was his lifeline.

‘Why didn’t I find you sooner?’ he showered my face with kisses and held my head on his bare chest, ‘Why didn’t you tell me earlier… god! You didn’t have to live with that– Lemme tell ya somethin’’ he was now raising my face with his hand ‘you’re a fighter you hear me! You are a goddamn fighter and that… down there is your battlescar. Don’t you ever gonna think about that…’ he pressed my forehead with his, nuzzled my eyes and wrapped his lips with mine and kissed me with such intensity that as if he was thirsty until now, ‘cuz I’m gonna take you here, right now to show how much you mean to me-‘

‘Frank…‘ I interrupted.

‘Yeah kid,‘

‘I am a virgin‘

Frank just looked at me with the most increduled expression and said ‘you’re full of surprises’

166.

There’s an elaborate construction in the living room when Bucky goes in.

The teeth of his key are still shiny and new, and he still usually gives a courtesy knock, but it’s been a long three days with him being interviewed with Natalia and the WSC and Clint at a corporate retreat of all fuckin’ things. He’s been training little baby SHIELD agents - ‘cos that’s pretty much all they have left - to make their own weapons and survive in the woods, and Bucky has honestly half been expecting a phone call, an alert, something apocalyptic. At least a broken limb, Clint falling out of a tree, *something*. He does such a good impression of incompetence sometimes that it’s kinda a jolt to remember that he’s a skilled agent, that he’s lethal, that when you take a second to look past the band-aids he’s also hot as all hell. Not that Bucky’s been thinking about starry eyed recruits, nights under the stars, shared cans of mosquito spray…

Okay. Tangent. Fuck.

There’s an elaborate construction in the living room when Bucky goes in. One end looks like it started out as a pillow fort but swiftly ran out of blankets. There’s a tarp pinned to the kitchen counter with a couple arrows, a bungee cord over the stair rail that’s holding up a corner improbably woven out of clothes, a baseball bat held up with stacks of frozen bruise-peas to hold open the entrance.

(Clint has a whole drawer in his freezer for bruise-peas, cos he says he got used to them young and doesn’t like how ice packs feel. It’s the kinda little snippet that Clint lets out sometimes that makes you roll your eyes and then, when it sinks in a little further, want to fuckin’ burn something to the ground.)

There’s a jingle of dog tags from somewhere inside the structure and then Lucky races out from inside, knocking down the baseball bat door jamb and rearing up against Bucky, his tail wreaking havoc with the blanket roof.

“Aw hell,” a voice says. “Bucky? Nat? Little help?”

(Bucky can’t think too hard about the fact that he’s one of only two people trusted with a key. They’re friends, and he’s grateful that they’re friends, and that’s where the train of thought has gotta run out of steam.)

“The hell are you up to?” Bucky says, and he can hear the stupid damn smile in Clint’s voice.

“Buck! You’re back!”

“I texted you all of ten minutes ago,” he says, and the blanket fort projects an air of sheepish.

“Yeah, my phone’s in a tree somewhere. Squirrel attack.”

Bucky shakes his head and ducks down to greet Lucky, scratching behind his ears before pushing him aside so he can attempt to recreate the entrance to this thing.

“You’re kind of an idiot, Barton,” he says, and Clint - somewhere under blankets and tarpaulin and at least three of Bucky’s sweaters - starts laughing.

“You don’t know the half of it.”

Bucky crawls inside the rickety entrance he’s made. It’s darker than he’d’ve thought, warm and close and a little musty. Clint’s tucked up against the couch-wall with his knees pulled up to his chest, and his eyes gleam in the dimness.

“So tell me,” Bucky says. He tries to arrange himself next to Clint but the ceiling’s pitched oddly and he’s got to get right in close, an awkwardness of limbs in the darkness that somehow ends up with Clint’s fingers folded around his and not letting go.

“Okay,” Clint says, “story time.”

Bucky takes a breath, clint-scented air, and adjusts their hands so they’re entangled more securely. If he has his way, he’s never lettin’ go.

anonymous asked:

We need some more bennguin fluff. Our soft boys just need to be happy and cuddly with their three children (a.k.a Tyler's three dogs)!

