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tatumeyecare5 · 6 months ago

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Clearing the Air: Insights into Eye Itchiness and Ocular Allergies

Understanding Eye Itchiness

Eye itchiness, also known as ocular pruritus, is a common condition that affects millions worldwide. It is characterized by a persistent urge to rub or scratch the eyes, often accompanied by redness, irritation, and watery discharge. While occasional itchiness may be attributed to temporary factors such as dust or pollen, chronic or severe cases may indicate underlying ocular allergies.

Causes of Eye Itchiness

Various factors can trigger eye itchiness, including:

Allergens: Pollen, dust mites, pet dander, and mold are common allergens that can provoke an allergic response in susceptible individuals.

Environmental Irritants: Smoke, pollution, and strong odors can irritate the eyes, leading to itchiness and discomfort.

Contact Lenses: Improper hygiene or sensitivity to contact lens solutions can cause irritation and itchiness.

Dry Eye Syndrome: Insufficient tear production or poor tear quality can result in dry, itchy eyes.

Eye Infections: Bacterial or viral infections such as conjunctivitis (pink eye) can cause itchiness, along with other symptoms like redness and discharge.

Ocular Allergies: Unveiling the Culprits

Ocular allergies, also referred to as allergic conjunctivitis, occur when the eyes react to allergens in the environment. Unlike other types of allergies, such as hay fever or asthma, ocular allergies primarily affect the eyes and surrounding tissues. Understanding the triggers and symptoms of ocular allergies is crucial for effective management and relief.

Common Allergens

Several allergens can trigger ocular allergies, including:

Pollen: Pollen from trees, grasses, and weeds is a prevalent allergen, especially during spring and summer months.

Dust Mites: These microscopic creatures thrive in bedding, upholstery, and carpets, triggering allergic reactions in sensitive individuals.

Pet Dander: Proteins found in pet saliva, urine, and dander can provoke allergic reactions in susceptible individuals.

Mold: Mold spores, commonly found in damp or humid environments, can trigger allergic reactions when inhaled or come into contact with the eyes.

Symptoms of Ocular Allergies

The symptoms of ocular allergies may vary in severity and can include:

Itching: Persistent itching of the eyes, often accompanied by a desire to rub or scratch.

Redness: Bloodshot or pink appearance of the eyes due to inflammation of the conjunctiva.

Watery Eyes: Excessive tearing or watery discharge from the eyes, known as tearing.

Swelling: Swelling or puffiness of the eyelids, particularly in severe cases.

Burning Sensation: A burning or stinging sensation in the eyes, sometimes described as feeling gritty or sandy.

Managing Eye Itchiness and Ocular Allergies

Prevention Strategies

Prevention is key in managing eye itchiness and ocular allergies. Consider the following strategies to minimize exposure to allergens:

Allergen Avoidance: Identify and avoid triggers such as pollen, dust, pet dander, and mold.

Environmental Control: Use air purifiers, vacuum cleaners with HEPA filters, and maintain clean indoor air quality.

Proper Hygiene: Wash hands frequently, avoid touching the eyes, and clean bedding and upholstery regularly to reduce dust mites.

Contact Lens Care: Follow proper hygiene practices when handling contact lenses, including cleaning and disinfecting as directed.

Eye Protection: Wear sunglasses or protective eyewear to shield the eyes from allergens and environmental irritants.

Treatment Options

When prevention alone is not sufficient, various treatment options are available to alleviate symptoms and provide relief:

Antihistamines: Oral or topical antihistamines can help reduce itching and inflammation associated with ocular allergies.

Decongestants: Over-the-counter decongestant eye drops can provide temporary relief from redness and swelling.

Mast Cell Stabilizers: These medications prevent the release of histamine and other inflammatory substances, reducing allergic reactions.

Corticosteroids: Prescription corticosteroid eye drops may be recommended for severe cases of ocular allergies, but long-term use should be avoided due to potential side effects.

Immunotherapy: Allergy shots or sublingual immunotherapy can desensitize the immune system to specific allergens, reducing the severity of allergic reactions over time.

Seeking Professional Guidance

If you experience persistent or severe symptoms of eye itchiness or ocular allergies, it is essential to consult an eye care professional for proper diagnosis and treatment. An eye doctor can evaluate your symptoms, identify underlying causes, and recommend personalized management strategies to improve your ocular health and quality of life.

In conclusion, eye itchiness and ocular allergies are common conditions that can significantly impact daily life. By understanding the causes, symptoms, and management strategies outlined above, individuals can take proactive steps to minimize discomfort and achieve long-term relief from ocular allergies. Remember, prevention, and early intervention are key to maintaining healthy eyes and enjoying clear vision year-round.

Tatum Eyecare is North Phoenix’s premier family eye care center. We’ve spared no expense to create the most pleasant, comfortable patient experience… including the finest furnishings, the best selection of prescription eyeglass frames, the most cutting-edge technology, and the most outstanding team of industry professionals. Come see why the choice for family eye care in the Valley has never been clearer.

#phoenix arizona #arizona #phoenix #eyecare #eyeglasses #eyewear #eyeexam #eyehealth #tatumeyecare

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hurricanegroupllc · 7 months ago

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Hurricane Group LLC – Air Duct and Carpet Cleaning

Hurricane Group LLC – Air Duct and Carpet Cleaning, is family-owned and operated serving the communities of Atlanta, Alpharetta, Cumming, Duluth, Sandy Springs, Marietta, Norcross, Kennesaw, Roswell & Suwanee in the great state of Georgia. Our goal is to provide you with the best cleaning services possible done by professionally trained technicians. We have always believed in educating the customer on the importance and benefits of the air duct, dryer vent, and carpet cleaning for the quality of air inside your home… and for your own health. We use a negative machine, equipped with HEPA filtration, and a powerful air compressor and air agitators.

#Air Duct and Carpet Cleaning #air duct cleaning #air duct services #air duct repair

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davidhowardthornton · 3 years ago

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hi for the love of god hello! idk if youve answered this before but favourite kenstew fics?

OH BOY . OH BOY .

kenstewy fic rec under the cut.......

numb gums and nosebleeds by moonrocks

summary:

February 1999. Cambridge, MA.

Stewy is always chasing Kendall, in one way or another.

home is where i want to be (but i guess i’m already there) by moonrocks

summary:

Three days before spring break, Stewy and Kendall get locked out of their dorm. Emotions complicate things.

client kings by leoandsnake

summary:

It is really hot to him, how bad Kendall wants him. He’s a guy, so he’s not used to being desired like that. He’s not used to rapacious male eyes on him. But it’s fun. It’s a very different kind of power, to be able to put a powerful man under your thumb like that. No powerful man has ever listened to Stewy the way Kendall does — mostly they just tolerate him. (part 1 of the frat bros series)

altitude sickness by leoandsnake

summary:

“Us?” Stewy sits up and tugs his boxers back on, so he’s no longer lying prone under Kendall with his used-up dick out. “Us as in you and your dad, the guy who pissed on your office carpet because he was walking around tripping balls from having no oxygen in his brain and the one earthly thing he could remember was that he hates you? That guy?” (Part 2 of the frat bros series)

corporate patricide by leoandsnake

summary:

“To be clear,” Kendall says, coughing, “I don’t want to see or talk to Sandy tonight. I’m not, um, in the right mindset. This is good, though, for you… for you guys. No matter what happens with me, this is good for you, so, just, uh, keep that at the fore.”

Stewy stares at him, then demands, “Why are you talking to me like you’re about to blow your brains out?” (Part 3 of the frat bros series)

buy more stock in roses by skazka

summary:

Stewy and Kendall have a standing arrangement at Harvard.

vertigo

summary:

So, the axioms of Stewy: 1. touching Kendall, 2. getting away with it.

'cause we both know money burns by janie_tangerine

summary:

“Are you still wearing those trousers? The Armani?” He asks, noticing that Kendall has on the same damned pair he used to put on in college all the time even if it was obvious it didn’t fit right.

“Oh,” Kendall says, “I guess. They were a gift from my father’s. Guess I should throw them away. But they seem to fit now.”

“And do you like it?” Stewy asks, honestly wanting to know the answer. Surely he didn’t at Harvard.

“No,” Kendall replies at once. “Guess I could use ruining them for real.”

“Oh,” Stewy asks, “and do you need a volunteer?”

Kendall half-smiles back. “I guess it doesn’t mean you won’t stab me in the back if it benefits you?”

Or: three times in which they fuck under the influence and one in which they don't.

i don’t forgive you (but please don’t hold me to it) by moonrocks

summary:

After abstaining from the vote of no confidence, Stewy is looking to make it up to Kendall.

For whatever reason, Kendall lets him.

(Canon divergence from "Prague" in which Kendall agrees to "talk in private.")

and treat this night like it’ll happen again by postcardmystery

summary:

Kendall and Stewy go on the road trip from (to) hell, hide out and freak out and stop avoiding the hard questions, and come to terms with what it means to pass the point of no return.

bring your love baby, i could bring my shame by blamelessfool

summary:

Stewy resists the urge to roll his eyes, but just barely. He’s bored of Kendall pretending to hate him.

Cannon divergence from "Prague"

Clean Break by skeilig

summary:

“Is that why you’re calling me, you want me to– what, read the stock price out loud to you while you jerk off?”

Kendall and Stewy, after the press conference.

Inside Dark Corridors, Beneath My Ribs by s_endeavour

summary:

Stewy makes a late night visit to Waystar offices. Set somewhere between 1.03 and 1.06.

soap bubbles and champagne by moonrocks

summary:

Stewy visits Kendall in Denver, CO, but quickly realizes Kendall's attention is split.

Chemical Best Friend by s_endeavour

summary:

Stewy meanders across the coffee shop, catches Kendall’s eye and raises an eyebrow. Kendall is standing before he even realises he’s on the move.

After that scene in Lifeboats. You know the one.

#kenstewy #kenstew #succession #ENJOY BESTIES <3

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smrestorebycobb · 5 years ago

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5 Things You Need to Know About Disaster Restoration In Sandy Springs, Georgia

A disaster can strike anytime and can affect anyone. It is one of the many things in life that you cannot control. What’s within your control is how well you can prepare for it.

Knowing how you can best mitigate and recover from a disaster is an integral part of this preparation, and to be able to do this, there are some questions you need to ask yourself and a trusted professional.��

What steps can I take to reduce risks from a disaster?

Government regulations, like zoning laws and building codes, are there for your protection. They are designed to reduce risk to both life and property in the face of unforeseen events.

