#and the water leaked into our basement and into the walls and shit. there was a huge pool of water in the furnace room or whatever it’s

[whumpy-wyrms]

basement is flooding 💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥 :(((

[bemusedlybespectacled]

added bonus kvetching for The Aging Tumblr Population™️:

we rent our house and we’re the first tenants to live there after the owner moved to a nursing home, and when we moved in, the house was a shambles and had a bunch of weird shit.

like, for the first couple of weeks we needed to constantly clean because the carpets were so dirty they turned our feet black and there was weird slime all over the doorknobs and cabinets and fridge. half of the outlets didn’t work because they were too far recessed into the wall (so no plug would stay in) or had intermittent voltage. there’s what clearly used to be a bulkhead from the back yard to the basement, but they built a porch over it at some point, so now there’s just an open hole under the porch funneling water into the basement every time it gets a little damp. and the floors aren’t level, so water leaks into the basement through the bathroom floor every time we take a shower because it’s been pooling in a specific spot since before we moved in and soaking through.

we complained to management about some of the things (the flooding, the leak, the outlets) and they either took a long time to fix them or just slapped a bandaid on it and called it a day. like, their solution to the leak was to just nail a board to the basement ceiling. so we’ve been DIYing small things like the drawers because we knew they wouldn’t do shit and it’s not impossible to do ourselves, and saving the fuss for safety hazards like the electrical outlets.

but recently we had a supporting beam in our basement ceiling crack, so management had to send over an actual professional to fix it instead of their usual handyman, and he saw the state of the house and was like “oh my god what the fuck what the fuck” and I guess talked to management about it on our behalf? so in just the past couple of weeks, they:

* tore out the rotten stairs in the water funnel bulkhead and replaced them, then put a proper lid on so it doesn’t leak

* replaced our hot water heater (which was rusty from all the water on the floor, apparently)

* cut down a couple of trees that were too close to the house (which was sad but necessary according to them)

* replaced the entire fucking roof

and next week they are planning to tear out the bathroom floor and replace it (because it turns out it’s rotting and full of mold, surprise surprise!) and eventually replace the entire porch because it’s not built to code and it’s a safety hazard to even stand on it tbh.

so we spent two years of being the “this is fine” dog about basically the entire house and ONLY NOW management is realizing it’s a safety hazard they need to fix… possibly because the owners might try to sell the property in the next year or two and won’t get any money for it if it’s an active health hazard.

spent my birthday weekend replacing one of our three shitty drawers (which had its front just fully fall off) with a less shitty homemade drawer that, like, opens and closes normally and isn't held together with fairy wishes

everyone behold and admire our less-shitty drawer

[butwhyduh]

Air bubble

Featuring all the batboys and batdad.

Probably came from the fact that I was genuinely trapped in a house with a propane tank for a heater that could have killed me at any point for a week with no water, electricity, car, or phone and dwindling food supply as tree branches crashed on my roof and porch loudly as I hoped it wouldn’t kill me during a once in a lifetime snowstorm.

Also probably triggery. Water, darkness, claustrophobia, blood.

Tim toook a deep breath and observed his situation. He was in a basement. He wasn’t hurt. Drug runners had filled up ice chests with crack that would be sold to the poorest area of Gotham soon. Dick was there with him. But the ceiling had collapsed as a small propane tank in the floor above burst.

Was it a bomb?

Was it an accident?

More importantly, where was Dick?

“Nightwing?” He called out. There was shuffling and a groan. Tim dug in his utility belt and pulled out a glow stick. “Nightwing? Call out!”

“Here,” came a pained voice from across the room. Tim got up carefully and walked over to check on Dick. He was sitting on a workbench. A piece of rebar was stuck in his calf and there was a small pool of blood around it. Dick had a pale pained look on his usually glowing tanned face.

“I’m gonna- I’m going to check for more injuries,” Tim said after pressing both of their emergency buttons. The comms didn’t work down there. Dick nodded roughly. Tim looked at Dixk from the top down. His assessment found a nasty bruise on the chin, one broken finger, rebar in the left calf and Dick moaned when Tim pressed on his other leg. There was probably a break.

“I’m going to look for something to wrap your ankle up with,” Tim said. He moved back to the middle of the room before he felt cold. Cold water poured into his boot and Tim gasped. He looked down to see 2 foot of water that he had missed while on the bench.

“There’s water coming in here from somewhere. Just keep pressure on your leg and I’ll find the water leak to stop it,” Tim said. Dick made a little sound of agreement. He didn’t tell Dick that he had no idea where the leak came from or how to stop a massive leak like this one. It must have been a main line.

“Wow, that’s uh... fast there Timbo,” Dick said. Tim felt almost frantic. Dick was never the type to panic. Okay, breathe normal, find the leak.

“I’m going to find it,” Tim said. He did find it about a minute later. About waist high was a pipe that had burst. Water bubbles out quickly. Tim didn’t have to be a genius to know that this water was going to quickly fill the room and kill them. He looked for anything to slow or stop the flow.

The glow stick wasn’t great for visibility and it took a few minutes of digging to find anything. The water was just below the table Dick was sitting on and Tim was thigh deep. He didn’t want to think about what was in there.

A flexible piece of plastic sat on a workbench and Tim had no idea what it was but he might be able to slow or stop that water for a while. Hopefully their emergency trackers were working. Tim went back over to the pipe and wrapped it tightly. He was soaking wet when he was done.

Dick had part of his ass and legs underwater by the time Tim wadded back over to him. Thank god Tim wore boots rather than the flexible shoes Dick wore because he was pretty sure his feet would have been cut up by the debris otherwise.

“Hey Timbo, you did good,” Dick said with a grimace. Tim climbed up to sit beside them. They both shivered a little. Neither of their suits were water proof or heated. Dick wrapped an arm around Tim to warm him a little more.

“Batman should be here soon. He’ll be here,” Dick said. He was calmer than he felt. Both he and Tim were shivering as the water slowly filled the room. It was hip high on Dick now. Tim didn’t even want to think about the nasty water getting into his poor leg. It must have hurt terribly.

There was movement in the ceiling. They both looked up in the darkness. Tim hadn’t even thought of the possibility that there was more propane tanks that could explode until that moment. In fact, now that he thought about it there was some canisters of some kind. Propane or maybe oxygen. All highly flammable. And that’s not counting any sort of flammable liquid and building material in the room. And 2 men. Trapped.

“Birds! Nightwing! Red Robin! Call out,” came the undeniable voice of Jason Todd. He was almost right above them.

“Down here!” Yelled Tim. “Be careful!”

“Shit! Hold on,” he said and they could hear boards moving. Dust fell on them both. “Be careful. There’s a big piece I’m moving,” Jason yelled. Tim ducked his cap over both him and Dick. A horrible scrapping sound could he heard.

“Stop!” Tim yelled as a support beam wavered. “Wait!”

But Jason didn’t and there was a bone curdling snap and a body fell through the board. Jason lands on his side in the water before flinging himself upright. The water was almost waist high on the big man. He groaned and pulled out a proper waterproof flashlight. He looked at Tim and Dick.

“What the hell is with the water?” He asked, scanning around before flashing on the pipe. The water was again gurgling around it. The piece of plastic was bent and freely let the water flow. “I’m going to stop it.”

He walked through the water and groaned about halfway across before continuing. Tim looked up to see and opening. It was big enough for people to get through but the wood around it was so unstable there was no way to climb it.

“Did you get our location out before you fell, Jaybird,” Dick said quietly.

“Well... no,” Jason admitted as he wrestled the plastic back over the pipe. “But my tracker is still working. Should be,” he added.

Dick sighed quietly. Jadon wadded back over to them. Tim noticed a notable limp.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing. What’s wrong with dickface?” Jason said shinning his light through the water. “Jesus,” he said and Tim couldn’t tell if it was because of the red tinged water or the rebar impalement.

“Not as painful as it looks,” Dick said Jason all but rolled his eyes.

“Dickolas, I know that’s horribly painful,” Jason said. “I’m going to look for a way out. You’re losing blood and both of you are freezing.”

He started moving in the space, his limp still present. Tim climbed down to join him. Dick adjusted his seat as the water was waist high and made a little strangled moan he tried to cover. Tim gave Jason a knowing look. Dick was in a ton of pain and wasn’t climbing out on his own.

“I found something!” Tim said, pulling out a life vest. He wadded over to Dick and started putting it on him

“Wait, why me?” Dick resisted.

“You’re hurt. Don’t be a hero right now,” Tim said. Dick sighed and slid it on.

A few seconds later the plastic on the pipe was ripped off by the force of water and it swelled to chest high on Tim. He gulped. Jason inhaled quickly and his eyes flashed green.

He wasn’t trapped. He wasn’t trapped. They were getting out. He wasn’t dying an a fucking exploded warehouse again.

“You okay, Jason?” Dick asked. The water was almost to his arm pit. He was shivering pretty strongly.

“Yeah. That’s the only vest so me and replacement will have to swim soon. Ironic really,” Jason said coming over to the pair. “Waiting on Batman and Robin to save the day.”

“Let’s hope they get here quick. The water’s moving pretty fast,” Dick said. Jason looked to see it over his shoulders and Dick was floating slightly in the vest.

“Help me get him up,” Jason said climbing on the table. He and Tim got on either side of their older brother and pulled him up. Dick made a gasping moan at the pain. They held him up and he panted with closed eyes for a minute.

“Okay if we’re stuck in here, we’ll go to the hole and we’ll push Dick through first. Then you get out and go find help,” Jason said.

“We’re not leaving you,” Dick protested.

“I outweigh you by a good 20 lbs and replacement? 50 or more. There’s no way that the boards will hold me or that he could pull me out. Nope. I’m well fucked in here,” Jason said. The water was once again waist high on him and chest high on Tim.

“If we toss our trackers out the hole, do you think they’ll get signal?” Dick asked. Tim thought for a second.

“Can’t hurt to try.”

“Give me,” Jason said and Tim stared at him.

“Why are you going to throw it?”

“Better aim. Come on. We have one chance,” Jason said, waving his open hand at the pair. Tim glared at him.

“I’m only doing this because I have to hold Dick up,” he said slapping his tracker in Jason’s hand.

“Rude,” Dick said groaning as he grabbed his and give it to Jason, who quickly tossed them both up to the ground floor.

Dick was wavering in pain at this point. Tim was almost up to his neck in water. Jason was a hair from a pit fueled panic attack. They really were well fucked. And just as Tim thought this, a wave of more water splashed in their face and his feet no longer touched the ground when his head was underwater. They were maybe 3 or 4 feet from the ceiling where hopefully help was on the way. Tim pulled off his cape quickly and Jason had lost his helmet a while before.

“Okay,” Dick said and he was on his tip toes with the water lapping at his chin. He was panting and thank god for the vest because he certainly couldn’t keep swimming.

“Yeah, not a fan,” said Jason. He felt the water on his neck and it felt suffocating. He kicked off his heavy boots. He’d drown in the damn things.

“At least you aren’t swimming,” Tim said, treading water. He could swim for a while but it wasted so much energy and he had already been in an explosion after a full patrol.

Another wave of water came over them and Dick and Jason were also unable to stay on their feet. Jason angrily treaded water and Dick simply floated with the life vest. It was more complicated for both Jason and Tim as they had to continuously grab Dick so he wouldn’t be pushed against the wall with the current.

“Replacement,” Jason started.

“Really? You still call me that?” Tim said with a frown.

“Yeah, I’m trying to be like sentimental,” Jason said. “Look, if this shit gets too high, cuz I’m not floating here forever, fucking shoot me.”

“Why would I shoot you??” Tim asked. Dick made a confused groan.

“Because Dickie is sentimental. I tried to kill you. You kill me. We’re even.”

“That’s not how it works,” Tim started.

“No one is shooting anyone. Just shut up,” Dick said with a whimper as he straightened his leg. “Rebar is a son of a gun.”

“Yeah,” Jason said with a nod.

They floated for a few minutes silently before Tim sighed. His natural thinness and added muscles made him at a disadvantage to floating in water and it was tiring to continuous swim. Jason was having similar issues but had a higher energy reserve.

“Tim, are you okay?” Dick asked noticing his issues. Tim looked at him with a confused look. He was handling it.

“I’m fine,” he said and Jason rolled his eyes. Of course the kid was willing to die just like the rest of the family.

“Come here,” Dick said and Tim swam over.

“Do you need anything?”

“Lean back,” Dick said and Tim confusedly complied. Dick slid him back into floating on his back, reminding Tim of swim class when he was a kid. It did give his body a needed break and Dick wasn’t having trouble floating.

“No offense, but I’d rather you shoot me before I float in your arms, Dickard,” Jason said slyly.

“You know what,” Tim said with an irritation in his voice. Jason’s eyebrows rose. The kid was usually pretty meek around him. “To hell with you. I’m not drowning.”

“Wow, Drake. That’s such a good look. In fact you all look amazing,” A voice from above said before a camera flashed. Tim quickly started swimming again. “Father, they fell in a wet hole.”

“There are so many jokes in there. Dick, I’m disappointed you haven’t said any of them,” Jason said. “He threw a home run pitch.”

“He’s a kid. Plus, that’s what she said is low hanging fruit,” Dick answered quietly.

“That was on purpose, wasn’t it? You just added on right?”

“Alright boys,” came the gravelly voice of Batman. “Hang in there and I’ll send a rope down one at a time. Okay? And uh... Red Robin? I can’t wait to see your water aerobics back at the pool.”

“Even you? It’s to prevent leg cramps!” Tim protested.

“First harness down,” Batman said. Tim and Jason strapped in Dick. He was looking so tired. He practically hung on the ropes as he was pulled up. A piece of the roof fell close to Tim and Jason after Dick was out. Jason cursed and Tim shivered.

“We have to reattach it to another spot,” Damian called down. Jason practically growled.

“Okay,” Tim called and his voice was tired. Both were getting close to exhaustion. A few minutes went by and the water steadily rose. By this point, Tim was impressed that the basement was that waterproofed. Was it a pool?

Damian’s face appeared above them both and the rope was sent down again. Jason pushed it towards Tim who looked at him confused.

“Get out of here, kid,” he said not unkindly.

“But you hate being trapped,” Tim said. Jason sighed again.

“Yeah, well I might pull the whole damn thing down. And you’re shit at treading water. Just go before I change my mind,” Jason said before basically putting the harness on Tim.

“Okay. Fine,” Tim said, relenting. He was pulled up next.

There was a loud crack and the room started filling even faster with bubbly rough water. Jason was practically shoved against the wall. He cursed loudly as a shelf cut his back. He could touch the ceiling and grabbed it and pulled himself closer to the middle. His arms strained against the flooding water. His breaths came out in fast huffs and he tried to not think.

He was trapped in a flooding room, alone, in the dark. He could practically feel the green coming out of his eyes and he growled. Panic was starting to rise as well. He was going to fucking drown.

“Okay, last one,” Damian said and the rope was thrown down. It was pushed against the wall across the room with the current and Jason growled another curse. He pulled him along the roof that was now almost scraping his head in spots to grab the rope. The water touched his lips as his head touched the roof before finally being pulled up. He could hear the other men grown in effort of pulling his weight against the current trying to pull him under. The roof groaned and shook but held as he was unceremoniously dropped on the ground.

Jason coughed a few times before a foil blanket was wrapped around his shoulder. He looked up to see Tim placing it. Jason scanned the room to see Dick sitting on a chunk of concrete with a tourniquet on his lower leg. Blood stained his leg and a small puddle. Jason got up quickly.

He wavered on his feet and Tim grabbed him. Jason almost snarled at the younger bat but the black spots in his vision had him sitting down.

“We need to leave,” he said. “Dick...”

“Robin is bringing the car around to get you both,” Tim said. Jason nodded. Tim helped him up and despite, or maybe because, Dick laughed at the sight of Red Robin helping Red Hood into the batmobile back seat that Robin was driving. The bigger man almost bent them both over with his weight. Dick’s laughter was cut short when Batman picked him up and he had to resist the urge to scream.

Dick drifted out of consciousness as they were driven to the cave. And when he was carried to the table in the med bay, he promptly passed out. Jason was feeling better and his feeling of terror had started to calm. He was tempted to leave but Alfred practically shoved him into a bed too. At least he’d be there after Dr Leslie’s surgery on Dick’s leg. Tim and Damian came in the cave riding on Tim’s bike arguing and almost fighting before falling silent when seeing Dick unconscious.

A few hours later, Dr Leslie came to talk to the family about Dick’s surgery.

“It went well. He’ll be sleeping for a few hours. Stitches in the muscle and of course skin that it went through. Luckily no bone. 6 weeks and 2 months of physical therapy to be expected. This isn’t your first rodeo,” she said with a smile before leaving.

Alfred assessed the other boys and declared them all exhausted and Jason needed a few butterfly bandages for an injury he’d gotten earlier in the night. Finally safe and warm, he slept for 12 hours straight.

[vintage-squid]

Threading Our Future

Summary: When up-and-coming designer Virgil Psykhe lands an interview with his favourite fashion label, he has no idea that the attention he's drawn to himself is being taken away from someone very important: the Lady of the Summer Court. Scorned and furious, she sends her son to kill the insolent human.

But when Janus lays eyes on Virgil for the first time, his breath is stolen by the fluttering of his heart and he knows he won't be able to follow through with his mother's orders.

A modern fae re-telling of the Eros and Psyche myth!

Pairing: Virgil/Janus (background Logan/Patton) Characters: Virgil, Janus, Roman, Remy, Patton, Logan, Remus  Rating: T Warnings: mild violence and blood mention, nonsexual nudity, literal sleeping together  Word count: 10 363 

----- 

Virgil Psykhe groaned as he stood from his chair, bracing both hands against the small of his back and pressing until he felt a satisfying series of pops from his hips and up his spine. He should know better by now than to spend hours on end hunched over his projects without taking proper breaks, but he honestly couldn’t help it. Once he got focused, his whole world narrowed to sketch, cut, sew, trim. It was like he was possessed by some crazy spirit who deemed his sarcastic, introverted ass worthy enough to use as a vessel for creation. At least, that’s how he described the near-frenzy he would fall into when his worried fathers questioned after his health.

Was he getting enough sleep? (No.) When was the last time he’d had something to eat? (Did the granola bar he had earlier count?) Would he be willing to drink more water if Papa cut up some citrus to add? (Actually, that wasn’t a bad idea...)

He knew their fretting came from a place of love. As the youngest of three, he was the baby of the family. Both of his older sisters had married a few years ago, now living with their husbands in a couple of larger, nearby cities. They had told their parents the distant moves were for their husband’s jobs, but Virgil knew better. His sisters had never seemed to fit with the unique … energy of their small hometown.

Virgil, however, had yet to even move out, let alone find anyone who would want to spend the rest of their life with him. Thankfully, while his dads did want him to eventually find love, they were mostly just happy to support his dreams of becoming a famous designer.

Rolling his eyes, Virgil glanced around his cluttered studio. Like he would ever actually be a big name in the fashion industry. Yeah, sure, he wanted more than anything to get his designs out there for models of all backgrounds and appearances to showcase the beauty that was in every body type, but he didn’t want his first name attached to that kind of attention. Nope. No thanks. He would much rather people enjoy his work for what it was, not just because it came from him.

Maybe a pseudonym would work? Eh, he still had time to think about it anyway. It wasn’t like he was going to be traveling far from his studio in his dads’ basement any time soon after all. Picking up his phone, Virgil glanced at the time and cursed under his breath. Shit, he was late to meet up with Remy, and he had forgotten to plug his charger in. He groaned as he shoved his phone in his pocket anyway and grabbed his wallet, headphones, and house key. That drama queen was probably going to bitch and moan about being made to wait until Virgil finally agreed to pay for his drink. Not that Virgil really minded, but he had appearances to keep up.

With one last glance around to make sure he had everything, he dashed up the stairs to head out.

-----

Jogging down the street, Virgil turned past the Spirits’ Temple, where the town’s inhabitants left offerings to the spirits of the forest on the first of every month. Tradition claimed that each month was to be dedicated to one of the twelve local spirits who held dominion over different areas of day-to-day life, and that by honouring them, the town would prosper. At the height of the monthly festivals, there would be candles lining the marble steps, fake vines and string lights wrapped around the temple’s stone columns, and a wide spread of wine and honey-sweetened foods to be served. Some of this would be up for grabs on the buffet table, but a selection was always saved to be placed in one of the twelve bronze braziers, which one depended on the month, lining the sides of the temple. Each brazier was set in front of a stone statue carved with a symbol that denoted which spirit it belonged to.

At some point during the evening, everyone in town would take a moment to approach the massive fireplace along the back wall of the temple and toss in a part of their meal with a quietly murmured prayer for luck in some strange-sounding language. To this day, Virgil wasn’t sure what exactly he was saying, but his dad had taught him the correct pronunciation, and he was too superstitious not to follow through. Besides, it wasn’t like he could look too ridiculous doing it when literally everyone else was doing the same thing.

Approaching one of the two coffee shops in town, and the only one he ever frequented, Virgil shook his head to rid himself of thoughts of weird small-town rituals. Inside, it was easy to spot Remy sitting at their usual table with his sunglasses tucked into the front of his shirt and a drink already in hand. As he slid into his side of the booth, Virgil was surprised to see his favourite order (hot chocolate with whipped cream and rainbow sprinkles, and a slice of banana bread) already waiting for him.

“I was gonna apologize for being late, but clearly I don’t have to,” he said, glancing up and narrowing his eyes. “What did you do?”

Remy threw both hands up in a gesture of innocence. “Hey now, why did I have to do something wrong in order to surprise my best friend with his favourite goodies?”

Virgil snorted and crossed his arms, giving his friend a Look.

“Fine, fine!” Remy blew out a sigh and dropped his hands onto the table. “So, maybe I did do something, and maybe you’re gonna be a little mad at me for it, but I promise it’s okay! It’s gonna pay off and you’re totally going to thank me for this one day!”

Virgil dropped his face into his hands with a groan and dug the heels of his palms against his eyelids. “Just spit it out, Remy. What the fuck did you do?”

“Remember that photoshoot we did a couple weeks back with the latest ‘famous-one-day’ designs you sewed up?” Virgil could hear the familiar sounds of Remy typing on his phone. “Well babe, you’ve been making ‘one days’ for too long! So I decided to make ‘one day’ into ‘today’! Ta-dah!”

Bracing himself, Virgil peeked out from the dark safety of his hands, blinking a few times to clear his blurry vision and focus on the phone screen wavering in front of him. Right there, staring back at him from within Remy’s well-manicured clutch, was an email addressed to Penelope with attached photos from their shoot.

“Please, please tell me you didn’t sen-”

“I sent our pics to your favourite fashion label! The one and only Penelope! Known for their breathtaking lines like ‘Faith’ and ‘Fidelity’ that reimagined what it meant to be fashionable! And the best part!” Remy paused for dramatic effect, all but wiggling in his seat. “They emailed me back! They want to do an interview with you next month on the first!”

There was a loud thud as Virgil’s head met the table. If they hadn’t been sitting in public, he definitely would have started screaming too. Instead, all that came out was a muttered, “I fucking hate you. Why would you do this to me? You know I suck at talking to people; they’re gonna hate me and then tell all of the other companies to never work with me and then I’ll definitely never make it.”

A hand settled on top of his head and began to run through his hair, gently scratching at his scalp at the same time. “Don’t be so dramatic, Virge. This is gonna be great for you, I promise. When have I ever led you astray?”

Virgil glared at his friend and opened his mouth, but Remy cut him off.

“Ahp-ahp! Rhetorical question, babes. You're going to thank me for this, I promise.”

When Virgil remained silent, the hand that had been petting his hair slid down to cup his cheek and lift his chin up.

“Hey,” his best friend murmured softly. “If you really, really don’t want to do this, I can email them back and cancel, but I think you should go for it, Virge. This could be your big break!” Remy’s thumb had begun running a soothingly back and forth over his cheek. Virgil didn’t even try to hide the way he relaxed into the comforting gesture, leaning more weight into his friend’s palm. “I’ll even come with you to the interview, okay? I’ll be right there the entire time - gotta make sure they meet your number one model after all,” he added with a playful wink.

Damn Remy and his extroverted influence. Virgil sighed and sat up fully, reluctantly pulling away from the comforting hold and silently relieved when Remy’s hand dropped to link their fingers instead. “I guess as long as you’re there too, then I won’t be the only one making a fool of myself.”

“That’s the spirit!” Remy cheered, ignoring the looks some of the other patrons shot their way at the noise.

Keeping their hands interlocked, Virgil picked up his hot chocolate and took a sip of the sweet ambrosia as he listened to his best friend ramble about his plans for their future.

