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#Top of the World Highway

footloose-travel · 9 months

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Top of the World Highway

It was good road

#world tour #yukon territory #Top of the world highway

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michael-massa-micon · 6 months

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Top of the World Highway - August 2023 To get from Dawson, Yukon Territories, to Chicken, Alaska, you travel across the Top of the World Highway and pass through the northernmost and highest port of entry into the United States. The view is spectacular even if the road is gravel for most of the way. MWM

#canada #yukon territories #dawson city yt #alaska #chicken ak #top of the world highway

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livinginbeauty-net · 1 year

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Airstreaming to Alaska - Chapter 12: Top of the World Highway to Chicken, Alaska

If you're dead set on eating sushi from a food truck, walking and texting while crossing the road, or planning a drive to Alaska, I will pray for your welfare. Click the photo below to follow our eventful Alaska border crossing.

Posted January 4, 2023 – Narrated by Carmen To listen to the podcast, click the play button Chapter 12 of the “Airstreaming to Alaska” series. “People who count their chickens before they are hatched act very wisely because chickens run about so absurdly that it’s impossible to count them accurately.”Oscar Wilde “You are a catastrophist.” Ruth, my editor friend, wearing a “I am silently…

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#Airstream #Airstream Blog #Airstream Life #Airstream Travel Blogs #Airstreaming #alaska #Beaubeaux #chicken #Full-time Airstreaming #Full-time RV Living #Full-Time RVing #george black ferry #Living in Beauty #living simply #Living the Dream #simple living #top of the world highway

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cassiusapologist · 2 years

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Between the warm summer breeze and the steady beating of Cassius’ heart, Brutus almost says, I love you, you know.

society6 | twitter | ko-fi | deviantart

#so you're standing on top of a highway overpass screaming I LOVE HIM THE MOST to the entire world. i love him i love him i love him #(this is a scene from a show i watch whenever i want to be ruined by a love confession scene)#(i mine endless inspiration from it lmao)#brutecass #doodle tag

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laresearchette · 2 years

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WHERE CAN I FIND THOSE PREMIERES?: THE PALONI SHOW! HALLOWEEN SPECIAL! (Disney + Star) GRIMCUTTY (Disney + Star) KIDS BAKING CHAMPIONSHIP: TRICK OR EAT (Food Network Canada) 8:00pm THE VOW: PART II (HBO Canada) 9:00pm

WHAT IS NOT PREMIERING IN CANADA TONIGHT?: RISING AGAINST ASIAN HATE: ONE DAY IN MARCH (PBS Feed)

NEW TO AMAZON PRIME CANADA/CBC GEM/CRAVE TV/DISNEY + STAR/NETFLIX CANADA:

AMAZON PRIME CANADA MISKINA, LA PAUVRE

CRAVE TV THE VOW: PART II

DISNEY + STAR THE PALONI SHOW! HALLOWEEN SPECIAL!

NETFLIX CANADA WAFFLES + MOCHI’S RESTAURANT

2022 FIFA U17 WOMEN’S WORLD CUP (TSN3) 6:48am: New Zealand vs. Germany (TSN4) 6:48am: Nigeria vs. Chile (TSN3) 10:18am: United States vs. Morocco (TSN4) 10:18am: Brazil vs. India

NHL HOCKEY (SNOntario/SNWest) 7:00pm: Coyotes vs. Leafs (SNPacific) 7:00pm: Canucks vs. Capitals (SNEast) 7:00pm: Penguins vs. Habs (TSN3) 8:30pm: Jets vs. Stars

MLS SOCCER (TSN4) 7:00pm: New York City vs. Miami (TSN4) 9:30pm: Dallas vs. Minnesota

MURDOCH MYSTERIES (CBC) 8:00pm: While investigating a murder in a tight-lipped Mennonite colony, Murdoch and Ogden don plain clothing and go under cover.

CHILDREN RUIN EVERYTHING (CTV) 8:00pm: Astrid and her sister suspect their mom is hiding something from them; they begin snooping around; their mother appears to be dating someone new; a request to launch a new product at work leads James to agree to meet with Ennis' cousin.

NFL FOOTBALL (TSN/TSN5) 8:15pm: Broncos vs. Chargers

THE NORTH WATER (CBC) 9:00pm (SEASON FINALE): After healing in a cabin, Sumner returns to Hull to demand money from Baxter to start a new life.

HIGHWAY THRU HELL (Discovery Canada) 9:00pm: James Luke and over 20 tow trucks must recover 200 cars in a mudslide zone in mere hours; a second atmospheric river threatens the Fraser Valley, as the military is brought in to help engineer solutions.

AN UNEXPECTED KILLER (T&E) 9:00pm (SEASON PREMIERE): When a devoted mother with a bright future in show business is ruthlessly gunned down, a number of suspects emerges; just as detectives think they have the killer in their sights, the investigation takes a jaw-dropping turn.

A FRIEND OF THE FAMILY (Showcase) 9:00pm (SERIES PREMIERE): A trusted family friend picks up Jan after school to go horseback riding, but as nightfall looms and they're still not home, what seemed like a casual afternoon slowly turns nightmarish.

TOP CHEF CANADA (Food Network Canada) 10:00pm: The Chefs get creative in the Top Chef Canada Kitchen during a very colourful Quickfire Challenge. Later, Soccer Fever is in the air as the competitors put their barbecue skills to the test and host a cookout for the next generation of soccer superstars.

A CUT ABOVE (Discovery Canada) 10:00pm: In the penultimate challenge, the carvers are under pressure more than ever, as only three will advance to the final.

ALL THAT GLITTERS (Makeful) 10:00pm

ACTING GOOD (CTV Comedy) 10:30pm (SERIES PREMIERE): After falling flat on his face in the city of Winnipeg, Paul returns home to the fly-in community of Grouse Lake.

#cdntv #cancon #canadian tv #canadian tv listings #murdoch mysteries #children ruin everything #the north water #highway thru hell #top chef canada #a cut above #all that glitters #acting good #fifa world cup #nhl hockey #mls soccer #nfl football

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khurramshabbir · 4 months

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Discover the 10 Deadliest Roads in the World

Take a closer look at the deadliest roads in the world and consider whether you would rather avoid them or enjoy the scenery and thrill.

Click here for read more:

#top #top 10 #world most dangerous #dangerous roads #road trip #killer roads #highway #karakorum #dangerous highway

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yourmoonie · 3 months

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How to live in the end

Are you feeling anxious about your upcoming photoshoot? Your exams? Sp? Or maybe an event that hasn't occurred yet?

I have got your back

1. Focus on your end goal and not on the "lack/circumstances"

Our fave stickman wants to go to Barbados, but instead of focusing on Barbados (aka the end goal) he starts focusing on not having the tickets or not having the money to buy the tickets (circumstances)

His entire attention is on the circumstance and not on the end goal

“Because of your belief in external things you think power into them by transferring the power that you are to the external thing. Realize you yourself are the power you have mistakenly given to outer conditions.” ― Neville Goddard, Your Faith is Your Fortune

2. Thinking from THE end

This is based on the timeline jumping method ( the thread, ♡ the visual thread )

So what do we do here?

Tickets are just the bridge of events for your end goal

We mentally go to Barbados and think FROM Barbados and not OF it

(That's how Neville manifested his trip, btw)

"Thinking from the end is the beginning of all miracles" - Neville Goddard

The art of thinking from the end is about internally seeing the world as you would see it if your desire has already been achieved, even if it hasn't physically manifested yet.

3. Not seeing any movement?

The stickman has got a photoshoot at MoonMoon studio in 2 weeks

On top of that the stickman is manifesting their desired body

> Out of the blue, the stickman gets anxious about their desired body and how they would look during the photoshoot because they "can't" see the results in the 3D

"The journey is in yourself. You travel along the highways of the inner world. Without inner movement, it is impossible to bring forth anything." - Neville Goddard

4. Think FROM & AFTER your desire

They become anxious about the photoshoot BUT

How can the stickman get out of that anxious state?

Instead of thinking OF the photoshoot, they will think FROM and AFTER the photoshoot

They will mentally imagine that the event has already occurred

5. How to get into the state

And they ask themselves this question

"How do I feel now when the photoshoot is done?"

