#(holding back tears as i hold trash bags and cleaning supplies in my gloved hands) THE ONLYW AY OUT IS THROUGH

[gramarye]

cleaning my 2-3 years of accumulated adhd mess is literally just grinding my teeth cleaning and repeating "THE ONLY WAY OUT IS THROUGH THE ONLY WAY OUT IS THROUGH THE ONLY WAY OUT IS THROUGH" while blasting music and watching hoarder cleaning videos in the bg

[peterman-spideyparker]

Seven Years (Matt Murdock x fem!Reader) (Horses and Zebras 3/4)

Author’s Note: So I wanted to post this earlier in the month, but my phone just decided it wasn't having it anymore and stopped working, and that old phone was where I had a lot of WIPs, and it's just taken me a bit to find the energy to move it from one phone to another and then edit it, but, it's here! This one is angsty, so strap on your sad pants. Enjoy! :)

Summary: It's been seven years since Matt Murdock broke your heart, and it's taken seven years to push all of the feelings for him away. So when he comes to your apartment out of the blue, it tears those wounds right open again--not to mention the huge secret he brings with him.

Warnings: Angst (seven years of bottle up emotion, hurt, tears, emotional conflict/fighting/shouting, sobbing, two broken hearts breaking) canon typical violence (Matt getting seriously beat up in the black suit and passing out on Reader's floor), sweet delicious tension, swearing

Other Characters: OFC

Word Count: 2,955

You tighten the grip on your bat as you carefully walk from your bedroom down the hall to your main living space. You don’t see anyone, and part of you only thinks you were dreaming of it, but the distinct sound of labored breathing confirms that your was right. 

Someone’s in your apartment. 

Rounding the corner around your sofa, you see a masked man dressed in all black on your floor. As you raise your bat, ready to swing down on him, he speaks to you. 

“Wait!” he pants, feebly holding up a bloody hand in surrender. “It’s me. It’s Matt.”

Matt . . . Columbia Matt? 

He grunts and groans as he pulls off his black mask, revealing a face that you worked day after day to forget about. You are beyond confused, but you drop your bat, using all your strength and adrenaline to pick him up and place him on the couch. Once he’s settled, you rush over to where you keep your first aid kit, immediately cutting his shirt open and working to take care of him. 

“How did this happen?” you breathe after a long while of concentrated work.

“It’s a long story,” he grunts, his face twisting in pain. 

You swallow hard, nervous as you think of my next question. “H-How did you find me?”

“That might be a bit of a longer story.”

“Matt.”

“Just . . . I’ll tell you. I swear. But maybe not while you have a needle in your hand.”

Your lips pull into a tight line as you start to suture a large wound, feeling as if he’s just dodging the question. Doing the best you can to keep down all of the old hurt feelings from college, you finish patching him up and cleaning him. 

“Rest here for a while,” you say as you take off your gloves and tie off the bag of supplies waste. “I’ll be back in a few hours to changes some of the bandages.”

“(Y/N), wait,” he starts, but you don’t do as he asks, throwing the bag into your kitchen trash before you rush into your room. Once your door is closed, you start to cry quietly, running your fingers through your hair as you try and figure everything out. Why is he here? What’s going on? Why . . . Why did you help him without a second thought? You’re a doctor, that’s why! But that’s not the whole story, you know that. You helped him so readily because he’s Matt. He’s Matt, for God’s sake. No one ever made you feel like how he did back in college. He was kind, compassionate, warm . . . and a two-timer. But is it two-timing if you weren’t even just a couple but more of a hookup?

“What the fuck?” you whisper, whimpering slightly before you collapse on your bed, tears starting to stream down your cheeks. 

As you lie in bed, your mind racing a million miles a minute, something urges you to wipe your eyes dry and sit up, moving back to the living room when you hear him grunt in pain. 

“You’re pulling at your stitches,” you say quietly, but it’s clear you’ve been crying. “Lie back down so I can change out the gauze.”

“(Y/N)—.”

“Please.”

He swallows, his eyes blinking fast to fight tears as he does what you ask. Carefully, you pull the paper tape back, using clean gauze and cotton balls to soak up the blood seeping through his wounds. He air is charged with seven years of things unsaid and unresolved feelings, but neither of you dare speak it into existence. 

“The stubble is a nice look,” you say quietly as you prepare a needle and some sutures to help reinforce what he’s pulled. “There was something endearing about the smooth baby face, though.”

A small smile pulls at the corners of his mouth. “You’re still using that hand lotion. That special one with the mastic in it your aunt sends you from Greece.”

You’re shocked that he remembers that, but you’re even more taken aback that he can smell it on your skin— you put a little of it on your hands early this morning before your shift today.

“Y-Yeah,” you swallow, doing your best to push down the bubble of emotion ready to burst in your chest. “So . . . Is this a recent hobby of yours? Dressing in black with a mask and getting brutally beat up?”

“(Y/N), you wouldn’t understand.”

“Sure,” you scoff. “What’s another secret, right?”

“Huh?”

You finish tying up his wounds as his brow scrunches.

“Is this . . . This that why you ended things?” he asks quietly. “You thought I was lying to you about something?”

“That’s not a simple question to ask, Matt.”

“But I deserve to know. There were two people in that relationship.”

“I left when there were still two, yeah. It was almost three.”

“What?” he asks with furrowed brows. “Were . . . Were you—?”

“No, Matt, not that,” you say softly, discarding your supplies as you sit down and lean froward, your elbows on your knees whalebone of your thumbs gently strokes the back of your other hand. “There was a girl, she had a really unique rich name . . .”

“Elektra?” Of course he knows. But as soon as the name leaves his lips, his demeanor changes. “What did she do to you?”

“Nothing,” you lie. “I saw the end coming, and I left before I could get burned.”

“You left and you never told me why. Maybe you didn’t get burned, but I did.”

“No, Matt, you didn’t. You didn’t notice. Yes, I completely cut you out, and yes, I stopped talking to you. I didn’t stop talking to Foggy. I heard how you were out gallivanting everywhere with her, throwing everything away for her and the thrill of it. You didn’t miss me for a damn second after I left because I was just a way for you to get an A. You couldn’t have cared less, and I sat and suffered the biggest heartbreak of my life.”

The silence is so thick it could be cut with a butcher’s knife. But you’re not prepared for how fragile Matt sounds when he speaks next. 

“You . . . You talked to Foggy?” he cracks.

“I did.”

“Do you still talk to him?”

“S-Sometimes,” you stutter, and you sound just ask broken as he does. “We get coffee now and then.”

You watch as tears glisten in his eyes. “What happened?” he begs softly. “Please, what happened?”

“I told you—.”

“That was a lie, (Y/N). I know it was. Something happened.”

You sigh, wrapping your arms around yourself. “That night, after we slept together, I woke up in the middle of the night. I was so happy, Matt. I was over the moon. Then I saw something out of the corner of my eye, and it was a bright red thong with a note from Elektra for your ‘next adventure’. It was dated two days before we were together.”

Matt’s tongue peaks out over his lips as he works to processes everything you’ve told him. “If . . . if she wrote a note . . .”

“It was in braille, Matt.”

“You . . . You can read braille?”

“We spent so much time together, I learned it for you. You were important to me, Matt, I wanted to be able to be able to share that with you.”

“(Y/N) . . . “

“Please, Matt—.”

“Elektra wasn’t in the picture while we were together. I promise you. After you left, after I couldn’t get in touch with you, that’s when I met Elektra. That’s when that part of my life started.”

“Then how did those panties and note get in your room?”

“I don’t know. But I swear on my life, my law firm, and my vigilante secret that I didn’t know her while we were together and I don’t know how those got into my room.” He takes one of your hands and places it directly over his heart. “I swear. I could never lie to you.”

“But it didn’t take long for you to start seeing her after we—after I left,” you say pulling your hand back. “How can you say you cared about me that much if you went right into her arms?”

His face contorts in pain. “I was heartbroken! I didn’t know what to do! You switched sections of health law, you wouldn’t answer my calls, I couldn’t find you! I thought something awful happened to you! I thought . . .” He starts to cry in frustration. “I was lost, and Elektra was at least something to focus on, because I had an awful feeling in my stomach that I’d never see you again!”

Hurt and rage mix in you as you listen to his words, how he tries to explain it—how he tries to justify it. “You could have tried to find me! You knew where I lived! Hell, you found me tonight, didn’t you? If you could do it tonight, you could’ve done it then! You could have tried to explain things! You would have fought for me if you actually cared about me!”

The silence is deafening, and you shatter as Matt’s face falls with your last sentence. “Sit here and rest,” you say quietly, your tone far different than what it was seconds ago. “Please, don’t move. I’ll be back in a few hours to change the dressing. I don’t want you pulling at more of your stitches. Anymore than you already have, at least.”

Before you can move away, Matt takes your hand in his. Every last function in your body freezes as you stare down at your hand, completely wrapped in his. It’s warm and comforting, and even with the calloused and scars on his hands, they’re so incredibly soft. His face is fragile and vulnerable as he tilts his head toward you. 

“This isn’t . . . I-I have a boyfriend,” you breathe as you pull from his touch. “I have a boyfriend.”

“(Y/N)—.”

“I have a boyfriend,” you repeat, but it doesn’t sound like you're trying to tell him a fact. It’s like you’re repeating it to yourself to remind you that you’re seeing someone so you don’t do anything with Matt. 

“Do you feel about him how you did about me?”

“That’s not a fair question.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Matt—.”

“Tell me.”

“No.”

“No what? You won’t answer, or you don’t feel that same?”

“I could never feel the same about anyone like I did for you.” You finally pull your hand from his as you wipe away the hot tears that fall from your lashes. “You were the love of my life, and I was a notch in your belt.”

“That’s not true.”

“Don’t tell me how to feel.”

“No—you’re saying I didn’t love you. I loved you more than anything.”

“So you loved me so much you waited seven years to get this all out?”

“(Y/N), I told you, I didn’t know what to do when you weren’t with me in the morning. And then after . . . I didn’t know how to go about it all, and the more time passed, the more it felt like I couldn’t do anything. Stop trying to put this just on me.”

“I’m not trying to, I’m trying to figure this out. Words and actions don’t match up. You’re telling me you were broken and lost when you couldn’t find me. Four days later, Foggy tells me you and him crash a party and then you start doing God knows what with Elektra. I could see you on campus, how you acted with each other. How she looked at you and how you leaned into her. There was affection and tenderness and passion—things that I wanted to have with you. I felt every last strand of my soul shatter when I saw you because every time I did, it told me that I wasn’t enough. That there was someone better suited for you than me. Matt, you have to understand where I’m coming with this.”

He closes his eyes and dips his head. “I do. I . . . I wish I could do it all over. But . . . (Y/N), it’s all so complicated. I want you in my life, and I’ve wanted that since the day we met, but I know the reality. My life—even then—if I kept you in it, you would be hurt far worse than a broken heart. I mean, you saw how I came through your window.”

Your throat is thick as you swallow. “So even then, even in Columbia . . .?”

“No. But my past . . . My past followed me to Columbia. I didn’t know it then, but it’s why Elektra came into the picture. It’s why I’m Daredevil now. If you had been with me for any of that—for a second of that, (Y/N)—you would’ve gotten hurt, I’m sure of it. And if you got hurt . . .” It’s his turn to wipe away tears. “I couldn’t live with myself if you got hurt.”

“But what if you had told me?”

“It’s not that simple, and I know you know that.”

“I don’t mean a casual sentence drop in a conversation, Matt, I mean an actual discussion where we get to talk everything out, and where you can explain things.”

“Even if I had done that—.”

“I swear if you say it’s more complicated that that, I will slap you.”

His eyes flutter shut as he lets out a sigh. “I’ve already told you, though. I’d expose you to the possibility of getting hurt if we did that.”

“How would that be different than what we’re doing right now, Matt?”

He opens his mouth to respond, but his jaw just hangs, unable to form a sentence because he knows you’re right. He lets out a breath, his eyes blinking rapidly as his tongue pokes out to wet his lips. 

“I can count on one hand the things in this world that are most precious to me,” he starts softly, holding up the hand on his good arm. “Foggy, helping others, my faith, and you. If I did something to jeopardize any of those in any way . . . I’d be questioning who I am as a person.” He grunts in pain as he sits up, his labored breathing evidence of his determination to get it all out, and for once in his life be vulnerable to someone that matters to him. “I thought that when you left, maybe it was good, you know? That you could see my red flags before . . . Fuck, I don’t know. And then when I started doing this . . .  one night, I just remember thinking over and over, ‘I’m so glad (Y/N) can’t see me like this now. It would kill her.’ Not just my bruises and cuts and scars, but what I became—what I am. Part of myself disappeared after you left. The happiness, the light . . . it started to disappear when I woke up without you in my arms one morning, and I’ve never been able to find it since.”

“Matt,” you breathe.

“I want to find it again. I want to find that happiness I had with you in college. But I can’t find it without you. Being here talking with you, I know that, now. I need you. Don’t go,” he say softly as your noses rest together, your lips extremely close together. “Please don’t go.”

As your brain misfires with his words spinning in your head, his touch intoxicating your senses, he squeezes your hand and pulls you close, pressing a deep, tender, urgent kiss to your lips. He’s begging you not to go, silently pleading for you to change your mind about whatever you’re thinking of that doesn’t involve him. 

“I can’t loose you again,” he says against your lips. “Please. I can’t survive that again.”

“Matt . . . This isn’t the right time.”

“It’ll never be the right time. But there’s a reason that I got hurt near you home. There’s a reason why you helped when you could’ve turned me away. There’s a reason that we’re still talking. Please, please don’t go. Stay with me. Let’s . . . Let’s figure this out. Please.”

“You said that you can’t survive loosing me again. But I gain survive getting hurt like that again.”

“I won’t. I swear I’ll never hurt you like that, I’ll never let you get hurt like that again. I just need you.”

It breaks your heart how the tears stain his face, his eyes even puffier from the drops he refuses to let fall, telling you that you hold the last glimmer of hope he has. 

“I . . . I—,” you start when your phone begins to ring. Glancing over, you see your phone light up with your boyfriend’s name on the screen. Pulling your hand from Matt’s, you go into the kitchen and pick up.

“Hey,” you say softly.

“Hey, baby,” he says, his words laced with exhaustion. “ER is short staffed.”

“What else is new?”

He lets out a soft chuckle. “I’m not getting out of here for a long while. I’ll probably be leaving the ER when you walk into the lobby in the morning, in all honesty. But I’ll see you tomorrow night, okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you,” you hum. “Remember to try and take a rest if there’s a lull.”

“Always looking out for me. Get some rest yourself, babe. I’ll see you.”

“Night, Chris.”

When you turn around, you see that your couch vacant, Matt absolutely no where to be found. Feeling your lip quiver uncontrollably, you drop your phone and fall to your knees, absolutely blubbering, your heart shattering to pieces just like it did all those years ago. Only this time, you’re the one who is left behind.

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[purplegirl20]

Clean and Comfort

Pairing: Damian Priest x Self-Insert (Me)

Summary: Damian decide to do some spring cleaning at my house.

Warning: FLUFF

Tagging: @babiidee28 @omg-im-such-a-masochist @sparkleva25 @alicejoaquin1990 @ghoulsister1 @vintage-pvssy @ashkrystal @theworldofotps @ziasaph @priestparty @queenzay

Note: Sorry for the long hiatus. Been dealing with personal problems in my life. I hope you enjoy this story.

February 15th...

It was a quiet Tuesday evening. Damian decided to visit me after not seeing me for 2 weeks. He pulled his spare keys to my house and opens the door.

Damian: Mija. Mija are you ok? I haven't heard from you-

Before he finished his sentence, he was hit with a huge stench.

Damian: UGH! WHAT IS THAT SMELL?!?!

He quickly looks at the floor and saw various empty bags from Burger King, Mcdonalds, and Chinese takeout.

Damian: OH MY GOD!

He surveyed around my house and saw dirty dishes on the kitchen sink, and the garbage can was filled to the brim.

Damian: OH MY GOD! MIJA! MIJA! WHERE ARE YOU?

He noticed that the bedroom room was slightly open. He took a peek and saw me sleeping in bed.

Damian:(sighs) Mija.

He quietly shut the door behind him.

He went back to the kitchen and look at his phone for the time.

Damian: 1:15pm. Well. I know what to do today.

He grabs a pair of cleaning gloves from the kitchen drawer and gets the cleaning supplies to clean up the house.

Damian: Alright! Let's get cleaning.

Several hours later...

I slowly wake up from my deep slumber.

Shaynell:(groans) My head hurts.

I slowly get up and starts yawning and stretching my arms.

Shaynell:(yawns) I wonder what time is it?

I look at my clock and gasped.

Shaynell:(gasp) 6:15???? The day is already over? UGH! WHY DO I KEEP DOING THIS??!?!?!

(stomach growling)

Shaynell:(sighs) Maybe I can get something from the fridge.

I dragged myself out of bed to get something to eat.

Shaynell:(sighs) What to eat. What am I going to eat?

I enter the kitchen and my eyes quickly widen. I saw the once dirty kitchen clean and the trash is thrown away. I also saw a cooked meal, consisting of grilled chicken and yellow rice.

Shaynell: I don't remember cleaning my kitchen and cooking food. Did I sleepwalk? Or sleep cook?

"No Mija.I did all this."

I turned around and saw Damian Priest near the kitchen entryway.

Shaynell: Damian. You did all this?

Damian: Yes! I don't want my Princesa to have a dirty house. Besides, it has been a while since we sit down and eat together.

He smiled and leads to the table and gave me a plate of food. We sat down to eat our food.

Damian: Mija. Where have you been? It has been over 2 weeks since the last time I saw you. What going on?