I hope this satisfies you anon!


Tyler wakes up alone.

which- it’s not that unusual. he spends so many nights of his life on the road for hockey. but last night wasn’t one of them. He’d fallen asleep smooshed happily against Jamie’s side, the dogs sprawled across them in their usual mess. He’d been warm and soft and safe in a cocoon of blankets and things he loved most.

but now it was morning and the bed was empty. 

he was still bundled up in fluffy blankets, face buried in Jamie’s pillow- he must have migrated across whenever Chubbs had left the bed. Jamie was weird on days off, he never really liked to sleep in during the season- unless they’d had a late game the night before- and would usually head off to get breakfast and a workout in with one of the rookies (Jamie called it team bonding, Tyler called it trying to steal Spezza’s position of team dad). 

Though that still didn’t explain where his children were. Usually, the dogs would lounge around in bed with Tyler until they decided dad had slept enough and they wanted breakfast. So he honestly was worried about what the three idiots were getting into - the house was big and full of expensive and non dog friendly hockey gear and electronics. 

The thought in mind, he pushed himself out of bed, whining at the cool air. Jamie had been at the thermostat again. He pulled on the first shirt he could find, and realised it was Jamie’s by the way the ripped neckline sat wide across his collar bones.

Stumbling down the stairs, he could just make out voices coming from the kitchen, paired with the clicking of paws on tile. As he got closer to the entryway, the scent of pancakes and bacon wafting through the air, he realised it was just one voice, and that Jamie was talking to the dogs.

“-to be quiet Cash, dad’s still asleep and we want to surprise him.” there’s a loud doggy huff in response. Tyler leans against the door frame to listen in. “I know Marsh, but if we don’t let him sleep, he’ll be grumpy all day. and we don’t want that.” A jingle of dog tags and collar, and Tyler can’t hold back the fond smile he always has for Jamie. “Keep Ger entertained a little longer for me please?”

He listens in for another few minutes as Jamie keeps up a steady stream of hushed conversation with the boys, moving around the kitchen and making what is obviously supposed to be breakfast for Tyler. god he loves this guy. but it’s gone on long enough and he needs affection now.

“I woke up and all my boys were gone!” he steps into the room and within a split second there are three fat labs bullying their way across the tile to him. “Good morning babies. I missed you!” He presses kisses into their snouts and scratches ears and pets jowls. His boys are the best.

“I thought we’d let you sleep in.” and Jamie’s standing in front of him, wearing only boxers and the frilly apron his sister had given him as a christmas gag gift. Tyler can’t resist stepping into his broad warmth and wrapping arms around him.

“You’re so good to me, boo.” He crows up at his man, and Jamie rolls his eyes, but still leans in to place a chaste kiss against Tyler’s lips.

“Sit down, asshole, or i’m giving your pancakes to the dogs.” Tyler cackles and makes his way to the breakfast nook, dogs in tow. as he passes Jamie though, he can’t resist swatting him on the ass.

“Love you too, Chubbs.”

One year ago, I posted a story about an anonymous SHIELD tech struggling with the concept of loyalty as their understanding of the agency they worked for shifted around them.

I never wanted it to be prophetic.

In honor of the anniversary, I’m posting it here in it’s entirety.

Ears Everywhere

I hate my job.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I joined because I wanted to make a difference. To fight the good fight. To cut off one head, and all the others that took its place.

But somehow, that turned into this. I pull on the headphones, and I don’t sigh, because the microphone would pick it up.

“How’s he doing?” I ask.

A familiar voice answers, “Not too bad, today. He watched Spaceballs after lunch. It’s always nice to hear him laugh.”

“Yeah,” I answer. I don’t know the other voice on the line. Don’t know their name, or what they look like or anything about their life. But I know that they do the same job I do, and – once, they sounded like they’d been crying when I came on the line. I looked it up, later, which is against regulation, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. I looked it up, and that was the day he’d watched “Band of Brothers” for the first time.

Not my co-worker. I have no idea what gender they may be, or whether they’d watched “Band of Brothers” before.