-----

Somehow, the word got out. Everyone and their cousin’s dog knew about Virgil’s interview and had seen some of the photos that had been leaked. All of them wanted to get a glimpse of not only the representatives of the big fashion label (who may as well have been celebrities to the small community), but also the unobtrusive young man who had brought the attention onto their town.

Virgil clung to Remy’s hand as they approached the café where the interview was going to be taking place. It wasn’t their usual haunt, something Virgil was grateful for; if things went south, he didn’t want that memory attached to one of his favourite places. People were already gathering outside, gossiping amongst themselves or attempting to peer through the front windows. He longed to pull his hood up and hide his face, but Papa had spent all morning helping him make sure his hair and make-up (and everything else) looked interview ready. Not to mention he wasn’t even wearing his favourite hoodie to tuck himself away into.

At Remy’s insistence, he had donned one of the outfits he made last year. The top was made of a flowy material, tighter at the wrists and loose in the arms, wrapping comfortably around his chest to tie in the front above his navel. It was sewn from a high-quality plum linen with a black lace webbing over top. For the bottom, Virgil had pieced together different shades of grey and black fabrics until he had a pair of loose patchwork pants that sat at the hips and left a strip of his stomach visible. He had completed the look with a fresh pair of high-tops that tied the look together despite the discordant styles. With one last look to his best friend for reassurance, Virgil nodded and they waded through the crowd together, on their way to their future.

-----

Singing to herself, Roman stepped through the woods with all the ethereal grace granted to her by her station. As she made her way to the quaint little human town, Roman was accompanied by a pair of mourning doves. While one had alighted on her shoulder, the other fluttered about, and both were cooing in harmony with her otherworldly song.

Her body was draped in a sheer chiffon number, as blood-red as the wine she drank from each year at the celebration of her power and beauty. It was naught much more than a thin layer of fabric over one shoulder and wrapped about her shapely waist, exposing one breast and leaving little work for the imagination on the rest of her body. The finest embroidery coloured the lower hem with twisting rose vines, as if they had sprung from the ground she walked on and reached up for her attention. Her hair was left to tumble free, as wild and untamed as the waves she had been born from so long ago. The Lady of the Summer Court had arrived.

In no time at all, the temple the humans of the village had built for her and her compatriots so long ago came into view. Roman hurried her steps, eager to feast on the delightful offerings she knew would be awaiting her. She hoped one of them left pomegranate; it was her favourite. The plump fruit so easy to tear open to reveal the juicy flesh inside - and the crunchy seeds! Oh!

Grinning, Roman moved around the side of the temple, stepping between the columns to slip inside and make her way towards her ceremonial statue along the right with the other ruling gentry of the Seelie Court. However, when she got close enough to see into the massive dish, indignation began to boil in her blood. Before her, in her brazier, lay half as many offerings as were given to her in the years passed. She looked around, hoping to find something else had been set aside or misplaced, but there was nothing. Seething, she spun on her heel and stalked towards the front of the temple in search of answers.

Outside, two attendants were working to douse the remaining candles to be collected on the morrow after Roman had departed. Well, they were certainly going to be in for a surprise when they returned to find their pitiful offerings still there in the morning. Even with the great distance between them, as a fae, Roman’s sharp ears did not struggle to overhear the conversation between the two humans.

“-believe something like this could happen in our little town,” the one on the right was saying. “Especially from that quiet kid! What’d you say his name was again?”

“He’s the Psykhe’s youngest boy, Virgil.

“No kidding! Sam was telling me the kid showed up for the interview wearing this wild statement piece, like a full fashion runway. I bet his dads sure are proud. I heard half the town was outside Burnsen’s hoping to get a front-row seat. They certainly weren’t here, that’s for sure.”

“Damn shame,” the second human agreed. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a turn out this small for a Spirit’s Night. I just hope it doesn’t come back to bite us in the ass.”

The pair continued their gossip as they finished with the candles and moved onto tidying some of the other nonessential decorations. Roman wasn’t interested in listening any further; she had what she needed. Turning away from the pitiful little temple those putrid humans had so desecrated on her day of honour, the Lady of the Summer Court stormed back into the forest, seething vitriol.

“How dare these humans offer this worthless boy the worship and reverence meant for me! My status is all but set in the very stars and they do nothing more than drag it through the muddy earth!” She screeched, scaring away the doves who had been lingering nearby. “So much for me, the ancient mother of this forest who feeds and fosters the very nature of this place! If nothing lusts, then nothing reproduces! Did they ever consider that before they forced me to associate my status with a mere mortal child?”

As Roman cried out, the very trees parted for her, leaning their trunks away and raising their boughs out of the path of the furious fae. She paid them little heed as she marched down a trail long familiar. “Won’t this boy, whoever he is, be glad to know he has claimed the honours that are due to me by right? Not for much longer, this I swear by my very name! He will regret this beauty to which he has no claim!”

At the climax of her tirade, Roman stopped before the ivy-woven doors of her son’s lofty domain. She would teach this Virgil what happened when you scorned the fae.

-----

Across town, still wearing the outfit and makeup from earlier, though much disheveled, Virgil ran as if his life depended on it. At this point, though, his life may as well have been over, so what was the point in struggling on? Down the street and through the park, he sprinted until he could go no further and crumbled to the ground at the top of the large hill that overlooked the fish ponds. On his hands and knees, he clutched at the damp earth and panted heavily through his heaving sobs.

It was over. Penelope didn’t want to pick him up as a designer. Sure, they liked the selection that Remy had sent them, enough to come talk to him about it, but when the representatives had taken a look through the rest of his portfolio? They hadn’t said they hated it outright, but Virgil was certain his designs were too gothic, too dark, too risky for mainstream fashion. They were going to talk with some of the higher-ups back at the designer studio, but Virgil wasn’t going to be holding his breath. He’d seen their expressions clear as day while they flipped through his work.

Collapsing forward, Virgil buried his face into the crook of his elbow and curled his knees towards his chest, sobbing even harder. He had told Remy after the interview that he needed some space, but now that he was out here alone, he wanted nothing more than a hug from his best friend. Fuck, how was he going to tell his dads about this? It would break their heart!

Virgil shook his head free of the thought; he couldn’t handle any more right now. So he lay on the ground with his cheek pressed against the cool night grass, and cried until he passed out from exhaustion.

-----

In the twilight between wakefulness and sleep, Virgil stirred when he felt a pair of arms slide under his body and hoist him up into a strong hold. His head lolled to the side until his temple dropped against a firm body. Then, a kiss was pressed to his forehead, tickling his skin with...a mustache?

“Go back to sleep, little human,” a high, scratchy-sounding voice said. “Jay doesn’t want you to see anything just yet! We don’t want to ruin the surprise, eh?”

Virgil’s face scrunched in confusion, but before he could crack his eyes open to see who was carrying him, a warm breath blew across his face and carried him off to his dreams like a gentle breeze spiraling high into the air.

-----

When Virgil woke for the second time, it was with far more peace and tranquility than he usually felt when greeting the day. His bed was extra soft and luxurious beneath the swell of his hip and he was comfortably warm, though he couldn’t feel the usual weight of his blanket. Stretching his arms far above his head, Virgil suddenly snapped his eyes open when his fingertips were greeted not with the hard wall behind his headboard, but with a damp, spongy texture instead.

Scrambled to his feet, he looked around to discover he was at the edge of a clearing, carpeted with a thick moss that his feet sank slightly into and surrounded by trees who towered so far above him their canopies seemed lost secrets of the sky. To one side a stream babbled a song, its waters bright as day and clear as glass. Breathless, he turned a slow circle, feasting on the seemingly supernatural wonders with starving eyes. The sight that greeted Virgil as he turned full around, however, could have subsisted him for a lifetime.

At the very heart of the grove, sitting in its focal point, rose what he could only describe as a palace. The trees which made up its supporting columns were an ivory birch, though much wider than any Virgil had ever seen, with leaves seemingly grown from pure gold that glittered in the dappled sunlight they let through. Framed by these otherworldly goliaths, ivy vines had been woven together to form a grand door which opened of its own accord and bid Virgil to enter. Under a spell spun from his own awe and curiosity (and probably some of whatever magic this place had to be made of), Virgil strode forward.

Inside, the palace seemed to emulate its own light, reflecting off the vaulted ceiling and highlighting the polished stone walls decorated with endless silver reliefs of animals real and imagined. Virgil trailed his fingertips along the slithering spine of a snake as he passed, admiring the lifelike detail in each scale, but before he could venture much further, a voice spoke.

“Welcome.”

Virgil jumped, spinning around to search for the source of the voice, but no one was there. When they spoke again, it sounded like they were right over his shoulder.

“You have been invited into the home of the fae as a guest of honour, Virgil.” The man in question felt a strange twinge in his chest hearing his name from the voice. “If you follow the doors to your left, you will find a dining hall in which you may eat your fill; the foods are from your home world and you need not fear consuming them. To your right lay the bathing and bed chambers. Please, make yourself at home. You are safe here, my darling.”

“Who are you? How do you know my name?” Virgil called out into the empty room.

There was a small pause before the voice replied. “You may call me Janus for the time being. It matters not how I know your name, but you need not worry that I will give it to anyone else.”

“Not creepy at all,” Virgil murmured before raising his voice once more. “Where are you? Why can’t I see you?”

“Ahh, my darling, take care with your curiosity before it gets you into trouble. Fret not, I am here with you, though you cannot see me. I know it is hard, but you must trust in me, my love. I shall visit you this evening after the light of day has given way to the dark of night. So long as you promise not to look upon my face and let me remain shrouded in shadows, then I shall answer more of your questions then.”

“What? I’m supposed to trust you, but I’m not allowed to look at your face? What the fuck, dude?”

“I understand this may be a cause for alarm, but you must understand my perspective, dear one. If you were to gaze upon me uninhibited, I fear you would not fall in love with me in a manner which would be best for us both. Promise to me, Virgil.”

“Okay, okay, I promise. Why is this so important to you anyway?”

“Thank you. I wish to form a genuine bond with you, beloved, and I cannot do that if you are influenced by my appearance. That is not how I desire to court my future husband.”

“Husband? What do you mean future husband!?”

Virgil stood in place, waiting for any further response from the invisible person, but it seemed his host had vanished into the very air he spoke from. Blowing out a heavy sigh, Virgil looked from left to right and decided the faint grumbling in his abdomen was something he could ignore for the time being; he probably wouldn’t be able to stomach anything right now anyway. So, he made his way towards the baths, hoping a splash of cool water could wake him from this crazy dream.

Unfortunately, even after dunking his head under the cool water, Virgil was still stuck in the extravagant palace with an invisible host. He braced his hands on the sides of the stone bowl carved from the wall, staring blankly at the trickling waterfall that fed into the dish he had rinsed in. How the fuck did he get into this mess? The voice had mentioned something about this place belonging to the fae? What the fuck? There’s no way any of this could be real. Well, that Janus had said he would answer Virgil’s questions tonight, so there seemed little more he could do than wait.

The bedroom he had been given was grand, far larger than even his entire basement suite back home, and all of its drapings were more luxurious than Virgil had ever seen. He ran his fingers down the curtains that hung from the bedposts, marvelling at the quality and the depth of the colour. What he wouldn’t give to be able to create with fabrics of this pedigree. He fiddled with the tie of his shirt around his middle and settled onto one of the plush armchairs by the window. Now, to wait.

-----

Hours later, Virgil was startled awake from a light doze by the sound of footsteps approaching his door. He scrambled to his feet, keeping one hand braced on a bedpost to orient himself as he squinted through the darkness. It was so dark he couldn’t even make out the vague outlines of the furniture around the room.

The door opened.

Virgil tensed, gripping the bedpost tighter and raising his other arm in front of him defensively. From what he could see, backlit from the hall, the figure entering the room was about his height, maybe a little taller. It was difficult to make out in the dark, but the shadow he cast onto the floor seemed to be larger than his body mass would produce. The door closed, leaving the two of them alone in the dark.

“Janus?” Virgil asked nervously, hoping there wasn’t anyone else in the palace who would be coming into his room this late at night.

“Breathe, Virgil, it is only me.”

It was as if a spell of calm soothed over him, easing the tension from around his neck and within his chest. Virgil took a deep, relieving breath. Janus hadn’t come any further into the room, seemingly content to linger by the door.

“Um… hi?” Virgil winced at how awkward he sounded, but continued on regardless. “You said you would answer more of my questions, right?”

“That is correct, beloved. I will tell you as much as I am able to at this time.” There was the sound of shuffling in the dark. “May I join you on the bed? I think we will both be much more comfortable being seated for this conversation.”

Virgil bit his lip, looking between the bed and Janus despite not being able to see either. Eventually, he nodded, and then blushed when he realized what he’d done.

“Yeah�� yeah, you can come sit over here, I guess.”

“Thank you, my darling.”

When the pair had gotten settled, Janus was seated at the foot of the bed, leaning up against the bedpost and seemingly unbothered by the strange situation. Virgil, on the other hand, had his back pressed against the headboard with his knees hugged to his chest. His feet were buried in the blankets and he was absently scrunching the soft material under his toes in a comforting, rhythmic motion. It was Janus who broke the silence first.

“What would you ask of me first, dearest?”

Virgil blew out a sigh. “Why did you bring me here? What are you going to do with me? Am I ever going to be allowed to go home? Will you-”

"Sh sh sh,” Janus crooned, “One at a time, beloved, all will be answered. In short, I do not know when you will be able to return to your home, or if you ever will, but it is for your own good!” Janus hurriedly added before Virgil could panic. “You see, there is someone very powerful who is very angry with you. Intentionally or not, you have caused her a great disrespect, and she will not rest until her dues have been met.”

“How do you know all of this?”

Janus sighed. “Because she is my mother, and she sent me to kill you.”

“What!?” Virgil screeched, throwing himself off the bed and slamming against the nearby wall. His nails scrabbled at the stone, desperate to clutch, claw, escape. No, no, no, he didn’t want to die! He snapped his head back and forth, searching for any sort of way out, but he was blinded by shadows and fear. A sharp cry escaped him when a hand suddenly wrapped around one of his own and he whimpered as it squeezed, expecting pain. Instead, a gentle crooning cut through the ringing in his ears.

“Breathe, Virgil, you are not in danger. You must calm down and listen.”

Janus’ voice was surprisingly tender for how powerfully it could be heard through Virgil’s panic. He was able to focus on it like a tether to pull himself into a more relaxed state of mind. At some point, he had begun to time his breathing with Janus’ as well, steady and even to a count known only to the fae holding him. When Virgil had relaxed enough to come back to himself, he tensed all over again, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“How can you say I’m safe, when you’re gonna kill me?”

“Because I have no intentions of killing you,” Janus replied, now cradling both of Virgil’s hands to his chest. Even this close, the darkness was so impenetrably thick that Virgil had no hope of glimpsing his face. He kept his eyes averted regardless. “I brought you here to remove you from my mother’s gaze and conceal you from her misplaced wrath.”

Virgil was silent, processing, as Janus gently tugged on his hands and guided him back onto the bed. There, the fae leaned against the headboard with his legs stretched out in front of him and carefully pulled Virgil to recline on his chest. Virgil resisted for only a moment before complying. Everything else about this was already way out of his depth to manage, he may as well allow himself to be comfortable wherever he could. Janus was either going to kill him or leave him alive, and there likely wasn’t anything Virgil could do to sway that decision at this point. So, Virgil settled himself against Janus’ chest with his body laying between Janus’ legs and stretching out until their legs tangled together. He was grateful now for the dark that hid a probably searing blush as his cheek pressed flush against the fae’s warm skin; Janus wasn’t wearing a shirt and his nude torso was warm to cuddle against.

“Now,” Janus murmured, shifting Virgil’s focus from his embarrassment to the situation at hand. His fingers ran over Virgil’s scalp and through his hair, carefully brushing out any tangles and soothing in the same motion. “If you will let me continue, I was going to say my mother had ordered for you to be killed, however, I do not agree with her decision. She is acting rashly over a slight you did not directly commit.”

“What did I even do to piss her off so bad?” Virgil murmured from where his face was tucked against Janus’ collar, resting more of his weight closer with each breath.

“I do not know the exact details, only that you were the cause for drawing her worshippers away from the temple on her day of adulation. The fae do not take kindly to being stolen from, especially not my mother.”

“The interview,” Virgil breathed in horror. Pushing himself upright, he clutched at Janus’ arm. “I swear, I didn’t mean for everyone to skip out on the Spirit’s Festival! If it had been up to me, none of them would have even been at the cafe! I didn’t want them there, you have to believe me!”

“Calm yourself, beloved. I believe that you did not intentionally act to anger her. However, you must understand that even a perceived slight is considered very real and serious to the fae. That is why you must remain here under my protection, until my mother’s ire cools or I can convince her to redirect her anger.”

As Janus fell silent, Virgil curled in again and pondered what he had been told, trying to remember anything he could about the fae. It wasn’t like there was one consistent guidebook he could follow, but some of the stories the older people used to tell his grade school classes at the library were starting to make a little more sense now. He had been told the forest couldn’t lie, so maybe that meant the fae were bound by the truth? A stretch, sure, but weren’t all myths rooted somehow in reality? They were also regularly told that the spirits of the forest loved beauty, especially in the form of attractive people, and could bestow gifts on those they enjoyed looking upon. Virgil had always felt so disheartened hearing that. He wasn’t anything special, just a plain-looking boy, so the forest would never favour him.

Why then had Janus?

“So,” Virgil broke into the quiet, “you supposedly brought me here to protect me from your mother, but that doesn’t explain why you called me your future husband earlier.”

Janus hummed. “When I set out to observe the human who had offended my mother, I was prepared to be faced with a disgusting example of your kind. What I found instead was the most beautiful face I had ever laid eyes on.” Virgil gasped when the hand that had been in his hair slipped down to cup his cheek and tilt his chin up. He felt a pair of lips brush so lightly against his forehead that he thought he imagined it. “You were sobbing so hard for a deeply rooted pain. I found myself desiring nothing more than to stop your tears and see how much your already breathtaking countenance would shine when lit by a smile.”

“I - you -”

Virgil was sure that he had been kissed before, because now he felt those lips curl into a smile.

“Is it so hard to believe you are so attractive?”

“Well, yeah,” Virgil huffed, his eyes closed as he leaned into Janus’ palm. “It’s not like I heard it all that often.”

“Mmm, I shall have to change that, then,” Janus whispered, resting his cheek on Virgil’s head, cradling him close once more. “Do you have any more questions, beloved? If not, it is time for you to rest, you’ve had a long day.”

The gentle petting and warm embrace were taking their toll on Virgil’s exhausted mind. He let himself rest heavily on Janus, nuzzling his face into the crook of his neck and wrapping an arm around the fae’s chest. “Jus’ one,” he murmured, voice already dipping into that sleepy slur. “Wanna make sure m’dads know ‘m safe…”

“I’ll see what I can do, my love. Rest now, Virgil.”

Like a spell had been cast over him, Virgil drifted off to a dreamless sleep.

-----

When Virgil had awoken, he was alone in the massive bed. He was surprised to feel a twinge of disappointment in his chest, having hoped Janus would stay despite the fae not wanting to show his face. Sighing, he slid out of bed and got himself ready for the day, slipping into some comfortable clothes he found in a set of drawers. When he came down for breakfast, his host’s invisible voice greeted him and informed him that his dads had been told of the situation and were relieved Virgil was alive and relatively safe.

The next few days played out much the same. Virgil was left to his own devices during the day, waited on by some sort of invisible staff as he explored the palace. He never saw another soul, but whenever he needed something, he learned to simply call out for it and it would be delivered to him by magic.

Each night, Janus would arrive in his bedroom once the sun had disappeared. He never asked for more than Virgil was willing to give, but Virgil found himself cuddled close every night without fail. They would speak for hours - about Virgil’s dreams, his dads, and Remy - nothing was too simple for Janus to inquire about. The fae was fascinated by every aspect of human life, and Virgil enjoyed discovering a sense of romantic joy over the little things he had experienced. There was something about Janus that soothed away the ever-present worries that were always yelling inside Virgil’s head.

There was one worry that couldn’t be silenced, however. No matter how much Virgil was coming to trust his protector, he could not ignore the fact that he had no idea what Janus even looked like. It was eating away at him not to know, and the longer he sat alone, the Janus in his head looked more and more like a monster waiting to prey upon him. This couldn’t go on. He had to know.

-----

During the day before he was going to enact his plan, Virgil spent his time in the massive library he had discovered on the second day, scanning the shelves and making a show of selecting a couple books. He made himself comfortable in one of the oversized cushions piled near the floor-to-ceiling window and pretended to read. Between absently scanning the pages, Virgil looked up and glanced around the room, as if his mind were wandering with the tale he was apparently focused on. In reality, he was scouring the room for ideas.

Countless candles were lit around the library, their wax melting at different stages, some newly pooling while others formed thick layers around the base of the candelabras. They were lit now, but there was no way for him to have an already burning flame in the bedroom when Janus arrived for the night. He would have to find some way to light one on his own. Maybe he could just -

“Excuse me?” He called into the air. “Could I please have more candles, and some matches for them? I want to go read in my room, but, um, the smell is really nice in here.”

Like always, the items he requested popped into existence on a low table nearby: three candles and a pair of matches. Huh, he hadn’t actually thought that was going to work.

“Thank you!”

Hugging both books to his chest, Virgil collected his new tools and jogged up to his room. There, he placed the candles onto the small table between the armchairs and lit them with a match. The second match, he carefully tucked inside the front knot of his shirt, pressing against his breast. Now prepared, he settled in to actually focus on the novel he had picked up. There was nothing but time to kill.

-----

By the time Janus arrived, Virgil had already blown out the candles and crawled into bed. He cuddled in as soon as Janus had laid down, laying his head on the fae’s chest and trying to keep his breathing steady as they fell into their usually nighttime conversation. Janus’ claws delicately traced the bumps of his spine the entire time they spoke.

Once Virgil was sure Janus had fallen asleep, he began the slow process of extracting himself from the fae’s embrace. Janus really was a cuddler, and loved to hold Virgil close while they slept, but thankfully he was also quite a deep sleeper. Virgil was able to carefully pull himself away and tuck a pillow into Janus’ arms. The fae squished it to his chest and curled onto his side, none the wiser.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Virgil went to work. He grabbed one of the candles and fished the match out from under his shirt, striking it against the table to light it. One hand held onto the base of the candle, while the other carefully cupped around the flame, protecting it as Virgil walked around to the other side of the bed where Janus lay. With a deep breath to steady himself, he pulled his hand away and gasped at the sight in front of him.

Janus never wore a shirt, which meant Virgil’s hands had felt the broad expanse of his naked back every night they had slept together. That didn’t explain why there were now a pair of gorgeous, tawny wings sprouting from between Janus’ shoulder blades. The feathers looked softer than anything Virgil could imagine and shined like spun gold in the candlelight. Virgil ached to caress the speckled feathers, to scrunch his fingers in the fluffy down near the wings’ base, but as he reached out, Janus rolled over and Virgil’s breath was punched from his lungs. The face of his protector was carved by the gods. Janus’ skin was a rich, dark brown, reflecting the candle light to accent his strong jaw and sharp cheekbones. Virgil could only imagine what colour his eyes could be behind his lids, framed by perfectly shaped brows and a shapely nose. Oh! Those lips! So plump and full! What would they feel like pressed against his own?

Enraptured, Virgil tried to get a better look, but as he leaned forward, some of the melted wax from the candle spilled over and landed on Janus’ cheek. The fae yelped, startling awake and clutching at his face as he threw himself upright. Virgil jumped back in shock, falling on his ass while somehow keeping the candle lit. The clatter drew Janus’ attention and his head snapped to the side to look at Virgil, who saw the moment Janus’ eyes widened with understanding and heartbreaking betrayal.

“You promised!” Janus hissed. “You promised me you wouldn’t look! Does your word mean so little to you!?”

“N-No - I, I just, I wanted-”

“What!? What was so important that you had to break your promise?”

“I wanted to, to make sure you weren’t some sort of … monster … who had kidnapped me to… to eat me,” Virgil muttered, suddenly feeling incredibly foolish. Why did he have to give in to his anxieties so easily? The next moment, his heart crumpled with Janus’ expression.

“Get out.”

“Wait, what?”

“I said. Get. Out.” Janus growled, spreading his wings high above his head as he leaned over the edge of the bed. “Get out of my sight, and out of my home! If you cannot hold to one simple promise, then I will not protect you! You can deal with my mother’s wrath on your own!”

About to protest, Virgil cried out in fear as Janus slashed out him, narrowly missing his face with those lethal claws. He didn’t waste any more time, dropping the candle and scrambling to his feet to run out of the bedroom. The empty halls echoed with his laboured breathing and the slap of his bare feet against the tiled floor as he sprinted through the palace and out the ivy-woven doors. The moment he was out, the doors slammed shut behind him.

Panting heavily, Virgil bent over with his hands on his knees, his entire body trembling from fear and exertion. He dropped to the ground and clutched his head in both hands, curling smaller and crying as silently as he could muster. It was a long time before his breathing evened out and he was able to drag himself back to his feet.

A glance around the clearing revealed what he had known upon his first arrival: he had no idea where in the forest he was, or which way led back home. So, he did the only thing he could and picked a direction to start walking. Through the night he stumbled over roots and around tangled shrubs, not stopping until he finally tripped over his own exhausted feet and fell into the shockingly cold waters of a stream. He spluttered and gasped, miserably dragging himself back up the bank. The sun was rising overhead, the forest waking up around him; he didn’t have the time to huddle here in a ball feeling sorry for himself.

-----

As the day progressed, Virgil noticed the trees beginning to thin and the gaps between the trunks growing wider. Suddenly, the canopy overhead parted to reveal a mountain, vast and tall, that should have been visible long before this moment. Placed at irregular intervals up the cliffside were six palaces woven of different plants woven together with even more grandeur than Janus’ home. Over the edge of the mountain, the tips and edges of presumably more palaces - these ones sculpted and shaped from various stones - were visible against the pale sky.

Virgil squinted, trying to get a better look at the strangely familiar shapes carved into the rock face near each palace. He gasped. The symbols matched those carved into the statues above the bronze dishes in the Spirit’s Temple, more specifically, the dishes meant for the spirits honoured in the spring and summer. That would mean - there! On the left! Beneath a palace of myrtle trees and rose vines, was the symbol belonging to the seventh spirit. That had to be the home of Janus’ mother, the spirit - or fae, rather - who was supposed to have been honoured at the start of this month.

Biting his lip, Virgil looked back the way he came then up at the palace once more. If what Janus said was true, and he wasn’t going to be offering protection anymore, then Virgil would have to face her on his own. It was either that, or cowering away until she tracked him down and killed him. Also not a desirable option, but Virgil would rather have some form of control over the end of his life. Beginning to climb, he just wished he would have been able to say goodbye to his dads first.

While there were worn deer trails to follow, the journey was not an easy one. Virgil had to cling to the rocks, heaving himself ever upwards, trying not to slice his bare feet or palms on the uneven shale. The summer sun climbed alongside him, growing hotter and hotter, sapping his energy and strength. Still, he pushed on until he stood before the lush gates shaking with exhaustion and dizzy from the heat.

Before he could gather his wits, the thorny vines that sealed the palace from the outside world began to withdraw. Where they parted, massive sanguine roses bloomed, as if to cushion a passerby from the sharp thorns. From within the depths of the palace strode out a figure so radiant and commanding, Virgil immediately felt subservient to her will. He quickly looked away, cheeks hot, as both of her breasts were exposed and only a lightweight wrap covered her lower body. His body recoiled when her piercing laugh broke the silence.

“Finally! The wretched beast comes crawling to its master, the Lady of the Summer Court. Had enough of playing at royalty, have you? Look at me when I’m talking to you, Virgil!”

Virgil immediately snapped his head back towards her, paling when his eyes met with her seething ire, but unable to drop his gaze any lower. He gripped the sides of his pants with white knuckles. “I - I’m so, so sorry! I n-never meant-”

“Look at this!” The fae cut in, causing Virgil to flinch again. “The pathetic mortal trying to inspire pity from me with your anxiety and melancholy! I will not be made a fool and relegated to some cheap handmaiden!”

With a shriek of rage, the Lady of Summer darted forward faster than Virgil’s eyes could track. The next moment, he was sprawled on the ground, ears ringing. He brought a shaky hand up to his stinging cheek and felt his stomach drop when his fingertips came away bloody. Rolling onto his back, he choked. The Lady was looming over him, one of her hands dripping with his blood as she pinned him down with a foot on his chest.

“It seems only fair to me, mortal, that I give you some chance to win back my good graces. Therefore, you shall complete a task for me, or else I will take your life as compensation for your disrespect.” The Lady of Summer announced with a wave of her hand. Virgil looked to the side, wincing as the cuts in his cheek dug into the gravel, and watched in surprise as a pile of mixed grains appeared nearby.

“You will sort this mass and disarray of seeds - wheat, barley, millet, poppy, chickpea, and lentil - into individual piles. I will know if a single grain lays with the wrong group. You have until this evening.” With that, the Lady of Summer kicked off his ribs and spun her skirts, vanishing into thin air with a flourish and leaving only the heady scent of roses as a sign of her presence.

Virgil lay on the ground in silence for a long time after she disappeared, barely daring to breathe. When he was finally able to bring himself to move, he slowly rolled onto his hands and knees, hissing at the pain in his ribs - definitely bruised. Crawling over to the pile of seeds, he reached a hand out but hesitated before he could touch the tiny grains. How the fuck was he supposed to sort these? He could hardly begin to tell them apart! Sitting back on his ass, Virgil dropped his face into his hands and burst into tears.

Then, he heard a high-pitched giggle.

Flitting to-and-fro above him were four - five - eight, no - seven? Seven little pixies were spinning, twirling, dancing through the air above him. Their bright, insect-like wings caught the sunlight and sent out flashes of colour like a rainbow in motion. One-by-one they drifted to the ground, settling in a half circle in front of Virgil and his miserable collection of seeds. They stood only several inches tall and were dressed in leaves and petals. A pair stepped forward in front of the rest; they were holding hands.

“Hello, hello!” The one on the right chirped, waving up with his free hand. He had gorgeous light blue butterfly wings that fluttered when he spoke. “We heard you crying and came to see, to see! What happened here, here?”

Virgil sniffled, wiping away his tears and snot on his sleeve. “Well, um,” he hiccupped and took a deep breath. “It’s the Lady of the Summer Court. She wants me to sort all of these seeds by type before tonight, but I have no idea how I’m going to do that so she’s definitely going to kill me!” He slapped a hand over his mouth to muffle a sob, tears running down his face.

“Easy now,” a new voice murmured as two little hands pressed against his knee. Virgil blinked his eyes open to see the second pixie - this one with veiny wings like a beetle’s - rubbing his leg soothingly. “You need to take slow, deep breaths to calm yourself.”

Virgil nodded and attempted to follow suit, counting to four on each inhale and exhale until the tears had slowed and he was able to relax somewhat to continue the conversation. “Th-thank you, um, what are your names?”

“You can call me Pat, Pat!” The first pixie announced twirling himself up into the air and drifting back down again.

“Ah, so you are quite new around here,” the second pixie mused, keeping his hands on Virgil’s leg. “You may call me Lo. Names have great power to the fae and it is imperative that you do not give yours away lightly, else someone may have complete control over your will.”

“But the Lady of the Summer Court already knows my name, and so did Jan- her son.”

“At any point did you give it to them, though?”

Virgil thought back over the last few weeks. “No… no, they both just, sorta, knew it somehow. Oh, uh, I guess you can call me Vee, then?”

Lo nodded. “Then it is likely they only heard your name somewhere, but they do not own it. Do you understand? They can exert some measure of power over you, but they cannot remove your free will entirely. Now then. Why is it the Lady wants you dead?” The pixie offered a small smile, nodding his head as Virgil explained how he got into this situation, that he knew Janus (though he referred to him as Jay), and why he wasn’t with the other fae anymore. When he finished, it was Pat who puffed up angrily.

“The Lady has gone too far, too far! You didn’t mean to make those people leave, leave! And it sounds like you didn’t actually make a binding promise, so Jay is acting a bit silly, bit silly. So, we’re gonna help you sort these seeds, and get everything cleared up, up!”

Logan nodded in agreement. “Indeed. Pat, you stay here with the others to aid Vee. I am going to go have a word with our feathered friend.” With that, Lo leaned in, kissed Pat’s cheek, and flew off down the mountainside.

Virgil watched the glint of Lo’s wings until he was out of sight, then turned back to the remaining pixies to watch as their quick, tiny hands got to work on the grains. “So… how do you know Jay?

Pat grinned widely up at him. “Jay is one of the Princes of Spring, Spring!” He works with love magic, and helped Lo and I get together decades ago in exchange for our help weaving that pretty gate in front of his palace, his palace!”

While they continued to converse, the pixies worked away at the seeds to form six unique piles, sorted from darkest to lightest. Before long, the entire jumbled mass had been reorganized without a single seed out of place. Once their job was complete, the five other pixies twittered their goodbyes and flew off up the mountain. Only Pat remained, sitting on his knee and chattering away as the sun set. Virgil shivered as a chill breeze licked at his exposed skin.

A sudden snap rent the night air, spooking Virgil, who lurched forward to cradle Pat in his hands protectively. Looking over his shoulder, he felt like vomiting when he saw the Lady of Summer standing over the grain piles with her arms crossed. He internally thanked any of the spirits who may be on his side that her chest was covered this time.

“This is not your work,” she hissed. “These were not organized by your hand, but by his!” She pointed an accusing finger at Pat, who had been peeking around Virgil’s arm but quickly hid back against his chest at the attention. “How dare you attempt to deceive me, you cretin!”

With a wordless shriek, the Lady lashed out with her vicious claws, aiming for the unmarked side of Virgil’s face. He scrambled back on his hands and heels, his ass dragging on the ground while Pat clung to the front of his shirt. Before she could take a second swipe, however, the dust and grit kicked up around them, obscuring their vision.

With his eyes covered, Virgil could only hear the flapping of large wings that cut off before there was the thud of a body dropping in front of him. Opening his eyes, he gasped. There, with his back to Virgil, stood Janus, with his great wings spread wide and his claws flexed at his sides. Lo, who had been holding onto the fae’s shoulder, now zipped down to the pair on the ground, holding Pat close and ensuring he was unharmed while the pixies huddled together on Virgil’s lap.

“You will not lay another hand on him,” Janus hissed, standing over Virgil protectively. Virgil felt Pat grip his thumb, but he couldn’t look away from the pair above them.

“What are you doing? Get out of the way, my son.”

“No. You wanted your revenge on him, and you got it. Look at him; he’s terrified, injured, and exhausted. The original disrespect against you was not even intentionally caused by him; it was the doing of numerous others. I do not fault you for your affront, but you are carrying on like a tantruming toddler!”

The Lady of Summer took a step back and clutched at her bosom. “You dare to speak to me like that?”

“I do, and so does the rest of the Seelie Court.” Virgil watched as Janus rolled his shoulders back and stood straighter. The Prince of Spring then reached into a bag tied at his hip and pulled out some sort of wooden charm dangling from a hemp rope. At the sight of it the Lady of Summer gasped and covered her mouth. “I have spoken before the Queen and her retinue, and she has decreed you will leave this mortal alone. In exchange, he will return to his town and gather a proper celebration for you by the end of this month.”

Virgil held his breath, not daring to twitch a muscle as he awaited his fate. The Lady of Summer let nothing show in her expression, but the hard lines of her face had softened attractively as Janus spoke. She shifted, looking over Janus shoulder and directly at Virgil. “You. You will do as this deal demands?”

Nodding rapidly, Virgil held up his hand in oath. “I will, I promise. I’ll go back home and speak with the curator of the Spirit’s Temple. We’ll host another festival and you’ll get the offerings you were supposed to be given at the start of the month.”

As if a switch had been flipped, the Lady of the Summer Court beamed a smile and grasped her hands over her heart. “Well then! That wasn’t so hard, was it! My dear, smart son, finding a way to set things right. I’m so proud of you, my little songbird.” Looking at her son, she cooed and cupped Janus’ cheek to tilt him up to kiss his forehead, smiling at his grumbling. “I won’t linger much longer, don’t you worry. I wouldn’t want to embarrass you in front of my future son-in-law after all! I’ll see you soon, Virgil, dear,” she called, a cool edge to her voice for a moment before she smiled brightly once more and waggled her fingers. With a dramatic wave of her hands, the Lady of Summer vanished once more.

A quiet settled over the remaining quartet, broken by a tinny clearing of a throat. Lo stood in Virgil’s lap, tugging Pat up next to him. “I believe it is time for us to depart as well. I am relieved we were able to arrive in time to prevent any harm coming to you, Vee.” The pixie looked from Janus to Virgil and smiled. “Let us know when you are in the woods, we would enjoy visiting under more ideal circumstances. Farewell, for now.”

“Goodbye, Vee, Vee!”

In a flash, the pair of pixies flew off into the night, their hands held tight together. They flew loops and circles over the others before darting off in the direction the other pixies had traveled hours ago.

On the ground, Janus helped Virgil to his feet. He cooed in sympathy, tenderly touching the tips of his fingers beneath the angry red cuts on Virgil’s cheek. “I am so sorry for what she has done to you, darling. And I am even more sorry that my own actions drove you from the safety of my side. I was meant to protect you from unearned rage, but instead I subjected you to further punishment and drove you towards your would-be killer. If I hadn’t gotten here in time-” Janus exhaled heavily, his wings sagging behind him. “I am so sorry, Virgil.”

“I mean, I’m not gonna say it’s okay, because none of this has been okay, but, I guess I can understand where you were coming from. If I were as attractive as you, I’d also be worried about people taking advantage of me.” Virgil blushed and dragged his big toe through the dirt. “So, yeah, I forgive you, or whatever.” He looked up with a fire in his eyes and jabbed his finger into the center of Janus’ chest. “But don’t you ever do that again, you hear me?”

Janus hands cupped around his own, cradling it close. “I swear, to the end of my days, I will treat you with the dignity and respect you deserve, my dearest.”

Despite the tenderness of the gesture, Virgil was unmoved. “I mean it, Janus. If you want us to work out, then I can’t be afraid that you’re going to banish me from your home every time you get upset. It’s not a relationship if you’re going to treat me like I’m disposable. I’m worth more than that. If you want more reassurance, or something, on my promises, then we can work something out, but what you put me through was terrifying, and I can’t go through it again. I won’t.”

Janus sighed, holding Virgil’s hands up to his lips and resting there a moment before slowly gathering Virgil into his arms. His embrace was loose enough to break, if Virgil wanted. “I understand, darling, and I will never be able to apologize enough for what I have done. However, it is not my words you want, but my actions, and I will do whatever you desire of me in order to make it up to you.” He cupped Virgil’s uninjured cheek. “I want us to work, too.”

There was a long pause as Virgil searched Janus’ golden eyes for any signs of deception. When he found only an earnest honesty, Virgil allowed himself to be held closer. He wasn’t sure which of them moved next, but they came together as one, lips pressing softly at first before quickly gaining heat. Then he was spun and dipped down, laughing hard as he clung to Janus’ shoulders, the fae’s wings held aloft to keep them balanced.

Maybe ‘future husband’ didn’t sound so bad after all.

[kozumekenza]

house of memories :: two

:: kageyama tobio x f!reader :: playlist :: masterlist ::

:: taglist: open :: wc: 2.1k ::

the last you had heard of kageyama tobio, he was following his grandfather’s footsteps and leaving you behind to join the syndicate. a chance meeting throws him back into your life, along with all of the memories.

tw: alcohol, mafia elements, profanity

You’re shivering, the moonlight reflecting off of the tears on your face. You really shouldn’t look this beautiful while crying, he thinks, and immediately admonishes himself for the thought. However, he also finds it fitting. There will be a lot of tears where he’s going; a lot of break-downs, a lot of pain. But still, he doesn’t think it’ll compare to the breaking of his heart in his chest when he watches you turn away from him forever. 

---

Kageyama Tobio is known for a lot of things; his cold exterior, his unforgiving nature, his skills with a weapon. He is also known for his unfriendliness, performing his job with a blank face and a calculating mind. He is known for having impenetrable walls and refusing to let people inside them. He is known for his detachment to everything around him; he doesn’t form connections with others, and his emotions are seemingly nonexistent. 

Even still, he can’t help but feel devastation and despair when he watches you walk away from him yet again, four years later, slipping from his grasp for the second time. 

---

After mumbling a quick apology to the bartender, who you now realize was Kageyama Miwa, you bolted to the dance floor and dragged Hana out of the club. She went willingly, asking next to no questions, her state of intoxication making her follow you with no complaints. 

Now, as you half-carry her into your shared apartment, you can’t help but wonder what would have happened if you stayed. It was obvious that both of the Kageyama siblings recognized you, although Miwa’s reaction was far better. Hana falls asleep the moment her head hits the pillow, and you leave her with a bottle of water and painkillers for the morning, sighing as you do so. You can only hope that she doesn’t ask too many questions about your quick escape tomorrow. You aren’t ready to dive into your past with Kageyama. 

When you finally crawl into bed, sleep evades you. Your night is spent tossing and turning, and when you finally do drift off, your dreams are filled with flashes of navy eyes and raven hair. 

---

The weeks pass as the sweltering heat of summer finally comes to an end; suddenly, you and Hana are back to your normal lives as college students. She asks no questions about that night at the club, and you’ve pushed it to the back of your mind, practically forgetting about it. 

The beginning of the semester starts, and with it, late night studying and weekends spent partying. Hana’s still going strong with the guy that has the membership, and you’ve finally met him, learning his name is Ushijima. He’s stoic and serious, but his love for Hana is obvious, and their relationship has progressed past late-night flings and one-night stands. You’re happy for her, even when she says that he’s not a college student, but a businessman who works under the CEO of a fairly well-known company. You know that’s true on the surface, but you don’t tell Hana that her newest lover is most likely one of Kageyama’s colleagues, whose job involves more guns and blood than it does numbers and desk work. 

All things considered, he treats her well, taking her on extravagant and luxurious dates, picking her up in a Bugatti, and always bringing her flowers. He’s respectful whenever he sees you, and if you didn’t know any better, you would think he’s just a nice, rich man. You know that Kageyama probably told him about you, but you can’t be particularly bothered, especially when Hana’s eyes light up whenever she talks about him. 

You start your fourth and final year of university without much fanfare; for you, it’s back to research work in the lab and long lectures on biology and medicine. You’re slightly envious of Hana’s path in nursing; she’s already working in the hospital and doing clinicals. Unfortunately for you, you’re stuck applying for medical schools while balancing your ever-growing list of lab write-ups and reports. 

It’s a fairly normal day, a few weeks into the semester, when Kageyama becomes the focus of your mind once again. 

You walk out of your final lab feeling exhausted; it’s already eight in the evening, and Hana’s on night shift, so you’ll be alone in your apartment for the night. Normally, you don’t mind, but tonight, all you want to do is crawl into bed without dinner and without completing any of the assignments that are due this week. Hana usually keeps you in check; reminding you of a lab report you have forgotten and keeping you company while you complain about your professors. 

Your thoughts are interrupted when you spot Kageyama Miwa, leaning on a black Lexus, eyes on her phone as she waits outside your lab building. 

Her eyes meet yours as she glances up, and she waves you over. Grabbing the straps of your backpack, you approach her. You aren’t sure what she’s here for, but you’re assuming it’s you. It doesn’t surprise you that she knows which university you attend and apparently, your class schedule. You’ve always known that Kageyama kept an eye on you. 

“Hey, Miwa,” you greet her with a smile.

“Hey, y/n.” She pulls you in for a hug. “We didn’t get a chance to properly talk that night. I almost didn’t recognize you, it’s been forever.”

“Yeah,” you nod, “but I’m pretty sure you aren’t here to catch up.”

She looks slightly surprised and disappointed, and you know that you’re right. “Unfortunately not. Are you busy tonight?”

You shake your head. Homework can wait for tomorrow, and as long as wherever she’s taking you has food, you don’t really care. You’re more curious about why she’s here; what Kageyama could possibly need you for. 

“Good.” She opens the passenger door of the Lexus. “This shouldn’t take too long.”

You get in as she goes around the other side and starts the car. “Why do you need me?”

She pulls away and you recognize that she’s heading towards Shadow. “Security issues. Personal files were leaked. Tobio’ll explain more, but he’s concerned for your safety.”

You snort at that. Kageyama Tobio, concerned. Hilarious. 

You can see Miwa glance at you out of the corner of her eye, but she remains silent as she pulls down a side street adjacent to the club. A garage opens, and she pulls in. You note the multiple luxury sport cars inside as you follow her out of the garage. 

She leads you down a hallway to an elevator, then up to the 30th floor. From what you can tell, the bottom few floors of the building are dedicated to the club, and you can assume that the top floors are for Kageyama’s personal use. You don’t think about the multiple basement buttons and what could possibly be down there. 

A ding signals the end of the ride, and you step out into the foyer of a large penthouse. Miwa leads you past a kitchen and living area, up a sweeping set of stairs. You can’t help but admire the modern apartment; it’s truly beautiful, accented in neutral blacks, grays, and browns. For a second, you’re jealous of Kageyama for being able to live in a place like this, but then you remember what he does and the feeling disappears. 

Miwa knocks on a door at the end of the hall, and it opens a second later. Kageyama is seated at a large mahogany desk, papers spread in front of him and the glow of a laptop reflecting on his face. The night lights of Tokyo can be seen from the floor-to-ceiling windows opposite the door, and you marvel at the view for a few seconds. You note that Kageyama looks exhausted; the file leak must be really bad. Much to your own disappointment, you also note that he still looks as handsome as ever in a dark blue suit. 

He barely looks up when the two of you enter, and Miwa clears her throat. “Bi, she’s here.”

The small giggle that leaves your mouth as a result of Miwa’s continued use of his childhood nickname causes Kageyama to look up at you, carefully assessing you. You know that you look like shit right now, your hair is messy from wearing goggles, and you’re dressed in lab clothes that have stains from previous chemical spills. 

“Come sit.” Kageyama gestures to the seat in front of him, and you dutifully obey. 

“Do you want something to drink, y/n?” Miwa’s still by the door, doing her duties as a host to Kageyama’s guests, but you shake your head.

“I’m alright, thank you.”

She smiles and pauses with her hand on the door handle. “You’re more than welcome to stay for dinner. We haven’t eaten yet, and I know I probably interrupted you heading home to eat.”

You grin, nodding. “I’d appreciate that, thank you.”

She leaves with an incline of her chin, the door shutting softly behind her.

You look Kageyama Tobio in the eyes, trying to decipher his feelings about you being here. You used to be pretty good; he never had to say anything for you to know what he was feeling. Now, you can tell that the years have made him cold and unreadable. 

He sighs and leans back, interlacing his fingers in front of him. “I’m sorry.”

You shrug. Two simple words not only for the hassle of dragging you here and interrupting your evening, but for the past four years, starting from the second you walked away from him and continuing through the obvious surveillance he’s done on you without your permission. “You do what you have to do.”

He looks relieved to hear you say that, enough that he grabs a file and rearranges its contents, pulling out a piece of paper to slide across the table to you.

“So, as Miwa told you, we had a breach in security. Personal files were hacked from our database, and that included yours. I’m sure you know why you have a file.” You nod. “Yours contained information such as your personal history with Miwa and me, as well as your whereabouts and what you’ve been doing for the past four years. Addresses, emails, phone numbers, and social media accounts were also leaked.” Kageyama sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Under normal circumstances, I would not be concerned. Everyone involved in my business knows the risks and how to defend themselves. You, on the other hand, didn’t ask for any of this. I’m concerned the group that stole the file will attempt something with you, as the file is clear evidence that you’re important to both Miwa and me.”

Awful news so far, but you saw it coming when Miwa mentioned a security issue. “Do you know who stole the files?” Kageyama nods. “Did they take anything else?”

“No, just personal files. Didn’t touch mine, they know everything about me already. They only took yours and Miwa’s, which is why I’m so concerned.”

You nod along to his words. The hackers wouldn’t take such inconsequential information unless they were looking for someone close to Kageyama to use as collateral. Plus, they would normally take business information, not anything personal. Things in Tokyo’s underworld must be bad. 

“What are you going to do?”

Kageyama gestures to the paper. “I know you’re in school, so I can’t simply lock you up somewhere until it’s safe again.” His small smile and dry humor makes you brighten up a little. You missed that side of him, with the short quips and ever-present sarcasm. “I’m proposing a security detail. Just two of my men, to keep an eye on things. You won’t even know they’re there. Plus, as you know, Ushijima hangs around your roommate quite a bit, and he’s under orders to keep an eye out as well. This,” he taps the paper, “is simply for your own knowledge. I’ve listed all the information that was leaked, as well as what to look out for if you believe you might be in danger. There’s also information on the two I’ll have guarding you, so you aren’t alarmed in case they make their presence known.”

You take the paper and briefly skim it. “Thank you.”

Kageyama’s smile is brief but genuine. “Again, I’m sorry about all of this. If there’s anything I can do, please let me know.”

You sigh. “It’s alright. Something like this was bound to happen one day anyway.”

It’s true; you’ve always known the risks, even though you haven’t been associated with Kageyama for four years, before his reign over Tokyo. You knew that even when you left, there was still a chance someone would trace back to you.

Kageyama stands up, his hand held out to you. “Want to go eat?”

taglist: @lilith412426​ 

[raspberryconverse]

So I spent half of the holiday at the World's Largest Laundromat (along with half of Berwyn and Cicero because...)

Then I came home and helped my spouse finishing moving everything out of our basement because we have cleanup people coming tomorrow to spray everything so we don't get mold. I may have had several meltdowns in the process. I'm very tired and stressed out and overwhelmed.

For those keeping score, we bought our house a week before we got married last year (closed on April 29). Here's what's happened:

Rewired half the house because nothing was grounded

New sump pump and garbage disposal (thanks, FIL!)

New hot water heater

New shower valve because we weren't getting hot water upstairs

Half the roof (because we didn't think we could afford the whole thing, which as you read the list will see was probably a good call)

Redone drain tile system because we discovered after minor flooding last year that apparently it was put in backwards

New furnace

Mold remediation in one of the bedrooms that the inspector couldn't see because it was behind wood paneling (also why we had half the roof replaced)

Walls replaced after mold remediation

New range (the one that came with the house never heated to the right temperature and lost heat after about 15 min)

New central AC unit

Fireplace chimney capped because the inspection we got for the city (a requirement after buying a house as-is) deemed it not safe to use (we'll put in a fake one soon)

8 inches of water in the basement on Sunday

We still need a new fridge because the freezer ices up and then leaks into the refrigerator, but that money is being spent on having the basement cleaned up professionally because it's still wet and so we don't get mold later. Our garage roof leaks like a sieve and obviously we need to get the other half of the roof replaced too. We also need new windows, but we'll just do the plastic for now because *gestures upward*

I mean, we've done fun stuff too, like paint and buy artwork, but it's hard to motivate yourself when shit keeps hitting the fan.

Apparently my MIL told my spouse we should sell, but honestly, we've put so much into it and moving is very stressful and I honestly don't want to do it again until we can afford to pay people to pack us (or an employer pays for it), so even if my spouse really wanted to, I'd refuse. And when they opened up YouTube on the TV after we finished for the day, the search that was pulled up was "selling when your house is underwater."

"It was a very stressful day and I don't want to talk about it."

Also, just for fun, this article has a video of someone kayaking down the street in my town. It's not by my house because my neighborhood is all 2 story brick Georgians and the houses with the parapets are further north.

My basement has been flooding on and off all day because the sewer is backing up from the rain and I'm just scrolling Tumblr because I don't have the spoons to deal with it.

[animalkingdom-an0nymous]

Cruel Summer

Disclaimer: No gifs or photos are mine unless stated otherwise.

Warning: It’s a smutty, filthy, NSFW Tom Holland AU and he just can’t seem to keep his hands off his best friend’s sister. No. Really. It’s a problem for both of them.

Subject: Tom X Y/N

"Why can't you watch the beach house, Jordan?" I asked my brother with my phone tucked between my ear and shoulder, wet dishes in between my palms.

"Because you live closer, you don't have a toddler running around, and you got out of doing it last time."

"Bringing JJ into this is low, even for you. Scumbag." I laughed, not serious in the slightest.

Jordan was two years younger than me but was probably more put together than I'd ever be. He ran his own construction company, had a beautiful wife, and had given me the greatest gift I'd ever known; my nephew, JJ.

Staying at the beach house was far from a hardship, but there was a storm coming and based on the news reports it was going to get ugly. Mom and dad wanted someone there to keep an eye on things and they were getting a bit too old to handle the responsibility of tending to the beach house on their own. I didn't blame them, and I didnt blame Jordan, he was right. I did live closer, but I was also looking forward to spending this weekend's storm curled up in bed watching old Audrey Hepburn movies and eating my weight in Pizzeria Regina. My phone was gonna be on airplane mode, absolutely no disturbances. Maybe a few orgasms, a little porn.

But even as I was scrubbing dishes and getting ready for my relaxing weekend, I knew I'd soon be packing a bag and getting in my car to head to the beach. Shit. “Fine. Fine. I’ll head out soon, but if this storm turns out to be nothing I am returning your birthday present and you’re responsible for mom and dad’s anniversary dinner.”

“If you really want to trust your dear brother in the kitchen then that’s your fault.”

I laughed, drying my hands with a towel before grabbing the phone. “Jordan, can you promise me one thing?”

“What’s that, Y/N?”

“Promise to give that kid the biggest kiss for me. Leila, too.”

“Thank you for not stealing him away!” My sister-in-law’s voice traveled through the phone like a song, her Japanese accent soft.

“Love you both. Stay safe tonight.”

“Text me when you get there.”

I ended the call, tossing my phone on the bed and quickly rummaging through my closet. Thunder rumbled in the distance and the tv could be heard faintly from the living room, alerting me to the weather report. Sixty mile per hour winds, flash floods, possibility of power outages, and a storm warning was already in effect.

I quickly yanked on a pair of denim shorts and an old UMass hoodie, the maroon material worn and comfortable, and definitely not mine. There may have been a storm rolling in but the summer air was thick with humidity, so all I grabbed as alternatives were a bathing suit, another pair of shorts, and a t-shirt, tucking the materials into my backpack along with my toothbrush and phone charger.

Within minutes I was packed and ready to go, pulling the hood over my head and catching the familiar scent of someone I hadn’t seen in a while. Or, maybe it was less of a scent and more of a memory. Shrugging it away, I locked the door and bounded to my car just as the first few drops of rain began to fall.

Music flowed through the speakers as I took back roads towards the coast, something tugging at my heart a bit as I thought of the last time I’d been at the beach house. My parents, Jordan, Leila, JJ.

Tom.

I rolled my shoulders, trying to relax as an old song came on.

Fuck this. I turned the radio down, alone with my thoughts. I hadn’t allowed myself to think about Tom since the last time I saw him, since I said too much. It wasn’t a hookup, it was nothing more than a conversation. Which was fine, Tom and I were friends. Sort of. Not really. He was my brother’s friend, his best friend. And that was it.

But that didn’t mean I wasn’t sitting there suddenly drowning in thoughts about our last encounter, both of us out on the back deck long after everyone had gone to sleep, the first real conversation we’d ever had in our adult lives. I hadn’t seen him in nearly two years when we were both still in college, Tom at UMass Amherst while I attended USC. He’d moved from London to the States with his family when he was thirteen, making fast friends with Jordan and becoming like a part of the family. He was around on holidays, weekends, he practically lived at our house during the summer. He would drink my orange juice and bother me while I tried to read. I’d known him when he was annoying and pimple faced, when he was an absolute dick to anyone who wasn’t JJ, when he was going off to college. Tom had been a major part of my childhood, my formative years.

He was also the biggest player I had ever met.

From an early age he knew that girls were drawn to the accent. He used it to his advantage, had girls hanging off his every word. I’d seen his social media, saw him shirtless on beaches with different girls, in clubs with different girls, in dorm rooms with different girls. I wasn’t jealous, but only because I’d known him for years. However, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious about the hype.

From the day I met him, I knew Tom Holland was trouble.

But that night, long after everyone had gone to sleep and we were two bottles of wine deep, something shifted. Maybe it was the topic of conversation, maybe it was the way the late June breeze wrapped around us, maybe it was the fucking wine. But something changed that night.

But that was two months ago.

We hadn’t spoken since.

I shook my head, telling myself to stay focused on the road, on the drive. I could still have the peaceful weekend I wanted, if only I could turn my brain off for just a bit.

I was pulling into the driveway of the beach house forty five minutes later and the rain was coming down in buckets. It was flying sideways, splashing against the car hard enough that I couldn’t see out the windshield. Thunder boomed overhead and it felt as though it was straight out of a movie.

I yanked my hood up once more and killed the engine, gripping my backpack and holding it against my chest as I looked at the house. The two story, wood shingled home was every bit the beach cottage. It was located right on a dead end, a path leading straight down to the beach.

The lights were off, the furniture on the porch scattered from the wind. I knew I’d have my work cut out for me if I needed to make sure everything was secure, so without thinking twice, I threw open the driver’s side door and jumped out, the broken shells in the driveway crunching under my sneakers. I made a beeline for the side door, running up the steps and throwing open the storm door as the wind howled around me, A regular thunderstorm was bad enough. A summer storm? It could leave the house flooded.

Unlocking the door, I threw myself inside and slammed it behind me, leaning back and catching my breath as the silent stillness of the house settled around me. Thanks to modern technology, I turned the central air on before I got there, so the air was cool against my bare legs.

I went through the motions and turned some lights on, made sure the basement was shut with bags of sand by every entrance to soak up any flood water or other leaks. The fridge was empty, but I wasn’t hungry anyway. I knew I’d disappear up to my room with a bottle of wine and Netflix on my mind soon enough, I just needed to make-

Headlights bounced off the living room walls, a sign that someone had just pulled into the driveway. Surely it wasn’t my parents, they both hated driving in the rain, and it couldn’t have been Jordan, unless he was so concerned by the weather that he felt compelled to drive over an hour to check on me.

I quickly pulled my phone out of my back pocket. No missed calls or texts. Oh, so you’re saying it’s a murderer? My mind was quickly going into overdrive, covering all the possibilities of who would be there to murder me and what I could use as a weapon to defend myself. But hey, could you blame me? Twenty five years old and alone during a storm, 20/20 basically already had that episode mapped out for me.

A car door slammed shut.

Shells were being crunched under shoes.

Pounding footsteps up the side stairs. A shadow appeared on the other side of the door and my heart leaped into my chest. I was more than prepared to call the police when I heard the familiar sound of a key being inserted into a lock. I was standing in the doorway of the living room when the side door swung open, revealing someone I most certainly wasn’t expecting to see.

“I… Tom?”

He was squinting, his face and hair soaked by the onslaught of rain outside. “Y/N? What are you doing here?”

It was evident that he was just as surprised to see me as I was to see him. Tom’s accent seemed to thicken when he was angry or confused, and right now he seemed to be a mix of both.

I took in his appearance, trying not to be too obvious. He was wearing dark washed jeans and a pair of black Nikes, a simple black hoodie over a plain white t-shirt. Completely fucking effortless and still the most good looking guy in a fifty mile radius. His brown curls were matted to his forehead and he pushed them back, running his fingers through the thick trusses.

“What are you doing here?” The words came out accusatory and I cleared my throat. Relax. You’ve been in this house with him plenty of times before. “Are you... is there a girl in your car or something?”

“What?” Tom scrubbed a hand over his face, still clearly shocked and confused. “What do you- Jesus, no. You think I’d bring a girl back to your parents’ beach house, Y/N?” He finally looked at me, drops of water still catching on his long lashes. “You think I’d- hey, my jumper.”

“What?” I responded before looking down. Fuck. Me. Sideways. I was still wearing the UMass hoodie, the same UMass hoodie he’d given me last time I saw him. “Oh! Yeah, I… I brought it back to my place with me. And then Jordan called me and asked me to come here and it was right by the door, so I figured I’d… you know, bring it back here and… leave it… for you?” I was making it sound like a question.

Why was I making it sound like a question?

Are you having a fucking stroke? I asked myself as Tom blinked at me a few times, saying nothing. Lightning struck outside, momentarily blinding me as the lights flickered. Damn, losing power meant no Netflix. No Netflix meant Y/N’s chill weekend was about to go to shit. Technically, it already did because I 1) wasn’t even in my own home and 2) no longer feeling chill thanks to one british Tom.

“Jordan asked you to come?”

“Yeah, why?”

He looked around, peeking out the window. “Your parents called me and asked if I’d come make sure the house was secure.”

My parents? I was confused. Jordan specifically called me and asked me to go because he couldn’t. Why would my parents call Tom? Questions were flying through my head and I was already shrugging out of the hoodie, suddenly feeling like the material was too heavy, like I was drowning in it.

I held it out to him as he turned to face me again. “He probably didn’t call them to let them know I was coming, you know how he is.”

Tom smiled then, revealing straight white teeth. “Your brother’s a space cadet.”

That smile had my stomach doing backflips and I ached to calm down. It never used to be like this with him. He was cute, yes. Very. He was charming. He had nice looking hands. But he was Tom. He was Jordan’s Tom. He was the same Tom who fucked Missy Turner under the bleachers at the Homecoming game and the same Tom who let Rochelle Adams suck him off in the janitor’s closet during school. He was that Tom.

So why was I looking at him like he was Netflix and I’d had a long ass day?

I realized I was still staring, not saying anything. “I’m sorry you had to come all the way out here. We can kill Jordan, if you want. I feel like that’s good payback?”

Tom nodded, still smiling and playing along. “Yeah, we could. But then Leila would do away with us and I’m far too handsome to die this young.”

“True.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets and jerked his chin at me. “And you… you have more of my jumpers to steal.”

I cocked my head to the side. “I didn’t steal it. If I remember correctly, you offered it to me.”

“I did.”

I was still holding the hoodie out to him. “Here.”

He made no move to grab it, hands still in his pockets. “Keep it. Looks better on you anyway.”

My stomach dropped and I found myself speechless. “I… you sure?”

He nodded. “Yeah, no worries.”

I nodded my head, heat flooding my face as I looked down. What the fuck was going on with me? I didn’t act shy, not around other guys and definitely not around Tom. During college, I finally found my confidence sexually and I took hold of that. I was not the shy girl.

“Do you want to head out before the weather gets really bad?” I asked him

.As if on cue, thunder cracked loudly overhead, releasing a loud boom followed by flashes of lightning. The lights flickered again and Tom met my eyes across the room, blinking those chocolate pools at me. “I don’t think I’m going anywhere, darling.”

His voice was quiet, almost too quiet. I could have sworn I could hear the waves crashing against the shore, or maybe it was the blood rushing in my ears. We stood, staring at each other for a moment, and I opened my mouth to speak when there was a loud crash at the back of the house.

I jumped with a yelp, my heart slamming against my ribcage. “What the fuck was that?”

Tom moved past me, absentmindedly reaching out to touch my arm as he went. “Stay here, I’ll be back.”

Um, that’s what people say right before they murdered. Even though I had come to terms with the fact that I was irrational, I wasn’t going to take any risks. Turning, I followed close behind him, catching the earthy, musky scent of his soap. Or, was it his laundry detergent? I didn’t know, but I enjoyed it. He smelled woodsy, warm. Safe.

Back the fuck up I cleared my throat, telling myself not to look at the way the material of his jacket stretched across his shoulders. There was a small crash again as we made our way to the back door.

“It’s a shutter.” He laughed and opened the window, screaming wind filling my ears as he grabbed the shutter and slammed it, closing the window. Turning, he had a smug smirk on his face. “You’re a big baby.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “No, I’m not.”

He started to laugh, tilting his head back. “You screamed like a banshee.”

I flipped him off before turning my back on him, retreating as his laughter followed. “You’re a dick.”

My response only made him laugh harder.

Everything in the house seemed to be in order. The windows were shut and locked, the basement was set. The only thing that needed to be brought in was the outdoor furniture, but we needed the rain to let up a bit first.

When I walked back down the stairs after checking the second floor, Tom was rummaging through the kitchen. Seeing him there immediately brought me back to that night, the intimate conversation, the almost.

TWO MONTHS AGO

My parents had gone to bed nearly an hour ago and I was in my room listening to an old Rolling Stones record. Jordan was somewhere, possibly in his room with Leila and JJ, or possibly drinking down on the beach with Tom. It was one of the first weekends at the beach house, one of the first weekends of summer, and the air wasn’t thick yet. There was a breeze floating through the open windows and everything felt warm. New. The summer solstice was upon us and I lived for family weekends at the beach.

Funny thing about family weekends? Tom was there almost every single time.

“You’re still up?” I asked his back as I entered the kitchen, watching as he struggled to uncork a bottle of wine. He was wearing black basketball shorts and his old UMass hoodie, somehow still looking like an ad for an Abercrombie summer collection.

Tom sighed in defeat, slamming the bottle down on the granite countertop before answering me with a huff. “First weekend here and your brother’s already in bed.”

“Dad life.” I said with a laugh.

Tom smiled at the mention of our godchild. The day Jordan and Leila asked us to be godparents I’d been so emotional I cried for nearly an hour and, though I knew he wouldn't admit it if pressed, Tom was emotional about it, too.

“I love that little monster.”

I reached out, taking the bottle and finessing the cork for a moment before it finally released with a soft pop. “Jesus, Tom, you need to be slow with her. Gentle.” I chided as I reached into the cabinet, producing two glasses.

He took the bottle in a wide palm, tilting it to fill a glass before passing it to me. “I don’t know, she doesn’t like it too gentle.”

I rolled my eyes even as I felt my heart speed up. “Are we still talking about wine, or has the conversation moved to your latest conquest?”

Tom put a hand over his heart and threw his head back as if he’d been shot. “For your information, there hasn’t been a so called conquest in over a month.”

I feigned shock. “Over a month? Tommy, are you feeling alright?”

I was still laughing, but Tom paused to glare at me for using his little nickname. He hated being called Tommy and always had, but for whatever reason he never corrected me, never told me not to call him that. He’d glare, sure, but he never told me to stop.

“Feeling just fine, love.” He took a sip of the cool white wine, his brown eyes looking at me over the delicate crystal glass he held. “Fancy going outside for a bit?”

We were the only two left awake. I could faintly hear the pitter patter of feet upstairs as Jordan or Leila hushed a crying JJ, and then looked at Tom. “Yeah, let’s go.”

And that’s how we ended up on the back porch, the sound of the sea crashing against the shoreline as a soundtrack for our conversation. The wind had picked up but other than that the world was silent. It was just the two of us, and after not seeing each other for so long it felt like there was a million things to catch up on, yet I didn’t know where to start. I could ask him about graduation or what it was like to live in a big city, but in the grand scheme of things did those questions really matter? Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the atmosphere. But I wanted to know about Tom, about how he was doing, how his life was. If he was happy.

If he was single.

The thought was fleeting yet it caught me off guard nonetheless. I had no reason for caring if Tom was single, but there I was wondering if he was. He had changed over the two years I was away, his eyes sharper, his jaw more defined and making him look older. Still five eight but no longer the skinny boy he used to be. There was more definition to his arms, his chest a bit more puffed up. I took in the breadth of his shoulders and the slope of his neck, too caught up in staring at him to notice that he was actually speaking to me.

“What did you say?”

He laughed, leaning back in his chair. “Daydreamer. Are you listening to me at all?”

I shook my head. “I’m sorry!” I laughed, draining my glass and then reaching for the bottle. “This wine goes right to my head. I’m all ears, what were you saying?”

He grabbed the bottle from me, refilling his own glass. “I was asking you about being home. Are you and… Bryan… Bobby… doing the long distance thing?”

“His name is Ben, and no.”

Tom snapped his fingers and pointed at me. “Ben! That’s right, Boring Ben.”

I wanted to defend my newest ex, but I couldn’t. He truly was one of the most boring, insufferable people I’d ever been around. We dated for the last two years of college, maybe out of convenience, or maybe because it was because I’d gotten comfortable. People assumed we would get married, but the thought of walking down the aisle to him made me sick to my stomach. We literally had nothing to talk about, his friends didn’t like me, and the sex was mediocre at best, leaving me disappointed with myself for getting so comfortable that I was settling for bad sex.

I took a sip of my wine, looking down at the glass for a moment.

“I… what did you just say, love?”

I furrowed my eyebrows, confused.

“Did you just say that you settled for bad sex with Boring Ben?”

What? What? It was quite possibly the biggest mistake I’d ever made, saying those words aloud. But it all honesty I didn’t think I’d said anything. I wasn’t drunk, definitely not drunk enough to make that sort of slip.

I was mortified.

My eyes widened as I looked at Tom. My face and ears felt hot and I tried to sputter out an apology. “Holy shit. Tom, listen, I didn’t mean to say any of that out loud. I-”

“Stop.”

I paused, my heart hammering in my chest. He leaned forward slightly, placing his glass on the table as he regarded me seriously. “You didn’t mean to say any of it out loud. But you were thinking about the bad sex you settled for?”

I took in his words and felt my face heat even more. It sounded pathetic, embarrassing, but I was so focused on school that the relationship had taken more of a backseat. It was nice to have someone at the holidays and during family and university events. It was nice to not feel so alone in California while my friends and family were three thousand miles away. It was all… nice. Convenient. Words that shouldn’t always be associated when regarding a relationship.

But it was my truth. Ben was boring, I was settling, we got stuck.

“Can we pretend this never happened?” I blurted the words out, hoping Tom would be agreeable. If he told Jordan they would rag on me for the rest of my life and having to suffer through it now was bad enough.

“I don’t think I can do that, darling.” He was already shaking his head and my stomach was sinking. “Because it breaks my heart that you settled for less.”

I didn’t know what to say, caught off guard by Tom’s soft tone and sweet words. I shouldn’t have zeroed in on him calling me darling, but I couldn’t help it. He’d never done that before.

Ever.

I shivered, not knowing if it was from the breeze or the way he was looking at me, but he noticed. Quirking that one, whacky eyebrow at me, Tom asked, “Are you cold?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, the wind is picking up.” I rubbed my hands over my arms.

Tom stood, reaching a hand behind his back in between his shoulder blades, pulling his hoodie off. I tried to avert my eyes as the front of his shirt rose, revealing a strip of skin above his shorts. I couldn’t help but stare at the defined V of his hips or notice the way his ab muscles contracted with every movement.

He handed me the sweatshirt with a boyish smile on his face. “Take it. I’m hot anyway.”

You have no idea, I mused silently, thanking him and slipping the material over my head. It was soft, worn, the inside of it felt warm from his body heat. I could feel his eyes on me as I adjusted the material, pulling the hood up so that it framed my face.

“Looks good,” he quipped.

I smiled, taking a very large sip of my wine, thinking I was out of the clear.

“So how bad was it?”

I nearly spit the wine out at the question. “Excuse me?”

“The sex.” He deadpanned. “How bad was it?”

If I was the fainting type I would have been on the deck floor. “Tom, I’m not fucking telling you about my sex life.”

“Sounds like a LACK of a sex life, if you ask me.”

“I didn’t ask you.”

He smiled, but it quickly faded as he regarded me seriously. “Really, Y/N, how bad was it?”

I wanted to blame my honesty on the alcohol or the late hour, but really I think I just wanted someone to talk to. Someone to confide in. Tom may have been an asshole playboy to some, but never to me. Thinking back on it, he may have even been a gentleman to me. Sure, he would annoy me when we were kids and barge into my room without knocking, or he’d go through my purse looking for gum, and there was the time he accidentally ate my birth control thinking it was a mint.

But Tom was also the guy who punched my high school boyfriend in the teeth for dumping me the night before Homecoming. He was also the guy who made an obnoxiously huge sign with Jordan for my graduation. He was that guy.

“It wasn’t… bad.” I found myself starting to open up a bit, pulling at a thread that was sure to unravel if I didn’t stop soon. “It was just routine. It was always the same thing, Ben wasn’t very adventurous. He didn’t like to try things, he hated anything new. He was just…” I took a breath, trying to choose my words carefully. “Set in his ways, I suppose. And that didn’t work for me anymore.”

“So, you ended it?”

I nodded, draining my glass once again. “Yeah, and that was when he showed his true colors.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

I thought back to the breakup. We’d been in Ben’s truck and it was raining. We were parked at a diner that was pretty much in the middle of nowhere. “He confronted me. He knew I was acting weird and he refused to drop it until I told him. I tried to explain that it wasn’t him, that I felt we just weren’t compatible. Ben lost his fucking mind. He was screaming at me about how he had all these plans for us, how I was fucking things up.” I paused, thinking back on the way he looked at me, like I was trash. “He called me a cunt, told me to get out of his car, and then I walked two miles back to my apartment.”

Tom’s eyes widened at my admission. His cheeks were tinted pink and I assumed it was from the booze, but when his mouth pulled into a tight line I realized it was because he was angry. I’d even say he was pissed. “He what?”

“I know, I know, it was a shitty thing for him to do. But the thing is, I’m not even all that upset about it anymore. I finally got to see who he really was and, oddly enough, the only thing I felt on that two mile walk was relief. It was finally over, it was like Ben was my last attachment to California. I could finally come home.”

He was silent for a moment, taking a sip of his wine before speaking. “Do your parents know about what happened with Ben? Does Jordan?”

I shook my head.

“Then why tell me?”

Our eyes met, held. Tom’s face held a look of concern, confusion, and something else. Something I couldn’t quite place. He was leaned forward in his chair, elbows on his knees as we stared each other down.

“Because honesty comes easier when it’s dark out, Tommy.”

He swallowed, not looking away from me. My heart was pounding so hard I could feel it in my ears, the wine making my lips tingle with the familiar buzz. Everything suddenly felt hot, burning hot, like it was on fire. Like the whole world was about to go up in flames.

Maybe mine was.

“I won’t tell them.”

“I know you won’t.” I reached out, gripping his hand. “You’re a good guy, Tommy.” I gave his hand a quick squeeze, meaning to let go, but then his long digits were wrapping around the back of my hand and it suddenly felt like we were magnets. I couldn’t let him go. His skin was warm, somewhat calloused against the soft skin of my knuckles.

His voice was so soft and quiet when he finally broke the silence, I had to lean in to hear him. “Y/N, what were those things you wanted to try?”

“Huh?” I felt as though I was in a trance.

“You said Boring Ben never wanted to try new things. What were they? He raised his eyebrows expectantly, fingers still stroking over the back of my hand.

It felt like a distraction, a very chaotic, overstimulating distraction. It was the smallest, simplest of movements, but feeling his fingers dance across my skin was hypnotic, and it was only my HAND. But I couldn’t ignore the question and it made my stomach turn. I didn’t want to tell him the things I wanted to do with Ben, the different versions of sex I wanted to explore more of. Sure, I tried things with different people before Ben and I got together, but it had been so long. So long since I got the attention I was craving.

So long since I’d done something reckless and new.

So long since I’d been touched by hands that were actually interested in making me feel more than a grip.“Tom…” I breathed out his name, suddenly overwhelmed. The scent of him was on the sweatshirt I wore and I could feel his knee bump mine as he moved closer.

“Tell me. I can keep a secret, love.” His words were hushed, quiet as he leaned just a little closer, our faces mere inches apart.

“I…” I started, my eyes flickering down to his lips before moving back up. Tom saw the movement, his lips curling slightly. “I wanted… something new.”

“Something new or someone new?” Tom responded.

“I don’t know.” I answered honestly, feeling his fingers tighten around mine.

“I think you do. I think you know exactly what you want, Y/N, you just need to say it.” He leaned even closer, his nose brushing mine, and when I went to back up he brought his free hand around and reached into the sweatshirt, knocking the hood off and cupping the back of my neck, his hand gentle but firm, kneading the soft skin where my neck met my shoulder. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” I gasped, suddenly struggling to breathe, overwhelmed by the sudden turn of events.

“Then tell me what you want. Say it.”

I was so wrapped up in Tom, in the moment, that I didn’t care about anything. Fuck the neighbors, fuck Boring Ben, fuck my family that was literally sleeping only feet away in the house. I wanted Tom. I wanted new. I wanted him to touch me the way he touched the girls who told stories about him. I wanted him to kiss me like he’d die if couldn’t.

“I want y-”

“Y/N? Tom?” a soft, sleepy voice came from just inside the house.

We sprang apart like we’d been electrocuted, Tom standing and walking to the edge of the porch while I pulled the hood back up, trying to look nonchalant and failing beautifully just as Jordan poked his head out from the screen door. “What are you two doing up?”

Tom didn’t answer, still looking out towards the path that led to the beach. “We couldn’t sleep, figured we’d devour a bottle of wine and then crash.” I laughed even though I felt anything but amused, standing up and heading over to the door. “I’m gonna try to sleep, though. I’ll see you both in the morning?” I brushed past Jordan, standing up on my tiptoes to hug him before turning to Tom, who had finally turned around. The look on his face was strained and frustrated, his arms crossed over his broad chest.

God, he was so far from the boy I used to know.

“Goodnight, Tommy.”

PRESENT

“Earth to Y/N.” Tom waved a hand in front of my face, laughing. “You with me?”

I shook my head, pulled out of that very intimate memory. “What? Yeah, sorry. It’s been a long week.” I laughed and tried to play it off like I was fine, but my stomach was turning in knots. We’d both slept under the same roof before, hundreds of times, but now things felt different. Heavy. It was like I’d spilled something last time and there was still a stain that wouldn’t come up no matter how hard I scrubbed.

“You have your pick of bedrooms.” I said casually. “Jordan’s, my parents’, the guest room. Whatever you want.”

Whatever you want. It was an unintentional double entendre, but I noticed the way his eyes darkened slightly.

“Where are you sleeping?”

“My room.” I clarified.

He nodded his head, moving around the center island as he shrugged out of his jacket, throwing it over the back of the couch. “Y/N, can I ask you a question?”I shrugged my shoulders.

“Go for it.”

He looked at me then, his jaw clenched as he braced his hands on the back of the sofa, fingers spread in a way that looked almost vulgar. “Why the fuck are you looking at me like you’re scared I’m going to kill you in your sleep.”

“I’m not.” I started to defend myself, straightening my spine. “I’m just freaked out because of the rain.”

“Bollocks. You’ve loved the rain since we were kids.”

I shook my head, sensing the anger in his tone. “Don’t do this whole angry british thing tonight, Tom. I’m in a mood.”

“Clearly.”I narrowed my eyes at him, my hands balling into fists at my sides. “What the fuck is your problem?”

“My problem?” He huffed at me, his cheeks flushed. “You’re the one who can barely look me in the eye, Y/N. So, you tell me what the problem is.”

“I don’t have a problem.” It was a lie. A blatant lie. But I wanted to move past whatever this was with him. I had to move past it. I couldn’t crush on my brother’s best friend. I read those books. I saw those movies. It would ruin everything.I had finally come home, had finally gotten my old life back. No matter how much I wanted Tom- and believe me, I fucking craved him- I could never have him. He would always be just out of my grasp.Which was a good thing.

“Okay, you don’t have a problem. That means we can discuss what happened last time we were here, yeah?”

I froze, no words coming out of my mouth. He said the words so casually it was as though he was talking about the weather. “I... “ I was struggling, slipping, losing my composure. “I don’t know-”

Tom was shaking his head, scrubbing his hands over his face. “Don’t even fuckin’ say it, Y/N. You know exactly what I’m talking about.” Tom looked at me, eyes blazing. “You wanted it, I know you did. I felt it.”

My breathing was labored as I blinked at him. I had no idea how to respond. I didn’t want to acknowledge what happened, I wanted us to forget it and move on. It was a moment of weakness, it was late.

“It was the wine.” I said quietly. “We were drinking. W-we weren’t thinking straight.”

“It was the wine.” He repeated my words, his arms crossed over his chest as he stared at me. “It was the wine.. That’s a joke, innit?” When I didn’t respond, Tom walked over to me, the tips of his sneakers touching the tips of my bare toes. “The truth is, Y/N, you didn’t drink that much. Neither did I. I knew exactly what I was saying to you and I was sober enough to see your reaction.”

“Tom-”

“Why won’t you be honest with me?” Tom’s voice was so soft it felt like a blanket.

The question felt like a knife to the gut? He was right to be confused. I never had any issue speaking my mind with Tom, with Ben, with anyone. I was opinionated, I said what was on my mind. But I was completely frozen with him. I just couldn’t push the words out of my mouth, couldn’t tell him that all of this was killing me, draining me. I couldn’t be open and honest and tell him that I’d spent the last two months thinking about him. That it never stopped. That the smell of him was haunting me, the feeling of his fingers on my skin was a memory I wanted to drown it. Tom had been in my life for over a decade.

Why now?

As if God was finally on my side for once, we were interrupted by the sound of furniture scraping across both the front and back decks. “My parents are gonna kill me if we lose any of those deck chairs.”

He stared at me for a moment and said nothing, his eyes searching my face. Eventually, he took one step back, seemingly giving up

.I hated the relief that went through me. But more than that, I loathed the disappointment that tugged at my heartstrings. I felt his eyes on me as I walked to the front door, pulling open the door and bursting outside with a deep breath, appreciating the way the rain hit my skin. I needed to cool down.

We were both silent as we got the stuff from the front and put it in the living room, turning the normally spacious room into nothing more than a cramped closet. Then came the back of the house, something that would be more difficult. The furniture was heavier, we had to walk up and down stairs, the thunder was clapping so loud I feared I’d go deaf.

I glanced up at Tom as he bounded down the porch steps. His shirt was completely soaked, the white material now stuck to his skin, nearly transparent. I could make out the tight muscles of his shoulders and the way his back tapered down to a lean waist.

Stop, stop, stop. I was screaming at myself, my feet slipping in my flip flops. I angrily kicked them off and then stormed down the stairs, suddenly furious about the rain and having to come to the beach house, and I was angry at Tom for not leaving well enough alone. More than that though, I was angry at myself for letting any of it happen in the first place.

He was dragging chairs by me when I stopped and wheeled around, facing him. “Why would you go and do this now?” I had to shout to be heard over the rain. “Why couldn’t you just leave it alone?”

Tom paused for a moment, his jaw clenched, rain dripping down his face. Releasing the chairs, he slicked his hair back. “I… I don’t know. Okay, I don’t bloody know, Y/N. I saw you here for the first time in two fucking years, and I missed you. I missed you so fucking much and I didn’t even know it. And then you were here and I couldn’t get enough of you. I wanted to catch up, I wanted to talk. I wasn’t even going to try anything, not that night, but then you mentioned Ben and everything you didn’t do with him, and I just couldn’t help myself. I’m sorry, alright? I am. But I’m not gonna sit here and play this bullshit game with you. You let me in that night and you can’t take it back.”

You let me in that night and you can’t take it back.

His admission left me stunned. He looked vulnerable and honest, the words heartfelt. I knew he meant all of it, that he didn’t mean for anything to happen that night. Not that anything really happened, but it felt as though that conversation changed everything. There was a shift, one that neither of us could stop.

“It doesn’t matter.” I finally responded, my voice laced with disappointment. “We can’t do this, Tom. Whatever that night was, whatever that conversation was, it has to stay there. It has to stay in that night.”

“I can’t fucking do that!” He shouted, the rain still pouring down around us. “I’m not going to sit here and pretend I didn’t feel something, Y/N.”

I was aching for him to stop. I knew he meant all of it, that he wasn’t trying to play me or hurt me. Tom would never risk saying the things he said if they weren’t at least party true.

I was beyond frustrated as I turned, grabbing more things to bring inside. Tom was huffing and puffing ahead of me, mumbling to himself. He was clearly angry, his jaw clenched, his eyes narrowed. We were both soaked from head to toe, my feet bare against the deck as we lifted the glass table, maneuvering it up the stairs to the back of the house.Tom’s eyes were on me the whole time and I was too cowardly to look in his direction. Carrying that heavy glass table while thunder roared and lightning flashed was stressful, to say the least. But I didn’t even care about the storm, I cared about the absolute hurricane that was my situation with Tom. I wanted to fix it, needed to.

“Why are you so stubborn?”

His question caught me off guard. We’d put the rest of the furniture away and I was outside searching for one missing flip flop, rain hitting me sideways as I turned to stare at him. He was leaned against the door frame, arms crossed with that white shirt sticking to him like a second skin. I could make out the line of the chain he wore, could see where it fell against his chest. Tom looked like the cover of a romance novel, a few stray curls falling around his forehead. Even in my terrified, angry confusion, my attraction to him was undeniable.

“I’m not being stubborn. I’m being smart. What, you want me to admit that I’m attracted to you? Fine, Tom. I am. But attraction doesn’t change things. We can’t cross that line, now will you please help me find my other flip flop?”

“Jesus.” He stormed past me, pointing a finger in my direction as he went. “This conversation’s not done.”

I shouted his name as he walked back down the stairs in no urgency because he was already soaked. His jeans sat low on his hips, probably weighed down by the water as he bent down, pulling something from one of the hedges at the end of the property. My flip flop. Turning, Tom walked back up the stairs slowly, purposefully, his stance all man and making me feel very, very small. I was waiting at the top when he finally stepped up, crowding me, holding my shoe in his right hand. Our chests were touching, just slightly, and I could feel my nipples harden from the slight contact.

“Thank you,” I said quietly, reaching to grab it from him.

Only to have Tom pull it towards him, away from me. “Have you thought about kissing me?”

“What?”

“Have you thought about me touching you?”

“Tom…” I backed up three steps with him following my movements, keeping us close, chest to chest.

“Those things you wanted to try, have you thought about trying them with me? Because, fuck, I’ve thought about you.”

His admission made me weak, my breath catching in my throat. We were getting close, so dangerously close to something we couldn’t turn back from.

“I’ve thought about you every day. I’ve thought about your eyes and your mouth and the way you look in my fucking jumper.” Tom’s hands grabbed my face roughly, cupping my cheeks, fingers tangling in my hair.

He was holding me there as my breathing went ragged, our eyes finally meeting. His pupils were blown out, water dripping down the bridge of his nose

.It was all so intense. It was overwhelming. I wanted him so bad it was physically starting to hurt, my hands going up and gripping his wrists, prepared to pull his hands away. “You are… so fucking infuriating.” I was breathless, weak, but I still noticed the smile that pulled at his lips.

“Darling, I’m a fucking devil.”

I knew what was coming, knew I should pull away, but as soon as his lips came down on mine in a bruising, hard kiss, I knew I was gone.

Tom’s lips were hard, demanding, his tongue eagerly licking at the seam of my mouth and begging for entry. His hands still held my face hard enough to prevent me from backing up, but even if he let go I knew I’d stay, the brief taste of his lips so intoxicating it felt like I was in a trance.

He pulled back, his eyes opening. Our noses still touched and I could feel his breath fan across my lips. Our eyes met and for the briefest moment I thought he was going to pull away, but he spoke instead.

“What do you want, Y/N?”

I paused, my throat dry and my breathing ragged. I couldn’t lie anymore, to Tom or myself, so I opted for honesty instead. “You, Tom. I want you.”

That was all he needed to hear before his mouth was on mine again. He slanted his lips over mine, tilting my head back. When our tongues touched I felt like my body was on fire and I couldn’t help but wonder why we hadn’t done it sooner. Tom tasted like mint, like a secret, like my deepest, darkest fucking fantasy.

All of a sudden he was pushing us, walking forward while I stumbled back, our mouths still fused together as he let out a soft groan. I wanted so badly to memorize the sound, to hear it again, but I was too focused on not falling over. Something sharp dug into my back and I winced, gasping into Tom’s mouth.

“What the fuck was that?” I gripped my side and turned. The doorknob.

“Shit,” he muttered, reaching to lift at the edge of my shirt. “Is it going to leave a bruise? Let me kiss it better.”

I rolled my eyes and laughed, opening the door and ushering him inside. “I’m fine. Really.”

“No.” Tom’s hands gripped my hips. He was looking at me with mischief in his eyes and it made my stomach do a backflip. “Really, love, let me kiss it better.” I felt his fingers skim over my bare flesh as he dragged the wet material of my shirt up and over my head, dropping it to the ground.

My chest was heaving as he looked me over, eyes zeroing in on my breasts. I was wearing a simple black lace bra, nothing fancy. But Tom was looking at me like I was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen and my heart swooned.I thought he was going to kiss me again, but instead he sank to his knees and my breath caught in my throat as he looked up at me. I was wearing my shorts, my underwear, and a barely there bra while Tom was still fully dressed. I felt vulnerable, small, but in that moment I fucking loved it.

Tom’s breath fanned over my hip as he kissed the spot where the doorknob had jammed into me. “Better?” he asked, looking up at me through thick, dark lashes. All I could do was nod, and his smug smile told me everything I needed to know; Tom knew exactly what he was doing.

His hands skimmed over the backs of my thighs, traveling down. When his fingers touched the backs of my knees they wobbled, and I knew he felt it. “This alright?”

I nodded my head, reaching one hand out and tangling my fingers in his wet hair, feeling his head nudge into my touch. “Use your words, Y/N.”

“It’s okay.” I managed to gasp out. He’d barely touched me, barely kissed me and I was still completely breathless.

“Do you want more?”

"Fuck." I gritted my teeth, suddenly frustrated he was moving so slow. "Yes."

He smiled, soft lips trailing over my hip, his teeth biting at the denim that hugged my skin. "How about we play a game?"

I huffed, my fingers stilling in his hair. "I'm not in the mood for games, Tom."

He stood then, nails lightly scraping up the sides of my legs and making my skin break out in goosebumps. Every single part of me was ignited and I was on sensory overload. "What if I promised you win this game?" He kissed my shoulder, one hand trailing over my side and traveling up my back, tracing my vertebra. "What if I told you that you win quite a few times?"

I gasped, drunk on his words as he leaned in, kissing me again just as he reached up and unclasped my bra. The straps fell down my shoulders slowly and as his lips grazed mine I reached bed between us, tugging the rest of the material down.

Like any straight, hot blooded male, Tom leaned back and looked down, taking in my naked breasts. "Shit," he breathed, leaning down and sliding his tongue over the curve of one globe, mouth warm and tongue wet. I was already arching into his touch when his mouth closed over my nipple. I thought he’d be gentle, thought he’d start slow, but he sucked HARD, yanking my nipple to the roof of his mouth until I yelped.

Tom groaned against my skin, releasing me with a pop. “Mhm, I liked that sound. Didn’t picture you as a screamer.” He smirked at me, his mouth red and his lips swollen.

I laughed and leaned in, my arms wrapping around his broad shoulders as we stumbled through the dining room. “Yeah? You’ve been thinking about the sounds I make?” I licked a fat stripe up Tom’s neck, feeling him shiver against me.

“I’ve thought about much more than that.” He grabbed me by my hips, now in the kitchen, and lifted me, my ass landing on the counter as the wind howled outside.I watched, mesmerized as Tom lifted his shirt over his head and tossed it to the side, revealing the smooth expanse of his chest. His abs were hard, tight, and I wanted to leave hickies scattered across his collarbones.

“I’ve thought about you. Here.” He tapped one finger against the countertop. “And I thought about what it would be like to fuck you while everyone slept upstairs.” He took a step forward, his hands going to his jeans, fingers deftly undoing the button and zipper. “Me, telling you to be quiet, putting my hand over your mouth.”

Tom’s long fingers reached out, sliding over my chin, across my cheek. When they traveled over my lips I couldn’t help but poke my tongue out, tasting the tips of his fingers. He stopped for a moment, leaving them there, eyes glued to my mouth as I repeated the motion, this time holding eye contact as I tipped my head back, letting his index and middle fingers dip into my mouth, my tongue wrapping around them and sucking softly.

His hand twitched slightly, I felt it, and I smiled around his fingers, groaning softly when he pulled back. The truth was, I wanted them deeper. So much deeper.

“Fuckin’ minx.” Tom’s voice was rough and his hands were the same, gripping my thighs hard and pulling me to the edge of the counter. My legs hugged his slim waist, my hands settling on his chest. “You want me to fuck you, Y/N?”

I nodded my head. Consequences be damned.“Fine. I’ll fuck you any way you want. But you have to tell me one of those things you wanted to try first.”

“Tom…”

“C’mon.” His voice was soft, smooth. Charming. When he spoke again his accent was thicker and I physically throbbed for him. “Give me a little bit, love.”

“I…” I started, suddenly very self conscious of my own sexual desires. It was different when I was having sex with Ben because it was always the same thing, and it was different sleeping with a stranger because I’d never have to see them again. But I would have to face Tom in the morning and every day after that. I didn’t want his opinion of me to change. “I want to suck your fingers while you fuck me.”

The words were so soft I wasn’t even sure he heard me. He was silent, eyes staring at my mouth before looking up, meeting my gaze. “That’s it? That’s what you were so nervous to tell me?”

I shook my head, unable to help myself from laughing. “Oh, man. No, you have no idea how many things I want to try. We’re just not there yet.”

Yet.

Why was I implying that it was going to happen again?

Tom’s hands were sliding up and down my thighs while my ankles were locked at his waist, his fingers eventually popping the button and zipper while I waited for his response. “You like hands?” When I nodded he continued. “You like my hands?” As if to emphasize, he slapped one hand roughly over the side of my thigh and I jumped.

He shushed me, pursing his lips softly. “Relax, darling. We’re about to have fun.”

Without another word he unwound my legs and pushed his hands against my shoulders until I was laying flat against the cold quartz counter, arching my back and gasping. Tom hooked his fingers into my shorts and underwear, pulling both down and leaving me completely naked in one swift move. I felt vulnerable and open, but he quickly forced me to move past that as he spread my legs, his fingers splayed across my thighs.

His groan sent shivers through me.

“You’re like a fucking dream.” His words were hushed even though we were the only two in the house. “Oh, shit, did I just see you clench up for me?” His eyebrows furrowed in concentration as I threw my hands over my face, mortified and turned on all at once. He could see every part of me.

“Tom!” I practically shouted. If he didn’t touch me soon I was going to-

My body tensed up and every coherent through flew from my mind as Tom licked a fat stripe all the way from my ass to my clit, groaning and sending vibrations through me. My legs twitched and he repeated the motion, my nerve endings on fire.

Tom Holland’s head was between my fucking thighs.

His lips closed over my clit, sucking at the same time as he pressed his tongue flat against the bundle of nerves, and my hips pretty much lifted off the counter.

“Tommy!” I gasped, the sound ending on a choked moan as he looked up at me, brown eyes nearly black.

He pulled back for a moment and I could see his lips, glistening and wet from my arousal. “You know, you’re the only one allowed to call me that?”

My head lolled slightly and I looked at him, reaching down to run my fingers through his hair. “Why?”

“Because I like the way it sounds when you say it.”

His admission did something to my insides, made me just a little weaker for him. I was the only one allowed to call him Tommy, the only one to have that little nickname. Something possessive soared through my veins and I quickly sat up, seeing his shocked expression as the fingers that were in his hair traveled down, grabbing the back of his neck and tugging him towards me, our lips attaching. I couldn’t stop fucking kissing him and when I tasted myself on his tongue I wanted him even more, sliding my tongue into his mouth and dominating the kiss.

“I wasn’t fucking done with you yet.” He spoke against my mouth.

“But you said this was about me trying things. There’s something I want to try, Tommy.”

His eyes shut briefly, his jaw clenched, concentrated. He was coming undone for me in the same way I was for him. “What’s that?”

I ran my fingers over his collarbones, tracing the delicate bones with my fingers. I was nervous, forcing myself to push the words out anyway. “You know how when you were in high school being sneaky and fucking in a girl’s parents house was fun? And, sometimes, when the parents weren’t around you and the girl would sneak up to her parents’ room?”

His laps traveled over my jaw, down my neck, and I felt him smile against my skin. “You want me to fuck you in your parents’ bed?”

My face heated and I nodded, burying my face in his shoulder.

Tom laughed softly, pulling back and helping me off the counter. I was acutely aware of the fact that I was completely naked while he still wore jeans and black Calvin’s but I no longer cared. In fact, there may have been a part of me that enjoyed the way I felt knowing I was the only one who was naked. It made me feel small, soft.

“What are ya’ waitin’ for then?” He arched a brow and nodded towards the stairs. “Move your ass.”

I practically sprinted past him, moving before he even finished speaking. His eyes were on me as I moved, my hips swaying a little more than usual. Tom was hot on my heels as I bounded up the stairs, one of his hands reaching out and giving my ass a swift, harsh slap. I welcomed the sting, pausing on the stairs and turning to look at him as a gasp escaped.

“I fuckin’ knew it.” He marveled, a smirk playing at his lips. “I knew you liked it a little rough.”

I began backing slowly down the hall, facing him. “Oh, you have no idea.”

He arched a brow, molten brown eyes looking me up and down. “Is that right? You feel like telling me any of those deep, dark fantasies, or are we not there yet?”

I couldn’t help but laugh as he threw my words back at me. “Not yet. I like surprising you.”

I stepped into my parents’ room and Tom followed suit, looking around as the wind rattled the glass windows.

The air suddenly felt thick. The king sized bed loomed behind me and it all felt real. Terrifyingly, brutally real. I was about to get into that bed with Tom, I was about to take a huge step off a very large cliff. Whether it was good or bad- although I prayed it would be good- didn’t matter. We would never be able to come back from this.

“Believe me, you’ve done nothing but surprise me tonight, Y/N.”

“I actually think it’s your turn.” I said with a small smile as I crawled onto the bed, looking at him over my shoulder.

Tom was too busy taking in the view of my naked backside to comprehend my question. “What?”

I sprawled out across the bed and rested my chin on my hand, looking at him. His jeans were undone and his hardened cock pressed almost painfully against the denim material. “It’s your turn. I’ve been very honest about what I want to try, but what about you, Tommy? What do you want?”

His eyes locked on mine and my breath caught as he moved forward. “I want you. I want you to say my name while you come, I want you to wrap those beautiful legs around me and squeeze whenever I go just a little too deep. I want to fuck you the way I’ve dreamed about fucking you since I was fifteen years old.”

His candid admission left a pang in my heart and I quickly tried to stifle it, leaning up as he leaned down, our mouths fusing together once again. It seemed that I couldn’t keep my mouth off his. Maybe it was because I had been fantasizing about that mouth for so long, maybe it was because Tom was just that good of a kisser, but either way I didn’t care.

“Fuck me. Now.” The words were mumbled against his lips.

Tom’s lips traveled down my jaw to my neck and he bit the skin where my shoulder and neck connected. His sopping wet jeans pressed against me and I hissed out a breath as he pulled back, laughing down at me. His brown hair had begun to curl at the sides and he looked boyish, young. His cheeks were flushed and I couldn’t even remember why I’d tried to fight my attraction in the first place.

He jumped off the bed and began the painstaking effort of removing wet denim.

“God… fucking… dammit!” I watched him struggle, biting back a laugh as he hopped around the room, kicking one leg free and then the other. When he looked back up at me his eyes narrowed and he glared. “Are you laughing?”I shook my head, sucking my bottom lip into my mouth.“You’re laughing at me right now.”

I shook my head, backing up on the bed as Tom came forward. “No, no I’m not. I’m-” I shrieked as his hand wrapped around my ankle and he dragged me down the matress.

I struggled against him as he leaned over me, covering his body with mine as his hands tickled at my sides. I gasped and laughed, nearly headbutting him at one point. “Tom, please, I was-wasn’t laughing.” I was trying to explain myself when his hips settled between my thighs, his hard cock pressing against my clit, right where I was aching for any kind of attention, or friction, I could find.

“You’re not laughing anymore,” he whispered against my mouth.

“Not really finding anything to laugh at right now.” My response was just as quiet, my fingers linking behind his neck as he braced a hand on either side of my head. Our eyes met as he ground his hips against me, my mouth falling open in a quiet moan as Tom settled on a good rhythm. He wasn’t even inside me yet and I was already on the edge, my thighs trembling as they squeezed his trim waist.

Tom seemed just as eager as I was, his arms wrapping around me and then unwrapping, hands trailing up and down my sides, over my breasts, gripping my thighs. My own nails scratched lightly over his shoulders and I reveled in the way he shivered on top of me. His breathing was heavy, chest heaving as I lifted my hips, grinding harder, needing more.

“I…I don’t…” Tom trailed off and I stopped my movements.

My heart sank at his tone. He was about to tell me he couldn’t do it, he couldn’t sleep with his best friend’s sister. I, of course, would be mortified and naked and ashamed as he got dressed to inevitably leave, where he would get into a car accident and die because there was a storm raging outside. And then I would have to explain to my parents and Jordan that I killed Tom because I-

“I don’t have a condom.”

What?

“What?”

“I don’t have a condom.”It was a split decision, and normally I would argue with myself about practicing the art of safe sex, but I had waited too fucking long for this and I was thankful that he wasn’t about to leave me naked in the middle of my parents’ bed.

“I’m on the pill.”

He arched a brow. “You’re cool with…”

I couldn’t help but smile. I hadn’t seen him bashful very often, but I had to admit I found it completely adorable. “Tommy, I’m cool with anything that involves you being inside me.”

“Thank fucking god.” He sat back on his knees between my splayed thighs and I watched as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of his briefs, shoving them down so that his cock sprang free, slapping up against his abdomen. My eyes widened as I finally got the first glimpse of what had been grinding against me for the last thirty minutes, of what I’d been dreaming about all summer. His cock was long, a pulsating vein across his shaft.

My mouth watered at the sight of the pre-come that gathered at his crown and I reached forward with every intention of wrapping my fingers around him. But Tom’s hand snapped forward and he grabbed my wrist, halting my movements.

“I want this to last longer than fifteen seconds and, honestly, if you touch me right now I’m going to fucking explode all over you like a fifteen year old .I don’t want to ruin this.”

I looked up at him. He was panting, his cheeks tinted pink. He looked rumpled, worked up, his eyes dark, and I’d never wanted him more. Leaning up, I gave him a quick kiss on the lips, darting my tongue out to taste his quickly. “Get on with it then.”

Tom smiled against my mouth and then he was pushing me down again, covering his body with mine. His skin was warm and the hair on his legs tickled my thighs, but all I could really focus on was the deep, intense throbbing that had settled low in my stomach. I actually feared that I would die or combust if he didn’t fuck me so-

Too wrapped up in my aching body, I didn’t notice that Tom had reached between us and lined himself up at my entrance. When I felt his knuckles brush against my swollen clit I stiffened, a weak whine leaving my mouth.“I want to hear that fuckin’ noice on repeat for the rest of my life,” he whispered against the damp skin at my temple.

I was about to open my mouth and give a half assed witty response when I felt his body surge forward, his cock sinking into me in one long, swift, nearly painful because it was so good move. I gasped, my thighs squeezing Tom’s hips and my nails digging into his sides.

His groan in my ear sent vibrations through me and I shook underneath him, trying to find my breath, trying to acknowledge the fact that it was Tom inside me. Tom Holland. My brother’s best friend. But at that moment in time someone could tell me I didn’t actually have a brother and I would have believed them. I would have believed the moon was actually made of cheese. I would have believed anything… because none of it mattered.

In that moment the only two people who existed were Tom and me. Just us and the storm. “Tommy.” My voice shook as he pulled nearly all the way out, just holding the tip of his cock inside me.

Tom looked down at me with his eyebrows furrowed, mouth hanging open. He looked serious albeit desperate and I could completely understand why. It felt as though all the air had been sucked out of the room as soon as he pushed inside me. “You good? You need a minute?”

I shook my head. “You feel so good.”

Something snapped in him then. I watched it happen. His eyebrows relaxed, the hands that were on either side of my head clenched into fists, and his hips snapped forward as he pushed in to the hilt, repeating the motion twice more before a rough grunt escaped his lips.

I slammed my head back against the pillows as a moan tore from my throat. He’d barely been inside me two minutes and I already felt like I was on the verge of an earth shattering orgasm. But it was true. Tom had kept me riled up so long, far longer than just this messy afternoon. My body had been waiting for this for so fucking long.

Tom’s teeth sank into my shoulder. Hard. He didn’t let up until I yelped, and then he pulled back with a devilish smirk. “Look at you,” he said, breathing heavily as he lowered his head, our noses brushing. “Screaming underneath me whilst I fuck you in your mum and dad’s bed. So, so naughty.”

He was taunting me, teasing me, and his words spurred me on. My hips lifted, another rough moan leaving my mouth at the new angle.

Tom must have liked it too, because soon enough he was thrusting so hard it nearly hurt, so hard I swore I could feel him in my stomach.“You’re. So. Fucking. Perfect.” His voice was gruff, the words barely audible. Our moans and breaths mingled, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room. It may have been pornographic, may have been downright filthy, but I was too far gone to care.

I was fucking drowning in Tom.

So close to coming harder than I had in my entire life.

When he reached between us to rub his thumb over my clit it felt like too much, my back arching as I shook my head. “Tom, Tommy… no. I-”

“Shhh.” Tom’s focus was between us as he looked down, sliding his now soaking wet digit over my clit again, reveling in the way I shook under him. “Been dreaming of this for years. For years, Y/N.” He was so transfixed on looking down at where we were joined, I truly didn’t know if he realized he was speaking. “Do you want to come on my cock, love?”

He looked up at me then, our eyes meeting. His pupils were so blown out there was barely any brown left. No longer able to form a coherent sentence all I could do was nod.

“Good.” He pressed his thumb against my clit, harder than before, and watched my face as a scream erupted from me.

“Tom!” I went to grab his hand and he quickly grabbed hold of it with his free one, slamming it down against the mattress near my head, resting his full weight on me.

“You’re going to come for me just like this. My cock inside you, my hands all over you.” He released the hand he was holding and grabbed a hold of my hair, yanking my head back in a move that shocked me. I hadn’t expected him to be so rough, but the move sent pleasurable shockwaves through my scalp and down my back. I felt him everywhere.

I was close, so fucking close, words and moans and broken pleas leaving my mouth. I wanted it so bad I could cry, my desperation palpable as Tom trailed rough, wet kisses down my neck, never once letting up on my clit as his hips pistoned forward in short, quick strokes. He was close too, I could feel it in the way his pace began to stutter, in the way his breath was hitting my neck.

I ran my fingers through his thick hair and his pace quickened. “Come, Y/N, please.” Tom’s voice was raspy and I knew he was serious. He was waiting for me, holding back for me, wanting to please me… and somehow that was everything I needed to finally let go.

My orgasm hit me like a freight train, knocking the wind out of me. I came with a silent scream, my mouth falling open with no sound coming out, my breath stuck in my throat as Tom’s grip on my hair tightened. Vaguely, I could hear his name coming out of my mouth on repeat, my entire body tensing up underneath him. It was like nothing I’d ever felt, like every nerve in my body was on fire.

“Fuck… fuck… fuck.” Tom’s back muscles tensed under my hands, his entire body going still as he held himself deep inside me. The feeling of his pulsating cock sent delicious aftershocks through me and I clenched around him, loving the small groan that erupted from him as he slowly relaxed, resting his full weight on me with a long, heavy sigh.

We lay like that for a few minutes, the thunder and wind having calmed at some point during our tryst. Tom was resting his sweaty forehead on my chest and I ran my fingers through his hair as I stared up at the ceiling. Everything would be different now, everything would change. But I was too lost in my post orgasm glow to care much about anything.

“Was that too rough?” Tom’s voice was soft, the question catching me off guard.

“What?”

He lifted his head to look at me, shifting his body weight as he examined my face. “Was I too rough? I get carried away sometimes, don’t always know my own strength.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. If he only knew half the things I wanted to do to him, or what I wanted him to do to me. Shit. He’d probably have me arrested. “No, Tom, no. Believe me, it was perfect.”

He arched in eyebrow in a cocky way that only Tom fucking Holland could do. “Perfect?” His accent was thick. “Just wait for round two.”

I was about to respond when he leaned in for a kiss, capturing my lips and holding me right there in that moment with him. It was crazy, it was stupid, it was reckless. And I didn’t give a flying fuck.

A noise from downstairs startled us and I jumped. “It was probably just the wind.” Tom reassured me.

I nodded my head, but when I heard the telltale sign of keys hitting the countertop my heart leapt into my throat. “Tom? Y/N? You guys here?”

Tom’s eyes met mine and in unison, we said, “Jordan.”

Oh, fuck.

[anotheronechicagobog]

Advil and Water (Cause Goodwin Ain’t No Scmuck) - You’re An Idiot - Part 2

written by: @anotheronechicagobog​

Warnings: swearing, asshole FBI agents, abduction, canon compliant violence, Irish Gaelic that I used an online translator for cause my Granna was forced to stop speaking it by the Catholic church so I never learned it.

After their little... ‘meet and greet’ Ingrid called her partner, who called their boss, and they hurried their asses up. They got warrants to plant bugs in all of the Burke residences. Every friend, acquaintance, and family member, including and a cousin twice removed who called Tim Burke too much to leave him out of it. And since they’d used Will’s information to get a warrant to get more information, they decided that he wasn’t particularly useful. Put him on even more of an information diet than he was already on. 

Ingrid and two grumpy men, one young and annoyed, the other old and surly, sat across from the couple. Glaring at both of them as they had Nat and Will signed NDA’s. 

“You two might get subpoenaed if this case ever goes to court. You know, given that you didn’t follow my express orders.”

“You know what Ingrid? I don’t really care. I did not want to be doing this in the first place. It put myself and my family at risk. You forced me to do it. And another thing, because of the info I gave you, you got access to all their houses, electronics, and bank accounts. And isn’t that worth much more in court than witness testimony?”

Silence.

“Is that all you need us to sign?”

“Yes, you two can go now.”

“Uh, this conference room is in our hospital. Our place of work. You don’t get to dismiss us.”

“Wow, Halstead, you have some nerve-”

“Enough. I said ‘no’, I said that I didn’t want to do it. You forced me to put my fiance and my son in danger. My family. You have no idea of the damage you’ve caused in the three of us. You don’t get to talk to us about ‘nerve’.” Will stared all three agents down. 

They were met with curious gazes and obvious whispers from the hospital staff as the feds slunk out the ED doors. “Hey, guys, are you okay?”

“We are now, Maggie. We are now.” Natalie held his hand and kissed his cheek. Things were still fractured between them, things still needed fixing, but Will could feel their bond strengthening as he revelled in the loving gaze Natalie was blessing him with. “I love you Nat. You and Owen. So, so much.”

“We love you too.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

For the first time in four months Will and Natalie heard from Agent Ingrid. They were rounding up the Burke’s, but they lost Tim. He was on the loose and he knew that Will was involved. They didn’t know who did it, but info had been leaked to the Burke’s just before the arrests were made and Tim was the only one to move fast enough and get away.

“Helen just galled from the interstate, there were no troubles getting Owen out of preschool and she doesn’t think they’re being followed. She says that she’ll be at the safe house Jay got us in an hour and a half.”

“Good, now we really need to get going.” But their car didn’t make it out of the parking lot, just their parking spot before they were T-boned by a black Mercedes. Will was too distraught and preoccupied with an unconscious and bleeding Natalie to watch the hulking figure stomp over to his side of the vehicle. “Natalie, can you hear me? Wake up! Nat, please I-”

“Hey Halstead.”

Crack.

Nothingness.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Will woke up his head was throbbing and he could hear the blood pulsing through his body. His esophagus had been replaced with sandpaper, and his lips were painfully chapped. “Well look who’s finally awake.”

“Eurgh...”

A fistful of Hair was painfully grabbed from the back of his head. “Hey! I am talking to you. You snitch. You piece of shit! My family, my friends are all rotting in cells because you sold us out to the feds! Our bank accounts are frozen, my picture is on the FBI’s most-wanted list, I have been put on the no-fly list, and my family’s legacy is down the drain. All thanks to you. Y’know I have lost everything because of you, maybe it’s time you lose something because of me.” The words rattled Will’s muddled and confused brain, but he absorbed them. He understood them. Just like he understood Tim moving towards Natalie’s crumpled, unconscious form in the corner of the room and moving to lie over top of her.

Will’s vision went red, his chest constricted, and every molecule in his body was infused with unhinged, violent, fury. With adrenaline pulsing throughout his body Will backed the wooden chair he was tied to into the wall so hard it splintered into tiny pieces and was looming over Tim Burke before he could look away from where he had his fat, sweaty, grimy hands squeezing Natalie’s neck. Will grabbed Tim by a chunky arm and a roll of fat and slammed him on the ground away from Natalie. He wasted no time in bashing his fists into Burke’s face, arms when he tried to defend himself from the onslaught, and his chest. Will didn’t stop when he heard cracks and snaps coming from the other man’s body, nor did he stop when blood that wasn’t his sprayed onto his face and body. Will only stopped when he heard his name called by a soft voice he recognized in a millisecond. “Nat?”

“Will- Wh-ere- hugh-”

“Hey, hey, don’t talk. Your head- I should’ve checked you first- oh God- but the bleeding stopped. It stopped, how do you feel?”

“Like I was thrown off a horse.”

“As long as you don’t feel like you’re on death’s door.”

“And you’re okay, oh my- what happened Will?!”

“Don’t worry, none of it’s my blood. Here, I’ll look around for a phone.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Will was okay for the most part, Natalie was the one who needed to be hospitalized. A brain bleed from the car accident and infection from the infested basement they were taken to kept her in the OR and out of his arms for several hours. Helen and Owen were still at the safe house, just to make sure the coast was clear, but Jay promised him they were fine as he waited silently by his brother’s side. “She’s gonna be fine, Will. She’s strong, able to handle more than most people could even think of bearing.”

“And how would you know that?”

“Well she’s engaged to you isn’t she?” And for the first time in 24 hours Will cracked, an albeit teary, smile.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Will, did you really pummel Tim Burke into a pulp for me?”

“Nat, for you and Owen, I’d do anything. Is tusa beirt mo theaghlach, mo shaol.” (You two are my family, my world)

[dredgenridge]

I am desperate to leave the living situation I am in. I need help. I have tried other place in the past and not a budge. It's a stretch for me to try here. It's a hit or miss deal.

I am 21 years old, working 40+ hours a week with $10 an hour, no vehicle* and I am living with my homophobic family. This has been my life for a while now in this broken down house, literally. I'm in hell.

I do love my job and the family I work but 10 and hour doesn't cut it to live on my own. I hate asking money from them because they have treated me so well in the past. I always feel guilty asking. (This family has gave me gifts amd money to help me get items I need like the special boots I had to order. I need to replace them since they are beat up but they were not cheap for me and work helped me.)

These are the KURU Boots they helped me get because I work outside all day and I am on my feet. I have had these for around six months but they are done. I need to buy a new pair of KURU shoes but I am holding off for at least a few more weeks. (I have plantar faciatis. Work has worked around that fact with me.)

Before you ask, I have tried to do another job, ended up quitting because it was too much to go from outside retail (from 8am-6pm depending on what day it was) to a restaurant (on weekend nights) and didn't get to go home til around midnight a few times? (and for them to ignore some of my notes on my resume about my mental health? I was not going to stay so I quit there and continued to work at my current job.) I have applied for other part time jobs and got one call back but couldn't make it and asked to be rescheduled and they say' "Yes. We can do that." Then that time comes and never get another call?

*In April, it will mark two years my own vehicle has sat in the yard. TWO. YEARS. I do, however, have someone coming Friday night (Mar 13) to look at my truck and then return Sunday afternoon to work on it. So I won't be vehicleless too much longer, hopefully. I've seen his work but I am afraid to be screwed over because I have issues with that. I am always scared since I have been screwed over before.

That truck is my golden ticket outta here.

I am the only LGBT+ person in the house. I know my family is homophobic because they wear it proudly on their sleeve. I have heard their vile bullshit. I hate living in south North America.

It is like they don't think I can hear them when I wear my headset but boy oh boy, all the shit I've been fucking stuck hearing? I have had no privacy in 5 years. FIVE. Look at this.

I am near my bed right now and that is my view to the living room and kitchen. I hear everything. I hear the fighting between my parents, my brother when he talks about me. When I make comment about it they go back and say, "That's the point." when it comes to them talking about me. They clearly are too thick to see how much that has mentally damaged me.

Right behind this wall, is a health hazard.

From the sock over to the dresser is damp on the carpet be cause for over a month we have had a water leak from our water heater tank.

When I opened the door in the room to the water heater tank is, in the room beyond that brick wall- this is what I saw.

A brick wall is literally keeping me from that right now. I am sure that is black mold. I have not felt the best since I opened that door and took those pictures.

My so called father knows about it and hasn't done shit.

You see this?

The bathroom with the working shower has looked like this since at least 2017. That plywood is starting to get bad because of us showering.

In the other bathroom a light could fall in any moment. Been like this for roughly a year or more. I don't know anymore.

We live down the road from a restaurant and when they spray for roaches, we know. We know because my brother works there and they are in our house for a few weeks. I got up late one night to go get some water, flip the switch and I managed to see three small roaches scuttling into dark areas of the kitchen.

Do not get me started on mice during the winter. I don't see them but I can sure as hell hear them.

Another thing. The house is old so the foundation is not stable. The living room floor is warped in different areas and we have a leak under the house with our sewage line I believe. But at least once a month, under the house has to be pumped out of water. We do not have a basement.

My dad clearly does not give a flying fuck about anyone but himself. I think my absent father is a scociopath. Let me clarify. Physically there but never interacted with his kids. HE DOES NOT AND WILL NEVER KNOW HOW TO INTERACT WITH HIS FUCKING FAMILY.

The audacity to think I wanted a rifle that I will never shoot as a high school graduation gift?? I told him I wanted an xbox for graduation around the time he was about to get the rifle and it baffled him. I have always had a high interest in video games and I had not owned my own gaming system like an xbox or playstation of my own up until 2017. It was always share the Wii or PS2. He doean't know me at all.

I've heard my parents fight for at least the last few months and I am so sick of it. My friends are fucking worried beyond belief. They are stuck fucking hearing it when I am in a voice party with them and it is so embarrassing.

Just get a fucking divorce already. I am really tired of playing mom's therapist. I get that she needs to vent and all but to your traumatized, mental disordered child? I already am suffering enough from lack of needed treatment. It has taken such a strain on me that my facade is completely crumbling away at work. I can't hide my pain much longer.

I have wanted to kill myself twice in the last year alone to escape this. I have wanted to make it quick and the least messy as possible with one of the many hand guns thay lay around in the house. I was so close to going through with it the second time I thought about it.

I had made my mind up. Write a letter and a will for what my friends get and what to throw away. I was about to start writing it once I decided that I was ready to die. I scared some people and they told me to go to a hotline to talk me out of it.

That was seven months ago.

I need to escape and this is my last shot on asking for help. (I have asled help for different things and I have been overlooked.) I know friends who want to help me are unable to. I am not mad at them. They are already doing what they can to help themselves first beofre me because I care aboit them and want to make sure they are in a good spot before anything else. They aren't in the best situations either.

I need financial help to help me move. I am only asking for a total of $5000. If you can only donate even just $1 dollar, I will be more than thankful for you help. I am also opening commissions at this time. Please bear with me on timing. I am working 40+ hours a week right now and will work on the commissions as soon as I get a breathing chance when I get home.

My Commission Prices

$10 for a sketch and that will go from a bust to full body. I only do traditional- so pencil and paper. No sketch lines, just a clean pencil drawing. No limit to characters on one drawing. You will be charged for more than one character if you are going to have them on individual papers.

+$1 if you want it inked.

Note- I will not draw backgrounds, do shading or draw any NSFW. I am not adept in those fields.

My Paypal-

Thanks for at the very least reading through. Please help this be spread around. I will follow up with weekly updates through reblogs.

[banashee]

Part 24 of my @badthingshappenbingo​

Prompt: “Chained to a wall”

Please mind the tags and warnings in the notes

 Sticking Together

 Bruce can feel a headache pounding through his entire skull. It might as well be splitting his head in two, and the familiar angry roar echoing back in his mind sure doesn't help it.

 Hulk is trashing frantically, itching to break out and take over, but Bruce has got himself under control. He needs to, especially now. If only they could stop arguing, he thinks.

 Tony has been yammering on about this solution for what feels like hours, and if he had his hands free, Bruce would have started to tear out his hair by now.

 A tiny little part of him kind of wants to throttle Tony, but he knows the regret would come soon if he did.

 “I’m just saying, if you were to hulk out right now-”

 Truth be told, fantasizing about it helps a little bit.

   “I would be unable to control anything and the worst case scenario would be crushing both of you while I’m at it.” Bruce snaps at Tony, eyes flashing green for a second. Then his anger simmers back down. He doesn’t      want     to get angry, because he knows that Tony means well and his faith in Hulk for not accidentally or intentionally murdering him is very much real, but it’s getting exhausting. And at this point, Bruce is pretty devastated.  

 The inventor takes a deep breath, but is cut off before he can start again.

 “Come on, knock it off” Clint grouches from his own corner of the damp, windowless cell without even looking up. He’s been awfully quiet so far, and they’re not entirely sure if this is a good sign or not. Usually, he’d be a lot more talkative and probably would have joined the argument, if only because he’s easily bored. Now though, no such thing is happening.

 Clint squirms on his spot, probably attempting to get in a position to get the cuffs off of himself. How exactly he’s hoping to achieve that is anyone's guess, but it would be far from the first time that someone underestimated Clint. It almost always works out in his favor.

 Letting out a shaky breath, Bruce tries to get into a more comfortable position. Which proves to be hard, since he is sitting on a cold floor and with both of his hands tied behind his back. The cuffs are connected to a long chain, which leads to a heavy metal collar around his neck as well as similar restraints around his ankles. It makes it impossible for Bruce to move a lot or even get up, because the chains holding him are firmly bolted into the wall.

 Technically, he could get out, if only he would allow Hulk to take over. If it were just him trapped in this hellhole, he wouldn’t think twice and just do it.

 But as it is, Tony and Clint are in here, too. Their chances of survival would be pretty slim, once Hulk would freak out in a tight room like this. He refuses to try, purely to avoid hurting his friends.

 “Okay, I’m sorry - I’m sorry. Just, you know this would be the easiest way. Hulk likes us, too. He wouldn’t hurt us.”

 To his credit, Tony does look apologetically - it’s not his intention to stress Bruce any further in this already shitty situation that is weighing on him, but he’s clearly doing so anyway. If he could, he would move closer to be able to touch his friend, but as it is, he is just as restrained as Bruce is. That, and the fact that he doesn’t have a suit anywhere near bothers him. While generally able to think, build and improvise his way out of most sticky situations, there isn’t anything even he can do while he’s bound into a tight bundle and chained to a wall - it pisses him off to no end.

 Silence stretches out for a while. The only noise they can hear is their own breathing, thumping heartbeats and the steady drip-drip-drip of water hitting the concrete floor from the leaking water pipe in the corner. Also the faint rustling of fabric as Clint keeps moving tirelessly.

 “Look, I understand why you’re worried, I do. But if it comes down to it, we’ll be okay, Bruce. If the big guy makes an appearance, it’ll be fine. He knows us, and he likes us. It would be fine.” Tony insists.

 Despite everything, Bruce finds himself smiling. While he’s not entirely sure he should be happy about how lighthearted his teammates react to his other half in general, it really helps a lot. His mind wanders to the framed photos on his desk back home.

 There are various team photos, all of them laughing and smiling, arms wrapped around each other, but there are also photos of Hulk letting Clint use his shoulders as a perch, or Tony feeding him greasy pizza after a battle.

 Right now though, the roaring in the back of his head is still very much present, but at least, it isn’t as all-consuming anymore.

 “Thanks, Tony. I appreciate the sentiment, honestly. But even if he were to hurt you on accident, I can’t take that risk. This room is way too small.”

 He shakes his head, and the movement yanks on the chains holding him. He winches, unable to hide it.

 “Okay, so, Hulk is the last resort.”

 With a deep, unhappy sigh, Bruce agrees - but he decides he won’t let it come to that unless absolutely necessary.

 “Alright. So, what is plan A? It’s not like we can do anything with the way they left us here. Or can we? Clint?”

 “Give me a minute, I almost got it.” the archer answers, slightly pressed and out of breath like he’s been working hard on something. Which he probably has - only a little while later, he sighs in defeat, weighing his options and then coming to a decision.

 He really hates this part.

 “Okay, fuck.”

 Then, the noise of popping joints is audible - it makes his stomach turn, and then Clint has somehow managed to successfully free his right hand.

 His thumb and wrist stick away in wrong, nauseating angles.   Bruce winches in sympathy and speechless shock while Tony bites out a half panicked, half disgusted, “What the fuck?!” and suddenly, he is very pale and very silent.

 “Former carney and Shield Agent, at your service.” Clint says with a half hearted shrug, as if that’s the answer they need right now. His features are drawn, but it is clear he won’t discuss anything more.

 ‘Please don’t throw up’ Bruce thinks in the privacy of his own mind - Tony sits directly across from him, and if he were to be sick now, it would absolutely hit Bruce and then he wouldn’t be able to make any promises regarding Hulk.

 “What the fuck?!” Tony repeats quite a few times, and he might as well be asking “Holy shit, are you okay?!” but it feels kinda stupid to say that, given their situation. The obvious answer would be “no”, but he knows that both Clint and Bruce speak his language, so he figures it’s okay. It has to be.

   Clint must be in pain, but he clenches his jaw and starts clawing into the thin mattress on the floor next to him, looking for anything resembling thin wire to pick the locks with.

 Their captors have left this mattress in the cell, just out of reach for the three of them, leaving them on the cold floor instead. It’s thin and shitty and full of holes, but still so much better than dirty, cold concrete.

 Bruce is wondering if this is supposed to be a form of psychological torture, almost certain that he’s right about that.

 Despite being here for a while, they haven't been physically hurt by any of them - yet. At least, they didn’t do more than knocking them out, kidnapping them and chaining them onto the walls of a tiny cell. Which, truth be told, is more than enough for now.

 His breathing gets a little harder as Clint is digging through the stuffing. Trying to use his fingers results in a sharp pain that shoots up his entire arm, but he forces himself to keep going.  His hand is throbbing and will be swollen very soon. It’ll be useless for a while, he already knows.

 But then, Clint lets out a triumphant little “Hah!” as his fingers are closing around something cool and bendy. He lifts it up with a grin, like he just won a trophy.

 Appreciative noises from two sides of the room tell him that his friends share the joy.

 It doesn’t take too long to pick the locks of the cuffs and collars holding him, and then, he’s finally free. Not long after, the shackles are off of Bruce and Tony as well and the three of them scurry their way along a hallway that is just as wet and dark as their former prison.

 Feverishly, they hope and pray that their escape has gone unnoticed - no one has come down the entire time, and while being abandoned in a dark basement is a scary thought, it would also mean that they wouldn’t have to fear another attack now.

 They have no idea where to go though.

 “Where are we going? I can barely see anything!”

 “I don’t know, it’s not like the bastards provided us with a map!”

 “Shut up, both of you!”

 All three of them freeze. Unconsciously, they scoot a little closer together, hands fisted into each other's shirts and cold fingers wrapped around arms to be reassured that they don’t lose anybody to the eerie half darkness in a building possibly filled with hostiles.

 Clint can’t hear any noise, since his hearing is getting worse these days, but the years of experience tell him that something is going on. He is as tense as a bowstring. Inwardly, he curses the fact that he’s only got one usable arm right now - he slowly lets go of Bruce’s arm, preparing to fight, even with his other hand cradled close to himself to avoid any further damage.

 In his left hand, he’s still clutching the wire. It will be most likely useless in a fight, but it’s better than nothing. Even though he hates to admit it, because he is trained in all kinds of combat, with or without weapons, he is not in top form right now. So he feels a lot safer even with the shitty piece of bended wire as his only weapon.

 “Footsteps.” Tony hisses under his breath, and pulls his friends further along the way in hopes of getting away fast enough. If only there was anywhere to hide, but he can’t see anything but walls and a long, cold way.

 The footsteps sound like they’re coming closer now, and Tony really, really wishes he’d carry a gun or anything else. But there is nothing, nothing of use at all.

 He can feel Bruce tense up next to him, and it is obvious that he is working hard on staying in control of himself. Hulk is roaring again, pushing and tearing on his insides. But Bruce fights it with everything he’s got, even as they stumble into each other and along the hallway.

 Suddenly, a door swings wide open and floods the place with an intense bright light.They’re scrambling, eyes shut against the sudden glare of brightness, but it’s already sharp and blinding. This doesn’t stop any of them from throwing punches all around though.

 A mixture of yelling, curses and incomprehensible words ring in their ears as absolute chaos ensues. But the fight is a rather short one, even though it is messy.  

 Bruce is hit by multiple tranquilizer shots, unable to do anything as he drops to the floor. Tony is yelling obscenities at the men as he’s kicking and elbowing at them in seething anger.

 Then, something hard hits Clint in the head, and a second later, he drops to the floor and everything around him fades into a deep, deep darkness.

    *+~

Square: "Chained to a wall"

                            Warnings:

- implied violence - graphic description of injury (intentional dislocating of a hand) - brief mention of vomit - hostagte situation

[myhauntedsalem]

13 Terrifying True Tales of Abandoned Asylums and Hospitals

Could there be anything more nightmare-inducing than an abandoned lunatic asylum? Not really. Haunted hospitals and insane asylum stories are the stuff of legends, often places of trauma, and death it’s hardly surprising when they become a source for a ghostly tale or two. Here are 13 frightening ghost stories of abandoned asylums and hospitals as shared by urban explorers and security guards

1. The Old Operating Room

Abandoned hospital in my town is very active. It was also used in the movie Bone Yard. When they blew the hospital up in the movie apparently they actually burned some of it. So they abandoned it completely. Still have tables, desks, chairs, boxes and boxes of files. Not sure if half of the sightings are squatters or paranormal, but friend of mine snuck in and had a series of lights turning off and on that lead him (and his friends) to an operation room. The light turned off and they panicked and ran out. They also had batteries drained and could only make out the light outside through the roof access hatch they used.

Also had a co-worker who worked at a renovated sanatorium turned tree farm. The basement had screams and grabbings. Still had an attendance board where the old nurses still signed in for duty even though there wasn’t any chalk. Some other things, that I cannot remember, happened that led him to quit.

2. 911 Calls

I’m a nurse that worked at a psychiatric hospital for five years. That place was haunted as shit. Police would call us in the middle of the night saying some little girl who identified herself as Satana was calling 911 from a certain extension in the hospital.

That extension? The arts and crafts room. Nobody goes there at night. Nobody. I assure you. Yet there’s obviously something there. And it calls 911 a lot.

Lots of other stories from that place but that’s the craziest, creepiest one.

3. The Power Was Still On

When I was a teenager (20+ years ago) my friends and I trespassed on a condemned insane asylum called Eloise in Southeastern Michigan.

The worst thing wasn’t that it was at night with shitty flashlights, the dirty patient records scattered on the floor, the broken furniture, the torn up walls, the leaking water pipes, or the huge fungal bloom from the leaking water. The worst part was finding a tunnel and following it to a place inside where power was still on. There was a light, an ominous looking double doors… and an active security camera.

It was like… why is this here? What’s going on?

Later on, I found out that the asylum and a nearby hospital were connected. However, the wikipedia page says it closed in 1984… but we were there several years after that.

I think I saved one of the patient records somewhere.

4. The Footsteps Above

I was the night watchman at an abandoned mental hospital turned state park for a summer in college. The only creepy thing that happened was one night I was with one of the state park police and we saw flashlights in one of the buildings. Kids constantly broke in and other people broke in to gut the old buildings of any copper they could find.

So as I was saying one night we saw flashlights moving around so we went in. The officer pulled her gun and flashlight and in we went. We could her footsteps on the floor above us and we slowly and quietly went upstairs. We checked every room and found nothing. Then we heard footsteps above us again. This happened for a few floors until we were on the top floor below the roof. We heard footsteps up on the roof so we went up there. Still nothing. We never found anyone or any indication that anyone had been there. It was friggin creepy.

5. Things Moved In The Night

There is this abandoned mental hospital in my town called Prudhoe hospital which is sort of the scary place kids go to show bravado. It’s surrounded by woods so obviously you hear lots about it.

You hear lots of stories from people after it was abandoned but the spookiest things come from when it was still in service.

My mam worked at an auxiliary nurse there for years and she said at night the crippled kids who couldn’t move due to severe diseases and birth defects would somehow get out of there cribs and into the middle of the floor on the wards. Whatever was doing this would also go around and remove blankets from all the patients and again pile them in the centre of the room.

Eventually security was hired believing it was someone getting into the hospital at night and doing all these things to scare people or to just be trouble.

However even with security they never found out who was doing these things at night.

6. The Praying Nun

My dad worked at a mental hospital that used to be connected to an abandoned nun’s home by underground passage. He says that one night he was walking down there when he saw a praying nun. He walked by her and said hello. She did not acknowledge him.

My dad does not believe in ghosts, but he says there was a nun down there that night.

7. The Séance

I had a guy I worked with who used to be a hospital wardsman. He was telling me about a night where a few young nurses and some of the other wardsmen were going to hang around late one night and conduct a seance in one of the older unused wards.

Anyway, he agreed and one night they did it. He didn’t believe a word of it but took part for fun. He said they called through one spirit who identified himself as ‘Nigel’ and when asked if he was good or evil the planchette flicked straight to evil. At this stage my mate assumed people were pushing it and just laughed it off. After some more unintelligible responses the planchette started going ballistic, flicking from one letter to the next. Someone asked the scribe what it was saying and this guy goes ‘I can’t make it out….errrr hang on it’s saying ‘KILLBABYCASSYKILLBABYCASSYKILL??? Is it saying Cassy Kill Baby?’ One of the female nurses ran screaming and absolutely lost it, one of the girls running to help her.

Turns out this girl was named Cassy and she had had a secret abortion two weeks prior. She had told no one about the pregnancy, not even her boyfriend.

8. The Late Night Walk

A few years ago my cousin and his friends were walking in the woods outside of Fredrick and found an old abandoned Insane Asylum. It was all boarded up, grown over, dark, dusty; it looked like it was out of a movie.

Obviously my cousin and his friends broke in to look around.

The first room they went into was full of file cabinets holdings records of all the patients that used to be there, and they found a bunch of really creepy ass pictures. Another room was nothing but concrete and drains on the floor. The walls had chains attached to them, and in the center of the room was a table that had what looked like torture tools and beating sticks. Other than that they didn’t really see anything but they claim to have heard talking, footsteps, and demented giggling.

9. The Little Boy

I work night shift as a CNA in a hospital. I had a patient last year. He was in his 50s, totally with it. I had him for a week or two and never showed signs of confusion at night or otherwise. He liked to keep his door open at all times and he was in a room close to the nurse’s station, so he saw myself and plenty other staff walk by throughout the night.

One night, around 2:30 in the morning, he sees me walking by and calls me into his room.

“Is that your son or something”?

“Who”?, I asked.

“The little boy that’s been following you all night”.

I proceeded to ask what he looked like, because I could not see him. He said he looked to be about 7 years old, with short, dark hair and a baseball cap. Both of us were freaked out about the situation, and he requested to keep his lights on after that.

I’m getting chills thinking about it now

10. What was running around with us in that asylum?

I love anything that will get my heart pumping and the adrenalin flowing, from extreme sports to urban exploration, I’ve almost done it all. But, there was one time when I really considered my beliefs as an Atheist. I reckon that ghosts and spirits and all that cannot possibly exist, due to the lack of physical evidence, but one night really god my mind going.

It was about 16 years ago (I’m old now haha), when I lived in Topeka, Kansas. Now some of you will know what I’ll be talking about already, but for those of you who don’t, keep reading. I was a keen urban explorer, there was just something thrilling about breaking into abandoned buildings and exploring them. I had always known about the Topeka State Hospital due to the numerous ‘haunted’ stories around it, but I had never really thought about exploring it. My friend of mine, Reece, was also an avid urban explorer, and one night he suggested to me that we go check it out at night. Not believing in ghosts or scary stories as such, I instantly agreed to go. We got our bags ready with torches, phones and a snack or two (you have to travel light) and waited for sunset.

On arriving it was already pitch black, there were no lights as the place had been closed since 1990, so we flipped on our torches and crunched our way up the gravel to the front entrance. It was locked, as we expected, so we made our way around the red bricked exterior, looking for a way in. About halfway around, we came across a boarded up window, I offered Reece a parting glance and a slight nod of his head indicated we were thinking along the same idea. I braced my shoulder and bashed into the window. The sound echoed around the empty halls and the surrounding forest for what seemed ages. A second bash proved successful as the wood splintered and fell to the ground in a large bang. Reece whispered in my ear ‘honestly if nobody comes after us after that then we’re safe’.

I climbed in through the small gap, before lending a hand to Reece to do the same. Once we were inside, we flipped on our torches and were met with a view of peeling wallpaper and a heavy, musty smell. We crunched our way through the first room, just enjoying the rush of adrenaline as we tiptoed our way through the halls before we heard footsteps running in the room above us. Immediately my heart skipped a beat and I glanced at Reece who put up his finger to his lips and indicated that we should turn our torches off. In the pitch black, I must admit I started getting scared, but I carried on and we made our way up to the second floor to see who was with us in the house. After three minutes of looking, we turned up empty and were about to leave when we heard more footsteps running, and this time we were sure that we weren’t just hearing things as a light rain of dust fell from the room. We immediately thought we were being pranked, so we ran up to the third floor in hope to catch this person. But once again, it turned up empty. We had had enough and just started going down when we heard a door creak from above. This was it, our chance; we sprinted up, barged though the door and we ended up on the roof of the Asylum. Empty. Just then we heard a door being slammed from the floor beneath us and some guttural whispering noise.

I can’t tell you how fast we got out of there, but I can tell you that we probably ran faster than the time we got chased by the police. To this day, I still have no idea what was running around with us in that asylum, I’d like to believe it was some bad prank, but I have this nagging feeling that it wasn’t. Ghosts and spirits don’t exist do they?…

11. She Was Right Behind Me

A friend of mine was diagnosed with cystic fibrosis and was so upset over it that she made a suicide attempt. She landed in the mental health wing of the big hospital, and I went to visit her one evening. Had a hell of a time finding the right place and felt like I’d walked through miles of increasingly decrepit hospital before I found the right wing. Went through a set of double doors and found myself staring down a dimly lit hallway with an incredibly creepy, weathered-looking old lady in a housecoat standing right in the middle of it.

I walked down the hallway nervously, not taking my eyes off of the old woman. She didn’t take her eyes off me, either. I flinched as I walked by her, but she didn’t move. Ten feet beyond her was the doorway to the waiting room of the ward I was looking for. I breathed a sigh of relief as I reached the doors, then glanced over my shoulder to see if the woman had moved.

She was right behind me, staring into my face. I don’t know how she managed to silently cover that ten feet just as fast as I had moved, but she did.

12. The Night Shift

A few years back, prior to sworn LEO, I worked as a Security Guard at a hospital. Sounds cool, and it was, except for the fact it was 9pm to 7am, I worked alone, and the hospital I guarded was abandoned.

A year prior, the hospital built a brand new facility to replace their five story tall, 1900’s building. When the employees and patients left, they left everything in place. It looked like the people just disappeared in a hurry. Partially full coffee mugs, uniforms hanging on coat racks, wheelchairs in the halls, everything as it was, with a good coating of dust.

I was always a 3rd shift kind of person, I don’t get night ‘jitters’ or scare easily. But this place could do it to the best of em. Every night I would walk (or ride a wheelchair) through the halls that were supposed to be empty/unused. Every night I would end up having to close doors and re-lock them. I would walk one floor, move up to the next, and continue on.

I got a little shaky when an hour after already walking a hallway, I would have to turn off the same hall lights and close the same doors AGAIN in the building. Or when I would be walking a hall and then I would hear footsteps on the floor above me, doors opening and closing, elevators moving from floor to floor, phones ringing, nurse call lights going on, etc.

There were only 3 times I got the “I hate this sh*t” feeling. 1st time I was checking offices on the 4th floor. There was a light on in a locked hallway (no surprise). This hallway hadn’t been renovated since the place was built, short of electricity, so everything was from the 1920’s. Unlock the door, flip the lights, walk out, re-lock the door, and turn to leave. Behind me I hear the “flip” of a light switch. Through the frosted glass I see the lights went back on. I left the hallway alone that night.

2nd time was riding an elevator between floors. I was taking the elevator to the top floor, when at about #4 of #5 floors, I hear laughing and muffled talking. It kept getting louder as it got higher. Elevator makes it to #5, doors swing open, and absolute silence. Of course, every light was on on the floor, even in the patient rooms. I checked high and low, not a single living and breathing person in that place except for me.

3rd, and worst of all, was just an average night. I’m on the lower level locking a door in a corridor. The door had a glass middle but on the backside it was covered by white tape. The room it led to it was dark and the hallway a few feet behind me was partially lit, so the glass acted like a perfect mirror. Everything normal, key in, lock clicks, turning the key… When behind me I see the full outline of a person walk past me in the hallway. Clear as day, just a full shadow of a person walk past. I froze only for about a second, and then ran into the hall after the supposed ‘person’. No one, just silence.

Awesome gig, but after a year it felt like I should’ve been an exorcist with all this stuff happening. The other guards that worked on the days opposite to mine had the same stuff happen, except they always saw nuns walking into rooms just outside of an old rectory/chapel on the 3rd floor. Better nuns than something else I guess.

13. The Ambulance

One fall afternoon a buddy of mine and I decided to visit a massive abandoned mental hospital to take some photos. We’re talking 11 wards of two floors and a basement all connected from ward to ward. In total it must be 200-300 linear yards of winding connecting hallways on each floor. You get in and see open cell after cell after cell, peeling paint and graffiti all over the walls. We check the basement, walk through the majority of the wards and are now at ward 8.

We got there early in the afternoon maybe around 2 or 3 because we were too pansy to go at night. Mind you, we’ve heard there are cult gatherings and people have been known to stumble across the occasional hobo on their visits, so we came equipped with a couple of kershaw’s, praying not to get in some fucking knife fight. But, shit, its better to have one than not right? So. Ward 8.

We’re in a connecting hallway with a couple of wired off windows that can see outside, and my buddy say’s “yo, yo get away from the window”. We look outside and there’s an ambulance, no lights on, creeping slowly around the hospital. He must’ve been going at about 5 miles per hour, so we thought dammit, if there’s an ambulance, there must be a cop somewhere (bad logic, I know, but we we’re just worried about being busted for trespassing). The ambulance disappears from our line of sight from the windows, and must’ve driven around all of the other wards at the same pace because a minute or so later, we see the ambulance pass right alongside the hallway we were standing in. Still fucking creeping. Thank god, the ambulance drives away, so we think, okay shit that was just a scare, there’s no cops around, let’s just keep on going.

We slowly advance for another 3 or so minutes and come across a huge lobby, probably the cafeteria and start taking a couple shots of the collapsed ceiling. we walk a bit further into the cafeteria and are by the windows again. The see the ambulance again! Creeping, just like last time, along the perimeter of the building. We hide from the windows hoping that we weren’t seen as the cafeteria is full of windows to the exterior. This time, we start to shit ourselves a little bit more.

He disappears from our line of view again, and of course, comes across the other side of the building, circling it just like last time, 5 mph, just like last time. This time, however, he doesn’t go leave the complex, he drives up to ward 11, the last ward and parks in a cove with no exit that was right out of our line of sight. We hear the door open and close, and another door open and close. We were able to tell that there was only one person in the ambulance from the first time we sighted it. What the fuck is going on?? Was this guy here to shoot up? seemed like a bad place for a trip. Was he here for some sort of drug deal? Or was he back to “play” with us because he saw us on his last ride around?

We stay put, and at this point, we’re maybe 50 yards from ward 11 and 100-200 yards from the exit that we came in from. We know of no other exits except for the ones at each end. Trying to be as quiet as possible, we begin to hear footsteps on the floor above us. seconds later the footsteps turn into running. Towards us! NOPE, we both instantly go for our knives and begin to book the fuck out of there. The fastest 200 yard dash I will do to this day.

We finally reach the exit. We’re safe goddammit we’re safe. We continue to book it a ways out of the hospital till we’re on the path that gets us back to our car. On the way back to the little lot with my buddies car we see there’s a truck, one of those ford rangler types parked right next to my buddies car. We get maybe 50 yards away from it when he turns the car on and starts driving down the road towards us. In the car is another middle aged man, looked real real sketchy. He drives past and thats the last we saw of both of them.

I never got a shot of the ambulance as I was too scared to go near the windows and that my flash would go off, but I did get a shot of the rangler in the parking lot.

What the fuck were these guys doing there? An ambulance??? I’d love to hear what you guys come up with, we’ve been playing it over in our heads for quite a while now…

[bishiglomper]

We're running out of things to do. Which is AMAZING because we still have 4 more days in which to prepare the house.

It won't relieve my stress any further though because now I'm just afraid the landlord is gonna rip us a new one and/or evict us over crap we can't do much about

Like how when our dishwasher died a year or so ago and leaked straight into the basement. He was supposed to cut the moldy ceiling out.

A few of our smoke alarms are missing...

I have that pile of junk piled up to the ceiling in the basement. It's not breaking rules but I'm afraid he won't like it. There's a dresser in the pathway in the basement. Landlord's wife freaked out once because it was a fire hazard??

The bathroom mirror is still sitting in front of the basement shower from when they put it there after replacing all the windows 2 years ago. Mom wants him to put it back up but because it's sitting in front of the shower....

We got dinged last time because apparently it's very bad if you have a shower open and don't run it. Gasses come up or something.. so. Obviously we haven't run it.

Bathroom cabinet door under the sink is hanging off it's frame. I'm hoping to glue it and escape unnoticed.

My closet door is unscrewed from its hinges so I could fold it flush against the wall. Dunno if it will annoy him or not. It's been that way for years... didn't bother him before but I don't trust them not to bitch at us anyway.

The carpets are filthy. They're flat and have NO barrier between them and wood floor so liquid runs straight through making it impossible to clean up. I have a steam cleaner... I suspect it's broken though. Not that it would have done much.

Cabinets and shit in the kitchen are worn through the paint and filthy... I scrubbed at them but it doesn't look any better.

I don't know. I have PTSD I'm just afraid of them. If it's the landlord BY HIMSELF I'm not too concerned. But if his wife comes over too she's going to have her hand so far up his ass he'll be a violent puppet again like when he reamed us for the damage the shower did.

Once again, that only happened because there's carpet by the tub, which water ran STRAIGHT THROUGH the wood into the ceiling below. But WE got new assholes because we "don't know how to use a shower"

I really want someone present when they do the pre-walkthrough. I'm seriously freaking out about it.

.....

I wonder if I could get my doctor to do that.. she's like my mom friend. She's always telling me she rents out properties (and wouod rent to me if she jad a bigger space ❤) so she's got to have landlady experience...

And if they try to bitch her out I'll have her sic her weiner dogs on them.

[viostormcaller]

So at like, the WORST POSSIBLE TIMING (aka right before thanksgiving, our fridge just refuses to cool. The freezer is 100% fine, but the fridge is way warmer than it should be. I don't know how to fix it. I can't tell what the problem is. I can't even find our fridge model online so I can't ask for troubleshooting on that specific model.

Why is everything in this goddamn apartment breaking?? Literally nearly everything either is or has been broken since we moved in here. I love this place and all, but it's getting rediculous. Every month there's something that needs fixing. But all the things that were or are broken are things that needs to be fixed, such as:

Two broken windows, one that won't close all the way on the top and one in my sister's room that completely fell off, both are hazards for the winter months, and is also a safety hazard in general

Most of the windows have no screens, and the ones that do have holes in the screens so they can't be opened, which will suck in the summer bc my room will get hot

The water heating system in the basement was recently submerged in water and had to be replaced (thankfully the repair guy who works for the landlord took care of that)

There was a leaky pipe that caused our bathroom ceiling to fall, and as soon as it was fixed the neighbors upstairs flooded their tub and caused the ceiling to leak again so mold is once again growing on the ceiling

One of the kitchen cabinet doors is missing, the bottom cabinet door is slightly broken, and the top to the middle two upper cabinets has fallen

My door has bajillions of little things like coins, beads, and pieces of wood stuck inside, making the door unable to be closed. The doorknob also gets stuck so it can't be turned, which would lock me in the room if I close the door, and on top of that the knob also falls off on occasion

My closet door is also slightly broken. The latch that keeps the door shut sometimes gets stuck inside the door so it won't close on occasion

The closet wall is filled with rather large holes

There are holes all around my wall behind the heaters

The heaters were actually broken when we moved in and had soaked the living room carpet

And to top it all off, every single fire alarm, as well as the carbon monoxide detector, in the house is either low on batteries or dead (in terms of the carbon monoxide detector, anyway), and they require a specific battery to operate, which we never have the money for bc that's a LOT of batteries.

And now with the fridge acting up so close to the holidays?? It's too much! We basically rented a fixer-upper and we are not the type of people who have the money to spare to be fixing up the place. Mom's gonna have to get a minifridge to use for the time being for like the dairy and stuff so that our milk won't keep going bad and the things that needs to stay cold, will. We'll have to replace the fridge either next month or in february. But like, all this shit should have either been fixed or replaced before we moved in. It shouldn't be up to us to do all this.

I'm grateful for this apartment and all, and it's leagues better than our last place don't get me wrong, but I'm just kind of sick of everything breaking all the time.

[susan-gampre]

Death Would be too Kind, part 1

Mood

The following is a collab effort between three cultists of the Order of the Red Temple ( @redtemple-wra ) and myself!

Time was non-existent in the darkness.

There was only the constant drip of water splashing the same corner of the basement floor. There was only the occasional squeak of a mouse that stirred the Madam awake once again. But essentially just as now, it is always the rattle of the creaky old door being deprived of its heavy chains that really roused her to full alert.

Three different pairs of feet shuffle down the steps, bringing the skiddish Madam to crawl backward along her molded mattress, sneering and straining against the confines clinging to her wrists: “Stay the fuck away from me,” she demands, confidence unwavering despite her current vulnerable position.

Warning, viewer discretion advised beyond this point. Themes including blood, gore, torture and the mistreatment/abuse of a pregnant woman are involved.

Cooing ever so gently would a woman’s voice murmur to the captured figure, “Shh... Shh-- You need only answer my servant's question.  Or else things will get... Bad,” pausing would allow the speaker greater effect in hissing: “As in, rip the baby from you and burn it, stuff you in a crate and make you stay there for a month bad.“

True, these words had sway over Susan. It was a frightening thing, being threatened by people as bold as these ones. Especially when you were, otherwise, at their utmost mercy. There was some comfort, Susan felt, in the fact that this was essentially an interrogation.

Susan sets her lips into a firm line, remaining set in her place, the blindfold tied about her head shifting as she attempts to leer through the thick fabrics-- to no avail. And thus she scoffs, spitting venom in the form of a murmur: "You'll not kill me, what would be the point of bringing me here if you didn't want information? You don't frighten me, squirrel!"

For a moment the Madam heard nothing but the shuffle of hooves against the stone floor, shuffling that lead her to flinch backward into the wall of which her confines were attached to.  In the back of the room, Susan could hear a second female voice whining: “Awww, don't hurt the pretty too bad. I was hoping she'd be mine, next!”

And thus Susan’d began to feel the sensation of two fingers invading her nostrils. Confusion would set in-- walked to Susan, until she felt both bursting with flames. Essentially, the inner of her nose would burn, the sensitive mucus membranes quickly charred. Mere seconds would pass before the fingers are removed, the performer of such a cruel tactic seemingly satisfied with the results as Susan instinctively jerked away to be rid the pain and ache whilst her hands clung to her face after the pained yelp that followed the initial assault. As if this small gesture of protecting her face was enough to, all in all, ensure the cultist could no longer hurt her.

There was no remorse in the cultist;s words as she hissed to Susan: “Come, you don't answer our questions, we go for the eyes next.  Answer the questions as they come, whore queen.”

Still the Madam clung to her nose with one hand, the other carefully reaching to cling to her belly. Her brows knitted together, tears already managing to leak and soak into the cloths of her blindfold before her confidence wavering whilst she inquires shakily: "W-Why do you wanna know shit about us, huh?"

."Does it really matter at the end of the day?"

There was absolutely no comfort from this response. Honestly, everything about this evening had the maiden completely unnerved and frightened. Though before she could manage to compose herself came the looming presence of the final person in the room. A darkness casting over her, the heat of a maw breathing heavily against her face, revealing it to be at the very least a beast of some kind.

He had walked over to Susan, kneeling before her. His claws firmly placed on the back of her neck, his razor sharp nails threatening to dig into her skin, "Lets be a little tactful 'madam'. You simply give us the information we seek, do so willingly and there wont be no torture needed.. However resist, well what the goat did is a simple example. Or... Should we get some iron rods and warm them? Maybe some proding and burning of flesh will make her sing, hmm?" He suggested.

Silence fell upon them, such a silence that gripped and consumed the Madam to lose her confidence a smidgen.Suddenly she wasn’t all too certain she was guaranteed her life in leaving this room when they finished with her. And if it all leads to the same sudden painful ending, why sell out?

"Now tell us the names of your officers? The locations of their homes." He asked,

Kendari... Gilithos. Lel. Ren. People she thought of highly,people she trusted deeply. Employees who she looked to as her own to protect... Within the woman swelled a need to protect what was her own. Before she could immediately retaliate came next a mockingly chipper voice of the secondary woman, the one who hadn’t burnt the insides of the Madam’s nosrils, “Yes. Pray tell, pretty!”

The Madam couldn’t help it, either. There was some sort of lack of common sense in the Gampre women when they were a mixture of scared and angry, such a lack that their sass had no bounds. Thus, Susan’s sassiness managed to leak through, "Where else do you expect a buncha sinners to live, you fuck? In the fucking Brothel. Isn't that a right fucking shock?"

The male gruffed and huffed in aggravation, muttering beneath his breath, “You’re going to pay for your clever mouth if you don’t watch it, bitch. Now.. Your father, does he live there in the Brothel?"

The Madam’s shoulders slump, confusion befalling her as she strained against her blind fold in an attempt to leer at the male of the trio, “I don’t know that piece of shit...”

There was a general feel of distrust that nearly choked the woman. The air was so thick she could have sliced it with a hot knife through butter. She could feel it in her bones. They didn’t believe a thing she said, doubted her. She was on thin ice, and it chilled the woman to her core..

The original assaulter -- revealed to be a draenei -- scoffed, her tone sharp, “The dapper man?  Ponytail?  Mad you went missing?"

Susan remains silent in that moment, adrenaline beginning to pump blood in her ears with the realization-- Edwin. The man who she had essentially appointed her father, he whom had essentially stepped in as her father all too willingly. He was upset?

Somewere, beyond the fear and the regret, a swell of hope caused the Madam’s heart to murmur and skip beats. Of anyone, she knew Edwin wouldn’t give up looking for her. ... She only prayed he wouldn’t be too late.

Though it seemed Susan’s inner quarrel was enough to anger the cultists, for instantly the male rose to his feet, turning to casually regard one of the women with a: “Have at her,” before moving away.

Almost instantly Susan stirs to life, tilting her head toward the gruff male voice before she'd swiftly begin to crawl along the floor, heaving out a shaky breath, "You're all a buncha fucks-- Attacking pregnant women?! Fuck you!"

For a moment it was.... Completely silent.

And then it began. The steady clicks of hooves against the grimy flooring lead the Madam to cower, clutching desperately for her midsection, her breath hitched in her throat as the anxiety of the situation became so heavy it could choke.

As the clicks increased in volume the closer the woman came to Susan, it suddenly ceased. And that was when the Madam knew she was upon her.

It started... as a swift jab to her left eye. Essentially this would be enough to cause a mass amount of discomfort, but not enough to hurt with the blind fold doing well to protect her-- But Susan knew something was awry when she saw, first, a blinding flash of light in her left eye, and then darkness consumed her vision once again.

Slowly, as the sound of hooves retreating were heard, the pain would begin to set it. Such a pain that brought, first, a whimper, and then a yelp. Such a pain that seared so deeply into her brain that she’d begun to howl in agony. Such a pain that she had never experienced before. Sensations so grotesque and overwhelming it nearly caused the woman to faint. But she wasn’t so lucky to outright fall into slumber. No no, she was wide awake and forced to endure this bought of unimaginable torture.

Effectively, it was nothing but Intense white pain.Searing and boiling hurt before something... popped.

There was an unusual feeling of liquid rolling down the woman’s cheeks. To Susan, it could’ve been tears for all she knew, but the longer she was able to acknowledge it? The liquid was warm. Oddly so.

“Aha! You made her eye go pop!”

This statement from the gleeful cultist praising her counterpart caused Susan’s chest to tighten, her head lightening with blinding fuzziness. She was astonished, first, and then completely... Overwhelmed.

Her sobs became screams, stuttering breaths and an accelerated heart beat was enough to assure the Madam she was having a panic attack. The cherry atop this eye-exploding-sundae was the sensation of feeling a large, droopy ball of mush being shoved into her mouth.

Sputtering and choking on hacking coughs the Madam spat outward to free her mouth of the unwanted object, the disgusting sensation of liquid of eye juice left over from the blistering combustion mixed with blood remained on her tongue like a lingering bad taste. And without even a hesitation the Madam would begin to vomit and retch so violently before, with a shaky breath inward, her remaining eye rolls into the back of her head.

With the hysterical laughter of the cultists surrounding her, Susan fainted backward. The remaining pain she felt was when the back of her skull slapped the grimy floor, the black hole that was her left eye socket staring blankly at the ceiling of her prison.

[impala-dreamer]

Escape - Chapter Twelve

SPN FanFic

~Y/N and Dean are abducted after a night at the bar and thrown into a maze of horrors. Can Sam track down his brother and girlfriend in time? Can they even hold on that long?~

Dean, Reader; Sam

1,339 Words

Series Warnings: Angst. Show level violence. Graphic gore and blood. Extreme situations that may cause anxiety and fear. Character injury and trauma. (Extra Warnings in the tags)

~Feedback is the crack that keeps the Writing coming back~

ESCAPE Masterlist ~  My Masterlist  

Chapter Twelve: The Gates of Hell -

Y/N crashed to the ground feet first; the impact of hitting the hard cement jammed her upwards with a force that rattled her bones. She felt her left leg buckle and she shrieked as pain ripped through her system. It sparked like fireworks up her legs and into her chest, lighting the edges of her vision with bright white. She fell forward, pressing her forehead to the cold floor and retching as a wave of nausea flowed over her.

Dean called to her from above, but only bile fell from her lips, and she could not move to answer.

He took the fall better than she had, rolling out of the somewhat controlled drop after landing on his back. He was dazed and probably bruised internally, but he shrugged it off; it was just one more injury to add to the list.

Y/N was gagging on nothing. Without replenishing food or water, their journey had left her stomach empty, but that didn’t stop her body from attempting to purge what little fluids she had left.

Dean flipped over and crawled towards her, inspecting her trembling body with hovering hands, afraid to touch her. When she could breathe again, she fell back onto the ground, twisting awkwardly so as not to move her leg. No blood showed through her jeans, but she feared the bone had snapped. She gasped, cringing in pain when Dean’s hand fell against her knee; the gentle touch sending shocks through her.

“That bad?” he asked, recoiling instantly.

“Yeah…” She nodded and raised her arm to her forehead, struggling not to cry again. She’d cried enough for a lifetime. She was tapped dry.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Kid.” He shook his head and went up on his knees to look her over. “Anything else busted up?” His fingertips brushed her over arms, he inspected the cuts on her hands, the bruise on her collarbone, and finally went for her leg, pulling the loose denim up to her knee. Gingerly, Dean lifted her leg and ran his hand down her shin. “It’s bad,” he sighed. “But I don’t think it’s broken. Probably jammed up your knee pretty good.”

“Lovely,” she whimpered and sat up on her elbows, finally looking around.

They were in a basement. It looked like one of a million such places, with cement walls that sported damp patches, and a cold, unyielding floor that was punctuated every few yards with steel columns that held the foundation in place above. The hole they had journeyed through was directly above, and while the basement around them was dark, the light from their Mirrored Hell shone down in thick beams. Looking up, Dean estimated they had dropped about fourteen feet to their current spot, and how they’d each landed without cracking their spines was a miracle in his eyes. The floor had buckled under their weight, but their drop was predetermined; they had passed through almost a garbage shoot, designed and built to deliver them to the basement.

When his gaze fell from the busted floor above, it landed on another miracle. Not thirty paces from where they lay was a steel door with a push bar handle, and above it, a glowing, red exit sign.     

Sam was startled awake by his dream, though, when he opened his eyes, the details fell quickly away, leaving him panting and sweaty without cause. He rolled over and blinked into the late morning sun, trying to call back the dream, but all he remembered was Y/N’s scream as she fell through blackness away from him.

He scratched at the four days worth of beard on his chin and yawned as he stood up, ready to get back to work. He stumbled into the bathroom with his eyes still half-mast, and turned on the shower. When the water hit his wrist as he tested the temperature, he remembered the message that Drunk Sam had left for Morning Sam, and he made his shower a quick one. He would have skipped it altogether, but he needed to wake up fast.

Fifteen minutes later, not so fresh faced, but wide eyed and on alert, Sam sprinted towards the main lobby and waited impatiently as Roger finished up a phone call. When the receiver hit the base, Sam set his arms casually against the top of the high desk and looked down at the awkward man.    

“Good Morning, Agent Tyler,” Roger greeted him with a smile that didn’t move his gray eyes.

“Morning,” Sam returned with an equally unconvincing smile.

“What can I do for you today?” Roger asked, but did not keep eye contact, dropping his gaze to his computer and typing something quickly on the keyboard.

Sam’s nostrils flared a bit at the rude action, but pressed on. “I was just wondering about all the construction around here. Been going on long?” He raised his brows and feigned a kind, interested smile.

Roger shrugged noncommittally and lifted his chin. “I suppose. About four years.”

“Wow,” Sam commented, shaking his head and tossing his hair back. “Long time. That’s a lot of work.”

“There’s a lot of rooms,” Roger offered and chewed anxiously at the inside of his cheek.

“I bet.” Sam nodded, and turned away as if his line of questioning was complete. Roger seemed to settle back into his chair, but Sam spun back around with one finger held high. “Just one more thing, if you don’t mind.”

Roger stiffened and sat up straight. “Yes?”

“Saw a big guy last night, about, yea high…” Sam raised his hand level with his nose and went on, “…disappeared behind the caution tape. You know him?”

Roger stroked his chin in contemplation and then tapped his index finger against his lip. “That may have been Kevin, our maintenance man. He keeps odd hours.”

Sam nodded in understanding. “That’s Kevin,” he said rhetorically and turned back towards the door. “Huh.” Something was off. His gut was burning, twisting around inside trying to tell him something, but he couldn’t reach it. It was right there on the tip of his nose, but Sam couldn’t see passed the years of monsters and demons to put the clues together.

“Have a nice day,” Roger said with a smile as Sam reached for the door.

He turned to reply, to wave, to return the wish, and as he did, a ray of sun struck Roger’s giant glasses at the perfect angle, illuminating the reflection from his laptop screen. He wasn’t playing a video game. At least, not one in a virtual world.

A genuine smile spread across Dean’s face for the first time since their hug on the street; that drunken night seemed like weeks ago now.

Y/N scrunched up her face as she saw the happiness leak onto his features. “What’s… what?”

“Y/N/N…” He pointed behind her at the door as a relieved laugh shook his shoulders. “We made it.”

“What?” She twisted around, flipping over onto her side, and gasped at the exit sign that greeted her. “Holy… fuck… Dean!” Her heart skipped too many beats to count and her eyes welled with grateful tears. She turned back and reached for Dean, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him into a hug that had never felt as sweet. They had done the impossible, made it through Hell together, and they were finally free.

“I-I can’t… that’s… that’s it?” Y/N clutched his shirt and stared up at him with hopeful and innocent eyes.

His cheeks twitched with a smile and he nodded gently, covering her hand with his, so thankful to be alive, thankful that they had both made it out. “I think so,” he whispered.

They held each other’s gaze for a long moment, just breathing and letting hope wash over them.

“Y/N/N?” Dean said softly, patting her hand and pushing himself up. “Let’s get outta here.” He bent down and held out his hand, gripping her tightly when she slipped her palm against his.

“I thought you’d never ask.”  

TAGS ARE CLOSED!

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[dead-palette]

Jeff the Killer, New Beginnings

Hello there, I'll be using you to talk about the situation I find myself in. See, my name is Jefferson L. Killian, but you can just call me Jeffry. I'm 22 and recently moved from Tucson Arizona to Alton Utah with my mom, dad, and stupid adopted kid brother Liu. I like Yu gi oh, Roblox, and rap music. I'm actually thinking about starting a soundcloud to do yu gi oh parody rap battles. Or I was, before the bad day came. Now I'm no sure of anything anymore.

It all started a week ago when we moved into our new house, so Y2K had not hapened yet. I didn't want to move but my mom got a new job on a public access kid show writing. Her idea was called super puppet friends. Anyway, the new house was in a nicer neighborhood than our last one. I can tell because I saw married couples wearing sweaters tied around their shoulders. My parents forced me and my 14 year old brother to go to a new church. I wish we could go to normal church, sadly we're Mormon. When we got there, some men in black greeted my parents but I had to look after the kids in the daycare, INCLUDING my super adopted brother. The daycare was in the basement, and ugh, the smell. It was like a new kind of poop smell that was clearly poop, but like modified in a lab. The genetic code of this poop wasn't meant to occur naturally in nature.

So I surveyed the room. In the middle were a group of kids playing Beyblades in the middle of the room. They were playing Beyblades in the middle of the room in a hulahoop, not the officially licensed Metal Fusion Beystadium by Takara Tomy like my brother uses. My brother ran over and started playing took out his Burn Fireblaze Pheonix metal beyblade. I saw one black kid using a Twisted Tempo spinner, and another using a Diablo Nemesis Metal Fury. I hated Beyblades so much. They all yelled "Let a rip!".

One boy ran up to me and complained that they wouldn't let him play because he didn't have his own Beyblade. This boy might have been patient zero of the genetically modified super poop experiement. He had what I assumed what chocolate pudding on his face and nose, and did have a cowboy hat on. The whole time he whined he was itching his butt, really using his red shorts to get in their. I told him to wash his hands first. He then went to the near by drinking fountain and rinsed his hands, only to dry both of them by itching his butt again. This redirection must have changed his train of thought.

Over to the left area of the basement was kids playing with lego. If you didn't know, the plural of lego is lego, not legos, but I bet these stupid kids didn't know that. A few of the lego were officially licensed by the Lego Group of Denmark. The rest were some christian knock off legos. Like noah's ark themed bricks and the naviety scene. These lego bricks symbolized the death and rebirth I'd go through to become the man I am now. The one Ninjago toy that was officially licensed, Kai, symbolized the power I'd WELD.

Over to the right area of the basement there was some kind of some leaking pipes. The leaks were flooding the floor on the right side of the room. But no one seems to take notice of the leaking pipes and the wet floor. Besides dookie kid who would ocassionally jump up and down in the water, sending small splashes of putrid water of to the left area of the room, where the lego kids were playing at. Near the back of the room, opposite me, was a child having an intense game of pocket pool. Focusing my eyes, it was Randy, a boy my age. Randy had a skatebored at his feet and his hands in his pockets. I wondered if the strange curve in his back was natural or if it came from how good his game of pocket pool felt. Randy wore a black trench coat and a fetching white ascot. His hair was qcouffed in a manner that made him look like Joseph Smith if he was a school shooter. His skatebored had tight wheels on it, and it's underside had a picture of Dark Link from Ocarina of Time on it. Randy also wore a nametag that said Randy Anthon of the LatterDay Saints. That's when his eyes connected with me.

I wore white hoodie. I like to wear white to show off my positive attitude toward life. My hair was pure black and unqcouffed. My body has numberous scares from cutting myself. My pants WHERE black to slim my legs. I never liked my legs, too leggy if you ask me. Anyway, Randy gave off an aura of malice. I could just tell he had something to do with the Anthon Forgeries that made Mormons look like fools years ago. If not for that slip up, Mormonism might have been mainstream by now. But I couldn't let myself get distracted by that at a time like this, in this hell hole.

That's when a Bishop came down stairs with a cart full of snacks. The Bishop wore a red bow time and red suspenders, a white dress shirt and black dress pants. His haircut was dorky with disturbingly even bangs and ginger-y hair. His ears were big and magnifient. He started to introduce himself to myself and my adopted brother liu as "Bishop Bob Backlund." But then he started just yelling at me. He wanted to know why the pipes were leaking. I of coursed had nothing to do with it. But he wouldn't listen and blamed me. He pushed me on to the floor and told me to serve the the snacks if I wanted to stay a Mormon. Then he left.

Randy was laughing as he walked out of the room with the Bishop. I was so made, but I couldn't have my Mormonism revoked. My parents would be pissed. So I served the snack. The snack was either goldfish or vanilla wafers served in white coffee filters. And every child also got a can of warm ginger ale. But the Ginger ale was Canada Dry. My old Mormon church had Verners Ginger Ale. I couldn't deal with all this change.

Once all the children had snacks, they all resulted to their activities, getting goldfish and waffer crumbles everywhere. I started watching the children playing with K'Nex because I didn't have any paper to write Roblox raps. While all of the K'Nex were officially licensed by the K'Nex Industries Inc, many pieces were missing making the hole thing sad. They did have the K'New Plane that you got from Pizza Hut. My mom actually directed the Pizza Head commericals for Pizza Hut, so I had all the Pizza Hut K'Nex until we adopted Liu from China. I also got lots of Muchtown meals.

But while my attention was focused on the K'Nex, I missed some awful happening at the other area of the room. When I noticed, time slowed down. It was clear that this would be the defining moments of my life. And it didn't turn with a whimper, but a bang, of horrorific bang. A bang that would turn me into a harbinger of evil. Gone was the pure Jeff that believed in truth, justice, and the Book of Mormon. No, I would become death, bringer of evil. It was cowboy hat boy. His pants were down. His small small little boy penis hanging out. He was standing over the puddle, his vibrant red shorts around his ankles getting wet on the floor. Scattered around him were gradually softening goldfish, turning into puff balls. His back was arched in an all too famaliar way, a sign of inpending doom. Behind him was a trash can placed flush against the wall. His hands, far above his head and clinche into granite fist like victorious vice grips. That's when he yelled the incandation that brought to earth to a stand still. "LET A RIP!"

A shotgun blast of solid yet wet shit erupted forth from his prepubest bum and hit the wall without loosting any elevation, then shattering and recocheting on impact. Bit of wet poop landed on everything and everyone in a circular reverberance zone. The remants of dookie that stuck to the wall began to loosen and fall, hitting the rim of the trashcan but falling to the floor. This happen as a second burst detonated even louder and more sour sounding than the first. Now a mostly liquid napalm that traveled two and a half feet to the wall in a constant stream, that in turn back splashed landing mostly on the red shorts.

Then came Revelations 17:12. "The ten horns you saw are ten kings who have not yet received a kingdom, but who for one hour will receive authority as kings along with the beast." And these ten horns were ear deafing farts, the kind of piercing ordanance sounds that give soldiers life long nightmares. With my ears ringing and my mind boarding on insanity, a pee stream was unleashed from this tiny little man. A pee stream of a perturnatural nature, seeming to come from no where as it was impossible that it sprung from such a minuscule vessel considering the sheer literage of the urine in question. Whats more was the smell, the pee, not the poop, but the pee smells worst than anything I'd ever smelled. One might imagine puking, but the smell had such a tartness that it oppessed the heaving I was feeling in my gut. As my hearing returned, I heard the boy say one word with a blank expression on his face.

"Help"

That's when the Bishop returned and blamed me for the poop. It was so unsafe. He told me to clean it up. He handed me some cleaning supplies and sent all the kids home. I tried cleaning the trash can with bleach and ammonia and it burned me, turning me into a monster. I went broke into the Churches Musuem and stole the Kitchen Knife of Latterday Saints, the knife destine to end the Beast.

Afterwards, I broke into the inner sactum of the church where Randy, Troy, and Keith were all drinking ginger ale from the glass bowl of reformed Egyptians, one of the 3 scared objects of mormonism. I stabbed all three of them and drank from the bowl. Now I can read every langauge. Tihs made me Jeff the Killer, New Beginnings. Now go to sleep children of Abraham.