"Wow, I like how the photos have turned out. I look so hot,"

They mentally prepare themselves for the best outcome and it helps them to get out of the anxious state

Inner action is an introverted sensation. If you will construct mentally a drama which implies that you have realised your objective, then close your eyes and drop your thoughts inward, centering your imagination all the while in the predetermined action and partake in that action, you will become a self-determined being.

6. You are THE observer

The Timeline jumping method in nutshell:

This is how you think FROM + After your desire

The observer effect in quantum physics states that where you direct your attention is where you place your energy. As a consequence, you affect the material world. - Joe Dispenza

“Imagination is the act of creation. Imagination creates reality." - Neville Goddard

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peachesofteal · 4 months

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The Pit

COD masterlist Part 1/2

Ghost/Soap/female reader 6.3k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI, dub con, kidnapping, manipulative hurt/comfort, whump, the guys shave you, humiliation, forced orgasm, predator/prey, medical inaccuracies. Clothed males/naked female. The Pit by Silversun Pickups. Horror-ish. Misery inspired.

Winter in the mountains can be cruel.

This is something you’ve always known, even as a child. You were raised with it. Chose to return to it after school, decided to make a go of it, of a life here, as an adult. You knew what you were getting yourself into, long cold winters that felt both bleak and promising, unblemished blankets of snow possessing the ability to be stunning, while also lethal. Winters were dangerous, silent killers that left corpses in their wake and no amount of lupine or paintbrushes, glacier fed lakes or springtime moose calves could make up for the hell that winter wrought. Winter brings most living things to the knife’s edge of survival, forcing most to bow beneath the weight of its fury, backs breaking with the burden of just existing in an environment that truly acts, and feels, inhospitable.

Although, there are those who do more than survive the cold, violent stretch of winter.

There are predators who thrive.

“You closin’?” Your coworker, the new one, asks from where she’s settled across the dark wood bar, two amber Budweiser bottles empty in front her idle hands, eyes wandering to guys posted up by the loneliest pool table in fifty square miles.

“I am.” She casts the only window in the entire place a surreptitious glance, fingers peeling away at a label. It’s snowing, has been for hours, flakes fat and wet, fluffy enough that the density of the snow on the ground is light, but dangerous, as it hides the real risk underneath; packed snow sitting with a slick sheen of ice on top.

“You still trying to make it over Fall River pass tonight?” You nod.

“Yeah. Supposed to see my brother and his new place this weekend.”

“Fall River? Is that even open right now?” Andy, a regular who lives a few streets over from you, chimes in, twisting an empty rocks glass in his fist. You pull the bottle of Jameson from the rail and tip it vertical, honey brown liquid sloshing like a wave until his glass is halfway full, and he gives you a flirty kind of smile, the same one he’s been giving you for a year now. Yeeesh.

“It is. I could go around, but it just takes too long. And it’s Friday. I’m not trying to be stuck on the highway with weekend traffic.” You complain, and they both commiserate your opinion. The traffic is brutal, especially in the winter. Driving in hazardous conditions is considered to be a talent more than an innate ability here, and people often overestimate their aptitude for it, causing crashes and delays that get the highway shut down for hours, or even days, at times. You shrug. “I’ve had my snow tires on for weeks. Might as well get some use out of them.” Andy snorts.

“Like you haven’t been gettin’ good use out of them? First real snow was before Halloween this year.” You nod. He’s not wrong. You did get dumped on two weeks before the end of October, twenty-three inches piling up within two days, before half the area was even ready for it. You throw him a polite smile, one that you hope reads like ‘okay thanks for the concern, we’re done now’ and he sighs. “Well, drive safe.”

Fall River pass, it turns out, is not open. It’s closed by the time you split off from the interstate and start the windy, switch-backed trek in your jeep, flashing orange and yellow lights dotting the top of a barricade just barely visible through the speckled snow flying by in your headlights.

Fuck. You could have sworn the DOT website said it was open. You take a deep breath, quelling the anxiety that roils your stomach. Okay. Not the end of the world. There’s another road. A less maintained option, but… you’ll be fine. You’ve driven in worse.

The other road, a sharp, narrow, desolate path that cuts through a large swath of unmanaged forest just outside the national park, is easy at first. You’ve been driving the same jeep for years, a 2007 two door Wrangler, and you know how it handles like the back of your hand. With snow tires, it could pretty much cut through anything, even unplowed, fire watch roads like this one.

Which is why, after the first few miles, your nerves fully settle, and you allow yourself to relax a little bit behind the wheel, easing the jeep across the dips and slicks in the road as you cautiously build speed, snow falling fast through night, growing thicker the higher you travel into wilderness territory, and the farther you left modern civilization behind.

An hour creeps by, and then two. Long enough that you’ve now realized you’re the only one using this road, fresh snow blanketing the woods around you, topography and vegetation starting to change as you encroach on what you assume must be eleven thousand feet. You’ve seen this road on google maps once, or twice maybe, having noted it for future travel just in case of a situation like this. It runs perpendicular to Fall River, and eventually meets another, one that must be similar, on the other side of the range. The secondary road is one that takes you along the ridge, and then down, you’re pretty sure, although you can’t be one hundred percent certain, because you lost cell reception before you even turned off from Fall River.

Still, won’t hurt to check and see if you have this area downloaded.

You pull your phone from the center console, thumbing at the screen, allowing your eyes to linger too long without looking back up through the windshield. No one else is out here. It’s not like you need to worry about oncoming traffic. The little SOS insignia blinks at the top corner, and you tap on the map icon, hoping it will bring up your geo location so you can glance at the satellite image of the area.

You’re so fixated watching the little circle of death try to load, that by the time you look up and see the tree laying across the road, it’s far too late. You do the first thing you were always taught not to do in winter conditions, and slam on the brake, shoving the pedal to floor, heart rate sky rocketing as you panic and lose total control of the jeep. You spin, shoulders and chest jamming against the seatbelt, headlights flashing off into the woods, illuminating an endlessly dark web of trees, bark and branch scratching across the paint as you careen off the road, tipping too precariously onto two wheels and then rolling.

Time, your life, stands completely still for a moment. You see every individual fiber of the pine needles, every uniquely designed snowflake, every single droplet of blood that floats away from your face and through midair as you crash through the forest, your grasp on consciousness slipping farther and farther away, the jeep finally coming to a stop on its side, your head cracked against the driver’s window, stars and streaks spawning out across your vision, headlights finally blinking out completely, leaving you alone in the dark. Your head spins like you’re still rolling, and the only sound in the dead silent snow is your harsh breathing, frantic terror bubbling up through your throat as pain surges through your body.

It's freezing, but you feel surprisingly warm.

You’re going to die out here. No one knows you took this road, you don’t have service, by the time they find you, it’ll be too late. You’ll be a bled out, frozen corpse, long gone and-

You lose your train of thought quickly. Everything starts to fracture, fissures forming in your consciousness, part of you already losing the battle to the inevitable, darkness pulling over your eyes like a knit hat, lungs heaving just a little harder with each breath.

You could just close your eyes. Just for a moment.

Light sweeps across the ground, flashing across your face. You think, if you were truly with it, in your right mind, you’d think it was too bright. You’d say it was blinding.

But you can’t formulate anything of the sort, mind too busy slipping away, falling into an inky black depth, just barely on the verge when you feel a gloved hand on your skin, the lilt of an accent on the wind.

Sleep.

You’re drifting. Falling through a stardusted, molasses filled haze, your mind ebbs and flows with consciousness; soft and warm feelings contrasted with sharp pain that bites through your body as if it’s slowly trying to eat you, chipping away piece by piece.

There are words, voices. There are hands too, fingers walking across your skin, limbs being moved, arranged, always with pain that’s followed by a hushed whisper of apology, a confusing sentiment in the dark. Your eyes won’t open. Your mouth won’t work. Your head is stuffed with cotton, wispy strands of connections that can’t quite get there, scrounging along the walls of your skull, trying to meet in the middle. You’re drowning, sinking to the bottom of a macabre pool, the one that’s infected your synapses and kept you just inside the shelter of delirium.