No. He. Him. The Captain. The greatest hero our country has ever known.

The man whose privacy we’re violating.

We’re not supposed to know it’s him, of course. They seem to believe that without cameras, we won’t know. As if we wouldn’t recognize the voice, or –

“Logging out, then,” my co-worker says.

“Acknowledged.”

There’s silence on the line. Then the faint click-click of a mouse. I suppose it’s someone’s job to monitor his computer usage, too. I used to entertain myself trying to imagine what his search history would look like. “What the hell happened to Brooklyn?” or “Why don’t we have flying cars yet?” or “Alien attacks 1944 to present”.

That stuff seemed a lot funnier before I ever heard him cry himself to sleep.

An hour later, there’s soft footsteps (very soft for a guy his size), the sound of a refrigerator opening and closing, and the sound of the microwave opening and closing. The microwave hums for several minutes, then beeps. I log all of it on my tablet. I suppose it’s someone’s job to keep track of what he eats. Two packages of Lean Cuisine, one bag of Cheetos, one quart of Chunky Monkey. The dinner of champions.

He got a phone call, once. He put it on speaker, too, which was very exciting for me at the time. It was from an archivist at the Smithsonian. They seemed really surprised that he answered his own phone calls. The two of them talked for a long time about an exhibit the museum was planning. A very long time. As if one of them was starstruck, and the other was desperate for any kind of human interaction.

Or maybe I’m just projecting.

I log the time when he puts his dishes in the sink.

6:28 PM

Then he turns on his television, and I log that, too.

6:29 PM

It takes me less than ten minutes to figure out that he’s watching Young Frankenstein. Man, wouldn’t it be great if this kicked off a whole list of comedies for him to watch? Maybe he’d laugh again, one of those big, loud laughs he only has once in a –

The tv shuts off. His voice mutters, “Jesus, even we used to have fucking Technicolor.”

6:47 PM

He might be reading. Yes, that’s the sound of a page turning, and there’s no scratch of a pencil to go with it. I hope it’s something good. I never know what he reads, of course. Only that some books seem to require a lot more internet research than others, which strikes me as sad. How can he possibly enjoy books when he has to approach them like school projects? Then again, enjoying things rarely seems like a goal, for him.

The book snaps shut, and half a second later there’s a loud thump, most likely the book hitting the far wall. Shit.

7:34 PM

The drawer opens. Shit, please no. A soft metallic jingle. Dog tags on a chain. It’s a sound I know well.

I log it as a keychain rattling in his pocket.

“You’da liked Spaceballs, I think,” he says. “I mean, you’d have to watch the Star Wars movies first, but I know you’d like them. Ray guns and light swords and magic. You’d really love ‘em. Fuck, I wish …”

The dog tags jingle, and his breathing turns ragged.

“Love you, Buck. Happy fucking birthday.”

There’s the unmistakable sound of muffled sobs. I imagine he’s got his face buried in a pillow.

God, I hate my job.

March 10th, 7:28 PM to 8:24 PM - there was a malfunction with the data transfer which resulted in the loss of the audio recording. The technician on-duty logged that the subject continued to read quietly during this time.

I’d quit, but they’d just hire someone else


Ears Everywhere is part of the Surveillance series on AO3.

Late April, Southwest Minnesota

The sun bruises the sky lilac, bouncing off short curled fur, dog tags jingling around a muddy neck. The scent of spring wind carries through the field. Paws tap softly at the ground patched with green and brown, pressing lightly into the wet earth. A bird call invites a series of tentative growls and barks before the canine settles into concentrated silence again. She locates a vibrant plant and tears off its leaves with her teeth, the clouds matching the color of her coat.

10

by Massimo Carnevale on Tumblr

It Was Once So Easy

Pairing: Dean x Reader, Sam x Eileen

Prompt: Bobby died and Sam left…You were left to pick up the pieces they left of Dean.

Tags: established relationship, angst x 1000000, implied smut, cheating.

Words: 2428

Note: Really don’t know what this is, I just started writing. Let me know what you think? xoxo

Originally posted by winchesterrhunter

Keep reading