Not considering the fact that they are compulsory, comply with these laws simply for your own sake. Do not take shortcuts to save time or money, or you may end up compromising your own family and home or business.

You can also modify some home or commercial structures to mitigate risks like installing storm shutters or impact windows. This will help minimize the water damage restoration service Sandy Springs homes and businesses would need in the event of tornadoes in the area.

How do I know if a company is qualified to do restoration services?

Most reputable disaster recovery companies require that their employees have proper training, enough experience, and certifications. One way to ensure that they are a qualified water and fire damage restoration company Sandy Springs homes and businesses can trust is by asking if they are IICRC-certified.

The Institute of Inspection Cleaning and Restoration Certification or IICRC is a global organization formed in 1972 to establish standards for the cleaning and restoration service industry, thereby ensuring a high quality of service.

How do I know which restoration company is right for me?

A company’s reputation is another thing you have to consider to know which company is right for you. This is something no certification can give a company. Rather than merely taking the damage restoration contractor’s word for it, always ask for references and be sure that you call those past customers to find out about their experiences.

You should also ask a disaster recovery contractor whether or not they have technicians with experience in dealing with your particular type of catastrophe, and if so, how much. If your home has structural damage from a tornado, you will want to be sure they have handled these types of cases before. If your home or business has suffered fire damage, the cleanup crew will need experience handling smoke and odor, soot damage, water extraction, and water damage, as well as mold and mildew – all of which occur during the rescue efforts. Carpet cleaning and upholstery cleaning are essential, as well.

Do the services provided by the restoration company have a warranty? It is also essential to find out if the company offers a written guarantee on their work. Find out what, exactly, it covers, and how long the warranty is good for. Some issues may not become noticeable right away (such as mold and mildew), and you want to be sure that you are covered for at least the first three months. How can I contact the restoration company? Most, if not all, restoration companies can be reached by phone or through a website. But among all of them, ServiceMaster of Cobb stands out for offering the most extensive and reliable residential and commercial cleaning service Sandy Springs homes and businesses could find. You can contact ServiceMaster of Cobb at 678-264-3310 or visit their website at https://www.smrestoreus.com/.

#water damage restoration service Sandy Springs #fire damage restoration company Sandy Springs #disaster recovery contractor #Carpet cleaning and upholstery cleaning

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maaaaaatryoshka0325 · 5 years ago

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Good Kitties - Minsung X Reader Hybrid Smut

Warnings: hybrid smut, dom minho, switch Jisung, sub reader

Most of you caught on, but it was an April fools joke when I said I’d stop writing 😂 I’ve been off and on with a toothache and a migraine, so I haven’t written much.

Thank you to everyone who wrote to me and checked on me ❤️

Your fingers were tangled in Jisung’s hair, gently rubbing his sandy colored cat ears that were perched on his head. His sandy cat tail was flicking back and forth, his tongue swirling around your clit.

You and Jisung had just gone into heat, and Minho knew you both were. He had decided to see how long the two of you could last without touching each other for him, and needless to say, it’s only been two days. Two of the longest days of your life, actually. Your heats have been more intense, especially when you’re always around another male cat hybrid, and your master.

You both had very few rules, but here you both were, breaking his first rule: not to touch each other without his permission. You were hoping to whatever God there was that Minho wouldn’t come in, or wouldn’t smell the scent of sex that was starting to coat the air around you.

Jisung’s tongue was making you see stars as it toyed with your clit, his nails gently digging into your thighs as he slurped messily at your swollen bundle.

“You taste even better when you’re in heat.” Jisung purred loudly, sucking your clit between his lips.

“She’s always especially sweet when she’s in heat, huh Jisungie?”

Jisung’s eyes widened as they met yours, his lips detaching from your clit as you both stared at each other in horror. You slowly dragged your eyes from Jisung to Minho, who was standing in the doorway.

He was wearing tight black jeans that made his bulge too prominent, making your pussy heat up even more than it had been. His dark button up was open in the chest area, his pretty collar bones on full display. His combat boots clicked on the hardwood floor as he approached you both, and your bell jingled on your collar as you shot up, sitting back on your knees patiently as Minho walked over, your calico ears pressed against your head in submission.

Jisung’s long tail was flicking back and forth, his amber eyes slitted as he watched Minho approach you both. Minho gripped Jisung’s collar, bringing him close. Jisung’s ears went back, his slitted eyes dilating a bit. Jisung always showed submission when it came to Minho, but he liked to boss you around because he knew you were a good little kitty.

“Is there a reason why the two of you couldn’t follow one of the only rules I give you both?” Minho asked, shoving Jisung away by his collar.

You knew if Jisung were to try and make an excuse, he’d be punished, much worse than last time. Minho was softer with you, seeing you as his sweet little baby.

“I-It was my fault, Sir.” You squeaked out, your eyes meeting Minho’s. “My heat- it’s worse this time, and it hurts so much… Jisung was trying to help me.”

“This is surprising.” Minho said lowly, his hand stretching out to stroke your ears. “You always listen so well Y/N, did it really hurt that bad?”

You nodded, and it’s not like you were lying. Your heat was especially worse this time around, and Jisung offered to take care of it, so it was partially your fault. You didn’t mind taking the full blame, even though Minho’s eyes were pretty intimidating at the moment.

“Since this is the first time you’ve ever been bad like this, I’ll let you off easy.” Minho said, pulling your collar and smashing his lips on yours. “But unfortunately, you’ll still need to be put in your place.”

He beckoned Jisung over, who quickly pulled Minho’s pants down, his thick length springing out. Jisung strokes Jisung’s hair as the younger started to rub his length, stroking it to full hardness.

“I know your heat must be painful too Jisungie.” Minho purred, ribbing Jisung’s ears, making them flick. “So I’m gonna let you off easy.”

Jisung’s eyes sparkled at Minho’s words as he kept his hand wrapped around Minho’s thick length, running his thumb along the vein that ran along the whole thing.

“Y/N, come here.” Minho called.

You slowly stepped over to Minho, getting on your knees instantly as you sat in front of the both of them.

“Bend over.” Minho growled.

You bent over, your ass in the air, calico tail flicking as you felt movement behind you. You were about to look back when you felt a harsh slap to your ass, then the feeling of Minho’s dick slamming into your ass. You cried out, fingers digging into the carpet as he began to snap his hips into yours.

You didn’t mind anal most of the time, but when you were in heat, your pussy is what needed to be filled for you to be satisfied, and Minho knew that. Your loud whimpers were like music to his ears, and he smirked when he saw you dripping onto the carpet, the fact that he was in your ass bad not your pussy driving you crazy.

“Why don’t you give Jisung some attention, hm? Then I’ll decide whether you should have your way or not.” Minho grunted through gritted teeth, his hips snapping harder into you.

Jisung pulled his jeans and boxers down, his length springing out. Your mouth watered at the sight, it was swollen from his heat and the whole thing was an angry red. You quickly took him down your throat, your whimpers from Minho’s furious hips slamming into yours sending vibrations throughout his length. Jisung’s eyes closed as he pushed your hair out of your face, making a makeshift ponytail and thrusting down your throat. Loud whimpers left your lips as Minho drilled into you from behind, and Jisung was face fucking you hard, pushing you harder back into Minho. You pulled away from Jisung’s dick, looking back at Minho with pleading eyes.

“Please sir, I need to cum. I-It hurts so bad.” You whimpered, tears pricking your eyes.

Minho lifted you up, sitting himself on the couch with his length still buried into your ass. He stretched your legs wide, and Jisung sprung at you, his heat making him go wild.

Your nails slashed down Jisung’s chest as he rammed himself up to the hold inside if you, groaning loudly as he began to pound into you. Your shrill cried filled the small apartment, slapping sounds following from Jisung pistoning away inside of you. Minho was sitting still, knowing fully well that Jisung’s length swelled beyond what you could handle during his heat, and that he lost control during it.

Minho’s teeth sunk into your neck as Jisung continued to abuse your soaked heat, squelching noises echoing in your ears every time he entered you. Your eyes were unfocused, locked on Jisung’s aggressive, yet pretty, blissed out face. His lips were parted, eyebrows furrowed, ears flat against his head as he groaned every time he bottomed out, stretching you full.

“Master, can I fill her?” Jisung asked.

“Fill her, my good little kitty.” Minho purred his approval out, his hips snapping up into your ass, making you cry out.

Jisung began to pound into you at an inhuman speed, making you a babbling, crying mess. Your nails dug into his shoulders, drawing blood as he came deep inside of you, his length swelling even worse. A deep, guttural, growl like moan left Jisung’s lips, his ears flat against his skull as he filled you.

The pain from your heat began to subside, but you needed more, you needed Minho. Jisung pulled out, a flow of cum dripping down from your full heat. Minho’s hips were rocking into yours, making you whine.

“Sir, please, I need more. I need your cum too.” You whimpered.

“Where do you need it, my sweet kitten?” Minho asked, a smirk on his face as he pressed up to the hilt inside of your ass.

“In my pussy, please sir. I need you to stuff me full.” You whimpered, tears pricking your eyes.

You yelped when Minho threw you on the ground, pressing your head down as he rammed himself up to the hilt into you.

You cried out as he began to pound into you, his length sliding in and out easily with Jisung’s cum slicking your walls. His nails dig into your hips, leaving bruises in their wake as he slammed into you. You could feel Jisung’s cum splashing along your thighs, soaking Minho’s pelvic area. Minho’s fingers dropped down to your screaming clit, making you scream out as he began to rub figure eights on to your sensitive bundle.

“Cum for me, kitten.” He purred.

You came undone around him, a loud shriek leaving your lips as he latched his teeth into your neck, slamming into you as he came against your walls. Your legs twitched as your body gave out from under you, and you landed on your stomach under him, a flow of cum leaking from you. The pain from your heat was gone, and you let out a small, tired purr as you laid there.

You felt Jisung help you up, leading you to the bedroom as Minho followed the both of you. Jisung cleaned you up as Minho set the bed up. When you stepped out, Minho opened his arms, and you leaped onto him as you nuzzled you face into the crook of his neck, Jisung taking his other side and curling up, burying his face into Minho’s back.

Minho strokes your hair with one hand, the other gently running along Jisung’s arm that was sling over his waist. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, then turned and placed another to the top of Jisung’s head.

“My good, sweet little kitties.”

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heli0s-writes · 5 years ago

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winter dreams

Summary: Six months after a perfect summertime kiss, you see him again in time for the new year. Music: Death Cab for Cutie - I Dreamt We Spoke Again

Pairing: Reader/Bucky

A/N: 2.1k words. Pining & Soft Bucky. Holiday fluff. TW: references to cancer

A follow up to summer skin but it’s not necessary to read it first. This was written for @sourpatchkidsandacokecan‘s Merry Kismet Writing Challenge. Thank you so much for hosting! The prompt is “You owe me a kiss.”