You try to call for help, but you can’t.

You try to swim to the surface, but the grisly black of your mind is never ending.

You’re dying, the tiny sliver of rational thought assures. Or you’re already dead.

Despair swells, and if you could feel your face, you’d think you were crying, lost to the sweeping desolation of your pain. It steals your breathe. Your sense. Everything becomes secondary to the obliterating agony that you feel.

Something touches your cheek. Your eyes fight to open, straining against the heaviness that weighs on them, just barely blinking wide enough to let some light in, your vision fuzzily trying to focus.

Wood beams come into view. A ceiling? Where-

You try to turn your head but an electric shock rattles through your brain, forcing you to slam your eyes shut again, world spinning on an uneven axis as something on the edge of your sight shifts. A monster. A man?

Something is said, whispered, and then everything fades away, your mind and body slipping beneath the waves of darkness.

The next time you surface, you manage to cling to consciousness long enough to take stock of your surroundings, realizing you’re tucked into a soft, warm bed almost immediately, something hot near your feet, pillows fluffed beneath you. A hand stitched quilt is spread across the top of copious other blankets and sheets, and your fingertips scratch against the fabric. Flannel.

You’re also awake long enough to truly experience the pain you’re in.

One thousand tiny knives rattle around in your skull, slicing into the soft matter of your brain, tearing you apart piece by piece, everything in you unmoored and off balance. Searing pain radiates up your leg, through your arm and wrist to your head and neck, and when your instinct urges you to try to move, your body screams in protest, the pain so intense that you cry out.

That’s when you see him.

A man steps towards you from the edge of your peripheral, and you freeze in terror.

“Shhh. We’re not goin’ hurt ye. Ye had a terrible accident. Pure luck we found ye when we did, dove. Ye would’ve died out there.” He coos in an accent, inching closer, and you manage to get a better look at him, recognition failing immediately. An accident? An accident… memories come flooding back, broken clips of the jeep spinning, rolling, the woods, the fear. Who is he? Where are you? Brilliant blue eyes look down at you with concern, handsome face tweaked into worry, furrow in his brow partially covered by the long strands of an overgrown mohawk. He’s pretty. “Can ye follow my finger?” He presents one in front of your nose, but it splits into two, and then three, just the attempt to focus enough to make your head throb, and a whimper escapes from your throat. “I know, I know.” There’s a ceramic mug in his hand, and he carefully lifts it to your lips, encouraging you as he tips it back, warm, sweet liquid washing down your throat. You can’t even move your arms to push him away, and when he seems to be satisfied, his thumb wipes the corner of your mouth. “Good love. Well done.” You feel woozy all of the sudden, maybe even a little nauseous, and you think you could be hallucinating when another man appears at the foot of the bed, handsome, but in a rugged way, watching you with honeyed brown eyes, the broadest, biggest thing you’ve ever seen.

“Those bones need setting.” He says, and the pretty one grimaces, fingertips trailing along your cheek.

“Maybe tomorrow. I’m still worried about the concussion.” His thumb cards across your brow.

“It’s been three days, Johnny. Can’t put it off too much longer.” Three days? Your brain latches onto the time. Three days of what? Since when? You’re starting to fade, trying to focus on what they’re saying but losing the battle horrendously when the blankets shift, warmth tucking down around your waist and shoulders, unable to react or even speak when they both press a kiss to your forehead, affectionate and longing touch that startles you until you’re losing the battle to sleep.

It's snowing.

You don’t have to see to know. There’s something about how it hangs in the air, how the world sounds during a snowfall that blankets everything: houses, trees, mountains… your mind.

You love the snow. Even as a child, winter was your favorite. Winter brought you a sense of calm, of peace. It’s what brought you back here, kept you here, even amidst the perils. The feeling of a forest, lying still beneath the soft spun expanse of white, the crisp smell of the air the morning of a big snow, the eternal quiet that exists in the night when everything is dampened by the weight of a million, billion, uniquely crystalized webs of frozen water.

This snow feels different. It doesn’t feel like a velvety white, candy-coated dream world; but a nightmare… one filled with pain, anxiety. Where are you? What’s happened?

And why do you hurt so fucking bad?

“You’re awake.” A deep voice says from your side, and you flinch on instinct, immediately wishing you hadn’t as lightning sharp pain zings through you, your voice breaking with a cry. “Easy.” He cautions, and your head stops swimming long enough for you to realize it’s the brown eyed man, the bigger one. He’s sitting in a chair that looks far too small for his width, watching you with an intensity that makes you feel exposed.

“Where… am I?” You manage to choke out through stiff lips, your head spinning and the world tilting at the same time. It sours your stomach, more than you thought possible, and you try to swallow the burn of bile that’s racing up your throat.

“Are you going to be sick?” He strokes your face, the touch nearly sweet, but confusing, and you hold your tongue, unsure. He sighs, expression shifting into disapproval, and then a frown. “Tell me.”

“N-no, I don’t-“ You can’t even finish your denial before your stomach is heaving and he’s springing into action, shifting you onto your side where a clean bucket sits right next to the bed. You wail in misery, pain shooting through your leg and arm, your ribs, bile and spit leaking from your mouth.

“It’s alright, that’s it.” A hand soothes up and down your back as you dry heave, sputtering on nothing, tears dripping to the wooden floorboards with a splash.

“Nnrgh-“

“I know, I know. Poor thing.” He coos, and it sounds… endearing, so sweet yet… frightening, like the poison of a predatory, a pretty display meant to draw you in before it snaps a set of jaws shut around your face.

Somewhere, nestled inside the last shards of your sanity, an alarm bell whistles, but the intensity of your pain quickly drowns it out, and you cry aloud.

“Hurts.” He rolls you back to your original position, arranging you like a doll. “It hurts.”

“I know it does, sweet girl, I know. We’re going to fix it.” A cloth dabs at your forehead and then down to clean your mouth, just as the man with the mohawk appears on the bed, one knee down, leaning over you, worry rife in his features.

“Poor baby. Were ye sick again?” Again? You blink up at him. What is going on? He presses a glass to your lips, urging you to drink, and then pulling it away after you’ve had a few sips with a gentle “not too much.”

“Who are you?” The water is cold, refreshing, but a ting acidic, and you wonder if it’s well water, maybe?

“I’m Johnny.” He’s setting up something beside you, organizing it, but you can’t turn your head to look, and can’t quite catch it from your peripheral. “An’ this is Simon. Or Si, but ye probably willnae be callin’ him that quite yet.” Quite yet? What? Did they find you? Did they rescue you? Why can’t you remember?

“What happened.” You try again, gritting your teeth.

“Ye had an accident, remember? We talked about it yesterday. Ye rolled off the road, ended up nearly down the mountain, in the thick of the trees. Ye’re lucky the one didnae impale ye.” Impale?

“And you found me?” You're starting to feel tired again, all the sudden, woozy and weird, exhaustion pulling at your limbs. Shouldn't you be in a hospital? Why haven't they taken you to a doctor?

“Aye, we did. Pulled ye out, brought ye home.” Home?

“You don’t have to worry.” Simon, the bigger one, tells you. “We’re going to take care of you.” Take care of who? Everything is foggy, clouded, and you try to shake your head in confusion.

“I don’t… why-“

“Storm is pretty bad. One of those, once in a lifetime types. Pass is closed.” You close your eyes. Of course. The pass is closed. You guess you’re lucky. They could have left you to die, and you could have never been found. You could have frozen to death. Bled out.

“Thank… thank you.” Johnny hums, and then you ripple in shock as he leans forward and brushes his lips against your mouth in a kiss. This… this is not normal? Are Scottish people just… more affectionate?

“Want ye to know, if we didnae have to do this, we woudnae.” What?

“Do what?” Simon casts you a mournful glance, rising from the chair. He’s got piece of leather in his hand, like a cut from a belt, and your eyes dart between them, fear freezing solid inside your pores. Do what?

“Bite down on this, precious.” Simon instructs, placing the swatch against your bottom lip, and you jerk away in protest, pain burning through your body.

“Do what?” You try to sound strong, demanding, but it comes out a little less than timid, and he gives you a sad smile.