Shaynell: Oh. That. I was feeling under the weather. I didn't want to talk to anyone.

Damian: Mija? What's going on?

He holds my hand as comfort.

Shaynell:(sighs) Alright. Remember a few weeks ago, I have to go to New York for my uncle's funeral?

Damian: Oh yea. Your Uncle Wesley.

Shaynell:(sighs) I went to a deep depression and neglect everything. I didn't feel like doing my job as a driver.

Damian: Mija. Why do didn't tell me?

Shaynell: It's just that you're a very positive person. I didn't want to dampen your mood with my negativity. So I isolate myself.

Damian: Mija...

He holds my hand to comfort me. He noticed that my eyes were welling up with tears.

Shaynell:(sniffling) I'm sorry.

Damian: Mija. Come here.

He gets up from his seat and hugs me tight. I softly cry on top of his chest.

Shaynell:(sniffling) I'm sorry for crying. I thought if I'm sad all the time after the death of my relative, you don't want to be around me.

Damian: Mija. Are you kidding me? I want to take care of you. Just like you take care of me. Remember when my abuela died and you were there with me emotionally?

Shaynell:(sniffling) Yea.

Damian: I want to be with you. Please don't push me away. I need you. I'm empty without you.

He holds onto me even tighter.

Shaynell: Damian, I didn't know you were really emotional. You are always the one that sees the positivity in everything.

Damian: I know but they're some days that I sometimes feel vulnerable.

Shaynell: Damian...

I slowly caress his back as comfort.

Damian: I was so worried about you. You didn't pick up my calls or reply to my text. I'm was so scared.

He slowly looks up at me and nuzzles against me.

Damian: Please don't push me away. I want to be with you no matter what emotions you are in.

Shaynell: Damian...

He smiles and kisses me on the lips, making me blush. He slowly wipes away my tears.

Damian: Whatever emotions you're feeling, I'm always with you.

He placed his hand on my cheek and kiss me, instantly feeling his warmth.

Shaynell: Thank you.

Damian: Since I'm off for the whole week, how about we spend some time together and make up for lost time?

Shaynell:(smiles) I would like that.

Damian: Good.

He picks me up from my seat and carries me out of the kitchen.

Damian: Come on Mija, Let's watch some Wheel of fortune.

I smile and kissed Damian on the cheeks, making him blush.

He smiled and he carried me out to the living room to watch some television together.

[whump-cravings]

Enthralled - 4

previous

1,391 words | Original work

Content: partial nudity (non sexual), pain, imprisonment, fear, vomiting (brief), drinking blood (vampire), profanity, worrying about transphobia and fantasy racism

Tseth breathed in. He... hurt. Dry mouth carefully parted, he breathed out. He was blearily aware of sheets, a bed, blankets, beneath and atop his still form. He smelled like venom.

Several minutes passed before he could force his laden eyes open. A white wall greeted him. He closed his eyes, the movement pressing tears free to sting down a cheek and off his nose.

The scent of blood kept him from slipping back into a haze. Slowly, every movement a battle, the dhampire pulled blankets aside. He laid there on his side for a minute more before working up the will to roll onto his other side and confront his situation.

The room was small and unadorned. A small nightstand was next to the bed, with two red plastic cups resting on top. As he pushed himself upright on a trembling arm, he saw soup in one and a few ounces of blood in the other. Getting settled, he picked up the broth and smelled it. Chicken. Probably unadulterated. He took a careful sip.

It was cold and hit unpleasantly, making Tseth's stomach growl angrily and cramp. He shut his eyes, holding down nausea. Once the wave had passed, he set the cup down, rubbing his eyes.

Looking around again, he saw a small adjoining room with no door. A half bathroom laid beyond. It was a good thing he didn't need to use the toilet, because he wasn't sure he could make it there. He glanced up, noticing two cameras watched him from different corners of the room, recessed into the walls.

He shook his head, returning his attention to the cups. Maybe if he could eat something more, he would feel better. He just had to get it down. Bracing himself on the counter, he poured some of the broth into the blood to make a 3:1 ratio. Then, after working up a little bit of strength, he tossed the mixture back.

He set the empty cup down. Only a few seconds later, he stumbled off the bed, knees hitting a wooden floor as his legs buckled. Everything came back up, burning on the way. Ow, fuck. Tears dripped from his nose onto the ground as he heaved a few times before he could crawl away.

He was only able to get a few feet away before his strength gave out and he collapsed. The taste of bile lingered, and he shook as if he was freezing but his entire body was flush with heat and sweat.

Soon, a lock clicked and the door opened. Tseth's eyes snapped open and he tried pushing himself upright.

It was the vampire in the doorway. Fangs, that was the name he'd given Tseth. Ridiculous—as if anybody would ever name their vampire kid "Fangs."

"Don't move," he said, dark eyes impassive.

Not like Tseth was having much success, anyways. He fell back down, warily watching.

Satisfied, Fangs moved inwards. He held a bucket in one hand. Going down on a knee near the mess, he methodically took cleaning supplies out of the bucket before lining it with a plastic bag. He snapped on some gloves.

"You can't just chuck back when you haven't eaten in days," the vampire chastised while mopping up with paper towels.

Tseth bit back a hot retort, instead electing to not respond, tucking his head down.

The vampire peeled off the gloves and tied the bag shut when he was finished. He dropped it off to the side before reloading the bucket. Then he looked up at Tseth and stood, taking a step closer.

Alarm jolted up Tseth's spine. He pushed himself back while hissing wordlessly, spine hitting the nightstand.

Fangs stopped, hands up and open. "You look like you need help getting to the shower." The vampire seemed genuine, and that he didn't immediately forced Tseth into being manhandled was a point in his favor.

Tseth wavered with indecision. Had he been given any kind of bath while he was out? He didn't know. All he could smell was the venom in his sweat. It would be so nice to shower. But it would also mean getting naked, wouldn't it? Or at least being wet and not having anything dry to change into. He had boxers on—his own boxers, even. Had they been on when he was strapped to the table? Had they seen him naked? Did they know? Did they understand what the scars on his chest meant? Would they care? But he couldn't take the risk that it would make the situation worse, could he?

He shook his head, trying to get upright again. With the help of the nightstand, he was able to sit up. Swallowing, trying to erase the burning in his throat, he said, "What did my grandparents say?" His brow was creased with effort it took to form the words.

Fang's mask slipped momentarily, a crease appearing between his eyebrows. "Grandparents?" He fetched something out of his pocket, tossing it into Tseth's lap.

The dhampire flinched, too slow to move before the thing had already settled. Hands weak and shaking, he found the oral anesthetic. It took him only a moment to decide to get some on his finger and onto his gums. The action gave him time to think, and fortunately it helped clear away the taste of sickness.

His grandparents were the ones with money. That had to be the reason he was kidnapped, right? They found out somehow... Vlad overheard something while he was talking to them? Somehow connected him.

Grandma was right, he reflected miserably. I shouldn't have left home.

"The ransom demand," he said, feeling the numbing agent immediately start its work. Some tension eased from his shoulders, agonizing pain fractionally reduced. "Have they responded? How much did you ask for?" He didn't actually know how much his grandparents had, but it was like a lot. Not billionaire a lot, but a lot.

"I can't tell you that," Fangs said, face clear again. "Do Tylenol or ibuprofen work for you?"

Frustration built at the man's answer and change of subject. But he wouldn't turn down the opportunity for non-venom painkillers. Pulling his legs to his chest, he wrapped his arms around them. "A dose and a half of Ibuprofen. Please."

"And do you like chicken or beef more?"

Also not a question that hurt to answer. Eating was important. "Beef, and I eat green smoothies for other nutrient requirements. No milk." As Fangs nodded, Tseth pressed his luck. "Please, can't you tell me anything? Who's your boss?"

Fangs bent to pick up the bucket and trash bag. "Be back in a few." He left, lock clicking behind him.

Tseth leaned his head back in frustration. He couldn't get a read on the man. The other one had seemed more than willing to hurt Tseth into compliance, but Fangs... Were they doing good cop bad cop, maybe?

Worry scratched at the back of his mind. Was it standard to maim a ransom victim right off the bat? You only did that when you sent the body parts to horrify people into paying, right? I've got to stop getting my criminal knowledge from action movies.

His grandparents would pay for him in a heartbeat if they could afford it, he had no doubt. Or send a private rescue team or some shit, but either way, they would get him out.

But Fangs had seemed confused. Was it possible he wasn't here because of money?

He wiped his forehead, nervous. Only one other thing set him apart from the general populace.

Half-breed. His hands tightened on his legs. Was that a slur when he was the only one he knew about? Vlad had certainly said it that way. Betrayal ached in his chest. His roommate had never been particularly chummy, but never in a million years would he have imagined...

He swallowed, tears in his eyes again. You knew a vampire called Vlad was sketchy, moron. It was just so hard to find people chill about a vampire roommate.

If he was here because he was half-vampire half-human—

It's got to be because of money, he told himself, running a hand through his hair. Please let it be about money.

He didn't think about the fact that he'd already seen the face of one of his captors.

taglist: @lettuceknighted

next

[boymeetsweevil]

SS4 - KNJ, angst, 2457w

TW: zombie apocalypse themes, language

There’s a rustling sound that comes from the trunk of the car that Namjoon is rifling through. He sighs, annoyed because he just put his machete away after taking the time to clean it with one of the few, precious wet wipes he has left. Still, he takes it out of its hanging place in his backpack’s water bottle pouch and approaches the back of the car as quietly as possible.

Worst case scenario: It’s the now-undead owner of the car that maybe got stuck under the trunk. He’s seen it a few times since the Outbreak and, if anything, it’ll make this kill a lot easier and cleaner.

Best case scenario: It’s a raccoon going through something in the trunk—like old groceries or maybe some useful supplies. In that case, he can come out of this alive, with dinner, and maybe with some new tools. Even another backpack would come in handy now.

As he approaches the trunk, Namjoon can see that there’s no half of a festering, reanimated body hanging out the side of the trunk. The trunk is fully closed, though the rustling hasn’t stopped. This should be a good sign since it probably means he’s getting the best case scenario. Even still, he hasn’t been doing this long enough for killing an animal to get any easier or more pleasant than it was before the Outbreak. 

He wiggles the end of the machete under the lip of the trunk a bit until it pops up lightly after unlocking. Taking a deep breath, he counts down from 10 while repositioning his machete to be ready to strike. Raccoons have always been feisty and there’s no telling what an apocalypse could do for their attitude problems.

With a flick of his wrist, the trunk flies open and his arm comes down only to stop in mid-air as he gazes into a pair of human eyes. Human eyes that blink in fright, human eyes set in a chubby and dirty face that’s framed with dark hair. It’s a child, he realizes. Shit, it’s a child.

Quickly he puts away his weapon by shoving it back through this water bottle pouch sheath.

“Hey.” 

He winces at the sound of his voice. It’s cracked and dry from disuse just like the skin of his lips . This is first time he’s encountered another living person in at least 3 weeks. Maybe more.

“Are you alone? Well, I mean—I can see that you’re alone.”

The child tilts their head at the sound of his voice before burrowing further into a pile of crumbled newspapers. That must have been the source of the rustling.

“Where are your parents?”

There’s no verbal response from the child, though they do look distressed. Namjoon pauses to wipe at the sweat collecting on his forehead. He doesn’t know much about children. He knows his nephew looked this size when he was 2. He wracks his brain. Is 2 too early to talk?

“I won’t hurt you,” he promises with open palms. “I was just looking for some stuff. I was hoping you were my dinner.” He offers an awkward smile before realizing the joke wasn’t great.

“Anyway, I just wanted to see if there was anything worth taking. But maybe that’s what you were doing too. Is this your car?”

He’s no longer expecting an answer and begins turning over the things in the trunk. There’s not much. There’s some old reusable shopping bags, what looks like a movie poster. There’s a ton of old papers and newsletters. But nothing like a tank of gas or canned goods or tools. He sighs. Another dead end.

“Well, looks like my work here is done. I’m sure whoever you’re with is on their way back to you, so I’ll just check the front real quick and then get going.”

The child re-emerges from their little newspaper cave when Namjoon shuts the trunk and makes his way to the cabin of the car. He can practically feel the little eyes on him as he crawls through the open window of the backseat to hunt for things under the seats. He finds some change, which he pockets, and he finds one of those little goodie bags that some high end dentist offices give out at the end of appointments. He’s so happy to find toothpaste and a sealed toothbrush that he lets out a hoot.

Immediately he clamps his hand over his mouth and peeks out the windows. Noise tends to attract the undead, but there aren’t any in sight despite his victory cry. So he allows himself to savor his find, smiling to himself.

“You see this,” he angles the goodie bag at the child who is now watching him from over the top of the back seat. “This is basically gold.” He turns to put it in his backpack before turning to the child.

“Do you have any teeth yet?”

The child surprises him this time by raising their pudgy chin and baring little white milk teeth. Namjoon laughs, before reaching out to pat the child’s head. They cower away slightly and he pulls back his hand immediately.

“You find a toothbrush and then all of the sudden you’re Mr. Friendly, huh?” He mutters to himself. 

After clearing out the back seat, he shuffles over the console to the front seat. There’s a sizable puddle of dried blood on the driver’s seat, but he ignores it with a loud swallow. Could be anyone’s. He knows it’s not the kid’s, and more importantly, it’s not his.

A little more digging and he manages to find the key to the glove box. Another small treasure trove lies inside. There’s a flashlight that’s still working, a bulk packet of batteries, a cell phone charger, and a lighter. His cheeks hurt from smiling so much, but he’s careful this time not to yell again. Instead he just flashes each object to the child in the back, like he’s showing off a prize-winning fish.

“I think that’s probably it, then. I should probably get going, kid.”

Namjoon looks up at the child through the rearview mirror. Fine and downy brows set low over large eyes that grow watery at his words. The child lets out a whimper and that’s when Namjoon has to cast his eyes away. 

It’s then that he see the little photo ornament hanging off the rearview mirror. He knows he shouldn’t look, but he does. He wipes a hand on his dingy cargo pants and grabs at the acrylic-cased photo with care. There’s a picture of a man and a woman smiling as they both hold a chubby baby in their lap. Enough time has passed in this car for Namjoon to recognize the eyes in the photo. The child in the backseat is clearly the baby in the photo. The adults most likely are their parents. Once more Namjoon eyes the bloodstain in the upholstery of the front seat beside him. It’s brown and dry, flaking when he runs a finger along it.

Someone bled quite a lot in this seat, but it was a long time ago. When he looks to the child again, it’s with hesitance turning his neck. The expression in the child’s eyes is too complex, too much. The that flashes in Namjoon’s mind is too much. He can barely manage to find enough to take care of himself, let alone feed two mouths.

“I’m sorry,” his voice cracks on a little dry sob. He opens the driver’s side door and climbs out. 

A loud cry rips through the air as soon as Namjoon takes a step away from the car. He whips around instantly, a frantic finger to his lips.

“Shh,” he hisses, “You can’t—You have to be quiet, okay? Please, you can’t do this now.”

The child continues to wail, but now it’s while they try to wade through the trash in the trunk and climb out the backseat. The frustration of being too small to get out on their own only ramps up the cry. In the dry, summer heat the sound seems all that much louder. Further down the highway overpass Namjoon stumbled upon, he can just make out ambling figures in the East. Thanks to the Lasik he got done a few months prior to the outbreak he can even see the unnatural angle that the figures lean to as they come down the little less than a quarter kilometer distance. As the seconds tick by, he can see that there are more than one.

“Stop...stop!” He tries to keep his volume down, but the child falls a little as they continue to scrabble up against the back seat to get to him. The cries grow louder still. 

In the West, much closer, he can hear the hungry moaning of the undead.

“Fuck,” Namjoon sobs. Tears prick at the edge of his vision

It’s anguished and loud enough that the child momentarily stops crying to look at him with worry. The crying is a bit softer, but it doesn’t help any now. The bodies have already spotted him at the car. 

“This can’t be it. Please, this can’t be it.” 

In the back of his head he can hear his father’s voice. ‘Calm down,’ Kim Senior would always say when Namjoon’s advanced math homework would get the best of him. ‘Calm down and then look again. You’ll find the answer when your eyes are fresh’.

So he steels his breath and wipes roughly at his eyes. He tries his best to tune out the approaching moans and the low crying coming from the child in the car. When he looks around, he remembers the hills under the bridges in this area. They line both sides of the overpass. If he can just get far enough away from the center of the bridge, he can hop the guard rails and roll down the hill. There’s no worry about traffic that could be passing under, but to get to one of the sides would mean getting closer to one of the groups of undead closing in on either side. If he sprints, he could do it. Maybe he can even avoid getting as close if he gets the geometry right. He can take some of the fall if he still manages to land on part of the hill.

He tightens the straps on his backpack, ready to take off when the whining inside the car grows pitifully quiet. Namjoon makes the mistake of peering into the car one last time.

The child has stopped crying and has opted for just sitting on top of the pile of newspaper. Namjoon doesn’t know much about kids, but he feels like 2 is too young to understand the situation at hand. And yet there is what can only be described as resignation on the child’s face. Namjoon is 100% sure in that moment that no parents will be coming back. At least, not in time for this child. 

A tiny, fat hand presses against the window as the sound of the undead grows noticeably louder. 

“Shit. I really have to take you with me, don’t I?” 

The child does something that almost looks like a nod. The timing and expression is so perfect and adult-like that it punches a laugh out of Namjoon. 

“Alright, new plan.”

He runs around to the back fo the car once more, hoping to open the trunk. It’s locked when he pulls at the edge with sweaty fingers. The machete has to come out again and this time it takes even longer to pop the trunk because he messed with the lock the first time.