It’s cold.

December reaches your childhood home in disappointing periods of drizzling rain hitting windowpanes, fogging the insides gray with the house’s heat. Brief winter winds ice the city, never quite enough to flurry like how it did in New York.

Yet somehow, it feels colder here.

You bundle up all over when it sinks into your bones. Blankets and two pairs of wool socks, knitted hats and gloves indoors, still rattling, falling lovesick and not participating in festivities.

Your sisters chide the melancholy, ask you to cheer up, tell you it’s the most wonderful time of the year incoming. Tinsel and allspice, brown sugar candles and the crisp snap of pine. A real tree propped up by the fireplace, topped by a burning red star.

You miss him.

The ornament glows his sigil and, you miss him.

Miss his eyes. His hands. Miss his damn shadow.

Thanksgiving had tasted like wet sand. The turkey and cranberries a mush of pulp. Basting and seasoning, rosemary and garlic, rubbing all manners of things down with butter… and in the end, no matter how you tried, the last six months crumbled like ash in your mouth.

Your father’s illness and subsequent recovery bloomed relief but it was still too soon. There was one more round of radiation and then, it would be over. The cloak of death could finally be ripped down, hung up elsewhere to shrivel and flee; he’d finally be free of cancer.

Six months after sweltering summer kisses on a dock and you were still sick with longing for Bucky. He calls rarely because your civilian life can’t bleed into your hero life; you’re the only one with family—the only one with a possible hostage situation.

Two conversations, maybe. With his low timbre saying hello. Don’t know when I’ll see you, but I’ll dream of you until I do. And the sadness in your gut volleys into hope—careens itself into balmy spring and the taste of his tongue on yours. The only reprieve you receive is in darkness, when you might be lucky enough to find him under a clear June sky, the two of you meeting in the middle of a midnight yearning.

The days between Christmas and New Years smear together. A foggy mess of unknown hours and habits, waking and sleeping all blurring into some kind of purgatory overcrowded with glazed ham leftovers and candles with names like Twisted Peppermint and Merry Berry.

A steaming mug is slid over the frosted windowsill on the 30th. Your youngest sister plops down on the sofa seat with a hum, pulling striped red and green sock encased knees up to her chest. Mind-reading. That connection between siblings.

“You go.” She states casually, and it takes you by surprise. “Dad’s doing well. You go. World needs you and all.”

Under a heavy quilt, you’re already quivering with preemptive heartbreak. A sip of your drink and the beginning of a protest before she puts up her hand, “We’ll be fine.” Then, a smirk and a roll of her eyes, “Figures. You finally fall for a guy and he’s probably Captain America.”

You bite your smile down and stay silent.

Voicemail. Even the automated tone repeating his phone number before the shrill beep gives you butterflies. War drums echoing from your chest. The practiced message you ran through your head sounds stupid no matter how many times you rehearse it. No matter how many times you’ve dreamt of him and this moment.

“H-hey... I, uh, I’m heading to the compound. Uh. Well, I think I’ll be there in time for tomorrow night’s party. Can’t wait to see you, Buck.”

A string of the dumbest syllables ever known to man.

The commons room is aglow when you arrive. Soft and brilliant in orange and yellow, warming up the darkness of dimmed lights. There are at least three trees on your way in, lit up with gold, then blue, then silver for the third, overflowing with ribbon and sparkling garland. Hand-blown glass ornaments refract a rainbow array of hues. There is fake snow in a trail flanking the velvet red carpet running inside, shaped meticulously so that it imitates a snowbank to perfection. Soft music hums from deeper in, harps and violins, and the smell of the fireplace crackling spiced woody notes soothes your bones.

Pepper’s outdone herself heralding in the New Year. You’ll have to apologize for dripping water all the way in, pelted by snow and shuddering head to toe.

It’s flurrying in New York, alright. Your chattering teeth are a testament to the temperature.

Natasha’s the first to see you by the entrance. A raise of her champagne class and you grin shyly, stepping in, wet boots tracking to the bar. Steve beams and rushes across the room, nicking off his conversation with a fan in the middle, throwing his arms around you for a hug.

“He’s in D.C.—does he know you’re— Christ, where’s your coat?"

You shake your head and quiet your trembling as you take in Steve’s pressed denim shirt and his slacks and hair neatly combed to one side. Clean shaven and handsome, twinkling eyes as he holds tight. Your shoes are dripping onto his and you chuckle, “I forgot it—too eager, I suppose.”

The gown you pulled on at the airport is an old one—silvery lavender with thin trails of sparkling tinsel. Worn once during an undercover mission near New Mexico and then hung up to sway limply in your sister’s closet because it was too beautiful to discard even though it smelled like gunpowder. The excitement of your arrival was too pressing that you’d forgotten the right shoes. Boots it is—black and clunky, the kind you’d prefer to have on in a fight.

“He’ll be mad you’re not dressed for the weather.” A silly grin as if Steve’s hiding a secret. Then, a single raise of his sandy brow as he looks down. The gossamer hem a darker purple as it sways over your shoes. “But maybe you can go barefoot for tonight.”

Sam is elated when he arrives, pulling you into a spin before his hand clasps onto yours and he sways all the way to the middle of the dance floor. It’s like you never left as he chatters on, making you laugh and cry, his steps goading the band to play faster accompaniments.

Three songs in and you’re reminded of how tired you are from the trip. Your feet are freezing on the tile and so you lead Sam to the couches, accepting a drink from Natasha’s hand before leaning into her, tingling toes tucked beneath your thighs. She plays with your hair, rubs your shoulder, and whispers that it hasn’t been the same without you.

“I remember this dress. We got into some trouble that mission.” And you know that look even without seeing it. Half-smirk, eyebrow up, the Natasha trademark.

You laugh at the memory. Gunpowder from her Beretta and the skirt hiked up to reveal your own pistol strapped tightly to your thigh. Beneath it had been a knife. Overkill, you’d thought, but it came in handy anyway.

“James will appreciate your sentimentality.”

The two of you had played lovers, and it was easy slipping into the role. Your heart flutters at the memory and how nervous you had been when his hand caressed yours at the auditorium entrance. He had bent over and whispered that you looked beautiful, and you snorted in return—a broken noise of disbelief.

“We missed you.” Natasha blows into your ear playfully, “You won’t believe how annoyingly long he sulked. If he’s not here at midnight, you’re getting a kiss from me.”

“Woah. I’m gonna kiss her.” Sam protests, leaning forward dramatically.

You turn to Steve with a grin, waiting for his bid but he only puts his hands up, palms faced outward. “Not me. I’m not trying to get into any fights with Buck. Had enough of that for a while, if none of you remember.”

A few more minutes of chatting and you dismiss your friends, shooing them back to their company and unwilling to take up any more of their time.

New Year’s Eve and you certainly can’t be the most interesting person here, you say. Check out the band, gosh, there’s a celebrity—and Tony, sweeping in with gusto to shoot a comment about how he didn’t even notice you were back but that your room is still in pristine condition, if you were wondering.

And you weren’t, but you thank him anyway with a wink.

11:50 and the back wall is glaring a projected image of the NYC ball drop. You stifle a yawn behind your hand, leaning over the couch lazily. Guests come and go, welcome you back, and you’re always a little startled when another stranger flits by to say hello and thank you. Everyone blurs together in a rush of sparkling cream gowns and silk suits.

11:55 and your eyes are shuttering close, cheekbone resting upon your palm.

11:58 and a hand is skimming up your arm, softly prodding, but you’re too tired to move.

Cheers and whoops. It’s so loud. Music crescendoes, Natasha placing a peck on your cheek along with a blanket over your shoulders and you reply with a wilted little smile. Then, you return to a familiar sweetened coffee black dream of someone tall and soft-spoken.

You jolt from the stupor with a gasp. The room has emptied and darkened, only lit by the soft glow of the projector spinning starry images. The blanket from your shoulders has slipped off some time ago, gathering to pool at your feet. Blinking sluggishly, you realize you’re no longer leaned against your palm on the edge of the couch.

Dusky pine and leather. Faint cool aftershave and the vital heartbeat of warm boy. Something heavy and buttery soft draped over your previously cold shoulders.

Another dream.

Yet, it feels more corporeal than ever before and the drumming in your chest strikes a thrilled beat. Your hands wildly pat him up and down, drawing forth his sweet laugh at your antics. You don’t stop, though, running up the neoprene vest, the straps buckled over his torso, his strong jaw and chin. Then hair, those long chestnut strands lightly curled at the edges, grown a little longer and tucked loosely behind his ears.

“Bucky?”

“Yeah, honey.”

You bristle in disbelief, distracted by the realization with some embarrassment that you’ve been sleeping on top of him for who knows how long. Stupid syllables stuck like caramel chews in your mouth, welding your teeth together in a solid disappointment. After spending six months dreaming about seeing him again, now you’re finally here and you’ve got nothing to say. Bucky lifts his chin to place atop your head, pressing kisses down and chills race to your fingertips and toes.

“Nat said she kissed you at midnight,” Bucky muses, and you can just hear him smiling how he does when he thinks he’s done something clever. “And what about me? You owe me a kiss, unless you’re all done with kissin’ for the night?” His gloved finger traces your chin, thumb pad rubbing over your nose, lifting your gaze until you’re staring up into his eyes.

Blue, blue, blue, like milky ways dipped in a cerulean sea. Behind his head the cosmos continue to spiral, outlining him in silver and starlight. He is beautiful in the night, brighter than suns. You want to sob and say Bucky, Bucky, if I’m sleeping don’t wake me.

Cheekiness snuffs itself out as he tilts his head with a smile, eyes roaming over your expression curiously. A statement begins in the silence of his thumb caressing your cheek, then brow, then making a path down to your bottom lip, skimming over the edge.

He punctuates it with a press of his mouth to yours. Hand moving to latch onto your jaw, then neck, then cradling your head between two and your heart hurdles all the way to the finish line.

“Missed you.” He murmurs, “Missed you a lot.” Licks to your lips and you vaguely wonder when he learned how to sweep you completely off your feet. Bucky tugs on the lapels of his jacket around your shoulder, crushing your torso to his. After six months of longing and anguish, you could float away if he wasn’t holding on so tightly.

“You look beautiful. Always thought so.” Fingers rub the lavender tulle and he smiles. You didn’t believe him then, the night Bucky complimented you and yanked the knife from its strap. “Like a dream.”