“Your femur is broken.” A warm hand rests on your leg, over the covers, and you try to click the pieces together. “And I suspect your radius is, too. We need to set them.”

Oh. Oh no.

“N-no, no, you… you ca-can’t.” You stutter. They can’t. A doctor should be doing that, shouldn’t they? Johnny hovers over you, placing his palm on your belly, stroking upwards to the middle of your chest, the other holding firm across your collarbone. His touch is gentle, but strong, and his thumb rubs in a cautious motion against your skin, lightly grazing the underside of your breast. It feels weird, and wrong… intimate in a way that makes you shiver. “Please. Please, please… don’t-“

“It’s alright.” He shushes you, and the pressure increases against your body as Simon wedges a thick finger between your teeth, slipping the worn leather in your mouth, bracing around your wrist, his other hand holding your elbow. You gasp for air, adrenaline fueled by pain and fear coursing through you, and Johnny coos, telling you ye’ll be alright, that ye’re with them now, and they’ll take such good care of ye.

“Take a deep breath.” Simon urges, and you stare at him, wide eyed, pulse thundering in your ears.

“Ye’ll probably pass out, bonnie. We’ll get the second one done while ye’re down, and I already gave ye somethin’ for the pain.” He assures, like it’s supposed to relieve you, and your nostrils flare as something tightens against your arm. Simon’s grip.

This can’t be happening. This has to be a nightmare. How can this happen? No, nononono-

There’s a crack. A crunch. Burning, obliterating torture rockets up your arm, exploding inside you like a shot. You scream and bite down at the same time, raw misery trying to claw it’s way out of your throat. You think you’re crying, hallucinating from the pain, having a heart attack, fucking dying, all at once. It hurts, it hurts so bad, stop, please-

“We’re sorry, we’re sorry.” Simon soothes, thumb wiping your cheek, but you can hardly hear him, your brain starting to sever itself from reality, floating away as you slip inside the dark tomb of your mind, losing yourself to the fog as they both stare down at you, sickeningly saccharine concern layered overtop the faces of wolves, predators licking their maws in preparation for a meal.

You sleep and wake in a haze.

You sleep. Your dreams are torments, visions of being chased through the mountains by monsters, being pinned to the ground, teeth tearing into your throat with no preamble, or nightmares of drowning, being swallowed by the ocean, lungs sputtering with concrete laden sea water.

You wake. Your vision blurs, mind scrambled by pain, vaguely aware of being moved, carried to the bathroom, held upright over a toilet, gentle touch soothing up and down your back, heavy palm cupping curve of your skull when your head is tipped back and something is dribbled past your lips. You blink blearily with stone weighted lids, taking in the room bit by bit, the wrought iron bed frame, crackling flames sparking in a fireplace, mountain of pillows sagging with the imprint of your body. Your limbs are wrapped and unwrapped, immobilized, and shifted, and the pain is enough to make you gasp for air, tipping you over into the decaying depths of unconsciousness again and again.

You sleep. Restless, chilled. Ice spreads from the nerves in the tip of your nose to your brain, your fingers, and you try to burrow it deeper, seeking the comfort of the pillows, but finding warm skin and muscle instead. In your sleep, it’s lovely. It’s comforting. Even when you’re rolled to your side, something sticking under your tongue, you chase the heady thick heat that seems to roll off the limbs around you.

You wake. There are voices, deep and rumbling, bouncing through the room. Warm water dabbing down your neck, your belly, your legs. You’re too hot, uncomfortable and smothered until you hear a sharp pitched snarl accompanied by a yank, and then there’s a void of emptiness around you.

You sleep.

You wake. The pain starts to change, melting into something that’s consistent, throbbing, but a little less sharp, unless you move, and then it shrieks through your nerves like an electrical shock, vibrating your jaw shut.

You sleep.

You wake. They’re there. Simon is dabbing a cool washcloth across your forehead. You try to flex away on instinct, but firm hands stop you, holding you in place.

“Hey there, dove.” Johnny whispers, smiling. It’s a shy kind of smile, sweet, and the world spins. You grapple with reality, trying to remind yourself where you are, what happened. The fire snaps and pops behind Simon, who stands at his side, massive hand on his shoulder. “Made ye some breakfast. Think ye can eat somethin’?” Breakfast? A steaming bowl of oats sits cradled in his hand, spoon at the ready. Nausea roars, enflamed by the pain in your bones, and you shake your head. “Ye need to eat. Been givin’ ye soup for the past few days, but ye need more carbs.”

“I- I don’t understand.” You try to explain your confusion, hundreds of questions brewing on your tongue, trying to spill out.

“You’ve been in and out consciousness for the last week.” Simon explains, and your eyes widen.

“What?” Panic knots, twisting you up tight, heart fluttering in your chest.

“We had to sedate you. Needed to keep you still through the first part of the healing process.”

“You… you drugged me?” You stammer, and Simon smiles, but it’s not sweet like Johnny’s. It’s severe. It’s dangerous.

“Soft calluses form around fractures, after they’ve been set.” He sits down on the other side of the bed, across your hips from Johnny. “Your breaks aren’t in casts, so we needed to minimize your movement until the calluses could strengthen.”

“Ye willnae be able to walk on the leg, or lift anything with that arm, but we’ll help ye.” Johnny assures. “We’ll be here for ye, as ye get better.” The words don’t compute, and you look at both of their faces, sweeping back and forth, blue eyes to brown, brown to blue, until the only thing that you can think of blurts out of your mouth:

“Where’s my phone?” There’s a flash of discontent in Johnny’s features, but it’s quickly smoothed away, and you wonder if it even there in the first place.

“I imagine it’s somewhere near where your jeep rolled. We weren’t exactly concerned with finding it, considering we were trying to save your life.” Simon’s hands flex in the sheets, and then relax, serious look on his face, and guilt swamps you. Right. They saved your life. You could have died. And the pass is closed. Maybe this is all… as normal as it can be, given the situation. Calm down.

Still…

Didn’t Johnny kiss you?

The spoon clinks against the bowl, jolting you back to the moment, eyeing the scoop of oats as it drifts closer to your mouth, lips parting on instinct.

The first bite is difficult, an insipid, unsavory lump sliding down into your stomach, toothy grin stretching across Johnny’s face as you swallow. The second bite is easier. So is the third, and you manage a few more after that until you start to feel wooly, head fuzzy and stomach sick. “I can’t.” You bleat, and he nods sympathetically.

“Alright, ye did good.” Sleep tugs, insistent again, strong surge of fog pulling at your eyes, and you yawn.

“Tired?” Simon’s already moving, hovering, patiently adjusting your pillows and lazily urging you into them. “You should rest.” You’re too weak, too miserable to argue, so you let yourself fade to black, easily falling back into the webbed slush of sleep.

You drift in and out for days after that. A bright spot of consciousness here and there before it dissipates and you fall into oblivion, and you find yourself embracing it as often as possible, trying to escape into yourself, away from wooden beams and potential predators that flank you.

You’re content to let it stay that way, hiding away behind closed lids for as long as possible, until the morning you feel the washcloth.

“Sh-sh-shhh.” Johnny hums when you garble out a distressed question, tipping a glass to your mouth. Cold liquid rushes across your tongue, and you have no choice but to swallow, confusion webbing across your thoughts. Simon has the blankets pulled away, chilled air nipping and your skin, and you moan. It’s strange, like you’re exposed, half floating like you’re high, and half spiraling through your pain.

“It’s okay, we’ve got you.” They’re repositioning you, arms and legs like a little doll, and you frown. “Jus’ need to get you clean.” Clean? The washcloth coasts across your neck and down to your chest, warm water soaking a trail down your breasts. You’re naked, fully, a hot palm against your hip, skin on skin contact registering as you blink fuzzily, watching the way Johnny focuses on you, concentration shining in his stunning blue eyes.

Water sloshes. Squeezing and dripping, and then the warm, nearly hot cloth is being pressed against you, stroking over your nipples, washing the underside of your breasts. It feels nice, and you whine a little when it pulls away. Simon chuckles.