“Of-fucking-course,” he shouts through gritted teeth. 

He shoves the machete back in its place as soon as the door pops up too many seconds later. The sound of the undead’s footsteps dragging on the pavement is now audible. It should be discouraging, but with the adrenaline now pumping in his system, it only speeds up his movements and makes them more precise. Now is not the time to be his normally accident-prone self.

The child stands before him now, eyes wide at the crazed look Namjoon is wearing. How the fuck is he suppose to sprint down the highway and then jump off the bridge while holding a toddler? If only he had like a stroller or a snuggy or—

“Right. It’ll have to do.”

Namjoon slides the backpack off his arms and overturns it into the trunk. All the supplies that he found on today’s run fall out onto the floor of the car. He tosses a few essentials back but leaves the rest.

“Come here,” he begs with a shaking voice.

He stretches his arms out as slowly as he can while still saving time. He worries that the child will choose now to become dubious of him again, cowering into the back seat or running out of his reach. 

But instead the child stumbles toward him, practically falling into Namjoon’s waiting hands. The sigh he lets out is incredibly full of relief. Quickly, he shoves the child into the backpack and zips the large pocket up. Luckily, there’s a mesh window that will allow some light and air to flow inside the bag. 

At this point, both hordes of shuffling bodies have gotten much closer to the car, nearly boxing the two of them in. Namjoon bites his lips and does his best to observe the angle of the hill in relation to the bridge. With the child now on his back, he has to land perfectly or else all his effort may be for naught.

A flash of light catches his eye then. It’s the sun bouncing off the edge of the ornament on the rearview mirror. Something whispers to him at the back of his mind to tie up one last loose end. It’s a horrible situation given how little time there is left, but maybe this is what hope looks like now.

So he grabs a receipt that was resting on the dashboard and a pen he saw in a cup holder and scribbles “Found the Kid”. With care, he lays the receipt under the windshield wipers. He can’t help checking that it’s still there even as he begins running toward the edge of the bridge

“Ta,” says a tiny voice from the inside of his bag. It could mean anything. It might not even be addressed to him. But he chooses to interpret it as a bit of encouragement.

“Okay. Just...just give me a minute.”

He picks up his pace as the moans get louder and the safety rails get closer, lets his dad’s voice wash over him one more time, and then...

He jumps.

[red-radish14]

How To Get Away With Murder

Authors Note:

No real-life acts were committed to persuading me to write this story, it is all fictional and written off the top of my head, no mental or physical attributes were caused to have premeditated planning on this, this felt like a very interesting story to write, there is graphic detail in this story if sensitive please do not read.

If you or someone you know is/are thinking about committing an act of violence upon you or others please call 911 and get help immediately!! They will be able to find the right resources and betterments for you!!

Thanks and reviews are always appreciated!! :)

Word Count: 2.2k

--

Average Life for an average girl:

December 31st, 1979

7:01pm

Hi, I'm Blaire, Blaire Helms, thinking that no one is going to read any of this I have made a resolution to start journaling my life. Even if no one ever saw this, it would be nice to look back and read what I had in mind for the years to come. Let me start out with who I am. I'm a 17-year-old girl from Topeka Kansas, I live with my mother and twin brothers in an apartment downtown. My brothers, Jack and Elliot, are star players on the high school football team. And well, my mother, she is a waiter at the cafe on the main street. We don't have much here at home, and having to scrounge for money to buy a $15 journal had been a struggle for the past few weeks. Me on the other hand, I'm 5'6" with long brown hair and big green eyes. School before winter break was tough, I get bullied a lot, and making friends is a bit of a challenge for me. My brothers don't make it any easier for me either, they sometimes even send random classmates to come to bully me in the smoking pit. Yeah yeah, I know, before you get all Nabby about me smoking I know that it's bad for you, but, I'm 17 how bad could it get. Being a junior in high school isn't all that rough though. I'm an average C student with average teen life. To end on a good note, I finally had enough money saved for the dance on the 13th. Well, it is a welcome back dance for all the kids who passed 1st semester. I just hope no trouble endured like last year, having my head dumped into the punch bowl was not pleasant. Expect more from me in the future. Until then.

-Blaire Helm

7:56pm

--

Smoking Pit Disaster:

January 7th, 1980

5:23pm

Today was hell, when I woke up my brother Elliot had clogged the toilet and flooded the whole bathroom, and just left it there, I was always the last one to leave the house and there was no time to clean it up. I had to get ready at school, about 15 minutes later and once I had left the restroom it was straight to the smoking pit to skip 1st period. There were always a few girls down there and they weren't very talkative, they always just sat and smoked for the whole hour, no breaks in between. As I was smoking you literally won't believe who came down to bother me, Mason Palmer. Mason was the hottest guy in school, he was also the biggest jerk of the school. He was famously popular among anyone in the city and always had a few remarks in his sleeve. after a few minutes of smoking and getting paper balls profusely thrown at me, Mason had jumped down into the pit and proceeded to taunt me. After the taunting, he had kicked my side causing me to drop my cigarette onto my leg. He then left laughing at his buddies. About 30 minutes after the beating I had left to go to 2nd period. Walking through the hallway trying to cover the burn hole in my jeans, I ran into Mason. He had grabbed my backpack and threw it at one of his buddies that had taken off with the bag. He then pushed me down and walked away, leaving me with no supplies, and I had returned to the smoking pit for the remainder of the day. Hopefully, this week would get better before the dance on the 13th. If it doesn't, I'll just have to stay home. But, until next time.

6:17pm

- Blaire Helm

--

Sam's Club Shopping Spree:

January 11th, 1980

9:12pm

Today I had to go shopping for bulk food supplies at Sam's Club. It was the cheapest place where we could go to buy a lot of items for less money. It was only the 2nd time I had to go shopping there and I was bored out of my mind. As I was shopping today I picked up the usual items we needed. Macaroni, ramen, chips and lots more. In the back of my mind somewhere I needed to get some cleaning supplies, I don't know why but I bought some anyway. a 4 pack of bleach bottles, 16-pack sponges, 2 3-gallon mop buckets, 8 pack of paper towels, and some sterile gloves. I felt like I needed to clean the whole house. After I was done shopping I decided to stop by Walgreens to pick up some pain killers for my back, it's been so horrible lately, they'll knock me out in a second if I'm not careful. Once I got home, I left the cleaning supplies in my car until I needed them and brought the other groceries inside. Being usual teenage boys my brothers decided to help none and pretend to be each other for a day, I guess it's a normal thing identical twins decide to do. Oh, and about Mason, he hasn't shown up to school for the past 2 days because he's been too busy suit shopping for the dance. This isn't prom, I guess he's wanting to fuck some chick in the back while everyone else is sipping on watered-down punch. Well, I'll let you guys know how the dance goes, all I'm wearing is a hand-me-down loose tee with some black jeans. Wish me luck.

10:02pm

- Blaire Helm

--

Till Death Do Us Part:

January 13th, 1980

5:43 am

Guys, I'm in the middle of fucking nowhere right now. Why is this happening, this can't be happening? It started with the stupid fucking dance. I walked into the gym, grabbed my punch, and boom Mason was right there, he had poured his punch all over me and pushed me causing me to slip and fall hitting my head. I had gotten up asking him what he wanted from me. Suddenly he grabbed my wrist and pulled me to the side of the bleachers. He had pinned me against the wall and told me I had to do whatever he wanted me to do. I had agreed and asked him if I could run out to my car to get dried, he agreed and after some time I was back into the gym. Mason had gotten a new cup of punch and came over to dance. I had played around and danced along with him. Mason left to go pee after some dancing and asked me to hold his cup. While Mason was gone, I had grabbed some of those painkillers from the car and slipped some into his drink. Mason had returned and started drinking his punch, fast, like he was dying of dehydration. He started falling asleep so, I asked him if he wanted to go to the storage closet to have some fun. He had followed me in there, pinned me down, and I stabbed him. I had must've stabbed him 100 times, blood was everywhere. I panicked, I had shut off the lights and locked the door. It must've been hours but no one looked for us, once the last person left the school I knew what I needed to do with Mason. I had dragged his body out to my car and laid him in the backseat on top of my wet clothes, all of his blood had drained out onto the floor of the gym. I had grabbed the cleaning supplies I bought from Costco earlier and cleaned. it must've taken me an hour. I had grabbed all the trash and stuffed it into the back of my car. The closet was as clean as it was before the murder. And now I'm out here in the middle of fucking Kansas, 125 miles from where I live. Now, what do I fucking do?

7:24 am

- Blaire Helm

--

Pitched Out:

January 14th, 1980

3:36 pm

I had decided I needed to do something with this body or it was going to rot in my car minute by minute. I had stopped at a gas station to pick up 30 lbs of raw meat and some new clothes without being questioned and afterward, I had gone a bit off-roading miles away from the road and found a place to park and deal with it. My mother loved to Garden and so happens the day before she had left most of her gardening stuff in the car, so I got to digging. I had created dirt stairs and dug 12ft down. I had stripped Mason down to his skin and set his clothes aside. I had placed him into the hole. I covered him up with about 6 ft of dirt, and placed the raw rotting meat above, covering it with the remaining dirt, patted it out, and made it look natural. I had found some school papers from my car and tumbleweeds laying around to create a fire.  I stripped down to my skin and proceeded to throw everything I had used to kill Mason into the fire, letting it burn. After the fire was done burning I picked up the ashes and brought them with me back to a small pond a few miles down the road. I had thrown the ashes into the pond, watching them disintegrate, and jumped in the pond myself to wash up all the blood. While I was in the pond I had realized what I've done. While drying off I burst into tears and begged God for forgiveness. Afterward, I had set myself on home, sitting here now at a gas station, only 25 miles away from my house.

4:17 pm

- Blaire Helm

--

The Party:

January 17th, 1980

8:57 pm

A watch party had started for Mason and I had joined along with them in search for him. I knew what I did, and I knew nobody was going to ever find him. I know that because it's a fact. The rotting meat will attract the dogs, the police dig it up and realize it's just some animal remains, and continue searching. There are no fingerprints or clothes to find because they are burnt. The ashes are dissolved into nothingness. And it's in the middle of Kansas in a desert, anyone could've done it. The school gym is cleaned like brand new, it's all planned. After the search party, I had stopped by Mason's house to see how his parents were doing. His mother and father could not stop crying. Soon I was "crying" and told them I needed to leave to get home to do some homework. I had gotten home and lost my mind, I was upset that I did such a thing. I had started laughing when realizing that I had gotten away, a murder undetected, a master plan successfully accomplished. But for how long.

9:10 pm

- Blaire Helm

--

Dumped Down:

April 18th, 1980

1:02 pm

It's been 3 months since I've killed Mason, the parties are over, and everyone is moving on like he was still out there missing. I knew what had happened, I've visited where I had buried him a few times since that night, It upsets me. A lot is going through my head lately. One of these days or years they are going to find him and I will be fucked, I can't live knowing I had killed a man. So sitting here in my bedroom I've come up with a plan, We are going to paint the walls, to have a fresh new start. I will load up the paintbrush and get to painting. The room is going to have small specks of red, it suits me best. But I've got to admit that I lived my life up to its fullest. Lighting up a cigarette and placed the paintbrush in the palm of my hand. I'm gonna set it down and I'll let you know how the room turns out tomorrow. I had left a note on the counter for my mother and my brothers, it's basically telling them to not come in until the paint dries, well I'll write later, Goodbye.

3:46 pm

- Blaire Helm

--

Roses:

Blaire Helm

Sex: F

DOB: 08/23/1963 (17)

Hgt: 5'6"

Eyes: Green

Cause of death: Suicide

DOD: 04/18/1980

We had responded to a report of a teenage suicide yesterday night, a distraught mother had dialed 911 crying about her daughter being dead. When police arrived at the scene it was in fact Blaire Helms in her small apartment bedroom. She was lying on her left side with a gunshot wound to her right side of her face, the shotgun laying behind her back and the walls dusted in blood. No one knows why Blaire had committed suicide, people usually called her sweet and caring. No suicide note was found and police are still investigating the scene of the crime.

Drug reports:

Cotinine: 45mg

Alcohol: 1.4oz

Adderall: 75mg

Tylenol: 1200mg

Subject transferred to autopsy room for opening, nothing found within the patient, the mother will soon arrive to finish the paperwork.

- M.D Green

--

Another Author's Note:

I really hope you guys enjoyed this story, I spent only a few hours on it so it's not professionally done, again pls call 911 if you or someone you think might consider suicide or committing a crime. Thanks again, take care

- L.L

[sandershospitalau]

The Extra Late Night Show

What can I say except surprise?

CW: Surgery, Mentions of Death, suggested death, Talk Shows, POV Second Person, Remus being gross, Virgil mention, Sympathetic Deceit Sanders, Sympathetic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, only a tiny bit of angst at the end, Mostly funny

Archive of our Own

————————

You blend into the Miami crowds, lost in your own world. You consistently check your pocket to make sure your phone was still there. At this point, you aren’t entirely sure where you are. It's a nice part of town by the look of it, with shiny buildings on either side of the packed road and crowds mulling around you without a care in the world. You have quite a bit to do, but who would want to be doing that? The only way you can think of procrastinating is to take a walk.

You can almost feel the endless viruses floating into your mouth as you pass a gigantic building with more windows than walls. A large open courtyard pushes the building back from the road. Smooth paths cut through tenderly planted flowerbeds, looping around a large statue. The stone statue is a woman with a cloak draped around her modest black dress. She holds her hands to her torso. One hand loosely grips a large crucifix while the other nurses a tiny bouquet of flowers. Oh, now you know where you are! This is the main entrance to St. Gemma's Hospital! You passed by the statue a year ago to visit a friend who had heart surgery here. They got stuck with a pretty big bill (the joys of the American healthcare system), but the doctors did a fairly good job. You’re so distracted by the pretty statue, you’re not prepared for something to fly into your head and send you tumbling into the nearest stranger.

As you get your bearings, you look around for whoever hit you. Standing against the hospital wall with a trash bag over their back like a greasy Santa Claus is someone wearing a dark green jumpsuit, grinning wildly at you.

“Enjoy the show!” the person squeals. Before you can say anything, they race off, the trash bag jumping against their back. You look down at what the person threw at you. It’s a DVD, sitting in a clear case. There’s something written on the case cover in Sharpie.

The Extra Late Night Show!

Starring Remus Duke!

Now, when someone throws a mysterious DVD at you, the usual reaction should probably be to throw the DVD away. But you’ve got nothing better to do. So, nursing your aching head, you pick up the case and make your way towards home. You’ve got a movie to watch.

--------

The footage pops to life. You see a small office space, or what someone attempted to look like an office space. Shelves line the walls covered in cleaning supplies and napkins. The desk in the middle is a child’s school desk. The nameplate on the desk reads ‘Remus Duke’. Someone begins humming from somewhere off-camera.

“Do do Do do DoOoOoOoO,” they hum. “Do do Do do dooooooooo. Do do Do do Do! DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Do do do do do!” Someone pops out from behind the desk. It’s the same greasy person you saw throw the DVD at you!

“Welcome to the Extra Late Night Show!” The person chirps. “I am your Duke of Dirt and King of Chaos, Remus! As always, I have my loyal cameraman, Mitchell!” The camera shakes slightly.

“Dude, this place is a mess,” the cameraman, Mitchell, huffs.

“It’s a janitor’s closet, I don’t know what else you expected,” Remus laughs.

“I thought you had OCD,” Mitchell mutters.

“Nah, my writer decided to throw that out,” Remus scoffs.

“Huh?” Mitchell asks.

“Anywho, welcome to tonight’s show!” Remus declares, dramatically waving his hand overhead. “We’ve got a wonderful line-up for you, folks. Starting off tonight, we’re taking you on a tour of the geriatrics bathrooms! One of the grossest places in St. Gemma’s! Sprinkled throughout this show like eyeball shavings, we’ll include everyone’s favorite segment, Dumpsters of Miami, where I review the contents of my latest dumpster dive, alongside Emergency Room Horror, What’s In My Mouth, and tonight’s Top 5 Hottest Patients! Number 3 will surprise you!”

“You do know I have to work tonight,” Mitchell scoffs.

“Like anyone is going to notice one missing anesthesiologist!” Remus grunts, sitting on his desk.

“Yeah, my boss,” Mitchell huffs. “And the people I’m operating on.”

“But those segments will be highlighting tonight’s main event!” Remus continues. “We’ll be following Dr. D on his rounds tonight as he operates on burn victims and terrifies patients with his morbid scars!”

“Hold up,” Mitchell stammers. The camera pans down, showing Mitchell’s scrubs. “Dr. D? We can’t follow that guy! He’ll rip our skin off!”

“He’s a kitten,” Remus scoffs, waving his hand dismissingly. “We’re friends! It’ll be fine, trust me. Now come on, the geriatrics ward is calling our names!” Mitchell groans and turns off the camera. You decide to fast-forward through the geriatrics ward segment.

You stop at a clip of Remus pushing a large cleaning cart down the hall. St. Gemma’s hallways are just as clean as you remember them. You’re honestly surprised as you realize the dirty man you’re watching is the one in charge of cleaning this place. He polishes off a door handle, giving it a bright shine. He finishes the clean by sticking the doorknob in his armpit.

“You done?” Mitchell grunts.

“We’re almost at Dr. D’s office!” Remus laughs, continuing down the hall. “While we’re there, we’ll get an overview of what he does and convince him not to tear our faces off and let us film him! Here we are!” The camera pans to a wooden door with the words ‘Inter Hospital Consultant’ on it. “The doc’s not a fan of having his name on the door.” Remus pushed the door open and strolled right into the office.

Now THIS is what an office should look like. The room is very professional! Diplomas line the walls, but the names are covered with sticky notes inside the glass cases. The smooth faux-wood desk is clean and tidy, with a computer, a jar of pens and pencils, a black hat, and a phone. The man you assume is Dr. D seats in a comfy modern seat. Long burn scars trail down half of his face and turn a few strains of his black hair white. He wears a black shirt with a yellow tie under his white coat and a pair of yellow gloves. He’s glaring at the camera with an intense stare that makes you look away.

“Dr. Elting,” Dr. D sighs. “Shouldn’t you be preparing for the leg surgery on the 35-year old Latina woman that’s supposed to begin in…” He looks at the clock on his computer. “An hour and a half?”

“Relax, D, he’s with me,” Remus giggles. He sits on Dr. D’s desk and crosses his legs. “I called him in sick.”

“Dude, you can’t—” Mitchell stammers.

“I told them you had explosive diarrhea,” Remus says. “They didn’t ask too many questions. So, D, how does it feel to guest star on the Extra Late Night Show?”

“Your world famous talk show,” Dr. D groans. “It’s wonderful, Remus.”

“Woo!” Remus whoops. He lays on his back, knocking over Dr. D’s jar of pens. “So here’s what we’re going to do. You, my rough-skinned friend, are the star of our show! The audience wants to know what a night in the life is like for a surgeon! What’s it like consulting at other hospitals? You ever get the urge to squeeze someone’s heart and feel it beat in your hands?”

“Remus, Remus, Remus,” Dr. D tuts, shaking his head. “I already have that power. Now leave.”

“Nah,” Remus says. You hear a soft beep from somewhere in the room. Dr. D pulls something out of his pocket. His face tightens.

“A 7-C-3 from the EMTs,” Dr. D mutters. “Emergency surgery.”

“Oooo, what’s that?” Remus purrs, but Dr. D ignores him. He launches out of his chair and out of his office. Remus scrambles off the desk.

“Remus, this is an emergency call, we can’t follow him!” Mitchell hisses as the pair stumbles out of the office. The camera shakes so much, you can’t see much of what’s happening.

“Do it or I’m putting the leftovers from the geriatrics ward in your locker, chicken,” Remus growls. “Bak-Kah!” The camera angles towards Mitchell’s feet as the pair jog after Dr. D.

“You’re lucky I like your humor, Prince,” Mitchell chuckles.

“It’s Remus Duke when we’re filming!” Remus groans. “You have to use my stage name! Get the camera up!” Mitchell pulls up the camera, and you get a better view of the St. Gemma’s halls. Remus runs alongside the edge of the camera. “So, what’s a 7-C-3?”

“I don’t know EMT code,” Mitchell explains. “I think sevens are for burns.”

“Well then no wonder they called D!” Remus laughs. “He’s the best in the business for burns! I’ve handled the ‘hazardous materials’ from those operations, they look like chicken!” You can see Remus do quotation marks around ‘hazardous materials’. The camera pans around a corner just in time to see Dr. D enter a large elevator.

“Welp, he’s gone,” Mitchell says, stopping. “We better end the show.”

“He can’t lose me that easily!” Remus barks. Remus runs into the nearest elevator and presses a button. The camera barely gets inside before the doors closed.

“Dude, you left your cleaning supplies outside Dr. D’s office,” Mitchell remarks.

“If someone steals it, hey, free food!” Remus laughs. His face pops on camera. He’s so close, you can see each individual hair of his mustache. “This seems like the perfect time to cut to the next segment of our show! We’ll be right back!” Static fills the screen before going black.

You think it glitched out for a moment before white words slide into view. ‘Getting Personal With Remus’. Remus’s messy office pops on screen, but the lights are off. The only light in the room is a small fire inside a trash can beside Remus’s desk. Remus sits on top of the desk, staring into the camera with a smile and a wink.

“Happy Valentine’s!” Remus says. “Hope you like the candle. On tonight’s ‘Getting Personal’, we’re talking about how I met Dr. D. It’s quite the story! I was looking for a job when I suddenly stumbled upon a Help Wanted sign for… can you guess? You’re right, Taco Bell! I began working that same day! I loved tossing frozen food into the fryer. Well one day I got a bit too carried away with my tossing and I got shipped to St. Gemma’s with second-degree burns! And Dr. D was my doctor. I got fired from Taco Bell. Once I was all healed up, I got a job as a janitor here, and D and I have been friends ever since!” Remus kicks his leg out. His foot knocks against the trash can and tips it over. Fire begins to crawl towards the desk. “Now back to your regularly scheduled program.” The screen goes black again.

The DVD cuts back to the elevator just as the doors slide open. You vaguely remember seeing an article online about how good the burn ward at St. Gemma’s was, back when you were trying to find where the hospital was to visit your friend. It’s tough to get a good look inside with the moving camera, but you can see plush furniture and gentle lighting over a receptionist’s desk. Voices shout and give orders somewhere in the ward. The receptionist doesn’t seem to care.

“The patient in Room 705 just kicked it,” the receptionist mutters, glancing up at Remus. “You need to clean it out.” Remus ignores the receptionist and jogs down the hall towards the voices.

“Is there enough undamaged skin for the graphs?” one person asks.

“We may have to use some cadaver skin,” another responds.

“Oh, they’re doing skin grafts!” Remus chirps. He stops by a half-open metal door. The sign on the side reads ‘Operating Theater 2, Level 7’. Remus carefully pulls the door open.

“Remus, no!” Mitchell hisses. He grabs Remus’s arm and tugs him back. “You aren’t sterile.”

“I should hope not,” Remus chuckles, wiggling his eyebrows.

“If you go in there, you could spread an infection!” Mitchell groans. “Burn victims are the most in danger from them! You could kill the guy!”

“All in the name of a good show, right?” Remus sighs, shrugging. “Here, give me the camera.” The camera switches hands, and you finally get a good look at Mitchell. His long blonde hair is tied into a ponytail behind him. He’s wearing black scrubs under a thick white sweatshirt. While Remus’s stare bounced all over the place and Dr. D glared into your soul, Mitchell had the eyes of an emotional teenager ready to do something dangerous.

“I’m not getting fired because of you,” Mitchell hisses with gritted teeth.

“Relax, Anx-Mitch,” Remus says, correcting himself halfway through. The camera pans down and slips just inside the door. The operating theater is split in half. The half you can best see is a long row of sinks below a long window. Through the window you see doctors huddling around a patient. The angle is so bad you can barely tell what they’re doing. You can pick out Dr. D, since his burns pop up under the harsh OR light. He’s focused on the task in front of him, silent while the other doctors discuss how to proceed. He simply works.

“What are you doing?” the receptionist’s harsh voice screams. The camera jumps back and flies through the air, landing in Mitchell’s arms. Remus and Mitchell zoom down the hall with the receptionist’s threats echoing behind them.

“Time for a commercial break!” Remus laughs. He grabs the camera and pushes it down as it cuts to another segment. Here, Remus is outside in the middle of the day, leaning against a large, dirty, green dumpster.

“Here at the Remus Academy of Dumpster Diving,” Remus states with the full professionalism of an actual salesman. “You’ll be taught all the best locations in Miami to score some sweet goods! But don’t come near St. Gemma’s or I’ll steal your kneecaps!” Remus flips open the dumpster with a loud clang. He hoists himself up and tumbles into the half full pit of disease. “For the simple cost of your social security number, you’ll get first hand experience at discovering the untold treasures of garage cans and curbside trash. For example…” Remus pops up with a broken baseball bat. The top half has been ripped off. “Weapons! Or…” He ducks back down and brings up a handful of shredded paper. “Confetti!” He tosses the paper in the air. “Call the number below in the next half hour and you’ll get your dumpster personally looted!” The ‘phone number’ Remus mentioned isn’t even composed of numbers. It’s A#@-JRD-(D#$. “Join the Remus Academy of Dumpster Diving today!”

The show quickly cuts back to Dr. D’s office. Remus is laying on the floor, kicking his legs in the air. The camera sits beside him.

“Can I stop filming now?” Mitchell groans. “My phone’s going to die.”

“Sadly, we couldn’t get more juicy surgery footage,” Remus huffs. “So we’ll just have to wait for D to come back!”

“Surgery takes a while, Remus,” Mitchell scoffs. “Don’t whine about it. It’s only been a few hours.” The office doors creaks open. Dr. D steps inside his office, slipping on his yellow gloves. You get a glimpse of the burns covering his fingers. Remus shoots up like a puppy. Mitchell clambers up, groaning.

“So how’d it go?” Remus chirps. Dr. D slinks to his desk and sits down.

“Do your job, Remus,” Dr. D grumbles, staring into his computer.

“What, too squeamish to share details?” Remus scoffs, sitting on the desk.

“Exactly,” Dr. D sighs.

“Come on,” Remus purrs. He pokes at Dr. D’s cheek with each word. “Come on come on come ON!” Dr. D glares at Remus and the camera takes a step back. He settles his hands flat on his desk.

“I want you to imagine you have some resemblance of medical training,” Dr. D mutters. “You’re creative, I trust it’s not too difficult. Now I want you to imagine your patient is a 30-something man who was nearly beaten to a pulp by his abusive parents.” Something drops in Remus’s gaze. He’s no longer poking at Dr. D. “I want you to imagine yourself in surgery trying to repair the damage to this man, but as soon as you fix one issue, another issue comes up. The man’s body is destroying itself on the table and there is nothing you can do until a fellow doctor announces the time of death.” Dr. D’s words come out as a violent hiss. His fingers clench inside his gaudy gloves. “Now imagine myself in that situation, but the patient was asleep as their apartment burned around them, and tell me if you would be excited to talk about it!” Remus hops off the desk. Dr. D’s hands unclench slightly, though his jaw is threatening to break his teeth.

“I am in no mood for your ridiculous show,” Dr. D grumbles. For the first time in the show, Remus seems softer. His edges aren’t so sharp. His dirty nails rest over Dr. D’s glove. Dr. D fixes his black hat and takes a deep breath. Then he glares into the camera.

“Leave,” he hisses. Mitchell takes off, out of the office and into the hall before the camera cuts. After a few seconds of darkness, Remus’s office space reappears. He’s sitting behind his desk, once again carrying his demonic smile.

“Come on, don’t be shy!” Remus laughs. Someone groans behind the camera. Dr. D steps into view and takes a spot standing behind Remus. He seems a bit calmer than earlier.

“That’s all the time we have for this episode!” Remus chirps, rocking back and forth. “We're ditching the rest of our line-up because I don't care! I’d like to give a warm thank you to Dr. D for being a fabulous guest on our show tonight!” Dr. D seems resigned to his fate, but far more happy than Mitchell ever did. “Tune in next time for live coverage of the Sanders Hospital hosted Nurse’s Rally!”

“A rally?” Dr. D asks, glancing down at Remus. He takes a phone out of his coat and types something in. “...organized by Virgil Lawson.” He puts the phone away again. His expression is unreadable, unchanged from earlier. “Remus, could I assist you in your next episode at this rally?”

“I’d love that!” Remus shouts, throwing his hands in the air. “See you next time on the Extra Late Night Show! Bye, everybody! Do do Do do DoOoOoOoO. Do do Do do dooooooooo. Do do Do do Do! DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Do do do do do! ” Remus waves goodbye. The screen turns black. The show is finally done. Without saying a word, you take the DVD out of your player. You gently put it back in its case. You walk into your kitchen. You open up the trash can and put it inside. Then you decide to look up how to rid a home of curses because you are certain there was a violent curse on that DVD.

————————

@purelyreblogstsedition @watchoutforthefanfics @moonlight22oa @mediocrity-at-best

[vandnana]

Loving You Is Easy

Part Seventeen

The ride to the train was terrifyingly dull. For the first two hours, Chanyeol took a nap, but the for the next two, he sat listening to his music and watching videos to pass the time. When he woke up, he had a billion texts from the group chat he had with Junmyeon, Baekhyun, and Sehun, all impatiently waiting for his return. Chanyeol searched through his other messages, hoping to find one from me, but there was none. He knew that I was working, but it didn’t stop him from texting me. Yet, they were all just pictures of himself, his reasons rooted in the fact that I could “forget how handsome he is.”

He reached Schenectady at around nine o’clock, and once he stepped out of the train and into the vastness of the station, his friends ran at the sight of him, immediately pulling him into a group hug. 

“Ugh, you smell disgusting.” Baekhyun fake-gagged, making the others laugh.

“I took a shower this morning. Maybe it’s all of you.”  Chanyeol retorted, pulling them away.

“Yeah, you know what, it probably is me. I had sex this morning.” Sehun proudly announced much to the disgust of his friends. Junmyeon slapped his arm, but Sehun just crossed his arms confidently.

“So, was it with your girlfriend or a girl - friend?”

Sehun patted Chanyeol’s shoulder lightly, “You know I don’t make friends with girls.”

Chanyeol rolled his eyes, and Junmyeon had a repelled expression. Baekhyun looked at Sehun as if he was going to cry proud tears. 

Approaching Sehun, Baekhyun patted his chest hard, “Look at you, taking after me.”

“You guys are disgusting.” Junmyeon still had the same appalled face.

“Oh, you’re one to talk mister ‘I had sex in the back of the library.’” Baekhyun had his eyebrows raised with a sly smirk. 

Chanyeol put a hand over his mouth, an accusatory look in his eyes, “You did it in the library? What the hell is wrong with you?”

Junmyeon looked slightly panicked, stuttering over his words as he tried to speak. “O-okay, y-yes I-I did do that, but but Baek fucked a girl at the car wash and Sehun literally had sex with a girl and her parents were in the house!”

All three of them started arguing, offended by each other’s jabs, while Chanyeol watched, thankful that he wasn’t like them.

Chanyeol interjected the arguing that quickly escalated to yelling, “Okay okay okay okay. All of you shut up. We need to go home so I can fix your guys’ mess.”

They calmed down, huffing a little in anger before giving each other a nod that meant they were all good. 

The atmosphere became bubbly again as they rode in the car, their music blasting through the open windows. It didn’t take long for them to arrive, and once Chanyeol stepped out of the car, his surroundings felt like a distant memory.

The entire time that he had been with me felt like more than what it really was. It became the new normal for him, for the both of us. He admitted in his mind that he had forgotten about his life upstate for a while, too immersed in the beautiful present he had with me. But, I wasn’t with him and he had to endure it. He missed me, but couldn’t voice it either. He still hadn’t told them about me, and the guilt he suppressed found him again. 

Entering the house, he was horrified. They hadn’t bothered to clean up at all in preparation for his return, and if anything, it was dirtier. Chanyeol set his bag in his room before going into the kitchen to inspect everything.

“While I do this, can you guys please clean the house? All of the cleaning stuff is in the garage. Mop, dust, vacuum, throw all of this trash away, and do your laundry.” Chanyeol began with a pleading tone, but shifted into a demanding one.

They all whimpered and whined at his requests, but conceded when he suggested they switch roles. 

“Fine, Sir Chanyeol. We’ll clean the Chateau.” Baekhyun jokingly bowed, Junmyeon and Sehun following his lead. 

“Oh my god, just go!” Chanyeol motioned for them to go away, and they jumped at his abruptness, scattering toward the garage and laughing.

Chanyeol crouched down, opening the cabinet underneath the sink. He stepped back once the pungency inside attacked him. There was a huge bowl underneath the leaking pipe, and it was a dark sewer green, bubbling with remnants of god knows what. 

He got up immediately to save his nose, and looked around more. The first thing he noticed was the microwave that looked like it was seconds from falling apart, and the next thing were the doorless cabinets, the detached doors all stacked near the garbage can. He opened the fridge, remembering that it had no light. The only thing in there were cases of alcohol and a flashlight. Chanyeol wanted so badly to shut the fridge door aggressively out of frustration, but he fought against it, closing it gently instead. 

The trio came out of the garage with all of their cleaning supplies, and were oddly compliant. They all started in the gigantic living room, designating different jobs for each other. If the kitchen wasn’t in such a gross state, he would have been proud of them for actually listening to him. As he passed their cleaning figures on the way to the garage, he looked at them disapprovingly. 

The only one who noticed was Junmyeon, who looked more apologetic than anything. Chanyeol shook his head at him before disappearing to get everything he needed. He carried trash bags, protective glasses, gloves, masks, and a toolbox to the kitchen. He put on all of his protective gear before crouching down to fix the pipes underneath the sink. It would have taken less time if there wasn’t so much gunk inside of it. He tried his best to detach the pipe, but it wouldn’t budge at all. Everything inside had found its way out of the seams, and because it sat untouched, the gunk hardened on the outside. 

Chanyeol felt defeated as he sat on the floor, wondering how he was going to get the pipe out. He resorted to drenching the outside of it with water and using a hair dryer to heat the pipe. His arm got tired holding the hair dryer up, but it was worth it. His idea actually worked, but once the pipe was loosened, an eruption of gunk flooded over the top and bottom of it, spilling into the trash bag where the gunk bowl used to be.

He cleaned everything up, then reattached the pipe. He made sure that there were no leaks, and once he did, he leaned over the counter, exhausted. This one task already drained Chanyeol’s energy, and his stomach growled at him, begging for food. 

“Damn, you look like hell.” Baekhyun walked over to the island, sitting down on one of the chairs to inspect Chanyeol’s state. 

“Because of how disgusting all of you are.” Chanyeol snapped, his head drooping down low, threatening to crash onto the counter.

Junmyeon came up behind him, grabbing his shoulders reassuringly, “Sorry we’re making you do this. It’s just, you know we would do more bad than good.” 

Sehun found his place on Chanyeol’s right, leaning his elbows on the counter, “If it makes you feel better, we did try to fix this stuff. The microwave doesn’t work and we tried to take it off of the wall, but somehow we broke the bottom of it. We gave up after that.” 

Chanyeol lifted his head, taking off the glasses and mask he was still wearing, “What would make me feel better is some food. I’m not buying though.”

Baekhyun stood up from the chair, bowing again, “Anything for you Sir Chanyeol! But, you might want to take a shower again. You stink. Bad.” 

The four of them decided on a burger place they had gone to all through college, suddenly feeling the appeal of nostalgia. When they walked in, every worker recognized them, motioning the boys to sit down at the booth they had always sat at.

The owner’s name was Penny, a short lovely woman with silver, curly hair, and the minute she saw Chanyeol, she hugged him tightly. “You’re back! It’s never the same when it’s just the three of them.”

“Ouch, Penny. I’m hurt. You know you’re the love of my life.” Baekhyun pouted, rubbing his heart. 

She grinned at him, laughing at his usual antics, “Oh, you know I love you all. So, what will it be? The usuals, right?” 

They nodded happily, and she whisked herself away toward the kitchen. Chanyeol was habitually checking his phone, eagerly anticipating my texts, and trying to be sly about it. 

“What’s so interesting on your phone that you have to keep looking at it every five seconds?” Sehun squinted, eyeing him suspiciously.

Baekhyun and Junmyeon were on the edge of their seats, hoping to get a juicy answer.

“I’m just checking on Halmeoni. You know how she gets worried when I leave.” 

They all groaned, rolling their eyes.

“You’ve been gone for what...a month and half? Something interesting must have happened.” Junmyeon urged in a whiny tone.

“Th-there’s nothing. It’s just the same as it’s always been. I help Halmeoni out at the shop, and I just...am there.”

Sehun looked away disapprovingly, not believing a word that he was saying, “Okay, whatever, but you seemed all worked up over that ‘event’ you were talking about.”

“Yeah, you were all ‘I have an event to go to and I’m expected to be there blah blah blah.’” Bakehyun imitated Chanyeol’s deep voice, making Sehun and Junmyeon laugh loudly. 

Chanyeol was serious though, shrugging his shoulders, “Well, I’m here now, right? Don’t worry about it.”

“Fine, fine, we’ll stop bothering you about everything, since you’re so dodgy.” Sehun surrendered, leaning back into the booth with his arms crossed. 

“Thank you. So why is-” Chanyeol began to speak, but was interrupted by the vibration of his phone in his pocket. His eyes lit up and his heart started beating irregularly fast as he quickly grabbed it, hoping that it would be me. He couldn’t contain the grin on his face as the screen read my name. 

He jumped out of the booth to take the call, almost hurdling Penny as she arrived with their food. She turned around, confused then looked at the boys in the booth for answers. They were just as stunned and confused as she was.

“What was that all about?” Penny asked, placing everyone’s plates in front of them.

They shrugged their shoulders at her question, then thanked her profusely for the food.

“I fucking knew there was a girl. You think he’s that excited to talk to his grandma?” Sehun scoffed, biting into his burger. 

“You’re so right. He’s such a little liar. Why wouldn’t he tell us though?” Junmyeon had a distressed tone, contemplating the reasons in his head.

Baekhyun and Sehun both laughed mischeviously in unison.

“Come on, isn’t it obvious? If she was his girlfriend, he definitely would have told us. But, he didn’t. Why? Because they’re not together.” Baekhyun explained, looking at Sehun who was nodding his head.

Junmyeon pieced together their reasoning in his head, glaring at them, “You guys really just have no boundaries, huh?”

“What? Chanyeol can like that girl all he wants, but if she meets me and just so happens to want me instead, then...I have to give the girl what she wants.” Baekhyun licked his lips as he leaned back into the seat. 

Sehun jeered at Baekhyun, a lopsided grin forming on his face, “As if she would want you. Clearly, I’m the better option.”

“Please guys, whoever this girl is, she wouldn’t want either of you.” Junmyeon smirked, satisfied at his jab.

“Oh, but she’d want you instead, of course.” Sehun responded sarcastically.

Junmyeon nodded, pursing his lips, “It’s entirely possible.”

The booth was bursting with laughter after his simple response, and Penny called out from the kitchen, urging them to eat the food before it got too cold. They listened, chomping down on their food, while Chanyeol’s sat untouched. 

Outside, he felt warmth engulf him as he heard my voice.

“June, hi!” 

“Hi! Sorry, are you busy right now?” 

“No, no not at all. What’s up?”

“Nothing, I just wanted to talk to you. How’s it been back?”

“Well, I fixed the pipe under the sink, and it was disgusting. It took way longer than it should have.”

“Okay, but the fact that you could fix it by yourself is impressive.” 

“What can I say? I’m a regular handy-man. Anyway though, what have you been up to?” 

“Besides trying to remember how handsome your face is...I’ve just been working.”

Chanyeol blushed, the smile he already had growing wider, “Do you need another refresher or are you good?”

I laughed, “Well, you sent a million so I’m okay. So, you’re just going to be working on the house all day?”

“Yeah, basically. I’m going to try and do everything as fast as possible. Maybe I can still make it.”

“Chanyeol, I really appreciate that you would do that for me, but it’s all tiring work. If you rush, you’ll just be exhausted by the time you get here, and I’d feel bad. Just get here when you can and spend some time with your friends.”

Chanyeol let out a defeated tone, “Okay, okay. But what are you going to do while I’m gone?”

June squealed into the phone, unable to conceal her excitement, “Later, I’m going over to Kai’s to try on the dress he made me, and then we’re going to have a sleepover.”

Chanyeol gulped, “A-a sleepover?”

“Yeah, Halmeoni’s making the desserts for tomorrow, and she said that it would be better if I just slept over because she wouldn’t be able to spend the day with me, and I have to get ready at Kai’s anyway.”

A fuming jealousy seeped through him, but he remembered the moments we shared the night before. Things were different between us, and that calmed him down.

“Oh. Yo-you’re not gonna be sleeping in the same bed, right?”

“I’m sleeping on the couch, but I don’t even know how I’m going to sleep without you.”

Chanyeol paused, looking down at his feet sadly, “Yeah, me too.”

In my heart, I felt his sadness, “I’ll just call you when I’m about to go to sleep, maybe it’ll help.” 

“I like that idea. I’ll be waiting for that call.”

“Okay, I’ll talk to you then, Chanyeol. Don’t think about me too much.” 

Chanyeol whimpered at my words, “You’re literally all I think about.”

I hummed happily, wishing that he could see my eyes sparkle as I thought about him.

[reckoningss]

Mercy Springs - One

Summary: Mercy Booker holds these truths to be self-evident: animals are significantly more relatable than people, and working as a veterinary tech in a sleepy little town is as close to the “good life” as she’s going to get. When a strange man shows up at her clinic after hours with an injured dog, she has a decision to make - go on living the quiet life she’s come to know or open the door to the exhilarating unknown.

Pairing: Pete Castiglione/Frank Castle x OC (Mercy Booker)

Warnings: Animal death, allusions to blood

Wordcount: 2k

A/N: Starting a new series as if I’m in any way consistent or disciplined. We’ll see how this goes.

Mrs. Haskell was in tears. More accurately, she was wracked with pitiful, blubbering sobs that shook her shoulders and dripped tears and God knows what down the front of her worn, magenta hoodie. Mercy rubbed her shuddering back and try, unsuccessfully, for a comforting smile. 

Wednesdays were the worst. 

It was no coincidence either; Dr. Liebovitz scheduled the majority of his euthanizations on Wednesdays and Mercy - as his primary veterinary tech - attended all of them. By his reasoning, Wednesday wasn’t early enough in the week to compound the misery of a Monday and wasn’t late enough to spoil the weekend. She had to admit there might have been something to his logic. 

Mercy removed her hand from Mrs. Haskell’s back and gently grasped her forearm instead. “Hey.” She infused her voice with a measure of authority - warm consternation. Mrs. Haskell lifted her face out of her hands and gazed at her with watery eyes. All of the crying had painted her face with a mosaic of creamy red and pink splotches. Mercy smiled again. 

“It’s time.” 

Her lip quivered and more fat tears escaped the corners of her eyes. “Oh, Mercy, I don’t think I can watch. I can’t go in there.”

Mercy squeezed the older woman’s wrist and willed her to meet her eye. “You have to. The last thing Boomer sees shouldn’t be me.”

Jeanie Haskell choked out another sob and screwed her face up in agony. “Bu-”

“But nothing.” Mercy cut her off decidedly, leveraging her burgeoning talent for providing comfort and chastisement in the same breath, “You’re his entire world. He deserves to have you there.” 

Her sobs quieted to gasping whimpers as Mercy walked over behind the reception desk and plucked two tissues from the strategically placed Kleenex box. Returning, she folded them gently into Mrs. Haskell’s hands and rubbed her back again. 

“It’s going to be alright. We’ll be right there with you.”

In the operating room, Mercy stood quietly to the side as Mrs. Haskell kneeled in front of Boomer and wrapped her arms around her neck. She’d managed to stop crying, but the old dog could feel the sadness rolling off of her and tucked his wide head into the side of her neck. 

Poor thing, Mercy thought as she watched the final embrace unfold. Jeanie Haskell had been bringing Boomer to Charity Springs Animal Clinic since he was a puppy - well before Mercy graduated from DeBrie with her associate's degree and stumbled into a job with Dr. Leibowitz. He’d been older but still energetic when Mercy first met him - fun, but more reserved with age. They’d had a few good years to bond over checkups and countless treats. But now at 11 he was suffering from the onset of bone cancer and walked with a pitiable limp. He just looked tired. 

Mrs. Haskell pulled away from her old Beauceron and ran a hand down the side of his long, weathered face, then, kissing his nose one last time, she stood and backed into Dr. Leibowitz’ waiting arms. The older man gazed at Mercy over the top of the wire-rim glasses sitting low on his nose and offered a wistful smile. 

Mercy took a deep breath and nodded. “Ok.” 

From her pocket she produced a treat - chicken jerky flavored, Boomer’s favorite - and offered it to the dog. After a cursory sniff, he took it meekly from her palm. Mercy rubbed the crown of his head with one hand and with the other, injected several milliliters of acepromazine into the dog’s rear. He twitched a little but didn’t respond. 

“Good boy,” Mercy cooed, scratching Boomer behind the ears while she waited for the sedative to take effect. “You’re doing so great.” Boomer blinked sluggishly, laying his head on the linoleum floor. “That’s it, Buddy.” Crouching, Mercy slid her hands gently beneath the large dog’s frame and hefted him into her arms. He really was a big dog - 105 pounds the last time she’d weighed him, probably closer to 95 now. She huffed tightly through her nose. “I’ve gotcha.”

Mercy laid Boomer down on the stainless steel exam table and smoothed a hand down his side. His black fur was duller than it had been in previous years but no less beautiful. 

“Oh,” came a breathy whisper from over Mercy’s shoulder. She stepped to the side so a sniffling Mrs. Haskell could step in and caress her beloved companion. “Oh, baby, I love you so much.” 

Mercy shared a look with Dr. Elie Leibowitz from where he stood across the table. The doctor looked good for 67, but he had sad eyes. Mercy knew for a fact that he adored his job, but it saddened him too, especially during moments like this. Dr. Leibowitz nodded. 

Mercy took another breath in preparation. 

“Ok. Boomer is partially sedated now. The acepromazine is going to keep him from feeling any pain, ok?” 

Dr. Leibowitz shuffled over to the corner and rolled over a metal stand. An IV bag swung lazily from one of its arms. Mercy carefully unsleeved a catheter needle. A pair of gloved fingers pushed back fur and located a vein in one of Boomer’s hind legs. She pushed the needle in. “We’re going to start an IV of pentobarbital - a seizure drug. At this dosage, it’s going to put Boomer to sleep. Then it’ll shut down his brain and heart functions.”

Dr. Leibowitz fit the end of the IV line into the catheter port and screwed it in. Mrs. Haskell hiccupped another quiet sob and buried her hands in Boomer’s fur. Big, anguished tears were rolling down her round cheeks again. Mercy watched as the liquid began to fill the drip chamber.

“It should only take a few minutes.” 

“You were wonderful, Jeanie, you made Boomer’s last moments very special,” Dr. Leibowitz murmured reassuringly from the hallway. 

That part was his specialty - the people part - and Mercy knew to leave him to it.  She could practically see him - one arm wrapped around the mourning woman’s shoulders, head bent in to whisper comfort to her. He always knew what to say.

She would much rather do this. The aluminum gurney bumped over the tiles as she rolled Boomer’s body into cold storage in the back. The body was stiff now, brown eyes half-lidded. The local pet crematorium would be by to pick up the body in the morning. In a few days time, Mrs. Haskell would come back to pick up the urn of Boomer’s remains. 

Mercy lugged the heavy storage door open and rolled the table inside. Boomer didn’t look like he was sleeping in the low light filtering in from the hallway but Mercy laid one gloved hand on the side of his lifeless face anyway. “You were such a good dog, Boom.”

Dr. Leibowitz was already disinfecting the table when Mercy made it back to the exam room. He offered her a quick glance overtop his glasses as he hummed. Mercy quietly went around the room, gathering discarded paper sleeves and alcohol wipes into a trash bag. 

“You were very good with Mrs. Haskell today.” 

Mercy paused in the doorway - the mouth of the trash bag half twisted into a knot - and peered at Dr. Leibowitz over her shoulder. 

“I mean it.” The doctor bent low to snatch a pen up off the floor, bracing a hand on his knee and groaning. He was like a very, very old tree. “Your bedside manner is really improving.” 

Mercy scoffed. “The animals think my bedside manner is great.” 

Dr. Leibowitz chuckled warmly as he shuffled across the room toward her. He cupped her shoulders and looked down into her face intently. “I know animals come easy for you, but the toughest part of this job is the people and they’re important too.” 

Mercy offered a begrudging nod of ascent before glancing down at his vintage timepiece. She raised a brow. ”You have a date to go to.” 

The doctor unhanded her shoulder to squint down at the face of his watch. His eyes went wide. “You’re right!” He threw his hands up and shuffled away from her at a determined speed. “It’s Italian night!” 

Mercy grinned and followed him to the lobby, tugging on the knotted garbage bag to secure it. Leibowitz leaned over the reception desk to grab his coat and hat from the hooks on the wall. She had to admit, he looked rather dapper as he shrugged the jacket on. His wife was a lucky woman. Leibowitz lowered the trilby onto his head and glanced back at her. “You ok to lock up alone?” 

“I always am.” 

After Mercy locked the door behind Dr. Leibowitz and lugged all the trash to the dumpster out back, she made her way around the clinic cleaning and shutting everything down. The hour and a half long process wasn’t half bad with some music to keep her company. Not to mention that she always saved the best closing duty for last. 

Mercy stored the empty mop bucket in the supply closet and retreated to the boarding room in the very rear of the clinic. A chorus of yips and cries met her ears as soon as she opened the door, bringing a smile to her face. 

“Hey guys!” 

It was the middle of fall and as such, the clinic was a little light on boarders, but Mercy didn’t mind. This way, she could provide their few charges with as much love as possible. 

A litter of kittens had been brought in by the local girl scout troupe. Small, fluffy, and vicious, they were all a wonderful terror to babysit. Then there was Bodhi - the rescue bulldog puppy in for observation and shots. Mercy’s peach scrubs were a dark, slobber-stained coral by the time she locked his crate again. Tinkerbell - the curmudgeonly old tabby - was still in a foul mood from her operation to extract a benign growth, but they’d managed to work out a decent enough working relationship and Mercy swore she felt a purr when she tugged gently on the cat’s ears. And last, but certainly not least, Stav the lionhead rabbit was little more than a big, hairy softy, desperate for attention. Mercy made sure to spend a few extra moments stroking his soft belly. 

Mercy finished up administering medication, checking stitches and refilling water bowls and offered the animals one last quiet ‘goodnight’ before turning the light out and retracing her steps to the lobby. It had started to rain while she finished up and she noted the patter against the wide plate glass windows with some relief. It had been a long day; she was just now beginning to feel the fatigue pulling at her as she dragged a hoodie over her head. She couldn't wait to get home, warm up a meal, drink a beer and fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Something flashed across her periphery just as her head breached the neckline of the hoodie. Mercy peered into the grainy bank of CCTV screens on the monitor sitting behind the reception desk and saw nothing save for the greyscale glittering of fallen rain. Maybe it had just been a raccoon. They were known to skulk around the clinic, ripping off whatever scraps they could find in the dumpsters. 

Shrugging it off, Mercy dug her keys out of the desk drawer and headed for the door. She flipped through the densely populated key ring as she walked, thumbing through until she selected the heavy key to lock the door behind herself when she left. Mercy pinched the thick locking mechanism between her forefinger and thumb, ready to rotate it counterclockwise and swing open the door. 

A volley of violent knocks shook the door and echoed through the nearly empty clinic. Mercy shrieked, dropping the keys and looking up into the bloody, frantic face of a man only inches away from her on the other side of the glass. 

Mercy stifled the urge to clutch her chest although she could feel her heart hammering mercilessly against her ribcage. Her hand fumbled in her pocket for her phone, numb fingers itching to dial 911, until her gaze left the man’s desperate face and made its way down to the massive, grey dog bleeding in his arms. 

Part Two

[oh-its-souichi]

Ultra- Violence

Part 4 

Overhaul X Reader 

Yo! 

l--o-n-g---a-n-g-s-t-y--f-a-n-f-i-c--a-h-e-a-d.

Yeah I gave myself to much credit this series should be finished in a few days.  

Warnings: Unhealthy relationships, physical abuse, drugs, Overhaul’s a bit ooc but eh,  LEMON (which I am absolute trash at writing so I kept it EMBARRASSINGLY short) , this part is long and the grammar is shite. Sorry. 

You stood prim and proper as always a kind and loving smile on your face completely void of any thought or emotion. At this point you didn’t even fell human anymore. You felt like an empty vessel. None of your senses worked anymore like they had been zapped away. 

Your arms and legs were numb 

Your head foggy 

Your ears unable to hear what was going on around you 

Hell you couldn’t even understand  word he was saying like you had completely forgotten how to comprehend your native tongue. Well that was until he uttered his last sentence. Six words you would never imagined HE would string along, forming them purposefully in a sentence. “You what?” you stuttered dropping your hands at your size, your mouth agape.  

He raised an eyebrow at your boldness repeating himself, giving you the benefit of the doubt. “I want to start a family.” He repeated. All the language skills you had built up over the years abandoned you leaving you to stare blankly at him, your mouth trying to from some semblance of a ineligible pronouncement. ‘A family!’ you screamed in your head. To bring a kid into this, no, his world would be nothing short of cruel. 

The likely hood of him wanting to bring the kid into the world for the pleasure of being a father was slim to none. If anything he would probably use it in an experiment as he had your parents. You didn’t know why though. He could barely handle being around adults let alone some germ bag kid. You paused your words your brain ticking at the word. Germ. That’s it. 

“Children are so dirty my dear” you said snaking your way across the room and to his side. Mimicking the same moves he pulled on you when attempting to be charismatic. “Can you imagine the sickness they would track home and infect everything with?” You allowed your voice to seethe as you bent down practically whispering the last part into his ear. 

Your voice made goosebumps raise up on his shin and he was reminded of the sensation of your lips against his. Playing along with your game he pulled you down onto his lap, running a gloved finger along you jaw, making you shiver at it’s tenderness. “But it would be from you my darling. They would be pure” his voice was plain as usual but you could hear what could only be.. adoration? 

You looked into his eyes watching them sparkle with something. Did he mean what he was saying? or was there something motivating him. A shadow of a plan that lurked beneath his coy words. “No” you said feeling the danger of your utterance. The twinkle in his eye you saw seconds ago faded away his eyes hardening in it’s place. 

The room around you went completely silent. 

He stared into your eyes making you shift uncomfortably on his lap, tempting you go hop off and run for the door, escaping out of his confines but he cleared his throat before you could work up the nerve. “Well that’s to bad my dear” he said.

Painstakingly slow he drug his hand up the back of your neck and into your hair, his touch like a million little kisses, like the feeling of feathers on your skin. It made you woozy, it made you want him. He continued up, making sure you felt how could he could feel against you until he got the the middle of your head and stopped. He toyed with the idea your obstinance was due to the the loss of your mother and that he should pardon your bad behavior but immediately shoved the idea away. He was never one for forgiveness anyhow. Suddenly he slammed your head into the arm of the coach, his masked face void of any emotion.

You gasped at the pain that engulfed your face, blood flowing out of your nose.

Tears begged to leave your eyes but you didn’t let them.

You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“Why would I want the father of my children to be someone like you.” you spit your voice muffled by the coach. He ran his fingers calmly through your hair staring blankly in front of him.

“Someone like me?” he questioned pressing your face harder into the coach causing more blood to gush out of your nose. “Someone who can’t love.” you said calming your nerves. He sounded genuinely curious. “You’re fucking sick. What kind of child wants a father who can’t even love their mother.”  

 He went silence for a moment seeming to mull what you said around in his head. “On the contrary my angel.” he said shoving you off of his lap and onto the floor, your body thudding harshly on the carpet. “I adore you” he said his voice laced with sadness and disgust. You let your head hang allowing the blood to drip onto the ground, staining the creme carpet. You knew how much your dearly beloved hated blood. You scoffed looking up to him only to see him turn his head away refusing to look at you. ‘Typical’ you thought bringing your hands onto his knees. “Why won’t you look at me? Am I to dirty for you" you breathed extending his name. His eyes hardened, fury growing evident on his face. 

Harshly he grabbed you by your hair yanking you to your feet.

He wanted to kill you. He wanted to watch your blood splatter your body exploding before him, popping like a water balloon for being such a pretentious bitch and bleeding all over his floor. He didn’t act on that desire though. You were to rare to kill.  Instead he studied your face loathing the blood that streamed out of your nose the bruise that was forming on the bridge of your nose. He had done it again. He was staining you.

“I adore you” he said letting go of your hair, allowing your body to fall back to the ground. You blinked in amazement. Watching him walk away. “Go to your room and bath. Be sure you are ready for me when I come to visit you.” You sighed giving up. You would never win. He waited by the door holding it open for you, waiting for a response.  “Yes dear” you said weakly standing up and walking past him and out into the hallway. He hummed pleased “Now go into your room. I will bring your noon meds. soon.” 

You nodded solemnly walking down the hallway and into your room. 

....

A few hours later, the meds. given having warn off, you sat sobbing quietly in your room. Your swollen eyes watched rain drops streak down your bedroom window. 

You had been focusing on a specific pink flower that seemed to be getting berated by the heavy drops, the tender little plant rocked clumsily with each impact. It  looked like the pedals would fall from the stem and rot on the ground below but you suddenly remembered how resilient flowers were. You had no reason to worry. 

To the right of you- you heard your door slam into the dresser you had used to barricade yourself in your room with, in an attempt to keep people, well, him out. 

“Y/N” he stated obviously unamused “Remove your dresser from the door now.” Ignoring him you continued to stare out the window wishing so badly that you had been born that pink flower. So you could have been planted in Overhaul’s garden, close enough to know who he was and for him to acknowledge you but far enough away he could never hurt you again. Part of you wanted to laugh at the thought. 

You sounded pathetic. 

Maybe you were

Having been so wrapped up in your own thoughts you didn’t hear Overhaul demand you to open the door once again. At your silence he sighed going nd fetching Chrono and Nemoto who were awaiting his instruction in his office. They heeded to his request and left to deal with you. Overhaul on the other having predicted what your reaction would be when the two men busted down your door stopped by is lab to retrieve a more potent tranquilizer. The medication required an injection so patiently he prepared the necessary supplies he would need to preform the shot. Methodically he retrieved a clean syringe and pushed the tip into the bottle of Midazolam he head placed on one of the counters.  

As he slipped the needle in he heard the door crack open followed by a weak scream. He pumped the liquid inside of the syringe cringing as he heard you continue to protest. “Let go of me!” he heard you sob your voice muffled. 

He wished you would have been reasonable and opened your door so he wouldn’t have had to go to these lengths but you forced his hand. He didn’t want to allow Nemoto and Chrono to lay their filthy hands on you but you were so goddamn stubborn. It pissed him off that you would disrespect him after everything he had done for you.’Ungrateful’ he thought walking down the long corridor until he reached your room. 

The sight he walked in on disgusted him.  Chrono and Nemoto had you roughly pinned to the bed, your hair was strewn around wildly while your extremities were shaking. “Continue to hold her tightly” he said his words feeling like acid in his mouth. “I’m going to be giving her an injection.” At his words you thrashed around until Nemoto shoved his knee into your back causing you to cry out in pain. “Nemoto Be gentle with her please” Overhaul said circling around the bed until he was at your side. Feeling his presence you let out a defeated sigh and relaxed under the grasps that held you. “It will be okay my angel” he said stroking your hair before calmly injecting the serum into your arm. After the liquid was dispelled into your veins, you relaxed.

Your precious body going limp. 

“Release her” he told the two men, catching you in his arms before you slipped off of the bed and hit the ground after they let go. Lovingly he lifted you onto the bed, he knew your skin was crawling with his assistants filth but that could be dealt with after you got some rest. 

...

When you woke up your head was throbbing, a pain like knives plunging into your skull. Weakly you groaned slapping your hand to your forehead. “Oh my gosh” you sighed at the pain at the pain finding it hard to focus your eyes. Desperately you looked around your, from what you could tell, dimly lit room. All the furniture that you normally would have been able to see was blurry almost like there was a thick fog surrounding you. “What did he give me’ you thought sadly hoping this wasn’t permanent. 

There was a cool breeze hitting your face filling your nose with the scent of rain. Involuntarily you felt your body take a deep breathe in reveling in the freshness of the air. Now that you thought about it you couldn’t remember the last time you had a breathe of fresh air. Overhaul didn’t let you outside and the window in your room was barred shut prohibiting you from opening it. ‘How is the air getting in?”  you thought attempting to sit up but collapsed back into your pillows. A groan escaped your lips and you tried again to no avail. 

“Are you awake angel?” you heard Overhaul say his voice like medication to your throbbing head. “Yes dear” you said swiftly not having heard him come in and attempted to sit up but stopped when your body began to shake.Overhaul watched you struggle his blank face covered by a thin black mask. He wore black pants and black button up shirt with the sleeves still rolled up from giving you a bath as well as dealing with his other experiment. 

He placed your meds as well as a cup of water onto your bedside table and helped you sit up, positioning your body against your head board. “Are you experiencing any discomfort?” he asked taking his hands off of your body, satisfied with your position. “My head hurts a bit and I can’t see. My vision is blurry” He hummed figuring the tranquilizer hadn’t worn off yet, nothing to be concerned about. “Take these. I included a pain medication to assist with the pain” 

Compliantly you downed whatever ever was in the cup desperate for some relief  and took a swig of water feeling the pills trickle down your throat. There was definitely more than usual but you didn’t care. After swallowing the last pill you sigh softly and blindly placed the cups onto the nearest hard wood surface. 

The coolness of the liquid seemed to bring you back to your senses. 

.As your eyes cleared you could see a new white door hanging off the hinges where your old one used to, your dresser tucked neatly against the wall. Embarrassment seeped into you cheeks, turning them red. “Thank you” you said to him hoping he would gloss over your mental breakdown, not that he was one to do that. “Anything for you” he sighed making you cringe. Here is comes you thought casting your eyes away from him to the window expecting his hand to latch onto your scalp and ripe you off the bed and hurt you until he thought he had punished you enough. 

Overhaul’s eyes lingered down on you taking in your face. You looked different than before almost... sickly. Your eyes were hallow with sadness, your skin sunken with the amount of chemicals he had forced into your system. Not that you were repulsive. Far from it. Even drugged up you were ethereal. 

Curtly he cleared his throat. “I had to do that to your parents angel. You know that right?” he said. You exhaled sadly once he pronounced the ‘S’ at the end of parents. ‘I’m sorry dad’ you thought picturing his face.  “Please not now” you sighed. He sat down beside you grasping your hand “No, you need to tell me you understand” he said a bit of desperation in his voice. 

You didn’t answer, not knowing what to say and let a silence fall over the two of you. Outside you could hear the rain continuing to thump off of the roof and you wished you were out there to feel it. He scooted your head closer to his mouth, his touch inciting a fire in you. ‘I love him’ you thought your eyes rolling back at the silkiness of his voice. “I did it for you” he said tucking some of your hair behind your right ear. “Because of them I am one step closer to riding society of it’s sickness and making it safe for you to live in, safe for our children to live in.” he said placing a render hand on you stomach making you flinch. 

He had never touched you like that. 

Before you knew it you found yourself leaning into his chest, the steady thrum of his heart beat soothing you as another wave of drowsiness hit your body. “if you refuse me though angel, like you did earlier, their deaths would mean nothing” he whispered into your ear. Your eyes widened in horror. 

In the distance you could hear you conscientiousness screaming, begging you to reject the poison (bullshit) but you ignored it being drug back by his voice. “The sacrifice they made was for you. They wanted us to be happy in a healthy world. Your not going to disrespect them by throwing that all away are you?” he said pushing you lightly away. 

‘How could I have been so selfish?’ you thought feeling guilt rock your body, tears welling up in your eyes. “Of course not!” you said embracing him in a tight hug, sweetly surrendering to him. He jumped slightly at your touch but calmed and smiled underneath his mask.

 He knew you would understand. 

“Save your tears angel” he said raising your head from his chest. Gently with his thumbs he brushed away your pesky tears, seeing the helplessness in your face. He had you in his trap. becoming completely dependent on him as he always wanted. You nodded and he could see your eyes wrinkle telling him you were smiling at him from underneath your mask. Gingerly he discarded his mask setting it on the bedside table then repeated the action and took off yours placing it next to his. 

Remaining still you watched his movements feeling a cool gust of wind run up your exposed back. You turned you head to the window only to have it brought back by his ungloved hands. He cupped your face carefully kissing you. 

Goosebumps erupted on your arms, spreading across your chest and legs. Without giving you time to adjust to this sudden display of affection he caressed you down onto the bed, his body hovering over you. Your head hit the soft blankets, his lips never leaving yours. He swiped his tongue across your bottom lip making you moan softly. 

 Cautiously you tangled your hand into his brown hair loving how soft it felt intertwined with your fingers. He responded by trailing soft kisses down your jaw and neck lingering on your collarbone before nipping at the skin. 

You moaned at the sensation feeling himself lift his body off of your and begin to strip off your nightgown. “Overhau-” you went to say before he cut you off. “it’s Kai” he stated sitting you up so he was able to pull the gown over your head. “Kai” you repeated back. 

He almost shivered at how beautiful his name sounded when leaving your lips. It almost made him want to bring it back so he could hear you say it all the time. You made it sound so clean. “Yes that’s my first name. Please use it wisely.” he warned. Whether it be the medicine he had given you or the rush you got from his skin against yours. but you found yourself giggling cutely at him. “Kai” you repeated. “I like it” 

He leaned over and kissed you tenderly on the forehead before standing up and removing his clothes. Neatly folding each article of clothing and setting it on your dresser. 

You stared in awe at his exposed chest, the skin had always been hidden away from you. A gentle smile spread across your face and you motioned for him to come back. With a shaky breathe he did so. Crawling back onto the bed he separated your thighs with each one of his knees positioning himself between them. You could already feel the wetness of your core and looking down at Kai you saw he was plenty ready as well. He shot you a cautious glance as he lined himself up with your entrance. Seeing his hesitance you nodded and smiled lightly seeming to give him the confidence he needed. 

Pressing a chaste kiss on your forehead he pushed himself inside of you shivering at the sensation. “Kai” you moaned feeling him pump himself steadily in and out of you his eyes never once leaving your face. He was so beautiful. You felt your cheeks flush under his charming gaze small moans leaving your mouth. 

 Silently he worshiped the little sounds you made, revering the way you moaned his name quickening his pace so he could hear more. 

The two of you continued on well into the night until he met his release and collapsed on top of you breathing heavily. You ran your fingers through his hair appreciating the small moment between the two of you. “I adore you” he said lowly, relaxing under the feeling of your fingertips massaging his scalp. 

[ohprettyweeper-moved]

Caught on Fire

Part 7

Summary: You run into Chad for the first time since his return, and the night is kind of downhill from there.   Pairing: Josh Dun x Reader Word Count: 1420 Warnings: Trauma & Drama. Patient death. Sadness. A/N: Sorry if you caught the first part of this that wasn’t entirely ready to post. That’s what I get for being distracted when I set up a post! 

Series Masterlist

“Now there’s a face I’ve been waiting to see.”

You cringed before looking up from the charting you had been working on. “Chad. Hi. Heard you were back.”

He nodded. “I’ve missed you, Y/N.”

You locked out the computer and snorted, pushing out of the chair. “Yeah, I’m sure you have — but did you miss me as much as you missed the other girls you were screwing while we were together?”

You stopped at the IV box on the counter in front of you to pick up a few supplies before heading toward a patient’s room to start an IV for pain meds. Chad followed you; hearing his heavy boots against the linoleum floor, you turned on your heel to face him again. You had turned so abruptly, he nearly knocked you over before he stopped walking.

“What are you even doing here? Why are you following me?”

Chad crossed his arms over his broad chest. “We brought in a chest pain. Saw you were working, thought we could catch up for a minute. I really did miss you.”

“Funny how you didn’t even deny or address what I said about you cheating,” you scoffed, “but you know what? It doesn’t matter. You and I are over, and it’s for the best. I have someone new, and he is amazing. Amazing. Whatever it is that brought you back here, Chad, just know that I don’t care. Because I’m happy now. So … yeah. Bye.”

You gave him a sarcastic pat on the shoulder before heading towards you patient’s room again, leaving Chad in the wake of your happy life.

“Wait — do I know this guy?”

Smiling to yourself, you turned back to him before pulling the curtain back to the room. “Yeah, Chad. You do.”

You disappeared behind the curtain then, leaving Chad to sit and wonder, feeling a little better about the fact that you would potentially be seeing him regularly.

By the time your lunch break came around, you were certainly ready for that thirty minutes of freedom. After Chad had come and gone, the ER had filled up quickly, and trauma was not far behind. You had been going non-stop for the last few hours, and all you wanted was a turkey sub and a side of the homestyle potato chips the cafeteria made fresh every morning. A fresh bottle of water wouldn’t hurt, either.

“Can I buy you lunch?”

This time you turned toward the voice that snuck up on you with a smile. “Well, hello. You don’t have to buy me lunch, but you can sit with me, if you have time.”

“I have a few minutes,” Josh smiled, leaning in to kiss you. “Hi.”

“Hey there,” you smiled. “Bring a patient in?”

Josh nodded. “Non-trauma fall.”

You sighed. “Well, at least there’s that. We’ve been swamped. And, actually, you’re the second firefighter to sneak up on me tonight.”

Josh frowned. “I am?”

You handed your debit card over to the cafeteria cashier and rolled your eyes. “Chad brought in a chest pain and saw me. He was a little shocked when I told him I was dating someone new. Didn’t tell him who, though.”

“Sneaky girl,” Josh teased. “So if you didn’t mention my name, you’re not upset I haven’t told him about us yet?”

“Not at all. It’s none of his business. I mentioned the cheating, and he had nothing to say about it, just kept saying that he had missed me. My point is — there’s nothing left for me with Chad, except for drama. And I don’t want that.”

Josh smiled, but before he could say anything, his radio went off with report of an intense house fire. He sighed and kissed you quickly.

“We’ll pick this up later,” he promised.

You nodded, grabbed your food and your water and headed back for the trauma bay; no doubt your services would be needed sooner, rather than later.

Daddy! Daddy!

A child’s screams pulled you from your reverie as you waited for the trauma call to arrive. You knew that Josh’s unit was bringing the patient in, and somehow, you felt a little more stable for it.

Tyler was carrying a little boy, not more than six years old, into a room in the ER when you slid the trauma bay door open. The child was screaming and fighting against Tyler’s hold, reaching out for his father who was being wheeled in on a gurney. The auto pulse was working to circulate blood and awaken the heart of the badly burned man.

“Thirty-three year old male with what appears to be partial-thickness burn injuries to approximately thirty-six percent of his body. Patient went into v-fib en route, we shocked twice, but he isn’t maintaining a stable rhythm,” Josh reported while you worked with the rest of the crew to move the man from the ambulance gurney to the hospital bed. A flurry of action was taking place as the on-call trauma doctor arrived, another nurse helped you hook up monitors, and you tried to find a place for a decent IV.

“I want two IV’s,” the doctor requested, “what kind of injuries are we looking at besides the burns?”

Josh cleared his throat. “Patient went back in for his son, the floor collapsed under them. The boy was saved most major injuries as his father broke his fall, but he wasn’t so lucky.”

“All right, ultrasound, you’re up,” the doctor ordered.

The paramedics and a couple of firefighters stepped in to remove the auto pulse machine, and you were on standby to continue manual compressions while the radiology team set up. They would only have ten seconds before you needed to start compressions again; in the meantime, the respiratory team kept him bagged to at least get oxygen into his body.

The trauma doctor surveyed the image on the screen carefully. He shook his head. “There. The fall must have caused the tear in his aorta — it’s just shredded. A vessel like that — there should be far more blood flow. There’s nothing we can do here.” He checked the clock on the wall. “Time of death, two-twenty-seven.”

You stopped your compressions, stepped back off the footstool you used to give effective compressions, and snapped your gloves into the trash can. Your gown and mask were the next to go.

Maybe because you had seen the little boy before you had seen his father. Maybe because you knew what this man had done to save his son. Maybe he was just one of those patients that would stick with you for a while — forever.

Whatever the reason, you fought tears while you cleaned up the trauma bay. Two techs came to wheel the man to a private room where he could be cleaned up a little and the family could see him before he was taken down to the morgue. You bit your lip, took in a deep breath, and knew that the tears could come later.

Josh must have somehow known how hard of a hit you took; not speaking to him before his unit left had probably tipped him off. When you pulled into your driveway, Josh was waiting outside the locked door.

“What are you doing here?” you asked quietly.

Josh drew in a shaky breath. “It’s just … I watched that guy fall through the floor, you know? I was trying to get to him to get his son and get him, and get them out safely. It was almost like Zack all over again, but worse. I do this for the rush, yeah, but I do it to help people, too. To save people who should still have years ahead of them. But now, that little boy is without a dad, and the boy’s mom doesn’t have her husband. They’re on their own. And I know it isn’t my fault. I know that. But it still feels like my fault.”

Though your mouth opened a few times to say something comforting, you just couldn’t force out the words. You decided that silence was best, and threw your arms around Josh’s neck. His arms circled your waist, and the two of you stood there for some time, holding each other right there on the front porch. You waited for Josh to pull away, then asked if he wanted to come in with you.

“We can eat something, then get some rest. Together.”

“Yeah,” Josh nodded, “that sounds good. Together would be good.”

Tags: @takenvysleep​ @faceofcontvsions​ @svintsandghosts​ @adversaryproject​

[smashbuddies]

Part Nineteen: One-Up

It was a mystery just how long he slept, but when Daniel woke up, he felt stiff. And very much like death. His eyes ached, the pain throbbing back to his head and down to his throat. But thankfully, the curtains were blocking out most of the sunlight.

He sat up and stretched, groaning at the series of little pops that came from his back. Any other day he wouldn’t have slept on a couch- especially not Snail’s- but last night he couldn’t bring himself to leave the safety of their arms. And with them already snoring in his ear, what other choice did he have?

But now they were nowhere to be seen. Though the darkness probably accounted for most of that.

Finally standing, he made his way over to the window and pulled the curtains up. Wonderful sunlight. Though there would probably be more to see if there wasn’t so much dust in the way. But he ignored that- and the bug corpses in the sill- in favor of looking for Snail.

Not in the kitchen, surprisingly. Though he’d have to clean this later- he already made a mental note of everything he’d need to get from the store. If the smell was anything to go by, he’d need a lot of supplies. Maybe even buy them new dishes altogether.

A curse from the bedroom grabbed his attention. When he opened the door, he found Snail in just their boxers holding up two different shirts. It looked like they were smelling one of them.

“What the hell are you doing?”

They jumped like they’d just gotten caught with their hand in the cookie jar. For a moment, they just stared at him. Then sheepish, they mumbled, “Trying to find something clean enough to wear.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” he said with a quick glance around the room. It looked terrible. Clothes everywhere, more trash, and was that a mouse? It didn’t look like Captain Thunderblade, and he doubted they had adopted any more so-called pets. “We need to get all this back in order. First we’ll do laundry, then-”

“We?”

Daniel blinked. That wasn’t what he was expecting. He put is hands on his hips and looked anywhere but at them. “I… Well, yeah? I thought… Maybe you could use some help. And since I’m here, I might as well.”

“Oh. Uh… Thanks.”

“No problem.” Slowly, he made his way over grabbed hold of their hand. “That’s just what a good boyfriend does.”

They gave him a half-smile, still unsure, but apparently eager to trust him. And it warmed his heart so much that he just had to return it.

At least until he noticed how filthy they were.

“Oh my god,” he said as he pulled his hand away to delicately touch at a lock of their hair. “When was the last time you showered? Your hair is greasy, your hands are sticky, and I’m sure that the only reason I can’t smell you is because the apartment is already so bad.”

Their face grew more and more red with each word. “Uh… I mean…”

“Laundry can wait,” he decided, one hand on his hip as he pointed to the bathroom. “You’re taking a shower. Now. And once you’re done, I’m taking one too.”

“Fuck…” That was a guilty look if he ever saw one. “You’re not gonna be happy about the bathroom.”

Oh no.

Sure enough, the bathroom was like a scene from one of his nightmares. Mold, grime, all sorts of fetid smells that had him almost gagging. Slowly, he closed the door, and took a deep breath. “Change of plans. We’re cleaning that first.”

“Trash, trash, trash, laundry, trash, laundry,” Daniel mumbled under his breath. Snail’s room was almost livable now that he’d gone through most of it. Thank goodness he got those rubber gloves from the store. Lord knows he’d really need a shower after touching some of this.

With the room done, he decided to check the closet for anymore laundry. But what he found was a bit… Stunning, to say the least.

It was immaculate, and the only thing inside was his favorite blue suit. The one he let them wear the night he left. Carefully, he brushed his hand over the lapel, almost not quite believing it was there. And that it was so pristine. Only a couple wrinkles here and there- like it was worn once and never again.

The bathroom door opened behind him.

“Hey, I think the shirt you got for me’s a little too… Small…”

Daniel turned to them, and was met by very pink cheeks and a pair of eyes looking off to the side. “You kept it?” he asked, even though that was the dumbest question possible. “After all this time? I thought you’d throw it out…”

Their face screwed up, like they just bit into a particularly sour lemon. “No. Or, uh, yes? Fuck, I mean-” they force a laugh and grinned at him, but he could see the fear brimming just beneath the surface- “I thought if I kept it, you’d come back and see how well I took care of it and, you know, maybe think I wasn’t a complete piece of shit after all and… Maybe take me back or something, I dunno. It’s real dumb.”

That hit him like a knife in the gut. And when a stubborn tear ran down their cheek, it felt like the knife being pulled out.

“I didn’t leave because you weren’t good enough. You are,” he said. A part of him wanted to hug them and spill everything. But he couldn’t. “I left because I was… Scared.”

They narrowed their eyes at him, questioning. Another tear rolled down their face, and he understood why they didn’t want to open their mouth.

“It’s not an excuse,” he clarified as he crossed his arms. “I just… I let myself stop trusting you. Even though you were the best thing to happen to me. They had me questioning things. And they know me so well, almost as well as you do, so… They knew how to get in my head. And they reopened up all my fears. Like, maybe you were using me because I’m just a pretty face with a well-known name, or maybe that my fans would see you in a bad light, and it would change how they see me too, or maybe my show would go down the drain without my full attention, or maybe-”

“Daniel.”

His mouth finally stopped moving, stopping every little thought left in his head from spilling out. Now he was more hugging himself than anything, as if trying to stay safe from some danger that wasn’t even there. A cold fear that always kept him on his toes. One he couldn’t shake off no matter how hard he tried.

Snail took in a shaky breath, then closed the space between the two of them with their hands resting gently on his hips. “I get it. I mean, fuck, it hurts to hear, but like… I know. They did that to you.”

“No, Snail, they didn’t-”

“Listen to me,” they cut him off harshly. And sure enough, he shut up once again. “They did. Think about what happened yesterday. They knew what they were doing. They wanted you to feel… I dunno, useless or some shit. Like you needed them. Like you couldn’t do a fucking thing without them. But you can. You’re, like, so much fucking more than that fucking bitch.”

They were right. And he couldn’t deny that, not with that raw emotion in their voice. He slowly peeled off his rubber gloves, then his hands found their face, cupping it gently. “Thanks. But I wouldn’t be anything without you.”

“Okay, enough of this sappy shit,” they muttered as they tried to pull away. But he held firmly onto them.

“You don’t realize how much you do for me,” he said softly. This was strange to say. Too open, too honest, say something else, call them a dumbass, don’t let yourself be vulnerable. “You make me feel safe. Like, fuck, I don’t have to be perfect for you. I don’t know why, but you accept me at my worst when you shouldn’t, and you care, and I know it’s hard for you to show it, but you’ve got such a big heart. Breaking it was the worst mistake I ever made. And I’d give up everything if it meant taking the last month back.”

They let out another forced laugh. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” he assured with the most conviction he’d had about anything. “I took you for granted. Sure, they pushed it along, but this is still my mistake. I kept it all a secret. I lied to you. I was a coward, and I didn’t realize just how much I needed you until you were gone. There wasn’t a single damn day that went by where I wasn’t thinking about you. It was the worst month of my life, and I deserved every last second of it. But you didn’t. Because you’re wonderful, Snail. Even if you think you aren’t.”

Their shoulders shook, and tears streamed heavily down their face. Quickly, they turned their face away to try and keep him from looking. “What the hell… That’s too nice.”

“It’s the truth.”

He watched them try to hold back their crying, and mostly succeed. But it was time for a break from the overwhelming emotion. At least for a bit. Gently sweeping his thumbs across their cheeks, he commented, “You need to dry your hair better. Your face is all wet.”

They sniffled, but still shot him a “really?” kind of look. But then it turned into a shaky smile. “Yeah. I’ll do that while you’re in the shower.”

He pressed a quick, soft kiss to their cheek. “Good. And don’t start cleaning without me. I need to make sure you do things right.”

They snorted. “Uh-huh. Yes, dear.”

One hard look at his reflection made Daniel decide that showing his face wasn’t the best idea. Yes, he was clean and dressed in new, very comfortable clothes, but… It just wasn’t worth it. He could give Snail instructions through the door, right? They wouldn’t fuck things up, certainly.

“I know you like to admire yourself, but this is taking it to a whole new level.”

“Don’t look at me!”

It was hard to see what Snail’s reaction was with his hands on his face, but after a moment he could feel them grab onto his wrists and slowly pull them down. He scowled at them to maybe distract from his red cheeks. And from the unsightliness that he couldn’t fix.

“Uh, are you fucking with me?” they asked, one eyebrow quirked up. “There’s nothing wrong with your face.”

“You just don’t see it,” he muttered bitterly, turning his head just enough to stare his reflection down. “Ugh, there are so many things. Eye bags, crow’s feet, my eyes are too narrow, my nose is too big, and worst of all, I let-”

They grabbed his face and turned it toward them, which was the worst thing they could do. “You need to shut up.”

Now they could feel most of his issue. In a second flat, their expression went from frustrated to delighted, like a kid getting a present. They rubbed their hands on his face, not the least bit discouraged by the heated glare he gave them.

“You’re scruffy!”

“Yes, I’m scruffy,” he mumbled in a low tone, pulling away from their touch. He then gingerly brought his hands to his face and winced at the prickliness against his fingers. “I can’t believe I let this happen, I should’ve been getting up on time so I could shave but now-”

A kiss to his cheek halted his derailing train of thought.

“I think it’s cute,” they said against his face. Then they pulled back a bit and gave him a bit of a wry, if awkward, grin. “You know, I didn’t think you could get scruffy with how much of a twink you are.”

“Wow.” He huffed and stuck his nose up snootily. “I work hard to be soft and smooth, thank you very much. Beauty like this requires a lot of effort.”

Snail hummed, then placed a chaste kiss on his lips. “But not as much as you think.”

Daniel blinked and opened his mouth to argue, but they were gone before he could get a word in. Grumbling under his breath, he decided to drop it and follow them along. Cleaning the apartment was more of a priority than a dumb, pointless fight. He just wanted to pick it to get this nervous energy out anyway.

For once, it didn’t take much convincing to get them to follow along with what he wanted. A divide-and-conquer tactic seemed to be the best way to go. They’d take care of the living room, and he’d deal with the disaster of a kitchen. It was easy to tell which of their filthy dishes were unsalvageable, and once he got the sink clean, he work on scrubbing away at what few plates and cups were left. Though there were some minor issues that slowed his progress down.

“This fucking shirt,” he hissed as the damn thing slipped off his shoulder for the fifteenth time in five minutes. There was no way he could keep drying his hands just to fix it.

“Maybe you should’ve gotten one that fit better,” Snail teased from the living room, their half-full trash bag trailing behind them. “But it’s been a while since you’ve had to do your own sizes, huh?”

Daniel rolled his eyes. “Well, I would’ve worn a different shirt, but someone took the one I bought for myself.”

They stared at him blankly for a long moment, then pressed their hand to their face and let out a groan. “God, I’m such a dumbass. That’s why… Fuck.”

He hummed and went right back to rinsing off the almost clean cup in his hands. “Yeah. But it’s really no big deal. I like swimming in fabric anyway.”

There was a moment of quiet, then he heard them softly pad over and wrap their arms around him from behind. Their hands slipped under his shirt and lightly, almost hesitantly, touched at his stomach. “I think you’re pretty cute in big clothes. That off-the-shoulder look fits you.”

“It hasn’t been a full day and you’re already trying to get in my pants?” he asked as he kept on working like they weren’t doing anything. “Why am I not surprised?”

“It’s been a month,” they mumbled, mouth against his neck. Their pout could practically be heard in their tone. “And I dunno, I just love fucking you as much as I love you.”

What a Snail thing to say. Too bad he had to remind them, “We’re supposed to be cleaning.”

They huffed, but his argument didn’t deter them from kissing on his neck and getting more wily with their hands. “But I can’t help it… You’re just irresistible.”

“...Fine,” he conceded after a long moment. “Find me a disinfected surface to throw me down on and you can pound my ass until the sun comes back up.”

For a moment they froze, then they let out a heavy sigh and dropped their hands. “I’ll go back to cleaning…”

“Very good.”

Hours of cleaning, scrubbing, mopping, vacuuming, dusting, laundry, a break for dinner, organizing, rearranging, and throwing out trash, Snail and Daniel finally collapsed onto the practically sparkling couch, both exhausted.

Aches and pains shot through Daniel’s body- mostly in his arms and his back. He let out a groan, but was quickly silenced and soothed by Snail looping an arm around him and pulling him against them. With what little energy he had left, he curled up and nuzzled into him.

“So, uh, I forgot to ask this earlier, but how’s Daniyal doing?”

Daniel swallowed. “Uh. Well. I haven’t spoken to him in two weeks. But he’s been texting me, so… He’s still alive. I think.”

Snail immediately shot him a look. “Text him back.”

“But-”

“He deserve better than that,” they huffed out. “I mean it. Text him. Now.”

Wincing, he slowly pulled his phone out and stared at the number notification on his messages. Too high. But, Snail had a point. Daniyal had been there for him when they weren’t. It was the least he could do.

I’m fine. Things have been rough, but they’re better now. I’m with Snail right now. I’ll fill you in sometime over tea, I promise.

With that sent off, he tossed his phone to the side and turned toward Snail so he could rest his head on their shoulder. At least he felt that little weight lift off of him. It’d be nice seeing Daniyal again, after so long.

“Good,” they said, more gentle, with a reassuring grasp on his hand. “But, uh… Now I’m wondering what’s gonna happen with your show.”

Daniel took a deep breath. “Pretty curious right now, huh?”

They shrugged. “Picking up trash for hours upon hours made me think.”

Huh. Guess cleaning was the only thing that could do that.

“Well,” he said slowly as he gently squeezed their hand, “they’re going to try to keep it from me. Which will be harder since I never signed it over to them, but… They have seniority. And I don’t have much of a stable leg to stand on after what happened.”

“Neither do they,” Snail pointed out. “Did you hear what they said to you? I don’t think anyone will be taking their side.”

“It’s not so simple. People like to ignore things like that. Especially considering… Certain circumstances.”

The bitterness in their voice was palpable. “Like what?”

“Like my reputation for being dramatic and angry,” he said in the most matter-of-fact tone he could. But he could still hear the fear. And feel its chilling grip on his heart. “And theirs for being so… Friendly. Plus there’s a whole dynamic that makes my case weaker. Real men don’t let that happen or some bullshit, I don’t know. It’s all a mess, and who knows how long it’ll take to clean up.”

A gentle thumb swipe over his hand calmed him down. “Well, you know… I owe you one for cleaning up all my messes.”

He glanced over at them, and was met with full-blown sincerity. “You really don’t. You’ve done more than enough just by taking me back.” With a kiss to their hand, he added, “And by coming for me when I needed you.”

“Well, I couldn’t just let that happen to you,” they said, brushing his hair out of his face. “You looked fucking terrified when you made your, uh, ‘big reveal’. Even with all the yelling. And, well… I dunno. I’ll always come for you when you need me.”

His heart pounded in his chest. They turned their eyes away, flushed and flustered, but he brought a hand up to their cheek to grab their attention. Something needed to be said. And he wasn’t going to back out of it, not now.

Swallowing down his doubt, he looked them deep in the eyes, promising, “And I’ll always come back to you. No matter where I go, or how long I’m gone. Nothing will keep me away from you. Not even the stupid things I’m afraid of, or my show. If push comes to shove, I promise I’ll pick you every time. I love you, Snail.”

The hesitance was there, lurking behind their smile and teary eyes. But he couldn’t blame them. Not when they said “I love you too” so sweetly and swept him up in a passionate kiss anyway. This was just another mess to clean up. But he knew they could do it together.

All they needed was time and care.

[arewereal3000-blog]

Profiled Part 2

A/N: I am so sorry this took so long. I was in over my head this past week, with midterms and life in general. Hopefully since it’s Spring Break, I’ll be able to update the story more often after I get off of work! I also decided to cut down on how long each part is. If you’d like to be tagged, let me know! I hope you enjoy it! -Jamie

               Warning: Mention of blood

               Word count: 2096

The lights of the ER pit were bright, and shining down on an almost empty room. The trauma teams must have worked quickly, because when Kinsley walked into the pit of the Emergency Room, she noticed that it had died down immensely. There were only a few people left sitting in hospital beds, with minor injuries, the cards on their beds flipped to green, meaning they had been discharged. She continued to walk over to the waiting area, searching for Mr. Longstein’s family. In the waiting area, there was a woman who looked like she was in her early forties sitting alone. Her hands were clasped together, causing her knuckles to appear a bright white, while her fingers were a deep red. Her lips kept mutter what Kinsley assumed to be a pray as she approached the woman with bloodshot eyes.

“Mrs. Longstein?” Kinsley asked, holding her bright blue scrub cap in her hands.

The woman stood up, clutching her hands in anticipation, “Yes?” Her eyes grew wider as she watched Kinsley’s hands grasp at the scrub cap that was in her hands, she began to assume the worst.

Kinsley gave her a small smile, “Why don’t we take a moment to sit down.” Kinsley waited until Mrs. Longstein had sat down, and sat beside her. “Ma’am, I just wanted to let you know that overall, your husband’s surgery was a success, but there were a few complications during the surgery. We fixed the herniated disc, but he threw a clot in the middle of surgery.” Kinsley watched as tears started to run down Mrs. Longstein’s face. Kinsley grabbed one of her hands, and continued to give her report. “We were able to find the clot before any permanent damage could be done, but he lost a lot of blood. Even though there isn’t any permanent damage, we do want you to be aware that it’s easier for him to throw another clot, which could lead to a stroke. We’ve told your husband this already, but since he’s been coming out from the anesthesia, we wanted to let you know.” Kinsley patted the woman’s hand and gave her a smile, “he’s a fighter. He did really well.”

Mrs. Longstein smiled, and pulled Kinsley in for a tight hug, “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She pulled away from the hug, “Is he awake? Can I see him?”

Kinsley nodded her head, “Of course! Follow me.” She led her to the recovery wing of the hospital, smiling when the couple was reunited. She looked on for a moment before she made her way back to the ER pit to finish her charting on the surgery she performed on Mr. Longstein. Her feet hurt from standing in the operating room after being on them all day the previous morning. She sat herself at the nurses’ desk, noticing that it was already close to five in the morning. She began working on her charting when she heard the automatic doors of the ER open.

A man with his left hand wrapped in a white dish cloth stumbled through the front entrance. Kinsley stood up from the nurses’ station, and helped the bleeding man to an empty bed. She pulled the curtain behind her as she helped him to the bed to provide him privacy from the other patients in the room, and grabbed a pair of blue sterile gloves from the wall, behind the bed. “Sir, my name is Kinsley. I’m a nurse. Can you tell me what happened?” She slowly removed the dish cloth, trying to locate where the blood was coming from. There was a deep gash a few centimeters under his thumb that ran vertical for about an inch. “Sir, were you able clean the wound at all?” The man shook his head. “Alright, I need you to walk with me over to the sink,” Kinsley led the man over to the sink that was to the right of the bed. She turned the water on. “This might sting a little, but we need to clean it before we can proceed, alright?” The man nodded his head. She ran his hands under the water, avoiding placing the gash directly under the water. She pumped some soap into her hand, and lightly placed it in his left hand. “Okay, I need you to scrub it was well as you can, and then rinse it. Make sure you get all of the soap out, as best as you can, and then pat it dry. I’m going to get a suture kit. I’ll be right back.”

Kinsley walked over to the big supply cabinet that lined the back wall behind the nurse’s station, and grabbed the suture kit. She walked back over to the man with the slashed hand. He was now sitting back on the bed, his medium sized build slouching as he held his left arm with his right hand. Kinsley gave him a small reassuring smile, “the wound is a clean cut, so that’s good news. It’s not deep enough to see the bone, so that’s good too. I will have to give you some stiches since it’s still pretty deep.”

“Alright, I think I can handle that.” He gave her a soft smile, his hazel eyes shimmering a little from the bright florescent lights of the ER. He laughed nervously before continuing, “I got into a bar fight downtown. Out of nowhere this guy just pulls a knife on me. I stuck my hand up to defend myself, and he sliced it opened.” Kinsley opened the suture kit as he continued, “Luckily, the security guard got ahold of him before he really went to town on me.” He flinched as Kinsley placed the fenestrated drape cloth on his arm, lining the hole up with the gash. She looked up at him, noticing his messy dark hair and scruffy beard. “Sorry,” he said, “it was just a little cold. That’s all.”

She laughed nervously, he didn’t smell like he had been at a bar, and definitely didn’t look like he was dressed to go the bar. He had holey jeans that had paint splotches all around them, and a black t-shirt that also had paint splotches on them. “It’s okay. These gloves are too thick for me to properly feel the temperature. There’s an air vent directly over the medical supplies, so that could be why the cloth was cold.” She knew that the cloth couldn’t actually be cold, because they were stored toward the bottom of the cabinet and were sealed shut. She prepped his hand with iodine, and gave him a shot in his hand to numb the area. “You do have the option for a dissolvable suture, or a suture that you will have to come back and have removed.”

He gave her a small cheeky grin, “I’ll take the latter. Who knows, maybe it’ll be you who gets to remove them too.”

Kinsley started to feel uncomfortable. She gave him a strained smile, and started sewing up his gash. She could feel his eyes on her, especially on her neck where her tattoo was. She kept her breathing normal, and quickly finished up the suture. She wrapped his hand in gauze a few times.

She reached for the tablet that was stationed by the wheeling bedside table, after disposing her gloves in the red biohazard trash can near the table. “I need you to fill this out for me. It’s your basic information, insurance information, and then there is a survey we ask that you fill out. “I’m going to clean all of this up, but take your time.” She grabbed another pair of gloves and reached for the dish towel after putting the new gloves on. “Do you want me to pitch this for you?”

He glanced up from the tablet, looking at the bloodied rag. “If you could that’d be nice. I don’t think the bar owner wants that back.” He watched as she stuffed the dish towel, and the rest of the bloodied suture kit into the red biohazard bag.

“I’m going to go grab you some more gauze, so you can change it out. Try your best to not get it wet, and watch out for any strange coloring, smells, or oozing from the wound. I’ll be right back.” She walked back over to the supply cabinet and grabbed a few rolls of gauze. She took her time, avoiding going back over to the patient right away to give him time to fill out the automated forms. Eventually, Kinsley made her way back over to the man, noticing he placed the tablet back on the charger on the bedside table. “Here’s the gauze. You should try to change the gauze in the morning, and in the evening. You can shower like normal, but put a plastic bag over your left hand, and tape it or seal it to where water won’t get in. If you don’t feel comfortable doing that, you need to get a large waterproof bandage and make sure it covers the area. You’ll need to come back in about two weeks, so we can remove them for you. Do you have any questions for me?”

“I don’t think so.” He grinned, noticing Kinsley tense up, and he stood to leave, “I’ll see you in about two weeks nurse Kinsley.”

She watched the man walk out of the ER, and headed back to the nurses’ station. The other patients left while she was attending to the man’s hand, so she was alone, waiting for the next shift to show up, so she could give report and start the next shift. She worked on finishing her report when she heard the doors open again, making her look up from her work.

“Josh? You’re back already? I thought you didn’t get back for at least a few more days! Your name isn’t even on the schedule.” Kinsley ran out from behind the desk, and hugged him tightly.

“The misses missed the fur babies too much,” he joked. “Just kidding. Her work kept calling her, and we both decided that it would be best to just come back and try to do the rest of our vacation later in the year.” This made Kinsley laugh a little. “By the way,” he started, “A little birdy told me you picked up a bunch of my night shifts for me while I was out, so I talked to the director, and she said as long as it’s okay with you, that I could take my shifts back. You can keep them if you want to though! I won’t complain about more time off.”

Kinsley smiled, “I would love to give you your hours back. I haven’t slept in what feels like days! Working the morning shift and then coming back for the night shift isn’t the best on a sleeping schedule.” She smiled, “Thank you again for asking me to cover instead of someone else. It was really thoughtful of you. Maybe you and your wife could meet me and Spencer for dinner one night, you know, to pay you back.”

“I knew you needed the extra money, Kins.” He gave her a sympathetic smile, “I’ll talk to her about it for sure.” He glanced at his watch, “you better get out of here before someone decides to leave and make you stay!” He walked away from the desk, and toward the locker room, his black backpack hanging off one of his shoulders.

Kinsley checked the sign-in sheet in the binder by the office door. Everyone who was supposed to be there for the morning shift had shown up. She grabbed her bag from her locker, and waited out front of the ER on a bench while she ordered an Uber. There were six new messages from Spencer.

Aaron left because Jack got sick. JJ mad me get a cab. ☹

Cabs are so gross. I should have just gone with Aaron.

I think I might have broken the coffee maker?

Just kidding… I forgot to turn it on. LOL. My bad!

I love you, and I’m just saying that because I’m wasted. I just can’t remember the last time I said it.

Good morning, gorgeous. I crashed at your place last night, like we had planned. I’ll see after 2.

Kinsley smiled at the texts. Spencer was always a goof when he was drunk, and it was nice to see that he was thinking about her. She sent a text back, telling Spencer that she would be heading home soon.

[skyrim2526-blog]

Always part 1

“Little girl? I’m a policeman,” There was a voice behind a Three-year-old girl. She turns around and Rick sees a dirty child with a small muddy border collie in her arms. Rick startled the child and she fell on her butt and cried loudly. The puppy that is in her arms started to whine. Rick goes over to the child and as he reached for her, a walker tries to grab for him. He takes out his gun and shot the walker. The gunfire frightens the girl even more and she cries louder. Rick picks up the red-faced child and the puppy. She gets placed in the passenger seat of his squad car. Rick takes out a rag from his glove box and rubs off some of the mud and grime from the child. As he does so the child puts her hands in front of her face to make him stop but rick continues to get the dirt off her. " Sweetheart, I'm trying to clean you off," he said in a sweet and relaxing voice. "okay," she said quietly. She allowed him to get the dirt off her face. "Where are your parents?" he asked. Her right hand opens and palm facing inward. Her left-hand lays open and flat to form a base with her palm facing the sky. She moves her hand forward while clenching her fist. ~All gone but Daddy~ "Your mute?" he asked. She moves her hands again. The movement is a long narrow oval. ~Sometimes~ "Well, it's a good thing I took a class in high school".

Rick starts up his cruiser and drives to Atlanta, Rick runs out of gas near a farmhouse. He gets his duffle bag of weapons out of the car and also a small backpack to carry the child and puppy in. He finds a horse and mounts it. They ride the rest of the way to Atlanta.

As he gets closer to the city rick hears the girl begin to cry. "Hey, everything is ok sweetheart. You have nothing to worry about". Rick watched as her heterochromia eyes started to tear up. It made Ricks' chest hurt to see her like this. " Don't worry I won't let anything happen to you," he said while giving her a reassuring smile. She nods and lays her head on his chest while holding her puppy.

In a deserted Atlanta, Rick is overwhelmed by hordes of walkers who topple his horse and force him and the child to retreat inside a tank. Guided an adventurous young man named Glenn who instructs him via radio to make a run for it, Rick grabs a gun and a grenade and flees for his life with the girl. Glenn then leads Them to a department store, where they meet up two more survivors, Jacqui and Andrea. Rick immediately has a gun pointed in his face by Andrea. "You son of a bitch. We ought to kill you" She yelled. Rick slowly backed away from her with a hand on the backpack the child is in. "Whats in the bag!" she yelled. "Just chill out, Andrea. Back off". "Come on, ease up," said Jacqui. "Ease up? You're kidding me, right? We're dead because of this stupid asshole and he might have a fucking bomb in the bag!".   "Andrea, I said back the hell off". "We're dead… All of us… Because of you" yelled Andrea. "I don't understand," said rick. "Look, we came into the city to scavenge supplies. You know what the key to scavenging is? Surviving! You know the key to surviving? Sneaking in and out, tiptoeing. Not shooting up the streets like it's the O.K. Corral" said Morales. "Every geek for miles around heard you popping off rounds. Andrea: You just rang the dinner bell" T-dog said. "Oh, God. What the hell were you doing out there anyway?". Suddenly gunfire is heard and The girl screamed from the sound. Rick unzipped the bag fully to see her red face and tearing up eyes. " Great now we have another dinner bell!" yelled T-dog. The child began to look around and she stopped crying when her eyes landed on Andrea. She kept staring at Andrea but stopped when another fire ringed through the building. She covered her ears and snuggled closer to rick.

The group runs up to the roof. Roof Merle Dixon is shooting at several of the Walkers on the street below with a sniper rifle, killing some of them. "Hey, Dixon, are you crazy?!?". Dixon laughs and continues shooting. "Oh jeez. Merle: Hey! Y'all be more polite to a man with a gun! Huh? Ah! Only common sense". "Man, you wasting bullets we ain't even got!" Yelled T-Dog. Merle continues laughing. "And you're bringing even more of them down on our ass! Man, just chill". Andrea Quickly covered The child's ears right as Merle started cussing up a storm. The child looks at Andrea and held out her arms. She slowly picked her up and the child put her head on her chest trying to ignore the yelling.

Merle and T-Dog start to fight. Merle is beating T-Dog to a pulp and then holds a pistol on him. "No no no, please. Please" Said Andrea not too loudly to frighten the child. "Yeah! All right! We're gonna have ourselves a little powwow, huh? Talk about who's in charge. I vote me. Anybody else? Huh? Democracy time, y'all. Show of hands, huh? All in favor? Huh? Come on. Let's see 'em. Oh, come on. All in favor? Yeah. That's good. Now that means I'm the boss, right? Yeah. Anybody else? Hmm? Anybody?". Rick hits Merle over the head with a pipe. He proceeds to handcuff Merle to a pipe. " Who the hell are you, man?!" yelled merle.   "Officer friendly. Look here, Merle. Things are different now. There are no niggers anymore. No dumb-as-shit, inbred white trash fools either. Only dark meat and white meat. There's us and the dead. We survive this by pulling together, not apart" Said rick. "Screw you, man". "No thanks, I'm happily married".

A few minutes later rick and Andrea go downstairs to a shop. Andrea sits in a chair while holding the child. "She yours?" she asked. "No, I found her. Her family must have died but she says her father is alive". Rick spots Andrea looking at some jewelry. He approaches her. Andrea looks at a mermaid necklace on the counter. "See something you like?". "Not me, but I know someone who would… My sister. She's still such a kid in some ways. Unicorns, dragons… She's into all that stuff. But mermaids… They rule. She loves mermaids". "Why not take it?". "There's a cop staring at me. Rick chuckles. Andrea: Would it be considered looting?". "I don't think those rules apply anymore. Do you?" said rick.  Glass shatters and Walkers start walking in. Rick moves and is willing to shoot. Glenn and Morales join them. "What did you find in the sewers?". "Not a way out". "Shit!" yelled rick. They made their way back to the roof and looks below. As they do Glenn comes up with a plan but it's a stupid 50/50 chance of surviving kind of plan. They left a few minutes ago and everything has been silent till the radio goes off. "Those roll-up doors at the front of the store facing the street… Meet us there and be ready" said Glenn.

The group heads down towards the loading dock to make their escape. The Walkers break through the second set of doors and storm the store. Thanks to Glenn, Rick has the chance to pull in with his truck. Rick picks up Morales, Jacqui, Andrea, the child, and T-Dog. Morales quickly closes the gate of the truck and they all sigh in relief.

"Where's Glenn?" Asked Andrea. "He found his own ride," said rick. Just after he said that a red sports car zooms past them.  He is listening to music and screaming at the rush of driving down the road fast. "Whoo-hoo-hoo! Yeah-hoo-hoo!" Yells Glenn.