Now, you know he means it.

“Happy New Year, honey.”

Bucky pulls you fully into his lap, solid beneath your hands and flush against your torso. Real. Real. Real.

Winter rages on outside. Wrapped up in him, here, now, finally, you’ve never felt warmer.

“Happy New Year, Bucky.”

perm tags: @whothehellisbucky @serpentbaby @badassbaker @alagalaska @cake-writes @crist1216 @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @infinity-saga @jamesbarnesthighs @pinknerdpanda @xoxabs88xox @imsoft-barnes @momc95 @typicalangel @wretchedgoddess @readeity @iwannasail @ya-lyublu-tebya @geeksareunique @wildefire @satanxklaus @jhangelface0523 @wkemeup

#marvel #mcu #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #fanfiction #reader insert #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes x reader #ldmkwc

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 years ago

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tapestry 👑 XXII

Warnings: dark elements (non/dubcon, oral)

This is dark!(king)Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: King Steven had a wandering eye but you never thought it would fall upon you.

This Chapter: The reader faces the king.

Note: In general on the shorter side of the chapter scale but not the shortest one I’ve posted. I hope you all enjoy it regardless. Hope I have some time tomorrow to work on the next part but we’ll see. <3

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply! Love ya!

masterlist

You could see the capital. Lord Barnes had kept the pace pressing. He claimed so that the king had less time to seethe. You suspected it was as much to have his task over with. That’s what you were; a goal. An order given to him by his master.

You were exhausted. The winter had receded in the days since your flight. The snow had turned to puddles though the air still bit through your filthy cloak. You felt as bad as you likely looked.

You slowed as you saw the castle’s peaks above the city. Barnes pulled back his horse and neared with a stern look.

“You run, I’ll catch you again.” He warned.

“I’m stupid but I learn my lesson the first time,” You huffed. “Why?”

“What?”

“You could’ve let me go. You could’ve said you didn’t find me. That’s I’d made the port before you could catch my ship.”

“He’d know.” He sounded as distraught as you felt. “It’s the reason he keeps me around. I find people. It’s what I do. I’m not just the tracker for his tawdry hunts.”

“Does he hunt people often?”

“He is a king. He is hunted just as often as he sets out for prey.” Barnes sighed as you drew up to the city gate. He talked briefly to the city officers there and was waved through. “Pull your hood up.” He commanded.

You did as he said and kept your head down. You looked at your dirtied hands as you held the reins of the sandy beast below. You chuckled to yourself as you swayed.

“What’s so amusing?” Barnes asked.

“You.” You scoffed. “I recall you called yourself my ally. It’s funny, now.”

“I am your ally,” He said. “Perhaps you do not like your circumstance, but I seek to make it simpler for you. If you’d only listen.”

“If I listen, will it keep him from his wrath? Will it keep him from whatever cruelty he has planned?” You lamented. “Perhaps I should’ve listened but… I had to try.” You breathed the crisp spring air. “Living with consequences is always preferable to living with what could’ve been.”

“I suppose,” He accepted as your horses clopped along the streets. “You may disregard my advice as you have in the past but I would offer you more.”

“Which is?” You wondered.

“You’re humble, you’re honest. At least he knows you to be. Use what he knows of you, even if it’s been tainted, and coax him.” He said. “Apologize, Beg him. Tell him all I said before. That you feared a crown; that you were intimidated. Tell him you’d nearly been poisoned and you feared another attempt on your life. Just don’t tell him you feared him. And certainly don’t mention Eleanor.”

“You think he will listen?” You asked.

“I think you can make him listen.” He returned. “I think you look up at him with those eyes and plead, he will. I know I would.”

You looked to him from under your hood. He stared ahead as he guided his horse lazily. Though he was the only who spoke to you, you found he did not often look at you. He looked forlorn; anxious. You’d never seen him so human.

“I’ll try.” You relented.

“Do.” He said. “This place has had enough turmoil.”

“And what will the court think of the girl who ran?” You challenged.

“The last they saw you, you were on the floor. To think you might be confined in your brief sickness would not be far-fetched.” He affirmed.

👑

Dolan was gone, Marge too. A stranger with lines along his forehead and a crooked nose stood outside your doors. Another awaited you within. Lord Barnes was careful to secret you in a long the back passageways. None had stumbled upon the road-wearied party.

“Get cleaned up,” Barnes said as he gripped the door handle. “He won’t be long.”

Your new maid was older than Marge. Her dull brown hair was laced with silver and she had a long pointed chin that gave her a dour air. She was curt and used your title and nothing more.

You felt horrid as the woman scrubbed your skin raw. You hadn’t thought it through, had you? It wasn’t just about you and now… well, you didn’t even know what happened to them. They were just gone.

The woman, who hissed her name at you, was Rita. Her hands were rough as she plaited your hair and she scratched you as she helped you into your gown. She laced it tight enough to labour your breath and kept her eyes on the floor when not given a task.

You couldn’t sit. You wanted Marge there to tell you it would all be fine. You wanted Dolan outside to keep you safe, not keep you trapped.

You stopped your pacing as you heard the disturbance. It was just in the corridor. The muffled metallic rustle of mail and the approach of footsteps. The deep voice that accompanied them had your heart alight.

You were shaking as you stared at the door. Rita stared dully at the carpet. She was useless. You fixed your hood and gulped as the door handle clicked. The doors swung open and the king appeared in the frame.

He charged in, his blue eyes flared as they met yours. You were a mouse and he was a barn cat. He didn’t look away as he waved to the maid.

“Out.” He ordered.

She obeyed eagerly and slipped out behind him. The guard pulled shut the doors. He glared at you as his chest rose and fell angrily. You blinked a him as you willed your body to cease its quaking. You hadn’t been alone with the king since the night of the harvest in that dark corridor.

“My king,” You breathed.

Your voice incensed him and he marched towards you. You retreated as he came forward and felt your way around the couch and nearly stumbled as he backed you up against the wall. You closed your eyes as you pressed yourself to the stone and his hand went to your throat. He held you there but didn’t squeeze.

“Why?” He whispered.

Your eyes snapped open as you stared up at him. Your lips parted but your voice would not rise.

“Why did you run?” He sneered.

You slowly touched his hand but didn’t try to move it. “Be-because I love you.”

His eyes narrowed as his brows lowered darkly.

“My king, I do love you but…” You thought of your conversation with Barnes. Coax him; appease him any way you could. Eleanor’s blood coloured your vision. “But I was afraid.”

“Afraid?”

“Y-yes, I was afraid that I…” You gulped and gently caressed his hand as he gripped you tighter. “I’m not good enough. I am an earl’s second daughter and this court has little enough room for me. You’re a king, I… How could I ever deserve you?”

His brows lifted slightly and he ran his thumb up along your jaw and sighed. “And I swore to make you my queen,” He said. “And so long as you hold that title, you should fear none. Have I not already dispatched our enemies?”

“I am so sorry, my king. I know I was wrong but…” Your peered up at him and searched his stony face. “I am young and I need your… guidance.”

“My guidance?” He echoed.

“Yes. Yes. I am so young and it would have me foolish and you have long been king and how can I ever hope to be your queen. Please…” You squeezed his wrist. “Forgive me? Forgive me, please?”

“You left me,” He said.

“I did,” You lowered your eyes dramatically. “But It was not for lack of love. It was my own cowardice that did see me away.”

He was quiet. He exhaled and slowly removed his hand. He stood over you and you looked up at him again. You clasped your hands before you as if in prayer as you begged.

“I shall never think of it again. I could never leave you. Do you not think that it did not pain me to leave? Do you not think I did not cry out there all alone at the thought of never seeing you again?” You stepped closer but didn’t touch him. “I thought of nothing but you.”

He didn’t move. He barely reacted. Your heart was in your throat.

“My king, I did think to protect you. To keep you safe. To preserve your crown; your reputation.” You continued. “Oh, I do see it now. You loathe me, don’t you?”

“Loathe you?” He tilted his head. “I could never… Never, but you must never leave me again. Ever.”

“I swear, I won’t. I can’t. Not again.” You avowed as you lowered your hands.

“But…” He caught your hand and clung to you. “I cannot forgive you so easily.”

“I don’t… What do you mean?”

“We are betrothed now, it would only be proper that we mark our reunion with some… affection.” He suggested.

“Betrothed?” Your eyes rounded.

“In your absence, I did secure our contract with your father. Sealed by the cardinals before their departure.” He smirked. “Of course, I could not compromise your virtue but that can be left in tact.”

“My king?”

“Your hands, your mouth…” He intoned as he drew you against him. “We both know you use that so well.”

“We can’t, it would be--”

“A secret.” He breathed as he wrapped his fingers around your wrist and shoved your hand down between your bodies. “Do not fret, you will remain a virgin until we wed. Your modesty will still be yours.”

“I--”

He pulled your hand down sharply and pressed it to his crotch. You felt a firmness through the fabric and gasped. He seemed pleased by your shock as he watched your mouth fall open.

“I’ve never-- I don’t--” You sputtered. You could barely think let alone speak.

“I’ll guide you,” He purred. “As you asked of me.”

You tried to pull away but he was too strong. He turned your hand so that you cupped him through his trousers. He groaned and bent to nuzzle your hair.

“Don’t be shy.” He growled. A warning.

He released your hand but you didn’t rescind it. You were too frightened to do anything.

He fiddled around as his other arm kept you close. His pants slackened as he picked at the laces. He reached down again and led your hand above his fly. He shoved it beneath the fabric as you felt his flesh against your palm.

“Grab it,” He rasped in your ear.

You wrapped your fingers around him. Your heart hammered in your chest as he placed his hand around yours. Slowly he led you up and down his cock. You closed your eyes and forced back the tears.

“Go on,” He let you go and you carried the motion.

He shivered against you as his breath singed your ear and neck. Low groans floated around you as you kept your hand moving. Standing there with his arm around you, leaned over you entirely, you were trapped. His size and strength overwhelmed your mind. The sheer power of the man ensnared you.

“Oh lord,” He moaned as his hand fell below your waist and he grasped your skirts. “So good.”

You urged yourself on. This was what you had to do. If you wanted to keep your head, you had to bite your lip and bear it. So you did.

“Wait, wait,” He stilled your hand.

He drew himself up slowly as he pulled your hand from his pants. He led you back to the couch and he sat. He grinned up at you as he released your hand. He sat back and pushed apart the top of his pants.

“On your knees, my lady,” He ordered.