“Do ye like that?” Johnny coos, reapplying the cloth to your belly. “Does that feel good?” Does it? Is it supposed to? Your vision doubles then realigns, and you stare at the underside of Simon’s jaw, mesmerized by the scar on his chin, the width of his neck. He readjusts you, again, slowly moving your knees apart, spreading your legs, and heat climbs through your bones to your cheeks.

You’re naked. They’re fully clothed.

“We’re goin’ clean this up a bit.” Simon murmurs, a thick finger tracing along your slit, through the soft curls between your legs, and you balk. Clean what? How?

“My… my-“ you can’t even get the words out, too embarrassed, and he nods, sliver flash of a razor twinkling in his hand. The air in your chest sputters.

“Your hair.” Johnny works the washcloth back and forth, water dripping down your skin to the towel that’s been placed under your hips, you can only lay there in mortification when you feel yourself getting wet, tepid arousal roaring to life between your legs. “If you’re a good girl for us,” Simon continues, spraying a big glob of shaving cream into Johnny’s palm, “we’ll give you a treat afterwards. How’s that sound?”

“A treat?” You squeak, and then whimper, Johnny’s fingers creeping down your slit, rubbing the cream across your pubis and labia, heel brushing against your clit. You make a noise of a protest, but it falls on deaf ears.

“Ye’re alright.” He coos, bumping against the swollen bud again, and you try to stop the moan that builds in your chest with no success, slamming your eyes shut and trying to disappear into the pillows. “It’s natural, dove. Ye dinnae need to feel embarrassed.” He leans forward, slotting his mouth against yours, lips soft and fragrant in a pillowy sweet kiss that lasts too long, his eyes blissfully closed in front of your almost crossed ones.

“Please…” you whisper, but you’re not sure what you’re asking for, and Johnny coos at you, bending at the waist to get a better vantage point between your legs. You shake your head, eyes wide with disbelief, with fear, your mind trying to catch up, trying to rationalize what’s happening at the same time as your body is betraying you, slicking the cream that’s lathered between your thighs, clit pulsing with desperate need.

“I- I don’t want you to… shave me.” You whisper. You don’t want them to touch you… there, and the panic that’s pulsing between your ears continues to rise as your protests go unnoticed. Just saying it out loud makes you want to die of embarrassment, and Simon clucks.

“We have to take care of you, sweet girl.” Simon grips your thigh, fingers pressing into flesh, and the cool blade of the razor moves against the grain with a flick of his wrist, drawing back to a bucket for a rinse before a repeat, breath frozen in your chest as he slowly eliminates the curls of your pubic hair. “It will be easier to do that, to see what you need without all this.” He hums, the smile of a wolf coy on his face. “Stay nice and still for us.” They work in tandem, perfectly synchronized, and your unwanted arousal starts to overpower the pain that’s radiating from your broken bones. It’s been so, so long since you’ve been touched by anyone, and your body does not care that you didn’t want this, or agree to it, too eager to be satisfied, to be touched in anyway it can get, and it gets worse, more intense the longer it goes on, the precise movements of their hands, the slow and methodical approach to your cunt. “Almost done.” Simon tells you, and the side of his finger passes over your clit unintentionally, and you whine. “I know, I know. You’re bein’ so good. Such a good girl.” Your good hand is shaking, gripping the sheets, and when he finishes, Johnny wipes you down with a clean cloth, passing over your clit again and again, electric shocks sparking in your belly. You’re paralyzed, helpless, and yet… soaked. Desperate. The warring emotions tear at you, shame and fear and desire rendering you speechless.

“I think ye need some relief, dove.” Johnny hums, looking from your pussy to Simon, both of them tilting their heads to stare between your legs. “Poor thing is so swollen, Si.”

“Do you want to touch her, Johnny? Give her a reward?” Simon asks him, so sweetly, and Johnny shimmies down to be eye level with your pussy, tongue darting out to lick his lips.

Half of you screams no. Half of you shouts yes.

All you can do is watch, helplessly, as they settle themselves between your legs, Simon over Johnny’s shoulder, tempering his frenzied excitement with assured patience.

“Will ye show me how?” He’s eager, and you frown, confused.

“Johnny’s never made a girl come before,” Simon tells you gently. “You’ll be his first.” Oh my god. “Will you help him? Tell him what feels good?” Your brain melts. You don’t know what to say, mouth half open, staring at the both of them, and after a few seconds, Simon sighs like he’s exasperated with you, before ducking back down next to Johnny and murmuring softly to him, probing along your cunt, finger dipping into your hole, swirling in the wetness gathered there and then moving up to your slit. You gasp, eyes nearly rolling back in your head.

“She likes that.” Johnny groans, breath blowing over your exposed flesh, and Simon takes his hand, thumb over thumb, guiding him in small circles around your clit.

“Nice an’ slow at first, when you’re rubbin’ her clit. Feel how hard it is?” He instructs, pressing a kiss to the side of Johnny’s head, and he nods enthusiastically, looking up at Simon with wide, puppy dog eyes, sappy and saturated with love. It’s sweet, and affectionate, like they’re the only ones in the room, in the world… and you’re intruding on a private moment between these two men and your body. Like you’re a bystander. Or a doll. It’s confusing, your brain trying to sort everything that’s happening into neat little boxes that keep overflowing or falling apart, fracturing under the weight of your helplessness, the shock and fear that’s nearly made you dizzy. “See how her little hole is clenchin’ like that? It’s ‘cause she’s empty, needs to be filled up. When she comes, she’ll get real tight.” He explains, your body enflaming in mortified heat. They’re pushing you closer and closer to an orgasm, and Simon increases the speed as your hips jolt.

“Fuck.” You hiss.

“That’s it.” Simon coaches. “Are you close, sweet girl? Gonna come for us?” You shake your head, but even if you wanted to close your legs, you couldn’t. You’re trapped, lost in a sea of wild waves that break directly over your head, one after another until you’re drowning, gasping, muscles so tight they burn, pain in your arm and leg a secondary concern behind the pressure in your belly, the zap of your clit as they drag you too easily to the bottom, before sending you breaking through the surface.

You come with a distressed moan, hips jerking, and then a raspy plea for them to stop, telling them it’s too much, you’re too sensitive, to which Simon wraps his hand around Johnny’s wrist and pulls his hand away.

“We can’t overwhelm her just yet. Gotta wait until she’s healed up, hm?” He murmurs, reaching for the cloth. You blink at the ceiling, drifting, floating away, little boxes in your mind broken up into gnarled pieces that don’t make sense.

What just happened?

You stay silent, blank, as they settle you, cloth cleaning between your legs, blankets being fussed with around your body, pillows plumped. Simon curls some of your unruly hair behind your ear, swooping down until the breadth of his body blocks out all the light in the room, lips brushing over your ear. “What a good girl you are, dove. Did so well, letting Johnny give you an orgasm. So sweet for him.” He tucks you in a little tighter, and Johnny ducks around him, kissing you gently, like you’re made of glass, thrilled smile tugging at his cheeks, unfettered joy the last thing you see before your eyes slip shut.

The next time you wake, Johnny is in bed with you. It’s dark, a flickering orange glow casting shadow across the room, and you startle at the weight of his arm stretched across your chest, cradling you close, half curled around you like a cat. You turn, face to face, his mouth slightly agape, breath blowing over your cheek. You can’t get enough leverage on one leg to slide out from under him, and when you squirm, he only tightens his grip, pinning you to the bed. You’re overheated, and when you peek over his shoulder to get a look at the fire, you see Simon instead, sitting upright in a chair, fully awake, watching you. White hot fear shocks your system, forcing your eyes down in disbelief, surprise, his chair creaking in the night. Your breath stops in your chest, and then there’s a hand smoothing over your forehead, as he leans past you to brush his lips against Johnny’s, and then rough stubble presses against your cheek with a jagged whisper.

“Sweet dreams, little dove.”

#peaches writes #dub con #ghost x soap x reader #soap x ghost x reader #ghoap x reader #john soap mactavish #ghost x reader x soap #simon riley #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #Ghoap #soap x reader

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urfriendlywriter · 1 year

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25 hot traits for your character :

(feel free to use <3 yall gotta agree with me on the 10th, 11th, 12th and from 17th to 21st cus :) tag me yall )

they hold eye contact whenever you talk

they love when you wear their clothes. [hehe]

they get physically clingy whenever they're jealous [ holy god]

always pulls you into a random embrace.

they manspread alot with a sultry gaze >> [imagine that gaze and that fucking smirk]

likes to tease you a lott

or easily blushes when you teach them ♡

holding gazes while kissing your body [highway looks mad comfyy rn]

"look at me when I'm making you feel good, baby" *coughing violently*

vocally expressive, isn't afraid of moaning loud > <

loves keeping you close to them

"if you ask me to fucking kneel, then I would, my love."

clicking their tongue against their cheek when they're mad or jealous !!!!!

kissable lips. sultry gaze, seductive smirk. [weak in em knees fr]

"say that again, mi sol."

loves to showcase you.

always has the top button of their shirt open [banging my head aaaaa]

slightly biting their lower lip when they smile

rolls their tongue over their lips often

sexy fingers !!!!

baby face, raspy and deep voice > \\ <

knows the effects of their actions over you [ do yk my last name?? its *yours* ;) ]

smells good 24/7

multilingual. (now tell me yall dont find multilingual people hot af-)

skilled. an all-rounder irl. smart and skilled, can easily save the world singlehandedly fr

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laresearchette · 2 years

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Monday, September 26, 2022 Canadian TV Listings (Times Eastern)

WHERE CAN I FIND THOSE PREMIERES?: HALLOWEEN COOKIE CHALLENGE (Food Network Canada) 11:00pm

WHAT IS NOT PREMIERING IN CANADA TONIGHT?: CHEFS VS. WILD (TBD)

NEW TO AMAZON PRIME CANADA/CBC GEM/CRAVE TV/DISNEY + STAR/NETFLIX CANADA:

AMAZON PRIME CANADA INFINITE STORM

WOMEN'S BASKETBALL WORLD CUP (SN) 6:30am: Canada vs. Australia

MLB BASEBALL (SN) 7:00pm: Yankees vs. Jays (SN Now) 7:00pm: Atlanta vs. Senators (SN1) 7:00pm: Orioles vs. Red Sox

PRE-SEASON NHL HOCKEY (TSN2) 7:00pm: Devils vs. Habs

NFL FOOTBALL (TSN/TSN3/TSN4/TSN5) 8:15pm: Cowboys vs. Giants

MURDOCH MYSTERIES (CBC) 8:00pm: When a writer is murdered at a literary event, Rudyard Kipling and Lucy Maud Montgomery come under Murdoch's scrutiny.

CHILDREN RUIN EVERYTHING (CTV) 8:00pm: With James planning to meet friends to do their yearly fantasy baseball draft, Astrid cannot shake the feeling that parental duties have eaten away at her old friendships and jumps at the chance for adult interaction.

THE NORTH WATER (CBC) 9:00pm: A discovery by Sumner sends Drax into a rage; an arctic storm threatens the safety of the crew.

HIGHWAY THRU HELL (Discovery Canada) 9:00pm: Jamie's new operator hits a Coquihalla mudslide, while highway crews are in a life or death race to evacuate motorists and save vital infrastructure; Team Reliable braves floodwaters to rescue stranded residents.

TOP CHEF CANADA (Food Network Canada) 10:00pm (SEASON PREMIERE): In the milestone tenth season premiere, host Eden Grinshpan and judge Janet Zuccarini welcome 11 Chefs from across Canada to compete in the most prestigious cooking competition in the country.

A CUT ABOVE (Discovery Canada) 10:00pm: A shocking twist kicks off this week's challenges; as the judges' expectations increase, so does the pressure to win.

#cdntv #cancon #canadian tv #canadian tv listings #murdoch mysteries #children ruin everything #the north water #highway thru hell #top chef canada #a cut above #world cup basketball #mlb baseball #nhl hockey #nfl football

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batboyblog · 1 month

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Things Biden and the Democrats did, this week #9

March 9-15 2024

The IRS launched its direct file pilot program. Tax payers in 12 states, Florida, New Hampshire, Nevada, South Dakota, Tennessee, Texas, Washington, Wyoming, Arizona, Massachusetts, California and New York, can now file their federal income taxes for free on-line directly with the IRS. The IRS plans on taking direct file nation wide for next year's tax season. Tax Day is April 15th so if you're in one of those states you have a month to check it out.

The Department of Education’s Office of Civil Rights opened an investigation into the death of Nex Benedict. the OCR is investigating if Benedict's school district violated his civil rights by failing to protect him from bullying. President Biden expressed support for trans and non-binary youth in the aftermath of the ruling that Benedict's death was a suicide and encouraged people to seek help in crisis

Vice President Kamala Harris became the first sitting Vice-President (or President) to visit an abortion provider. Harris' historic visit was to a Planned Parenthood clinic in St. Paul Minnesota. This is the last stop on the Vice-President's Reproductive Rights Tour that has taken her across the country highlighting the need for reproductive health care.

President Biden announced 3.3 billion dollars worth of infrastructure projects across 40 states designed to reconnect communities divided by transportation infrastructure. Communities often split decades ago by highways build in the 1960s and 70s. These splits very often affect communities of color splitting them off from the wider cities and making daily life far more difficult. These reconnection projects will help remedy decades of economic racism.

The Biden-Harris administration is taking steps to eliminate junk fees for college students. These are hidden fees students pay to get loans or special fees banks charged to students with bank accounts. Also the administration plans to eliminate automatic billing for textbooks and ban schools from pocketing leftover money on student's meal plans.

The Department of Interior announced $120 million in investments to help boost Climate Resilience in Tribal Communities. The money will support 146 projects effecting over 100 tribes. This comes on top of $440 million already spent on tribal climate resilience by the administration so far

The Department of Energy announced $750 million dollars in investment in clean hydrogen power. This will go to 52 projects across 24 states. As part of the administration's climate goals the DoE plans to bring low to zero carbon hydrogen production to 10 million metric tons by 2030, and the cost of hydrogen to $1 per kilogram of hydrogen produced by 2031.

The Department of Energy has offered a 2.3 billion dollar loan to build a lithium processing plant in Nevada. Lithium is the key component in rechargeable batteries used it electric vehicles. Currently 95% of the world's lithium comes from just 4 countries, Australia, Chile, China and Argentina. Only about 1% of the US' lithium needs are met by domestic production. When completed the processing plant in Thacker Pass Nevada will produce enough lithium for 800,000 electric vehicle batteries a year.

The Department of Transportation is making available $1.2 billion in funds to reduce decrease pollution in transportation. Available in all 50 states, DC and Puerto Rico the funds will support projects by transportation authorities to lower their carbon emissions.

The Geothermal Energy Optimization Act was introduced in the US Senate. If passed the act will streamline the permitting process and help expand geothermal projects on public lands. This totally green energy currently accounts for just 0.4% of the US' engird usage but the Department of Energy estimates the potential geothermal energy supply is large enough to power the entire U.S. five times over.

The Justice for Breonna Taylor Act was introduced in the Senate banning No Knock Warrants nationwide

A bill was introduced in the House requiring the US Postal Service to cover the costs of any laid fees on bills the USPS failed to deliver on time

The Senate Confirmed 3 more Biden nominees to be life time federal Judges, Jasmine Yoon the first Asian-America federal judge in Virginia, Sunil Harjani in Illinois, and Melissa DuBose the first LGBTQ and first person of color to serve as a federal judge in Rhode Island. This brings the total number of Biden judges to 185

#Thanks Biden #Joe Biden #Democrats #politics #US politics #good news #nex benedict #abortion #taxes #climate change #climate action #tribal communities #lithium #electronic cars #trans rights #trans solidarity #judges

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loveshotzz · 10 months

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All I Really Want Is You

older!neighbor!widower! steve x fem!reader chap one/ten - a slow burn series of blurbs - updated every wednesday

Welcome To The Neighborhood

—> chapter two

summary: There’s a Bandit on the loose.

wc: 3.6k

warnings: 18+ series for eventual smut, 12 year age gap, reader is 30 and Steve is 42 otherwise none for this first installment :) it’s a meet cute baby.

author’s note: Here it is! chapter one of this little slow burn series with your painfully hot and confusing older!neighbor!widower!steve. This story will take place over the course of one summer, told in mostly blurbs of your chance encounters and run in’s with Steve. This series will have lots of pining, flirting, mild angst and eventual smut. Most chapters will range from 1-2k each except for a few. I hope you guys like reading about these two as much as I liked writing it & I hope to see you back next Wednesday! 🥹♥️

Series Masterlist // Playlist // The tune:

End of May —

Highways and state lines blur together like the buzzing of cicadas into busy Chicago streets. A fresh start. A new life. No plan - that was the promise you made to yourself ten years ago almost down to the date.