You watched dumbly as he bared himself above his pants. You blanched. You shook and wiped your sweaty hands on your skirts.

“My lady.” He lifted a brow.

You got to your knees carefully as he pushed his legs apart. He beckoned you further and rubbed his thigh as he gripped himself with his other hand. You thought he was big but couldn’t be sure as you’d never seen any other man thus.

“Use your mouth,” He intoned. “A little at a time.”

You tried to smile but your cheeks trembled and you could barely hold your head up in your shame. You moved closer and shyly touched him. You gripped him and looked at his member. Just do it.

You bent your head and felt him twitch as your lips met his tip. You opened your mouth over him and slowly took him. You barely had him halfway in before you pulled back to breathe. He shuddered and groaned.

You repeated the action as your spit spread along his cock. You were sickened by the salty taste but felt an odd tickle in your stomach. The soft rasps that flowed from him stoked in you a deep yearning. For the act itself; perhaps, for the man too. You couldn’t be sure.

He reached to your hood and slipped it from your head. He spread his hand across the back of your head and forced you to speed up. You gulped around him as you tried not to choke and he pushed you down until he slipped down your throat.

Your hand fell to his trousers and you clawed at the fabric as he slid deeper. You couldn’t breath as your throat burned around him. You raised yourself up and craned your neck awkwardly as you tried to accommodate him. He pulled back and you gasped for air before he quickly shoved himself back in.

“Oh,” He hummed as he moved his hips in time with your head. “Fuck.”

You reached up to his jacket and tugged at it desperately as he never wavered. He battered your throat over and over again as you fought not to wretch. You were dizzy and out of breath. The saliva dripped from your mouth and down his cock as he worked you faster and faster.

He swore again and pulled you off of him. He buried his fingers in your plait and pulled your head back as he stroked himself. He grunted as he held you in place and you felt a warmth just above your bodice.

He exhaled and let go of you as he fell back against the couch. His head lolled as he closed his eyes and you sat back on your heels. You looked at your chest; a glossy white trickled down to your bodice and cooled along your skin.

“I forgive you, my love.” He breathed.

You looked up at him in horror. At him. At yourself. Of the thought of you on your knees with his seed on your chest. Of the marriage pact he’d signed even as you’d tried to flee him.

You could never escape this place. Or him.

#tapestry #Steve Rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #series #dark steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #fic #dark!fic #dark fic #au #medieval au #mcu #captain america #marvel #bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes

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hughesdry-blog1 · 6 years ago

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sherala007 · 3 years ago

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Creative non-fiction done for school

The Crucible of Youth

I felt the pile of carpet beneath my tummy, poking like pinpricks through my shirt as I lay across the living room floor, reading my book. Mom sat nearby in her chair next to the window, the dull grey of the winter/spring changeover still in the sky. She was working on her crocheting while watching the news on TV. I usually ignored the news. It was always bad. Tonight’s news was no different. Tonight I couldn’t ignore it. The words gang rape grabbed my attention quick making me forget my book. Mom even set down her work.

It was March of 1983 and the reporter spoke about a woman who was raped by four men in Big Dan’s Tavern in New Bedford, MA, all for going in to buy a pack of cigarettes (Chapie). I watched the story, at first not fully understanding what was going on. Then it started to click what rape meant. I was heartbroken. How could someone do that to another person? I didn't understand to the fullest extent what rape was yet but from the look on mom's face, I knew it was serious. I remember mom saying "She had to have done something to deserve it. Nothing like that happens without a cause."

I looked up at mom as she dismissed the woman's pain and went back to her crocheting. The lack of concern or care on mom's face frightened me. She'd always been so compassionate to those in need, kind and caring, but not demonstrative in showing physical affection. This lack of concern wasn't like her at all. It looked as if she was dismissing the rape as the woman's fault, absolving herself of the need to think on it anymore. Her words chilled me and would come echoing back in my mind soon.

July 4th! What a time to be a kid. It was summer. It was hot out. It was time for swimming in the pool and running carefree. We were at my sister Patty’s for a picnic. There weren't a lot of kids, just me; my niece Sandy, who was the youngest; Kurt who was eleven, and his fifteen-year-old brother Dale. I'd just turned twelve a few months before and was already developing into a young woman. Kurt had noticed. All-day long he was my shadow. He was big for his age, already almost a foot taller than me and I was only about four foot six. His father owned his own construction company and Kurt and Dale worked with him on the weekends so both boys were very strong.

We'd been swimming most of the day, only getting out to eat. We waited the required 30 minutes, then back into the pool. We'd exhausted all the games we could think of to play in the water. We tested our breath holding limits; scrounged for items on the bottom as they were thrown in; and did as many laps as we could. It was a round pool so laps were short and annoying. I was pruney and bored. I remembered I had a great book with me that I’d gotten into only yesterday and sitting out for a while sounded nice and relaxing. I ducked underwater to swim to the ladder and felt something poke me in the bum. Popping up quickly I saw Kurt pop up right next to me.

“You two, knock that crap off!” I heard my sister Patty yell from the top deck of the house. She turned and carried another tray of food down to the picnic table at the bottom.

I got out of the pool, wrapped up in my towel, and headed to the table. “I didn’t do anything, Patty. I was only swimming.”

"You let a boy touch your butt. Good girls don't do that." She looked me in the eye, anger, and disgust on her face then turned and stormed off to join the other adults.

I’d felt like I was punched in the stomach. I sat down on the bench, picked up a hotdog and started to nibble. I was about to take another bite when Kurt walked up to me, grabbed it and scarfed it down.

“Don’t worry about her. Let’s go for a walk.” He threw his towel down on the bench and slid his flip flops on waiting for me. Dale and Sandy liked the idea of a walk and wanted to join us. Dale went over, asked permission, and was given instructions to take care of us girls and off we went. We were only permitted to go up the road to the trail we used to ride our horses on. We were still in our swimsuits, Sandy and me with towels wrapped around us, the boys in their shorts.

The trail wasn't a trail per se but a dirt road, rocky, twisty, and bumpy, but it was a change for us. Being on the plump side, I wasn't as fast as the others. I fell behind as we went up a hill and around a bend in the road, thick trees lining either side, houses scattered farther and farther apart. Kurt stayed with me and spotted an abandoned barn off the side of the road in someone’s back yard. We stopped and looked to see if anyone was around. Sandy and Dale were out of sight as Kurt grabbed my hand, pulling me up the sloping gravel driveway, the small white rocks making for rough going, and around the corner of the barn to the door on the other side.

It was cooler inside. I could smell the dampness of the mold and mildew all around me, mixed with the smell of roses and wildflowers from outside. Some of the shabby barn boards looked worm-eaten, barely hanging on by the few remaining nails holding them in place. There was dirt and dust everywhere, blown in through the cracks and crevices, or washed in through the large opening in the corner of the roof where part of it had fallen in. In the far right corner, I could see a large spider web, its maker fat and creepy, perched on one of the outer edges. I could see rusted out tools tossed about like unwanted toys, no longer needed or desired, littering the floor along one wall.

I heard Kurt walking near the middle of the floor, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet, as I entered watching for any critter that may try and come near me. Looking around at everything I'd lost track of where Kurt was for a moment. He'd gotten quiet. One second I was standing a few paces inside the doorway looking at how creepy everything was, the next I was on my back in the dirt on the floor, Kurt's left hand around my neck.

"Don't move," he said. His hand was so large it wrapped halfway around my neck. The look in his eyes was cold, freezing me in place as he held me down with that one hand, not tight enough to bruise, but enough so I couldn't risk moving. I couldn't think, couldn't figure a way out of his grip. Why was he doing this? What did he want from me? He used his right hand to free himself from his shorts and then to slide the panty half of my suit aside, digging himself inside me hard like a blunt shovel. All I felt was pain, burning, and tearing. I was trembling. I wanted to scream but couldn't with his hand still on my throat. His pig-like grunting and the slap of skin on skin echoed in my head. I thought it was loud enough others would hear and come to help me. No one came.

I was numb. I don't remember him finishing. I don't remember how I got home. I remember going right into the shower, cleaning up, and throwing my towel and bathing suit into the washer. I don't even remember how I got the bleeding to stop. I just know it did. Hours later I still couldn't remember any of the details of how I got home. Any time I tried I would get sick to my stomach. I do remember the thoughts that echoed in my head for the next twenty-five years. Dirty. Bad girl. I deserved it. I’m worthless. Those thoughts stay with me today, though they're not as loud as they used to be. They were the only thoughts I could hear for a long time, and they always echo in my mom’s voice. This was just the first time I was raped. It happened again four years later when I was sixteen and at another 4th of July gathering with my then-boyfriend. That time I was raped on top of a pile of refuse and debris in an old, dilapidated camper.

What did I do to cause this to happen to me? Why me? Why did I deserve this? It took a long time in therapy to discover a few things. I didn’t do a DAMN THING to deserve this or cause it to happen to me. Why me? I’m small. I’m female. I’m seen as prey. Men that rape are in search of a power rush. They’re not in it for the sexual gratification. They’re in it to hurt, humiliate, and degrade. It's not about sex only power. I just reach five foot two now. Back then I was shorter and thinner than I am now. Because of all this trauma, I gained a great deal of weight.

Imagine what this trauma does to a teen? Adults usually think teens are dramatic. I remember all the times my mom would tell me to stop being so dramatic when I was jumpy or had to have my back to a wall. Most adults don't listen to teens or notice the signs of PTSD. Teens are still developing their identities and personalities. Rape puts a deep and heavy scar on their psyche that they have to grow into and carry for the rest of their life. Teens may be young and still growing emotionally but they have the same feelings adults do and respond in similar ways. All the same side effects we suffer from rape, teens do, also.

Sixty-six percent of all victims of rape under the age of eighteen are between the ages of twelve and seventeen (Rainn). Well, that statistic fits me both times. I never used to be a jumpy person. After the rape, I would jump at the drop of a hat. I also dealt with bouts of depression. There are days even now where I struggle to get out of bed to live a normal life doing normal things. Those days are fewer and farther between. The biggest issue I deal with now is when I’m working on a task and someone strolls up to me to ask a question and startles me. They’re not even trying to be stealthy but I’m instantly in a fight or flight panic. My heart races like I’ve run a marathon. I hold my breath for a few seconds then I pant like I’m being choked again. Now and again I’ll even start to tremble. I can hide that sometimes but my close friends know when it’s happening. I discovered that this is all part of PTSD (Rainn).

I discovered something terrifying while dealing with treatment as well as doing research; per the Center for Family Justice (CFJ) one in four women and one in six men are sexually abused (CFJ). In eight out of ten cases the victim knows the attacker (CFJ). There are three main after-effects of rape; depression, flashbacks, and PTSD (Rainn). I've had to live most of my life with two out of the three' until now. In rewriting this paper the third has started, but only a few times. The smell of roses and mold triggered flashbacks as I was rewriting the barn scene. That lasted for about three weeks and has now stopped. The saddest thing for me is it's been thirty-three years and these effects still happen.

Did I ever tell my mother? No. The woman who raised me was actually my grandmother. She adopted me from her oldest daughter when I was ten but had raised me since I was four months old. She was born in 1933. Things were so much different for her growing up so she still had the antiquated mindset for her generation. By the time I was able to talk about it nothing could be done anyway so why stir things up? I know it would have made her feel horrible and wouldn’t have solved anything.

I will tell you, surviving rape has made me a very strong woman. I didn't realize this until about five years ago: I've lived through the worst that man can do to woman, short of murder. I've not only survived but in the last few years, I've thrived. I'm able to live on my own. I make new friends all the time. I can hold down a good job. Do I still have some issues now and then? Yes, but they’re infrequent now. I’m too strong to let it keep me down anymore. I’ve realized that, yes I have suffered horrible violence, but unlike others, I don’t have to let it define who I am. I refuse to let it do so. I choose to act and be seen as a woman who can stand on her own and who doesn’t need to hide behind anyone else. I do understand when I’m out on my own I have to pay attention to my surroundings and be vigilant but I don’t have to be afraid of every shadow. Yes, I used to hide behind the victim label I let others put on me, but not anymore. I am alive and I will continue to embrace every day because I am worth it, not because someone else says so but simply because I’m here; alive, walking, talking, and breathing.

While I was working on one of the drafts of this article, a friend at work offered to read it and help me edit it. I gave it to her on a Friday. Monday morning she came up to me crying. She couldn't read it. She told me about how she was raped twenty years ago and still can't talk about it with anyone; not even her husband. She can't have a deep, healthy relationship with him because of it. She asked me how I can be so relaxed and open after all that. What was my secret? Truth is, I don't have a secret. I freely admit what happened to me when anyone asks why I get startled as I do. I know now that I didn't do anything to ask for what happened to me. It was not my fault. It took a while for that to sink in but now that it has it's one of my mantras when those horrid thoughts get loud on me again; because they do sometimes. I remind myself that I am alive. I have hope. I get up for work every morning. I answer calls from customers needing help every day. Some of them are not so nice about asking for it either. I work for a security company and every so often I get that call from that woman who went through that same experience. I stop and listen. I do what only a fellow survivor can do. I give her hope too.

Works Cited:

No Author, Sexual Assault Stats, Center for Family Justice.org, web, 6-27-16

Capie, Lindsay. Big Dan’s Tavern Gang-Rape, New Bedford 1983, LindsayChapie.wordpress.com, web, 7-9-16

No Author, No Article, Statistics, Rainn.org, web, 6-27-16

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thorsstorms · 5 years ago

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Abroad Pt. 18

Summary: Being the Hemsworth Kids’ Nanny, you were vowed to keep it strictly professional for their sake, but do the stolen glances go unnoticed between you both?

Word count: 4.9k

Warnings: (smut! +18!).

A/N: if you want to be tagged, PLEASE SEND AS AN ASK, or it will get lost in my notifications and I may not see it. Also if you don't want to be tagged in everything, or even just Abroad, let me now. Trying to fix my tag lists. I have Steve and Bucky stuff coming. Tell me what you want, Por favor.

Masterlist

Tucked and holding his arm, back to his chest, twisted in the airplane seat undoubtedly in deep sleep. His eyes wandered over the small walls that were catered for privacy. No one could see, but he was bound to check anyway before laying the ring on your shoulder and snapping a selfie of you laying against him, the ring in view. He quickly put it away and closed his eyes to try and catch up to you in the dream filled state, but not before admiring the photo. It was the fourth one in 24 hours, he was on a roll.

It was nothing like you thought or had seen through the phone calls, but somehow the same. The walls held a warm beige with plush carpeted floors and two black leather couches. Carpet, oh, it feels like it has been so long since you have felt a soft carpet under your toes. It wasn’t very practical back at the house. Much too sandy.

The feel of the condo screamed ‘Bachelor Pad’. It lacked warmth, but seemed suitable enough for his lonesome. You wandered down the hallway where he pointed out two empty rooms incase anyone came, you and the kids, his parents, any friends. They looked untouched.

Not a candle in sight of the whole place, not in cabinets or countertops, just a stale air freshener on the bathroom counter. The luxurious first impression almost get stomped over by the sterile, dull lack of characterization. You would have to change that. Mentally noting for some throw pillows, a candle or two, a couch blanket, and maybe some flowers.

He watched your eyes travel over the dark couches and the empty side tables, the decor and generic wall pictures were not cutting it and he could tell he was going to come home one evening to a brown sugar candle and you wrapped in a new fuzzy blanket though California won’t reach less than 70° in the fall month. Not that he minded one bit, he hoped you might add your own touch, even to make him feel like this could be a home for a while.

“It’s nice,” you tell him, arms wrapped around his middle. “Show me your room?” You look up at him who was waiting for more than the simple compliment you gave. He knows the place wasn’t much, but more than enough at the same time.

“Follow me, my lady,” he smiled walking in front, towing both suitcases to the far door off the living area, sharing a wall with the extra large black flat screen. This seemed more like it. Bed still messy and slept in, a couple pairs of shoes kicked off, never making it another three feet to the closet, and an empty take out drink left on the nightstand.

“You want to shower? Get some coffee in you?” It was barely 10am, not sure if you would be able to make it 12 hours till night time, even with the sleep on the plane. He knows you so well. “I’ll unpack.”

“Join me?” You questioned, walking into the bathroom.

“Of course, in a minute.” The door nearly closed behind you, leaving a crack in it. He stood frozen until the water turned on and he sprang into action. He practically ripped open his carry-on backpack and pulled the ring from its pocket. Where was this thing supposed to go now that you are here? He didn't think this through. Hopefully you will not be here all day long with nothing to do. He had put himself up the challenge to take as many shots of you unsuspecting, being in the same fame as the ring. It was a game. He looked around, somewhere he can grab it easily but it will not be in sight or just out of sight. He looked down at the mattress and cocked his head. Was that easy enough to get to?

He lifted the side and slid the small box in between the box spring and mattress, testing out its availability by laying on it and reaching down, feeling for it in between the fabrics. Easy enough.

He opened your bag and grabbed your bathroom tote to bring with. He knew you would rather not shampoo at all than resort to using his or just plain body wash, much less wash your face with that stuff.

Your side profile was fogged through the steaming air suffocating the glass doors to the shower. As soon as he shut the door behind him he didn’t waste time, spilling your shampoo into this hands after turning you to face him. He wanted to see your face to make sure he wouldn’t be hurting you. You smiled and leaned your cheek against his chest, inviting him, telling him to go ahead. His skin was cold in contrast to yours that was heated by the hot water, but you didn’t flinch. Not when he felt across your scalp with his soapy fingertips, or even when those same fingertips got snagged on a tangle. That does not mean that it didn’t hurt. It did. But it was not worth reacting too, it would just put him off and you didn’t want anymore of that.

Your eyes were closed as the water washed the shampoo away, it trickled down over your eyes and cheeks. You fought back a wince the whole time, scrunch of your brows, pout of your lip, figuring he was watching you like a hawk.

All done with.

You washed your face quickly, usually doing that first but you had waited for him. You wiped your eyes afterwards, finally starting a pout, but your were not hurting, at least not that bad. He was soaping himself up, that was not his job.

“What is it?” He asks concerned. You shook away that look.

“That’s my job, I do that.” He calmed his shoulders and dipped under the waterfall.

“Okay, there you go,” he teased, now that it is rinsed away, a clean slate for you to start again. You grabbed the clean ocean scented body wash anyway. He may already be clean, but you liked how he felt under your hands. So smooth.

Smooth under your touch that pressed into the muscles of his shoulder blades, your thumbs massaging the skin. Your breasts flesh against him as your arms traveled up and down behind him. Up to his neck, where you can feel him hold back some sort of moan when you rub just the right spot and feel his tension leave, dropping his head down. To his lower back where knuckles can freely press the perfect spots for him to lean further into you, placing his hands on the wall above your head.

You held back a smirk, “You should really let me massage you, with lotion and all,” you whispered, reaching and pressing a kiss to the base of his neck. “I think I’ll enjoy it more than you.” You had not become blind to his growing hard on, coming to life. You knew he could not help himself. But take advantage of it, you must.

You didn’t give it much thought to bring your hands forward, cupping your fingers around him in one hand, urging him forward with the other.

“Kiss me please,” you muttered up at him.

He was keen to your touch and kissed you, harder than he had in awhile. His hand ended up strategically placed on the tile wall to catch the back of you from making contact with it. Your chest sprouts with a sort of victory and results in a squeeze of your fingers around his cock, dragging them along the silky wet skin. His mouth drops open against yours but no sound comes out. A harsh breath in the humid air and you focus on the prickly sensation his beard gives your lips when you attach yourself to the delicate pulsing skin of his neck. His chest was rising and falling, skipping across its fluidity when you press your eager thumb against the underside of the head of his throbbing member in your hand.

It’s been so long since you have got your hands on him, you could not wait and drag him out. You wanted to hear him, feel him fall apart under your hands, you craved it. Your grip worked faster, his hips involuntarily jerking forward. You could feel your own heart rate pick up from seeing him, feeling him like this. Almost able to feel your skull pulsing physically against the palm of his hand, you were sure he could feel it through your wet hair if he was not so side tracked.

The task at hand was all you could think about. You knew he was close and you so badly wanted to sink to your knees and take him hot and heavy in your mouth but you were sure he would snap out of it and not let you. His lips and soft vulnerable moans that were leaking into your ears, his lips ghosting just below them, were enough for you to feel fully satisfied with him.

You spoke your praises. He had been taking such good care of you all week, it was your turn. Wanting him to fall apart in your hands.

Come for me, baby. I love you. I love seeing you like this. You are so hard under my fingers, baby. Come all over for me.

His voice raised when his abdomen strained and his hips jerked against you. His cock ticking and spurting hot come over your hands. His lips dragging across the sensitive attacked skin of your neck where he had taken a liking to for the time being. His pants turning into grateful comments, deep kissing that you returned. Mewling into his obscene tongue and wishing he could take you over and over again.

His hands were finally finding home, cradling the sides of your head so he could kiss you like he wanted. His thumbs set atop your temples, somehow clearing the fog that had consumed him.

“Woah,” he shifted away and looking at where is thumbs rested. Eyes dancing between them both. “I can - I can feel that.”

He pulled his hands back, “I’m okay, seriously.”

“(Y/n), I’m sorry,” he was amazed and slightly horrified that he could feel it. “I’m sorry,” he proclaimed again. You didn’t like that look. You love him, and loved what just took place, but you did not like that look.

“Stop saying that. Please.” You turned you back to him and reached for your conditioner. You rubbed it through and rinsed it in silence. Not bothering to look at him. You didn’t hear him, he didn’t say anything.

He just can’t help it, those words come out of his mouth, he just can’t. It takes until you are both stepped out with towels until he says something.

“I love you,” he says, kissing your shoulder. “I’m- I will stop saying that.” He opened his mouth to say the word again, sorry for saying sorry, but he stopped himself. He towered behind you, feeling the swell of your belly over the towel. Maybe it was because you saw it everyday it didn’t look so big or so different. But he seemed to like when he could see it, feel it. Maybe it was bigger than you thought.

“I love you too.”

“What do you want to do today?” You perked a brow at him with a coffee cup in his hand. He knew what you were asking. He does not usually drink coffee when he followed meal plans. “I know, trust me. But I need it today.”

You smiled to yourself and reached for your own mug, singing, “I didn’t say anything.” You stopped your movements and opted for looking for creamer and sugar first. “Well first we need a Starbucks and a grocery store.” Should have known there would not be any goddamn sugar here.

“Mmm, Sorry.” He leaned off the counter. “Anything else?” He was hoping you’d say no so he didn’t have to try and redirect you to the whole ‘relaxing’ thing.

“Well, I kinda want to find a Sephora, or ULTA or something. Get some makeup, something to cover this.” You pointed to your face that was getting less scary to look at in a mirror, but it never went unnoticed.

“But I don’t, like, I can go by myself, you don’t have to-” That came out wrong.

“I’m not going to not go?”

“I- I know,” you sighed looking at the empty cup in your hands.

He sat the mug down and rested his hands against the countertop beside you, “What is it? Do not go all quiet on me now.” His voice was softer, didn’t understand why you got anxious all the sudden.

“I, my face. People watch you Chris. Take pictures of you.” He stood back on his heels, understanding what you mean. He had definitely not become blind to the bruising, the healing cut just under your chin. “I don’t want pictures of this.” You finally said, pushing your hair back, where a bruise travels from your cheek bone to above your temple.

He hates that you felt as if you need to hide. That you need to cover it but he was not in store for making you feel bad about it once again. “I can… stay in the car?”

You shook your head, wishing you could have worded that easier for him. “I know what I will need to look for. It's just been so long since I’ve been inside a cosmetic store, I am sure I will be in awe of all the new stuff.” You scoffed to yourself, “I went from being in one everyday, working, using the products everyday on myself and clients to not even knowing what is out there right now.” You already started planning to buy stuff. Do a full face just for the hell of it. You could feel the excitement in your veins grow at the thought of sitting in front of a mirror for an hour and dipping into colored eye shadows and a new lipstick color.

Why the hell hadn’t you been doing this at home? Because it’s been ages since i’ve bought a new product and lacked the inspiration from said product. That one was all on you.

“I don’t want you to wait in the car, that’s not fair to you. Let me see if I can cover it at least a little bit with what I already have.” You left him in the kitchen and went to your suitcase. You didn’t have any color correcting creams or concealers, just your regular concealer, two shades too light to be used as a foundation. You sat in the mirror layering the concealer a few times before running foundation over it with a light hand, then setting it with powder. Now that the rest of you looked like a ghost. You almost laughed at your reflection. Its been so long since you have done a full face, but it looks like today is going to be the day. You quickly filled in your brows and added some contour and blush so your didn’t look like a moon-face. He walked in and stood behind the mirror watching you as you dipped into your contour shade to put some on as an eyeshadow, just to add some sort of color or dimension to the mix.

“Pick out a lipstick?” You only brought three shades with you, there was no way he could go wrong. He pulled out a brownish-rosey pink, it was your go to, your signature color and had been for almost 5 years at this point.

“I like this one.” He handed it to you, watching you put it on in the mirror.

“How do I look?” You closed the cap in your fingers and turned to him. The hair was lifted off the side of your face while he inspected it but left you with an impressed look.

“Just perfect.” You rolled your eyes checking it out for yourself. The purple tones were coming through and you couldn’t do anything about the red cuts then were trying to heal themselves. But for working with what you had, it was pretty damn good if you say so yourself.

The makeup was left on the counter, abandoned while you both left.

The car slowed and stopped in a parking space before he asked again. “Are you sure I can come in?” You rolled your eyes, getting out and pulling your grey purse strap over your shoulders, double checking for your wallet and phone.

“Yes,” you repeated as he automatically handed you the keys and his own phone to store in the bag.

“Okay, we need like a signal or something if you need me to back off.” He demonstrated ridiculous signals with his hands over his head.

“Would you stop, that is gonna draw attention, you child!” You weren’t mad, not with the silly smile on both your faces. “How about I switch my bag onto my opposite shoulder. That means… go in the opposite direction. Draw the attention away.”

“Yes. Yes let’s do that. ‘Thor in a makeup store’, I can see the caption now!”

“Would you put your hands down already! Lower your voice! The caption is going to read ‘Thor with duct taped hands and mouth by his crazy pregnant girlfriend in a make-up store’!” He shook his head while you both walked in, not bothering to draw your sunglasses up on your heads. “Go find some smelly good stuff, let me get it for you. I’m goin’ over here.” You pointed towards all the cosmetics while he continued straight for colognes and perfumes at your request.

You ignored obvious whispers from some of the floor sales employees, turning your back to them to try and focus on what you needed to find, and… of course you had no idea where to look first, which brand to go to. The glasses finally came off and you placed them on the neckline of the shirt you were wearing.

“Is there something I can help you find?” A kind voice came from behind you, you turned quickly to be greeted with, of course, a perfectly done face of makeup. She was only a floor sales employee, but she of course didn't know that you had worked above her in the past, even for individual brands in the store you were shopping for. How could she? The ‘yes please’ that rolled off your tongue to answer her was extremely forgein in the environment, but given the fact that you could no longer reign in name of expertise…

You look around your surroundings and decide that now was the time you were going to have to pull the signal out, switching shoulders. You didn’t know where he went but you could see four more employees file into the store from the back door, all with ear pieces pressed close. You weren’t naive to this, it was you four years ago, gossiping in the microphones about guests.

“I need a color correcting palette, maybe?” You mentally encouraged your hair to stay falling forward over the abused show of skin and just smiled thinly. After telling her you don’t mind the brand, she showed you a few options.

It wasn’t much longer, maybe 15 minutes, that you parted from her with the pallet in the shopping back, along with a new contour pallet, mascara, and foundation. Maybe a few new brushes. You left the trap of makeup and eyed over the shelves, spotting three, THREE employees ‘helping’ him in fragrances. You stood near the check out and switched shoulders again. Now if only he would look up and see you waiting patiently. So, so patient.

He smiled at something one of them said and looked back at the shelf, they were ogling and you laughed to yourself. You could relate. You waited, half staring at him and half eyeing the Kylie Cosmetics setup an arms reach away.

“Did you find everything alright?” Once again, a voice startling you from behind.

“Yea, yea. I'm just… might get a few of these.” You said nonchalantly, picking up a tester to admire the color.

“Oh, I see. Don’t worry, we were all slightly staring as well, as much as we all tried not too.”

“Pardon?” You questioned, putting the liquid lip back in its spot.

“It’s not everyday you are in the same store as a Hemsworth. Quite random I might add.” You pushed down the ‘unprofessional’ words from her. Your old manager would have chopped your head off, but instead you nodded in agreement.

“Yea, yea, strange, huh?” You chuckled, catching her looking past you. Would they stop already? It really didn’t seem that groundbreaking, or maybe it was a slight twinge of jealousy from how obviously every female in the store as undressing him with their eyes, seemingly unashamed. You plucked a few lipstick shades from the kiosk and decided to take action, you hadn’t seen not one camera flash in the store. You looked at him, who still was too preoccupied to see you were done with. It wouldn’t ever be a problem for him to continue shopping, but he wasn’t doing just that, he was entertaining them and you knew it. You smiled when you thought again how much he secretly enjoys the attention. But no matter what, you were the one that gets to leave on his arm, no one else.

“Ma’am.” You felt an arm reach out for you when you stepped forward. “I’m sorry but my manager has asked that we make sure he is not crowded while he browses.” She nudged towards the ear piece and watched you with sympathetic eyes as if she really, really did not want to have to be the one to say that. You could relate to that, too. Confrontation was the worst.

“Right, sorry. No crowding, got it.” You settled back next to her, but it was only a few seconds before he lifted his head to gaze for you. You wink and nudge your head towards the checkout. He got the gist and pulled away from the workers with a Gucci fragrance in hand. You didn’t stay for the workers’ reaction when you stood at the counter, dumping out your products and had him joining you. It was just a small victory, and you would call this little outing a complete success.

“Now to coffee, please,” you commented, walking out the sliding doors hand in hand.

“This is the surprise you told me I wouldn’t want to miss out on? Waking me up too early for something that you still won’t tell me about?” He only shrugged at you, repeated that you would thank him later but you highly doubted it at this point. “Okay, well, at least tell me if this is something I need to look presentable for.”

“I think you look beautiful no matter what you are wearing.” Hmm, smooth, but still not an answer.

“Chris! Come on, you said we need to leave in an hour! Look at me!” All you could think about was how he wanted you to relax while you were here. You braid your hair while trying to gauge what you should wear off of his attire, but all it consisted of was a white t-shirt and jeans.

“Babe, what are you wearing?” You started to pull out your makeup bag, sifting through. He looked up from his phone, lounging on the bed.

“I don’t know, whatever she picked out. Hopefully something that makes me look sexy, but smart.” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at him. So it has to be somewhere where he knows there will be a camera if he doesn’t have to pick out his own clothing. Interview. It has to be.

“Ok,” you sighed, going to town with the color-correcter.

Your clothing was limited, obviously. There wasn't much to choose from, especially to search for something to mask the small bump you had started growing. Maybe it wasn’t too noticeable. The yellow shirt was just the right amount of flowy that you could tuck it in lightly to some now-too-tight high waisted jeans. You pulled out brown sandals and slipped them on before turning to the mirror. Twisting sideways to view the change in your body, was it that big? Or was it just in your head?

Your hands froze, snapping your head towards him when you heard a Iphone’s camera click sound off behind you. Chris jumped in his spot, shoving his hands down to his sides, turning away from you.

“Hey,” you called to him, “What are you doing? Give me a warning next time!” His arms fumbled for a moment before he turned his head back to you.

“Sorry princess, I like the candids better. And I really like that shirt.” He hoped the compliment would mask the slight shock hiding in his voice. He could not help himself. Your profile on display, it was going to be a perfect photo.

“Really?” Turning to look into the mirror again, furrowing your brows, “It doesn’t make me look like I’ve gained 15 pounds or something?”

“Of course not,” he said stepping towards you, turning your hips in his direction. His hands brushing over your shoulders, pushing your hair back, just another way to admire your smooth skin that only he gets to touch. A quick kiss was pressed to your temple before words of encouragement about needing to leave soon were said.

“Okay close your eyes.”

“What?”

“Just do it! I’ll tell you when to open them!” He has got to be losing his mind. You obliged, closing them with a hovering hand over for good measure, not wanting to ruin your makeup.

The car slowed for a moment, your heard the window roll down with a few words exchanged with someone, then it rolled back up.

“Who was that?”

“Dont worry about it!”

“Chris!”

The car stopped moving, and you were almost itching in your seat. Surprises really were the bane of your existence, making your heart rate pick up. He could be taking you to kill you for all you know.

“I’m going to come get the door, keep them closed, I’ll tell you when to open them.” The urge to peak was almost eating you up when the door closed. The courage to do it was almost there, right ready for you to squint one open, just a little won’t hurt…The door flew open to the side, making you jump in your spot.

“Jesus!” You exclaimed with a hand over your heart.

“Don’t peak!” He was flowing with so much excitement about this, you just could not ruin it for him. You held your hands out while he blindly guided you around, only tripping once, miracuously, before the air conditioning hit your skin.

“It’s cold.”

“Wah wah, you are always cold.”

“Chris! Why are you so feisty today?” He mumbled something about thanking him later before stopping you in your place. Another voice was there, leading the way again. It was getting old. Almost.

The walking finally stopped. All the voices stopped and you could sense the stillness around. No more voices, no background noise.

“Now?”

“Almost!” The door opened again, he was whispering. Your hands finally made it to your face again, if they were not there your eyes would have definitely opened for the sake of calming yourself.

“Hey. You are kinda freakin’ me out here.”

“Princess…” he sounded unsure. “Okay, you can open.”

The blur was there, blinking it away. It was just a room. Small, there was a large tv on the wall, a single couch facing it. Some decor, a Tv stand against the wall with some water bottles and a door that opens to most likely a bathroom. Why was this so secret?

“What is this?” He was watching you gaze around the room, confused, spinning in your spot trying to think, think, think.

It did look slightly familiar, like some sort of deja vu, but it was not ringing together. He still didn’t say anything, just stood in the middle of the room with his hand buried in his pocket, the other resting with the camera open on his phone.

“Hello?”

“I- Just wait.” He glanced at the door and back to you, with his eyebrows drawn.

“Why are you so nervous?” You said quietly stepping closer to him, away from the door. “Don’t, you are making me nervous.”

There was a small knock on the door and you both flipped your heads towards it with wide eyes. Your head flipped back to him so fast it was surprising it didn’t spin right off your shoulders.

“Who is that!” You whisper scream to him, while he acts oblivious.

“Come in!”

“Chris!” Your fist clenching involuntarily around his shirt, turning to look at the door pushing open.

“Hi!” The familiar face was not not welcome, just really unexpected and you squealed in retaliation, hiding behind him. All blood in our body had to have rushed to your face in this moment.

Why did he just do this to me?

Don’t act a fool. Don’t hide.

Your head peaked out, deciding maybe a foot step in that direction would make some lick of sense. His hands tried to tug you around, ears burning from the sound of his laugh at your behavior, it was all in good spirits at least.

“Well come here! He said I would scare you.” They were laughing too, a bright smile on their face when you headed in their direction.

“Really?” You whined back at him. This was the surprise that he was making you keep your eyes closed for 10 minutes for?

#chris hemsworth #chris hemsworth fic #chris hemsworth fan fiction #Chris Hemsworth smut #Chris Hemsworth x reader #chris x reader #thor fanfic #thor #marvel masterlist

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servicemastecleanatlanta · 7 years ago

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myhauntedsalem · 5 years ago

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Oregon’s Spooky McMenamins Edgefield

Located in Troutdale, Oregon is an impressive hotel named McMenamins Edgefield.

This large hotel has a brewery/winery, and offers fine dining, concerts, a movie theater, gardens, a spa, and a golf course. It is also, without doubt, one of the most haunted hotels in the U.S. The reason for this is how the site was used, for the seven decades before it became a hotel.

In 1911, the Multnomah County Poor Farm opened where the Sandy and Columbus Rivers come together.

This 345-acre farm was a progressive new idea, to help families, the disabled, and the mentally ill to become self-sufficient.

Even with overcrowding during the Great Depression, the Multnomah was still thriving. Residents in Portland would often visit the farm to buy handicrafts made by the residents.

After WWll, with Roosevelt’s New Deal, most of the residents were able to move on—leaving only the more disabled and sick residents on the farm.

A county jail was established on one section of the land in 1954. The inmates refused to work the farm, so it fell into disrepair. The decision was made to sell the livestock and lease the farmland.

The main building was used for the Edgefield Nursing Home starting in 1964. When the nursing home closed, the property was abandoned for over 20 years, it was extensively vandalized. It was about to be torn down when the Troutdale Historical Society stepped in and saved it.

Then with financial support, the McMenamins brothers were able to renovate it. After the hotel opened, it became apparent to both staff and guests that the grounds and buildings are haunted. A nurse wearing white, a former janitor, and a ghost dog have all been observed by many.

The phantom dog, besides being seen, wakes guests up late at night, by sticking its’ wet nose into people’s faces. Others state they heard the unmistakable clicking of a dog’s nails as this canine moved through their rooms.

One guest hearing this sound, spoke to the dog, telling it, “You are good fella,” at which point it jumped on her. She never saw it.

A phantom janitor, wearing a uniform of a different era, is seen, smiles, and even talks to guests. He is spotted in the same spot each time.

One time he gave a guest the direction to the ladies room as she left the ballroom, but it was where a restroom used to be. He often just disappears after people spot him.

Allison Berliner, a wine server, has seen the ghostly nurse. She saw this entity walking with keys in her hands in the winery, at 11:00 in the morning. This ghost stopped as if to unlock a door and then just vanished. (The winery was previously the poorhouse infirmary.)

One night, as she walked between the second and third floor, she felt an energy go right through her chest. It took her breath away, and she hyperventilated. At one point Berliner was transferred to work at the hotel’s Black Rabbit Bar. She encountered a shadowy figure that had “very dark energy,” so, to her relief, she was transferred back to the winery.

Maids at the hotel report a variety of experiences. One housekeeper as she stood at the foot of a bed had her ankle grabbed firmly. This unseen hand wouldn’t let go until she jumped away. (Several guests have had this same experience.)

Another maid had just cleaned a room when she returned to retrieve an item that she had forgotten—she entered the room to find everything in disarray.

The night before this happened, a guest staying in this room told the front desk that she awoke to find a dark figure standing over her bed.

Several rooms on the second floor are very active. Guests report awaking to someone tapping on their chest or being poked in the side, or their feet being grabbed while they are in bed.

One guest had her backside grabbed by an unseen hand as she showered. She screamed and retrieved a towel, as she watched one of her shirts in the next room, lift up and fly across the room.

Another guest, who has visited the hotel several times, tells the story of kissing her boyfriend in one elevator when her hair was yanked violently. No one else was in the elevator with them, and her friend’s hands were both on her waist. One guest awoke to find an old man standing over her—he had his hand extended as if he wanted her to shake it. He only disappeared after she obliged him.

Guests often take pictures, knowing the hotel’s reputation. Many have captured mists outside. One guest who snapped many photos during his visit found that all the ones he had taken inside had just disappeared. This had never happened with his camera.

A female guest lost her brush. She poured her purse out on the bed in an attempt to find it—only to see it lying on top of the contents she had spilled out, moments before.

A couple that stayed in a corner room on the third floor—another room with a lot of activity—had a disturbing night. The wife was shoved off the bed, only to see her husband was asleep and turned away from her.

In this same room, another couple both awoke to the sound of something substantial, hitting a hardwood floor. They turned on the lights and discovered the floor was carpeted, and nothing was on the floor.

A third couple heard creepy footsteps circling the bed. The husband saw what appeared to be a grandmother sitting in the corner, watching them.

These couples state they can hardly wait to revisit the hotel. Others say they are too scared to return.

Other activity includes: Cold breezes inside where they shouldn’t be, the feeling that something is watching, a child’s loud cries in what was the infirmary and lamps turn on by themselves.

The hotel doesn’t deny these hauntings. In fact, they have had the structures cleansed in the past.

But they also do not publicize them. The owners don’t have to. The McMenamins Edgefield is a popular destination for a myriad of reasons. Hot mineral springs—anyone?

#Oregon’s Spooky McMenamins Edgefield #haunted locations #paranormal #ghost and hauntings #ghost and spirits

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brysonledford · 3 years ago

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Water Damage Sandy Springs

Water damage in your house can be cleaned up using a water damage restoration service, but how can you know if your basement water damage has been caused by faulty pipes or flooded basements? Well, for starters, it's important that you have a professional inspect your home for leaks and any other issues that could be causing your home water damage. It's best to have a professional inspect your home for water damage caused by a damaged pipe or flood.

There are several options available to you if your basement floods. One option is to have pipes repaired by a professional plumber, but this can be costly and time consuming, and in some cases, simply having the water damage remediation done by professionals can be more cost effective than having new pipes installed. You may be able clean the water damage yourself if it is limited to one or two pipes. If you are dealing with flood damage to your house, you should hire a professional water damage cleanup firm to help you not only get rid of the water but also to dry the basement to repair any damage that might have been caused. Before you consider installing another water source, your home will need to be dried out and water removed.

If you need to have flood damage remediated, a water damage restoration Sandy Springs based company can help. They also offer drywall and carpet restoration. In the case of a flood, they will help you determine which items can be salvaged and which cannot. Once you have determined that your items can be salvaged, they will consult with you and your chosen water removal contractor on the best course of action to take once the water is removed.

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abqjanitorial · 4 years ago

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