The excitement outweighs the embarrassment of how long it takes you to parallel park the Uhaul when you find that one in a million spot in front of your new home. Your hands are numb from the constant battle between the wind and your steering wheel. The breeze from the lake testing your strength for the last hour of your drive. The machine creaks loudly when you slam it into park, your legs wobbling like jello when your converse hit the pavement and out of your truck.

The city hits your ears like the humidity on your skin. The exposed parts of your thighs stick together when the thick air wraps around you like an unwanted blanket. Taking a deep breath, exhaust stings your lungs. Far away from the only place you’d ever known, it’s comforting the feeling that washes over you. You didn’t come here with an agenda. A fresh start with nothing to lose. You came here just to be you.

It seems like everyone is on their way to do something, going somewhere they have to be. They brush past you without even a glance in your direction, air pods buried deep in their ears caught up in their own little world. The sounds of dogs barking mingle with cars honking and loud conversations from patio bars the next block over. The city is alive with summer hanging fresh in the air.

The trees that line both sides of your street are lush and green from the moisture. They drape over phone lines, weeping under the heat of the sun. Bumper to bumper cars from all kinds of walks of life make the one way street even smaller. Mini gardens in front of mismatched houses only inches apart. This was your new home.

The three story townhouse is covered in dark green wooden paneling, the floors split up into separate apartments, and you managed to bag the top floor with protruding bay windows. Dumb luck mixed with being on craigslist minutes after they posted, you found the one mom and pop place in the city that fit your budget.

The chipped black metal gate that blocks off the front steps lands at your waist, and runs as a property line against an even nicer house next to yours. One that looks like it belongs to someone, not rented out to a bunch of someones. The bright red brick looks new, and the dark wood steps and patio freshly stained. An oriental rug that matches the house has chew toys with missing limbs littering the front entrance. A porch swing faces you and it sways gently with the wind. Your eyes catch the silhouette of someone on the other side of the stained glass in the middle of the thick mahogany door, and it reminds you to stop being so nosy.

Keys dangling in your hand, you take your first steps through the gate. The metal groans loudly before slamming closed behind you. You jog up the less polished, salt worn steps to your front door and the faint sound of a deep voice catches your ears from next door as you jiggle the lock open. Crossing through the threshold of the entryway you’re not surprised when there’s no reprieve to the heat, but disappointed just the same as you pull at our tank top that starts clinging to your skin. You eye the narrow staircase that curves up leading to your apartment, immediately regretting doing this alone.

It takes you less time to unload than it did to load up, at least that's what you tell yourself as you round to the back of the open trailer. Sweat is slick against your skin and you thank yourself for keeping the previous owner's couch even if you thought it was an ugly shade of green.You stare pointedly at the four heaviest boxes left and you swear they mock you while you try to catch your breath from pushing your mattress to your room. The words ‘winter clothes’ scribbled sloppily in bright red marker make your face twist up.

“God dammit,”you breathe out running the back of your hand across your forehead trying to rally. Your A/C was already in the window and the cool air inside becomes your motivation.

You aren’t expecting the abrupt shove forward or the feeling of paws on your butt, sharp nails digging into the soft material of your shorts. Then you hear it, his voice.

“Bandit! Bandit - no! Down!”

Your hands hit the metal of the trailer stopping your fall under the weight of what you’re now realizing is an over excited fully grown German Shepherd. Pink tongue out with spit flying everywhere, you can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of you when you turn around and he starts sniffing all over with a tail that wags a mile a minute. High pitched whines leave him when he realizes how much he wants you to play, but he accepts the scratches you offer behind his ears just the same. Body wiggling while also trying to stay still.

“Hi buddy!” you coo, your voice instantly slipping into the embarrassing one you only use for animals.

That’s when you see him.

He has a few years on you, that part is obvious with the pepper that spots the sides of his honey colored hair and the scruff that lines his sharp jaw, but it only makes him look better. His broad shoulders are wrapped up tight in a white undershirt, the thick cotton telling you it was the kind that cost more than your phone bill. The black shorts he wears have a hem high enough to almost be inappropriate when you swear you see the outline of what’s underneath. The Nike swoosh near the slit at the top of his hairy thighs. His shoes match the color of his shorts, the On Cloud symbol etched on the side flashes in the light. Two hundred dollars on just his feet.

The trained muscles in his arm flex when he runs a hand through his hair, catching the stray that flops over his forehead when he comes to a halt in front of you. The bright red leash clutched in his fist matches the color of his cheeks. Big hazel eyes meet yours after lingering on your curves a little too long, making you realize you’re showing off just as much skin as him. Clearing your throat, you tug at the bottom of your yoga shorts, willing them to grow just an inch longer with cheeks burning and not because of the sun.

“Sorry, I have a bad habit of getting him excited before I leash him up. I swear he’s friendly, are you okay? He didn’t scratch you or anything right?”

You’re too distracted by his hands to comprehend his words, tendons moving under taut skin as he hooks Bandit’s hardness. The heat, the move, and the man all getting the best of you.

“Hey -“

His voice brings you back to reality, his brows furrowing over perfect features when he looks at you with genuine concern.

“Yes! Sorry, I’m fine. Honestly! I love dogs. The move in the heat, I think, I think it’s just getting to me.” You smile doing your best to calm the worried look on his face, and you swear you see him flush deeper because of it.

It’s his turn to clear his throat, left hand flexing like he’s looking for a ring that isn’t there. The skin is a lighter shade than the rest of him like there used to be. There’s a beat and an awkward silence before he finally notices the mostly empty trailer behind you.

“Looks like you’re almost done though, top floor?” He questions rocking on his heels a little, pointing over his shoulder to your window. Your A/C is already dripping water onto the pavement.

“Yeah! You live in the building?” Please say yes.

“Me? No.” He coughs a little uncomfortable, while you fight to stop the disappointment from showing on your face. “I umm, I actually live next door.” He winces, almost like he’s embarrassed.

“Anyway, sorry about Bandit. Your boyfriend is probably wondering where you’re at.” You don’t miss the way he assumes with a secret hope he’s wrong hidden behind the mossy greens of his eyes.

“Probably,” you pause, ego boosting when you see him squirm, “If I had one.” You giggle and you hate the way your hips twist a little.

That’s when he does it, he smiles, with all of his teeth. It’s just as blinding as it is contagious, and it makes your skin tingle, giddiness dripping from your limbs. It’s short lived though, like pieces of a puzzle clicking together you watch it disappear. It’s replaced by the same concern from before only with a new layer of disbelief.

“Wait, honey, who’s helping you move in then?” He looks at you stunned like he can’t fathom the answer he knows you're gonna give.

“The same person that drove here - me.” You grin a little proud with your chin pushed up and it makes his lips twitch, the same smile from before itching to come back.

“Let me at least help with these last few.” He peeks behind you, eyes scanning over your messy writing, “They look like they might be heavy.”

He teases you just enough to earn a roll of your eyes, but the grin on your face makes him huff out a relieved laugh. Nerves like a first date twist in his gut when he sees the way you look at him from under your lashes.

“I mean, if you insist…?” you trail off, fishing for his name.

“Steve, sorry! It's Steve, Steve Harrington.” He runs one of his big hands through his hair again, a nervous tell of his you pick up on instantly, before offering it out for you to take.

“I don’t think I caught that, can you repeat your name one more time for me?” Biting your lip into a smile, he narrows his eyes playfully, cheeks blooming, flustered from your words.

Sliding your hand into his, it disappears completely when he wraps his fingers around yours. The softness of his palm is warm like the sun that beat down on you all day and it sends electric currents running through your veins, heart thumping loudly in your chest and you wonder if he can hear the way he can hear it. Minutes pass before either of you make the first move to let go, or at least that’s what it feels like. It’s not until Bandit whines at your feet that Steve finally caves.

“Let me go put him back inside real quick, it’s still a little too hot out anyway and I’ll help you bring the last of this up, tough girl.” He winks with the kind of casualness that makes you question whether you saw it at all and you have to hold in the sigh that begs to slip past your lips.

“I’ll be waiting,” your voice cracks, your confidence slowly disappearing like the sun behind the hazed skyline.

You try to cover it up by swooping down to give Bandit a kiss between the eyes. Only it backfires, making it worse when you realize how weirdly personal that was to do to someone else’s dog, despite the more than pleased wag of his tail.

“That - that was, oh god. I don’t know why I kissed your dog like I knew him. Or you. I’m - I’m sorry.” You pinch the bridge of your nose, embarrassment rolling off of you in waves.

It’s not until you hear his laugh, and god is it pretty too, that you finally look up.

“It’s understandable, he’s a handsome guy.” Steve smirks with flirty eyes and it makes you dizzy.

You can’t stop your giggle, the back of your hand doing little to hide your smile from him. Butterflies breaking from cocoons in your stomach as you watch him walk away to that big house right next to yours.

“What exactly do you have in these boxes?” Steve grunts as he follows you up the narrow staircase with two in tow despite your multiple warnings.

“Winter coats, sweaters, maybe some boots...” you trail off trying to think, your disorganization more than evident when you open up your front door to even more boxes and bags spread out in disarray.

“You packed your coats and your boots in the same box?” His voice is muffled behind cardboard as the cool air hits, sending goosebumps across sweat-kissed skin. The low hum does something to dull your nerves when you work up the courage to turn around and finally face him.

“Maybe! Who knows, I’ll find out tonight when I open it.”

He huffs out a breathy laugh as his broad shoulders almost brush the sides of your door frame. Stepping one expensive sneaker in front of the other into your more than humble apartment, there’s a fleeting moment of regret about taking him up on his offer when your eyes dart around the mess.

“Where am I puttin’ this boss?” His eyes meet yours from around the side of the boxes, playfulness filling the greens and browns like before.

The muscles in his arm flex when he re-establishes his hold on the box, the sleeves of his shirt getting tighter and the whites of his knuckles start to show. The simple brown leather band of his watch strains, and it makes your throat dry up.

“Ummm.” You shake your head, willing your brain to regain its normal function as you start a clumsy walk towards the direction of your bedroom. “We can put them in my -“

Your shoe hits something hard and you don’t have enough time to realize what’s happening until you're already on the ground. Palms flat against the scratched wooden floor and a sharp pain in your ankle. The culprit, an already half opened box labeled KITCHEN you must’ve left in the hallway when you got distracted by something else.

“Jesus, are you okay?” Steve sets the boxes down, pushing them against the wall and out of the way raking his hand through his hair again, it must be a stressed habit too.

“Yeah, yeah, my ego is a little bruised but I think I’m gonna survive.” You try to smile, but only end up wincing when you go to push yourself up.

“Here, let's get you on the couch, let me take a look.” He doesn’t wait for your reply, both of his hands coming out to you in an offering. Stubbornness losing for once, you take them.

He lifts you up like you’re weightless, moving you around with ease as he tucks you into his side. His fingers wrap around the curve of your hip to steady you. He’s warm, the pine of his body wash mixing with the spice of his cologne and it surrounds you in a strong hold. It's a short trip to your couch, his abs moving with each step, and you secretly wish it took just a little longer.

He’s gentle when he untangles himself from you. Soft palms on your elbows to hold your balance as you sit down. There’s a hint of his aftershave that hits your nose as your muscles melt into the softness of the cushions, the day quickly catching up to you. Eyelids going droopy.

“Sitting was a mistake Steve,” you groan with a light stretch of your limbs, and another subtle wince.

“Well good thing you conned me into helping you with the last of your boxes then.” He waits a second before meeting your eyes as he pulls one of your many boxes over to sit on, his lips twisting up when he sees the way you scoff.

“Conned you?! You practically begged me to let you help.” Your head bobs with attitude dripping from each word and it makes him grin. He nods furrowing his brows like he’s hearing you, but despite the limited time you’ve spent with him you knew whatever he was about to say was just going to egg you on more.

“I mean, if that’s what you need to tell yourself sweetheart. I remember it a little differently.” He can’t hold in his laugh when you roll your eyes hard at him trying to ignore the newest nickname.

His knees brush against yours when he finally takes his seat, the hem of his shorts rising higher, running tight against the muscle of his thigh. The cinnamon hair that covers his legs tickles you while the sun hits your bay window with just the right light to reveal an expanse of freckles and moles you didn’t see before under his five o’clock shadow and across the bridge of his nose. God, he’s handsome.

His eyes catch yours like he can hear your thoughts, and for a moment you wonder if he actually can.

“Do you mind?” The teasing edge is gone, his eyes a little more soft when the tips of his fingers tap against your leg.

Your voice is lost in the shift in energy, static filling in the air between you when you shake your head ‘no’.’’ His touch is feather light when his fingers wrap gingerly around your ankle bringing your foot to his lap. He makes quick work of your laces, using extra care when he pulls off your shoe. The pad of his thumb rubs over the bruising bone and you notice the way he licks his lips.

“Does this hurt?” He applies a little bit of pressure to the spot just below your calf, his gaze making you nervous as he gauges your reactions.

“No,” it comes out a little breathless and he exhales deep through his nose because of it.

“How about here?” He does the same thing as before, only this time closer to your heel and you wince. “There it is,” he hums to himself, rubbing soothing circles as an apology.

“Like on a pain scale of one to ten, I’d give it a three and a half or four” you tell him, when really you’re too proud to admit it’s actually a five.

“Three and a half? You can’t use that. Solid number only,” he scoffs meeting your eyes from under his lashes, the forest inside them turning black.

“I actually think I can do whatever I want,” you laugh incredulously, your toes wiggling under black socks in his lap.

“I guess it is your house, I stand corrected.” Steve admits defeat with an exaggerated sigh before showing you his teeth in a wide grin, his thumb still rubbing circles because it never actually stopped. “Do you have an ice pack?”

Your finger drums against your bottom lip as you think about everything you had packed, his eyes fixated on the way you lightly pull it down with each tap.

“I don’t remember and if I’m being completely honest I don’t think so.” You look sheepish when you admit your lack of first aid supplies to him.

He chuckles lightly, hot breath fanning against your skin with a shake of his head.

“I think I have one, I’ll grab it and bring those other two boxes up. Keep your foot elevated for me tonight tough girl. Unpack your chaos tomorrow.” He mocks the way your jaw drops at his teasing.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were tryin’ to take care of me Steve.” The joke is innocent, at least that’s what you thought.

Something clicks behind his eyes, the warmth draining from his smile when it falls. His brows furrow and he won’t look at you anymore, his thumb stops rubbing those circles, and your foot is placed gently back on the ground. He’s standing up faster than you can catch your breath, faster than you can comprehend. The energy shifts to something distant and the warm summer is replaced with frigid winter. He clears his throat with glassy eyes scratching the back of his neck, and you have no idea what you did.

“Hey I’m sorry if I -“

He cuts you off before you can finish.

“You didn’t do anything, It’s me - look, I’m just gonna go get those things. I’ll leave it at your door, please just elevate your foot. You should be okay by tomorrow.” He doesn’t let you respond, long legs taking him out of your place and leaving you to wonder what you did wrong.

Your head lulls against the back of the couch, staring fixated on the old popcorn ceiling of your living room for what feels like twenty minutes as you replay everything back. Over analyzing his tones and body language coming up empty every time. This was going to drive you crazy.

There’s three raps on your front door, one coming down hard followed by two quick knocks. When you stand up this time, it hurts less, more true to the pain level you gave him as you slightly hobble to answer.

When you open it, your two boxes are stacked where he promised. A dark blue ice pack with a yellow sticky note that says: