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pbandjesse · 11 months ago

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I mostly felt okay today. I am very cold though. And that made things difficult. But if I kept moving I was doing good. I tried my best to be productive and that was good. And I slept better.

I was not feeling great last night but I woke up feeling a little better. I hugged James before they left for work but would sleep until 930. Which apparently is my bodies favorite time to wake up when I have no plans.

I stayed in bed until well after 10 though. I didn't want to get up and that was just fine. I did some research to find a non bug boot jack for Jess. And finally got up.

I took a shower and washed my hair and got dressed. And started cleaning. I did a once over throughout the apartment. Put some stuff away. Sprayed and wiped things down.

I started the dishwasher and put away all the laundry and dish pods mom gave us. And went to change the sheets. I also changed the duvet cover and made the bed very cozy. But this took forever and made me a little dizzy and hot.

I had cereal and cooled down before vacuuming and cleaning the fishtanks. I love that I don't have to change the filters anymore and I have a solid bio feedback from the plants, moss, and the purposeful snails. And the invasive snails are much more under control then they have been. Still not perfect but it's going well keeping them to a manageable level

I felt really good about the cleaning but I felt a bit exhausted. Just really winded. I took an hour to lay on the couch and watch videos.

I had the rest of the leftover pizza from last night for lunch.

I decided I would do some art. I drew for a while. I wanted to redo some of my ideas for the little tattoos we are getting in a few weeks. Took about an hour. And then I spent literally forever reworking my idea and my math. I made a chart for my yarn and discovered I didn't buy one of the colors I meant to. Incredible. I will have to go do that tomorrow.

I was proud of my work but I still felt a little listless. And like I needed some kind of deadline or something. Like I like having off from work but also I miss work and want to go back to work. But also I want to only work 3 days a week. Which I don't actually want but I am just complaining. I miss work. But I will miss having days off.

So I gave myself a big task. And spent the next two hours going through all of my clothes. Well most of them. I took everything off the hangers and everything out of my big green trunk where I store most of my extra clothes. This does not include my sweaters or jackets or the pajama drawer. But everything else is in the green trunk.

I would first pull everything out and then sorted everything into piles. Shirts, jumpsuits, dresses, bottoms. And I just have to many clothes. But I have been so good about purging over the last couple years and buying things I really like I didn't have as much to get rid of as I expected. Which is good! But I was worried about not having the space I was looking for. I decided to sort through and pull out anything that I only wear for summer camp. So now those have their own box in the studio. And then I was able to make some decisions on what was getting hung up again.

This was only difficult because I had so many long sleeve black shirts. Which used to be an issue in the opposite direction. I did a good job collecting things for layering. And in the end I only hung up half of the things that had been in the closet before. I'm very pleased.

And then I was super excited when I folded everything and it all fits so nicely in the green trunk and I didn't have to force it or anything. Amazing.

I hope to go through the jammies at some point but I share that drawer with James so I don't feel super pressed about it.

I ended up getting rid of another whole bag of clothes. So that's three trash bags of stuff. I am very happy with my purging even if it's slow going.

As I was finishing folding the camp clothes James came home. I was really happy to see them even though they were very sweaty. They apologized but it doesn't actually bother me that much. I just get surprised when they are damp.

We sat in the floor in the studio and talked. I showed them my yarn chart. And we discussed what we are going to do for dinner since we still have no oven. Our landlady hasn't responded but James is going to send a follow up about lowering our rent until it's replaced or fixed. Because we have to spend more money on food. I think this is fair. And she's reasonable so we will see what she says.

James would run to the grocery store. Got jam and milk. And soup for me and some little frozen burgers for themselves. And when they got home they heated up our food and then jumped on a DND game with their friends while I did some research on some 1970s name plate jewelry. Is anyone else obsessed with your name being on things? I love it and I don't know why. Also the names were incredibly 70s and I loved that. Just names you don't hear people under 50 having anymore. Darlene. Doris. Marlene. Pat. Just the best.

I am just resting now. I feel very winded still but thankfully I don't feel so sick as I did last night. Let's hope tomorrow continues that trend.

I hope tomorrow to go to the craft store and get the yarn I need. And maybe I'll stop at the savers. And just enjoy the end of the year.

I hope you all have a great night. Sleep well everyone.

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wlw-imagines-blog · 5 years ago

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Abandonment, Enthroned. {Part 4} (Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!reader

Warnings:

Tags: apocalypse au, enemies to friends to lovers, no powers au,

Word count:

Summary: The domestic, fluffy montage, then going to town.

A/N: I have returned from the grave (momentarily)! Extra long because I disappeared for so long

Morning came so much faster than you expected. You closed your eyes, and opened them seconds later to dawn. Laying on your back, you watched the way the dust refracted in the sunlight. You tried not to think about the Winter Soldier, or how much danger Queens was, or about the stranger in the other room.

Everything was upside down. You had moved West when the Militia and New Alliance started their civil war in the east, with New York as their battleground.

Now the battle was moving through the West.

The farm was your little piece of heaven; it provided for you, and kept you safe for the better part of two years since you had stumbled upon it.

You spoke out loud to no one. “If the soldiers move west, I’m going to Oregon.”

After brushing your teeth and washing your face, you changed into a fresh set of holey jeans and a fraying sweater. The mirror and vanity in the corner of the room was vacant of combs, and makeup, but instead was littered with old books. You peered into the dusty mirror. Your reflection was tired, with heavy bags under your eyes, and sleep lines on your cheeks.

A weak smile fluttered to your lips, as you tried to remember the girl you were before the fallout.

With a shake of your head, you left your room, and went to Wanda’s.

You hesitated before knocking.

“Hey, Wanda? Can I come in?”

You heard some rustling before a response. “Yeah, go ahead.”

Behind the door, Wanda was laying in bed, looking better rested than the day before. There was more colour in her cheeks and lips.

“I’m going into town in a week,” you announced. “I’m running low on some supplies, hopefully I can find them there.”

Wanda nodded, sitting up gingerly. Her hand brushed against the bandages on her stomach.

Guilt flashed through you, vanishing as fast as it came. “Does that still hurt terribly?”

“No,” she said, standing up slowly. “Not as bad as it was yesterday.”

Her grip on the bed post was so tight, her knuckles were white. She took one shaky step before pitching forward. You crossed the room and wrapped a tentative arm around her waist.

“May I?” you asked quietly.

She paused, stubborn pride warring in her eyes. “Yes. Thank you.”

You hobbled with Wanda down the staircase to the living room. Her breathing was labored, and she was sweating profusely.

“Let me get you something to drink,” you said, going to the kitchen to retrieve water and a wash cloth.

When you returned, Wanda spoke through her deep breaths.

“I want to go into town with you.”

You nearly dropped the glass of water. “What? Why?”

“I’ll need to know the land when I leave,” she responded. “I never got past your house. If there’s a way to get further west, I need to find it.”

You handed her the glass. “You can come if you can walk without my help. We need to get there as fast as possible, loot whatever we can carry, then get back before nightfall. I don’t want you slowing me down.”

Wanda scoffed, but did not dispute you.

The idea of Wanda leaving brought on mixed emotions. You were afraid for her; she couldn’t stand or walk by herself, let alone survive a day without help. But then again, you were relieved that the house would be empty. After a few months of isolation, you thought that you would welcome the company, but you were ready for peace and quiet. When Wanda left, hopefully the looming threat of the militia would disappear. That was dangerous wishful thinking.

One could hope, anyways.

“We still don’t know what to do the Winter Soldier,” Wanda whispered, legs folded.

“He didn’t hurt us,” you reminded. “Even when he saw you in the window.”

“So, what does that mean for us?”

You shrugged. “No clue.”

“He must have wanted something.”

“Maybe he wanted room and board?”

A scoff. “Right. Of course.”

“Maybe he defected?”

Another scoff. “That’s totally impossible.”

“Well, it’s not our problem right now.”

Wanda shook her head incredulously. “How can you not care?”

“Like this,” you went into the kitchen to prepare breakfast. She did not see the tremor in your jaw.

The day was blissfully slow. You wandered around the farm, cleaning the orchard, chatting with Goat, who found the dropping temperature disagreeable. When you returned, you were shocked to see Wanda staggering around the living room with a wooden crutch.

You grinned at the sight. “You can walk on your own.”

Wanda looked up and nodded. There was a little bit of pride in her eyes. “Kind of. I need the crutch.”

“Still, it’s better progress than yesterday.” you pointed out.

Your infectious grin seemed to pierce Wanda’s usual gloomy mood. “I guess so.”

“Good.” you dusted your hands. “You can help me with the chores.”

You ignored her groan and left to hang the clothes. “Come on, Wanda! Goat won’t feed himself!”

****

Over the next few days, Wanda got her strength back. You always helped from bed in the morning, acting as a crutch to bring her downstairs. After a simple breakfast, you put her to work; hanging laundry, feeding Goat, tidying the house, etc. It would have been merciful to let Wanda sleep in and stay in bed all day, but you weren’t merciful. She needed to keep moving to forget the remnants of the knife wound.

One evening, after a day of weeding the corn field, you made a proper, far more formal than usual dinner. Wanda sat at the kitchen table shucking corn while you stirred peas into stew. Dwarf carrots, potatoes, and chicken. You and Wanda were celebrating; Wanda didn’t need the crutch anymore.

After dinner and a desert of baked cinnamon apples, you went to the attic to store the crutch away.

“Hey, Wanda,’ you called, trotting down the stairs, a large box in hand. “Look what I found.”

She was in the kitchen, finishing the dishes. “What?”

You opened the box and pulled out a large square file. Wanda craned her next to read the title of the vinyl

“Paul Anka?”

Grinning, you moved to the dusty record player in the corner of the room. “I found them up in the attic. I never knew they were here.”

Love songs from the 50′s filled the air, bringing another rare smile to Wanda’s face. You went to the basement and retrieved a large bottle of red wine.

“Want a glass?” You asked while waggling the bottle. “Have you taken any pain killers?”

Wanda snickered and shook her head. “Nope. Pour me a glass.” Despite her grin, there was something that clouded her eyes.

While you attended to the drinks, Wanda stood tentatively in the living room. When you handed her the glass, she spoke up.

“Y/N, why didn’t you know the records were upstairs?”

You turned back to her. “What do you mean?”

“Well, when you say something like that, it implies that this isn’t your house.”

There was a pause in your momentary happiness. “Well. That’s because this isn’t my home. It wasn’t before the rebellion.”

Wanda didn’t seem too surprised. “Can I ask what happened?”

You looked away, eyes landing on the woven carpet. The blues and browns neatly stitched together. You sat next to Wanda on the couch.

“Wanda, I didn’t find this house empty. There was a m-man who lived here. The farmer and his wife. They had two kids; grown up boys who took care of the farm when the man couldn’t.” You swallowed harshly. If you knew things about Wanda, she should know some pieces of your life. “A few months ago, maybe six, when I was travelling west, I landed here. The farmer welcomed me in to stay for a day before I headed farther.”

When you paused, Wanda sat forward. “What happened?”

You met her eyes. “There was a raid. Not by the New Alliance, not by the Protectors. It was just... the townspeople. From the village a few miles from here.”

She was completely silent. Paul Anka crooned softly.

“Ever since the New Alliance cut back food rations, the town had been tense. People needed food for their children. They knew he had the orchard and crops, and they wanted a piece for themselves. It was like a riot. The farmer told me to hide since no one else knew I was here; he asked me to protect their newborn goat.” You did not mention the basement and it’s deadbolt-reinforced steel door. Your face grew pinched as tears welled in your eyes. “I hid while they faced them.”

When you remained quiet, Wanda reached out.

“Y/N?”

You sniffed, shaking yourself from the ache in your chest. “The mob killed them. Him, his wife, and his kids. They ravaged the farm. The orchard was nearly completely destroyed, the house was trashed when I came out. But... everyone was gone.”

“Gone? From the house?”

Shaking your head, you continued. “Completely gone. I visited the town and everyone was gone. Nothing was missing, though there were cars still running and lights still on. It was like everyone had just disappeared.”

Wanda’s eyes widened a fraction. “Y/N, I think they were-”

A crack of thunder made you and Wanda jump in your seats. Rain spattered against the house in sudden buckets, pouring down the windows.

“Oh,” you stood up, looking from the window to Wanda. “The clothes!”

Before she could say anything, you ran out the back door to the yard.

You snatched the sheets and shirts from the clothes line, tossing them haphazardly into the basket. Wanda was by your side, ripping down socks and pants. In the unusually warm sunset, rain pelted down against your head. Thunder roared in the distance.

“Come on!” you called out, grabbing the basket with one hand and Wanda’s hand with the other.

You pulled her back inside, chest heaving. Soaked to the bone, hair plastered to your scalp, you dropped the basket and leaned against the back door.

Wanda rested next to you, pale and gasping at the sudden movement.

“Fuck,” you whispered, turning to her. “Are you hurt?”

Your fingers moved of their own accord, lifting the hem of Wanda’s shirt to examine the bandage. No blood seemed to seep through.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Wanda’s voice was thick. He reached down hesitantly, grasping your hand.

You froze. Your heart pounded loudly in your ears. Her hand was warm, fingers tight against your knuckles.

Wanda licked her lips. “I’m fine.”

In a moment of courage, you twisted your wrist to hold her hand. Your palm pressed to her’s. The fading sun glinted off of Wanda’s hair and eyes. She leaned forward to rest her head against your shoulder. The gesture shocked you.

“Thanks Y/N.”

You couldn’t help but frown. “For what?”

“I don’t know,” Wanda sighed contently. “For helping me. For sharing with me.”

You smiled. “Well then, you’re welcome.”

The music droned on, and you found Wanda swaying in front of you. You wrapped an arm around her waist, leading her to the living room.

Before you could deposit Wanda on the couch, her grip on your arm tightened.

“Wait. Don’t go.”

“What? is something wrong?”

She held you at arms length. “Please. Dance with me.”

“Right,” you scoffed. “How much did you drink?”

“Almost none. Come on, they’re playing our song.”

You rolled your eyes, unable to stop the smile that pulled at the corners of your lips. Wanda’s eyes pleaded silently. Swallowing, you nodded, letting her pull you close.

The music droned on, slow and sleepy as Wanda rested a hand on your waist. You breathed in a sharp breath, letting yourself press against her. You memorized the way Wanda’s thigh rested perfectly yours.

It wasn’t really dancing. It was more like swaying in a circle, arms wrapped around each other. Outside, the sunset glinted off the rain on the windows. Warm petrichor permeated through the living room.

Wanda’s hand slide from your waist to your hip, playing with the hem of your shirt.

“I-” you stuttered. “I don’t know what we’re doing...”

“Should I stop?”

God, yes or no? You found yourself shaking your head. “I can’t. Please. I don’t I can.”

Wanda wanted to leave. She was going to go west, and you were going to stay on the farm. She tried to rob you. She’s a runaway.

You forced yourself to remember who she was.

Wanda’s eyes were wide. She licked her lips and nodded, pulling away.

“Right. Fuck.” A weak laugh. “Sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

You wanted to cry out. Her body was so warm, and you were still drenched from the downpour. Every touch from her fingers felt like electricity. This was what you missed.

“It’s okay, we’re both...” Lonely? Tired? Attracted? “Not thinking straight.”

“Well, that’s for sure.” Wanda let out another mirthless laugh, rubbing her face awkwardly. “I’m gonna go upstairs and rest.”

You nodded, wringing your hands as she left.

“Fuck,” you said to no one, taking her glass of wine and drinking it all.

***

You came downstairs the next day, carrying a back pack. Wanda was sitting in the kitchen, already sipping a cup of coffee and reading a thick book. She really had made herself incredibly comfortable.

“I’m going into town,” you announced, retrieving a walking stick from the mud room. In your bag was water, some food, a first aid kit, and a blanket. You wore your thickest jacket, and your sturdiest boots. “How are you feeling?”

Despite her improved mobility, Wanda’s endurance still left much to be desired.

Wanda stood up, resilient. “I’m good. I can go.”

You nodded, grabbing a flannel coat from the rack and tossing it to her. You could barely meet her eyes. Neither of you were willing to speak about yesterday.

“Fine. Suit up and come to the garage. There’s a bag with supplies for you on the counter.”

She caught it, and you turned on your heel, forcing down every question you had about last night.

***

The car ride was quiet. Wanda sat in the passenger seat, eyes closed, head lolling back as she slept. The roads were so empty; they did nothing but remind you of how empty and lonely it was. There was no one else in the woods, and it scared you.

Sunlight poked between the evergreen trees, glinting off the hood of the red, rusted pickup. You glanced at the shotgun between you and Wanda.

“Just a precaution,” you had told her.

At a four way stop, you turned left. Ten minutes later, you pulled into a little, decrepit town. Five years ago, it would have been picturesque; department stores, two-story apartments, and corner grocers decorated every street. Iron lamp posts and greenery were used to make the whole place seem more welcoming. It would have been beautiful.

But now, dirt and rust covered everything. Broken windows, ajar doors, and overturned garbage cans haunted the town. Stray newspapers tumbled in the streets.

“Jesus,” Wanda said softly when she stepped out of the truck. “This place is terrible.”

You hummed, slinging an empty bag onto your shoulder. “It’s my piece of heaven, Wanda. Don’t knock it ‘til you loot it.”

“Okay, where do we start?” She clapped her hands together.

You pointed down the street to the nearest grocer. “Let’s start with grocers and move to convenience stores. We’re looking for canned and dried foods; they last the longest. Anything that’s perishable has already gone bad.”

You set to work. The pair of you went from store to store, filling bags with whatever canned, dried, and boxed foods you could find. After filling a bag, you tossed it into the back of the truck. Jars of pickles, cans of vegetable soup and spam, bottles of overdue honey, all went into the bags. The two of you worked harmoniously and silently.

You nearly cried when you found out that a whole shelf covered with bags of rolled oats; all stinking of mold. Wanda found huge jugs of canola oil that had gone rancid. The third grocer you two visited smelt so strongly of rotted vegetables, you hesitated to enter.

Afternoon crept up on you and Wanda. Lunch was brief; just a simple meal of some dried fruits and cans of spam. Wanda blanched when you offered the tin.

“Hey, it’s this or moldy oats.” you shook the spam can in front of her face.

She snorted and begrudgingly took it.

Evening fell quickly, covering the town with darkness.

“Let’s head back,” you said, zipping up the last bag.

About ten minutes into driving, the sun dipped below the tree line, turning the sky black. Ten minutes after that, Wanda coughed awkwardly.

“Uh, Y/N, I have to pee.”

“Really?” you sighed. “Can’t you hold it?”

“Probably, but I might get a UTI.”

You held up your hand. “Alright. Fine.”

Pulling over quickly, you parked the truck and turned to her. “Don’t take too long, Wanda; we don’t want to be out when it’s dark.”

“I know,” she rolled her eyes and jumped out of the car. She disappeared between the evergreens.

You sat in the truck, fiddling with the radio. After scanning over every station, hearing nothing but dead static, you checked again. It had been three days since Queens had sent out a transmission and you were getting nervous.

“Y/N!” Wanda shouted. She sounded eerily calm. “I need your help!”

Your heart dropped. Scrambling from the car, you drew the long knife from your belt.

A few strides into the forest and you found Wanda face to face with a Grizzly bear. It was slowly approaching her, nose sniffing at the ground.

Fuck. You picked up Wanda’s fallen walkie-talkie, and pressed the “on” button. You held it close to the receiver of your’s and it let out a horrible screech. The bear reared, and turned from Wanda towards the noise.

You threw the walkie off the path, deep into the woods.

led out a tremendous roar that rattled your bones. It limbered off, searching for the screeches.

After a few shaking breaths you stood up and raced to Wanda.

“Are you okay?” you fumbled to pull her up. There no smell of coppery blood. “Did it bite you? Any scratches?”

“No, no,” she was trembling under your hands. “I’m okay.”

You panic immediately evaporated, replaced with anger. “Then what the fuck were you thinking! You could have died, dumbass!”

“Hey, I saved your sorry ass!” Wanda sputtered. “Without me, you would have been eaten alive! Show a little gratitude!”

“Gratitude!” You laughed incredulously. “What the hell would you know about gratitude? Wanda, you attacked me in my own house, tried to rob me, and I still took care of you!”

“After you stabbed me!”

“After you attacked me!”

“I was on the run and desperate!”

“So that gives you the right to rob some-”

The sound of a rattling engine cut you off. You paused, suddenly on alert.

“What was that?” you whispered.

Wanda looked around the clearing, trying to find the source. “It has to be a car. Someone else is here.”

She grabbed your arm and pulled you around the back of the truck. Your heart beat violently, jumping uncomfortably in your throat. The white glare of headlights illuminated the line of trees as another car pulled into the clearing. The engine cut, and a door opened.

Footsteps crunched on the gravel, slowly approaching you and Wanda

“Wanda,” you murmured hoarsely, pulling out the machete from your belt. “The shotgun is in the passenger seat. ”

She nodded as you raised the blade, mouth pressed into a thin line. Creeping to the door, Wanda kept the knife raised. The passenger door opened easily, creaking ever so slightly. You prayed that the stranger didn’t hear her. The darkness disguised the pick up; if the intruder’s car was two metres to the left, the headlights would have revealed you and Wanda.

Wanda was surprisingly graceful as she slipped her arm into the passenger side and pulled out the gun.

The footsteps continued towards you. The stranger had seen your truck.

“Hurry,” you hissed.

She snatched the shot gun and shot up, pointing it at the stranger. “Don’t you take another fucking step.”

“Hey! Oh shit, okay, sorry. I don’t want any trouble, I’m just trying to find someone. I’ll be out of your way, please leave me alone.”

That voice. You stood up, moving to the stranger. It... couldn’t be.

“Queens?” You called out.

The stranger, shrouded by darkness, seized up. “North? Are you North?”

“Yeah, I am,” You let out a sigh of relief. “Jesus Christ, kid, I was so fucking worried about you!”

You hugged the kid. Within the embrace, you could feel the tension in his shoulders slowly seep out. It took you a moment to realize he was shaking with sobs.

You comforted him. “Hey, it’s okay, man. You’re safe now.”

Glancing over to Wanda, you could see her smile in the headlights.

“Let’s get home.”

#wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff imagines #marvel #marvel ladies #marvel imagines #Scarlet Witch #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch imagines #fanfiction #fanfic #marvel fanfic

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 years ago

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kiss me in the d-a-r-k .4.

tuesday

part 1 part 2 part 3

Warnings: non/dub con sex (oral)

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

Summary: Our reader finds herself cornered.

Note: Alright, another part. So this is a fic with an old mean/younger woman dynamic. I’ve purposely played up that trope so if you’re not a fan of that, I recommend you avoid this story (not to mention the the other warnings.) This series is just a bit of fun and not a statement on age or beauty or anything like that. It’s just a fic.

That being said, I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think!

...

The next morning you awoke to banging. Distant but persistent. Your head was pounding. Your legs were cramped. You sat up slowly and braced yourself on the head board as you hung your feet to the floor. This was why you hated drinking. You had no control. One drink easily meant ten.

You rose and dragged yourself to the door. You creaked it open and peeked down the hall to the source of the commotion. Steve's voice carried back to you.

"Kylie, I swear. Wake up or I'm coming in." He knocked again.

You reeled as memories flashed through your head. His silver streaked blond bent over you. The warmth of his fingers on your flesh. The tickle of his tongue, the nip of his teeth. You snapped your door shut and pushed yourself against it.

You heard Kylie's door open. Her groggy voice sounded worse than you felt. "What?" You could barely hear her through the wood.

"One of your friends puked on my rover," He said. "Thought I'd allow you the pleasure of cleaning up after them...and don't forget the backyard. This isn't a fair ground."

"Ugh, Dad," She bemoaned, "Just give me a little."

"I warned you. Be smart. And here you are," He retorted, "Hungover. I'm pretty lax but this is enough. You have your friend here so maybe you should start acting like a responsible host. She is not my responsibility."

"She can take care of herself," Kylie grumbled, "It was just a bit of fun."

"I know about Taylor," He chided, "I'm not that stupid. I just hope you're being smart about that at least."

"I'm up, okay? I'll clean it all up. Can I at least have a coffee?"

"I think you can manage to drink and clean at the same time," He scoffed, "I want the whole car washed, got it?"

You listened as heavy footsteps passed by your door and lumbered down the stairs. You slowly cracked your door open and Kylie's eyes were drawn by the movement. She smiled but it was more a cringe.

"Do you feel as bad as I do?" She laughed and gripped her head.

"I'll help you clean," You offered, ignoring her drunken promise to do it herself. You felt too bad for that.

"Kay," She leaned on her door frame, "I'm gonna shower first. I'll meet you down there."

"Good idea," You said, "Think I could use one."

She gave a wave and closed her door. You retreated into your room and touched your temple with a groan. You stared at the bed. You could remember a little. Mostly just the sensation. The images were blurred in your mind.

Had it really happened?

You pushed yourself away from the door and stumbled across the room. The shower was open and you reached in to twist the faucet. You cranked it but only a trickle came from the head. You shut it off and turned it back on. You adjusted the setting on the shower head but nothing change. You sighed.

You tried the sink and a similar result, even the toilet croaked and drained slowly. What the fuck?

You changed quickly into a pair of sweats and loose tee. You'd be cleaning anyways. You stepped into the hall. Kylie must be enjoying her shower still. You were jealous. You descended the stairs slowly and the smell of coffee wafted from the kitchen. You followed it to find Steve in front of the fridge, his back to you.

"Good morning," He turned as he took out the carton of soy milk. "I made coffee...figured you'd need it." He kept the fridge open and pulled out assorted fruits, "Or I can make you a smoothie?"

You stayed quiet. He acted as if nothing had happened. Maybe it hadn't.

"My shower's broken," You rasped through your dry throat.

"Oh, I can have a look at it," He assured you, "So, did you want that smoothie? It's great for hangovers."

You stared at him. He smiled. You shrugged and coughed into your hand. "Sure."

"You girls had quite the party," He rinsed the berries and peeled a banana. "I admit, I had some wild days myself. Me and Sharon...well, she hated when I got drunk but boy was she a load when she indulged. We fought like cats and dogs." He loaded the fruit into the blender and added milk. "Fucked like rabbits after."

Your mouth fell open and he took a jar of honey from the cupboard. He drizzled just a little into the blender. He smirked as he put the lid in place and hit the button. You gripped the edge of the island as he held your gaze. He raised a brow coyly.

"Ugh," Kylie's voice jolted you as she entered. "Can you stop?"

Steve took his finger off the button. "Smoothie?" He offered her and she gulped. Her face turned green as she fought her body.

"Coffee's fine," She croaked and grabbed a mug from the cupboard as Steve opened it.

He took out two glasses and filled them. He walked around the island as he slid one across to you. "I'll finish this and have a look at that shower."

While Kylie hosed down her dad's car, you worked at gathering the plastic cups littered across the backyard. Paper plates and napkins were strewn around the bin meant for them. Why had you even bothered?

You tied up the full bag and tossed it just outside the sliding door. You folded up the table and leaned it beside the trash. You collected the used towels and took them inside. After you'd use the net to scour the pool. You found your way to the laundry room by chance and dumped the towels into the tall washer.

You found the soap in the overhead cupboard and measured out a scoop. The buttons beeped as you searched for the right setting. You were proud when the machine began to whir quietly. You stepped back with hands on hips. You still had a lot of work to do.

"Gonna have to call a plumber," You spun and almost tripped over your own feet. Steve leaned in the door frame. His body filled it easily. No escape. "I'll only mess things up worse. But there's another room. Right next to mine."

You rubbed your arm and tried not to fidget. The way he looked at you made you want to melt. The thought of sleeping on the other side of his wall stoked your nerves further. You'd rather bunk with Kylie. Besides, there were at least several other rooms.

"It's alright, I can use Kylie's shower," You offered.

"I wouldn't hear of it. I want you comfortable." He neared and his hand slowly closed the door behind him. "Happy."

"Steve," You backed up as he came closer. He didn't stop until you were against the vibrating washer.

"Didn't I make you happy?" His fingers walked along your thigh. "It sure sounded like it."

"Stop," You caught his hand. He turned it easily and twined his fingers in yours. He pressed himself flush against you. Your could feel his arousal.

"I'm better with my mouth," His voice was low. "How far have you gone? Have you even been touched down there before?" He licked his lips, "Before me?"

You glanced away in shame. He knew. He could tell so easily. You wondered how many women he had fucked? Maybe just his wife. That would hint at a sudden mid-life crisis that had him chasing you. Or maybe he had fucked dozens of women and you were just another piece of meat.

"No one," You whispered. "Can I please...go?"

"You're more than free to leave," He rubbed his erection against you before he raised his hands and backed away. "I've already moved your stuff for you."

You edged away from the washer and kept your eyes on him. He merely turned to watch you go as he lowered his arms. He grabbed his crotch as you opened the door and you dove out into the hall. You felt the same tingle as the night before. The ripple just along your thighs. It was wrong. So wrong.

When you had finally returned the yard to its usual perfection, you retreated to Kylie's room. She needed a quiet night in and you weren't complaining. Youtube videos, gossip, and the occasional but comfortable lull. It reminded you of the nights you'd spent studying on campus. This was the Kylie you knew.

By eleven, she was out. She hadn't really recovered from her hangover and your own was still a stone at the base of your skull. Her snores were low at first but grew louder. You thought of staying in her room but you'd sleep less as she rumbled like a bear. You turned off her television and tucked her in. At least one of you would be well-rested.

You pulled her door shut gently. You listened to the house. An airy silence met you. You looked down the hall to Steve's door. No light shone from the space beneath. You sighed. He was probably already asleep. Hopefully.

You tiptoed down the hall, careful not to knock the standing vase or step on the single loose floorboard. When you reached your door, you grabbed the handle and slowly pressed the lever it. A gasp escaped you as it was pulled open from the other side.

"Got your bed all made up for you," Steve caught your arm and yanked you inside. You squeaked as the door shut swiftly. "Found some fresh sheets at last."

"What are you doing?" You tried to wriggle free of his grasp but he was strong.

"It's my house, I like to make sure all my guests are comfortable," He played with the sleeve of your shirt. "You and Kylie sounded like you were having fun."

"Get out," You grabbed his wrist but he didn't budge.

"You can deny me but you can't deny yourself. The little looks you send me say it all." He slid his hand up and brought both to cradle your face. "You want it as bad as I do."

You trembled. You felt the pluck within. The tugging deep inside. It wasn't him, it was merely longing. The desire for something you'd never known. "No…" You breathed.

"Why are you shaking? Tell me," He urged. "I know it's not fear. Not of me. Only of yourself. Of the way I way you feel."

You tried to shake your head. You reached up and grasped his hands.

"Fuck, I've been hard all day." He groaned, "Longer."

"I-I-I--" You stuttered dumbly.

"Come on, sweetie, I just wanna make you feel good," He purred, "Help you enjoy your vacation. You've only got a few days left."

He guided you back and you let him. Was it fear? Was it desire? You weren't quite sure. He turned you carefully and edged you to the bed. Your legs hit the side and you struggled to stay on your feet.

"Just relax, sweetie," He cooed and his hands went to your shoulders. He pushed until you sat down.

He got to his knees between your legs and his fingers crawled down to your chest. He groped you through the thin cotton of your tee. Your bra did little to hide your hard nipples.

"You really are beautiful," He said, "Really."

You gripped the duvet. Your nerves buzzed and you shivered as his hands slid down your stomach. He kneaded your thighs and you grabbed his hands. "I don't know."

"We don't have to do everything. Not tonight," He turned his hands over and held yours. "We'll take it slow."

You looked into his eyes. You had said no already. He wouldn't accept it. And despite your protests, your resolve was slowly fading as your flesh caught fire. He let go of your hands and his large fingers went around your waist. You let him push you onto your back, your legs still over the edge.

He pushed under the hem of your tee and you closed your eyes. He tickled your stomach and ribs. Your breath caught and he cupped your tits. He squeezed them through your bra before slowly dragging his palms back down your torso.

He hooked his fingers in the elastic of your pants. He pulled them past your ass and down your legs. He moved between your knees again. His fingers grazed over your panties and you looked down as he bent his head over you. You felt his hot breath through the cotton and your leg twitched.

He grabbed your thighs and nuzzled you through your panties. He inhaled and you let out a pathetic mewl. His hand whispered along the inside of your leg and he slipped a finger beneath the crotch of your panties. He pushed the cotton aside and you felt his breath against you. You gasped.

His other hand went to your waist, almost comforting you. He slowly pressed his tongue to your lips and delved past them. He flicked it up and down and lingered on your clit. You arched your back without thinking as you leaned into him. He swept his tongue in circles around your bud and the air caught in your throat. His mouth sent a charge of electricity through you like no other.

He pulled away, just a little and looked up at you. "It feels good, doesn't it?" He purred. "It feels right."

You bit your lip as you watched him lower his head again. His blue eyes held your as he tasted you and you squirmed. He hummed in delight and closed his eyes as he lapped you up. He held aside your panties as his saliva mixed with your arousal. He lifted your leg over his shoulder and you held yourself up with your arms.

You let out a surprised cry as the flurry gather around the tip of his tongue. You recalled the hazy flashes of the night before. You gulped as the air tried to rush from your lungs all at once. Your pants grew to airy moans and your hand found its way around the back of his neck. You came into his mouth as you clung to him. Shocked by the sensation; by your reaction; that you were latched onto him so fervently.

You released him and fell back on the bed. You touched your forehead but he didn't slop. He kept on until you felt the thrill again. Your thighs closed around his head and you bit the heel of your hand. Another orgasm peaked as quickly as the last.

Slowly he sat back on his heels and you looked up at him as he pulled the crotch of your panties straight. He patted your pussy with two fingers and the fabric dampened beneath his touch. He stood, his lips glistening and his eyes smokey.

"Tomorrow," He rubbed your knee, "I'll show you even more."

You were dazed as he retreated to the door. You didn't miss the bulge in his pants or the way he rubbed it. He groaned as the door handle clicked and you listened to him leave. You rolled onto your side and felt the slickness along your thighs.

Tomorrow, the word echoed in your head. Your heart pounded. Was it excitement or fear?

tags will be added in reblog (late bc i work)

#dad!steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #dad!steve rogers #au #series #fic #mcu #marvel #captain america #kiss me in the d-a-r-k #miniseries #dark!verse #darkverse #dark!fic #dark fic

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imascreamerbabymakemeamute · 7 years ago

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I’m Sorry

Dean and Sam don’t understand the constant apologies from Reader, their sister, as she spirals with depression. The characters are really out of character, but it helps the story move the way I wanted it too, sorry.

TW: Suicide, Depression, minor language

Tags: @annie-marie94 If anybody else wants tagged in whatever little Supernatural things I write, hit me up with an ask. I’m new to this, but I will learn!

“I’m sorry,” you blurted, hurriedly picking up the piles of paper strewn across the floor of one of the lesser used aisles. Sam towered over you leaning into the row to grab a book off the top shelf, and you scramble to at least get your papers picked up from that area so he can stand.

“Don’t worry about it, I can reach it,” he said and walked off as quickly as he had appeared; but you continued to pick up your mess, keeping it cleaned up better now that your space had been invaded. Sam never returned with the book to return it though.

~~~

Being left in the bunker alone while the boys were on a hunt was never easy, it set you on edge. Not knowing if they would come home; if they did, what state would they be in? This worried you, and the only thing you could do was take your mind off it.

Cleaning helped set you straight, it kept your mind off the fact that they were ignoring you - probably for a better hunter - and the place could use a good once over every few weeks anyway.

After polishing the kitchen until every stainless steel surface glimmered in the fake lights, you set off for the bathrooms. The porcelain of every toilet, shower, and bathtub shone a watery reflection of your face before you deemed it perfect. You went through and dusted all the old Men of Letters trophies hanging on the walls, and straightened the books that were still on the shelves, leaving spaces for the books that Sam and Dean has splattered all over the library and war room tables. Not counting the neat stack on the corner of the table that you brought from the kitchen and bathrooms. You shuddered at what their rooms looked like.

A thought hit you, I can finally wash their sheets again. You left the tables full of books alone for a while longer, though it was a nagging thought of the mess you left behind. You tidy the rooms as you go, washing anything that looks or smells suspicious, especially the sheets. Flannels got hung up in the closets, everything was washed, dried, folded, and put away. Sheets followed suit, and fresh ones were put on the beds, even the ones that haven’t seen a body of any kind in them since the bunker was discovered.

Every time you walked by the tables a little voice called to you that you needed to put those books away. You shook it out, you needed to have them out in case they needed you to look things up again, it happened once, and you had put the books away. You almost lost them that night.

Shaking your head a little harder you sat in the kitchen, staring at your phone laying on the table. Nothing. For two days. Maybe you had missed a call, you checked: no missed calls, no missed voicemails, no missed texts. Laptop out you searched for recent arrests in the town they were in, they hadn’t been arrested. That just left dead or too busy to call.

“I bet they are dead,” a little voice called. “Or maybe they really don’t love you, you know like brothers are supposed to. You don’t have their mom, Mary is so important to them, they couldn’t care about you or your mom.”

“Stop it,” you say out loud as the voice gets more and more control. “Stop it, they love me.”

“Of course we love you,” Dean’s voice rang out around the kitchen.

“Dean!” you shouted, jumping up and sprinting towards him as he set down his duffle, Sam came down the stairs a moment later with his own duffle and you ran to hug him as well. “Sam!”

“Hey N/N, how was the bachelorette pad?” Sam asks after he kisses your forehead. You squeeze him tighter to assure yourself he’s real and here and alive.

“Ninety-five percent clean,” you add sheepishly. “Sorry, but I broke into your rooms and did laundry. I put it all away and changed sheets, is that okay?” you ask as you pull away from Sam’s embrace. Dean whistles, low, one note.

“I dunno kiddo, I had a system,” he says sarcastically, but that goes right over your head.

“I’m sorry, I can go put it all back where I found it. I’m so sorry,” you turn quickly on the ball of your foot as you start towards his room when he clamps a hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, Y/N, I was kidding. Don’t apologize. It was a poorly placed joke. Thank you.”

“Yeah, the place looks amazing!” Sam added.

“Can I put the books away now?” you pleaded.

“Right now?” Dean questioned, “We brought home your favorite dinner from that diner in Leba-” he went on as you walked right past the food instead to grab a stack of books, “what are you doing?”

“I’m sorry, it’s bothering me. Start without me. I’ll be right there.”

The boys shared a look and went to dig in. After a grueling hunt, good food was a top priority, that and beer. You shuffled books and papers around and took notes that were of keeping quality, you walked them to the correct room and left them in neat sorted piles.

Dean took to holding out fries for you as you passed, but you rarely took them. Sometimes you took them only to lay them back on the table, or to poke them in Sam’s mouth. You continued to grab your brothers some cold beers and pop their tops for them. Soon they were too far gone to worry about you.

Finally the library and war room were clean, the kitchen was another story with two passed out men on the kitchen table. You woke them up enough to drag them to their rooms. Muttering apologies the whole way, you took Sam first. He was mostly awake when you laid him down in bed.

“Night Sam,” you say, “Sorry I didn’t stop you sooner, I should have been a better sister.” He’s asleep in seconds after hitting the pillow, and can’t even reply to you, but nonetheless, it feels better to tell him. Even if he doesn’t know.

Dean is wide awake drunk as you lead him down the hall.

“N/N! Where are you taking me?” Dean calls down the hall even though you are right next to him.

“To bed De, I’m sorry, but you gotta get out of my kitchen again. I have to clean it.”

“That’s all you ever do! Clean! Or yell at us for leaving a mess!”

“I’m sorry De, I’m sorry. Just get in bed and you won’t have to put up with me anymore,” you say slowly. Not wanting to agitate him.

“Jesus,” Dean sighs and drops the subject, or forgot what the topic was but either way, he stopped talking about it.

Back in the kitchen, they had left a meal for you. You took it right to the trash, not wanting them to know you were skipping meals now. Better not let them find out you did that, the little voice called, that would be a big apology. I doubt you could make it through that one.

“Stop it,” you whisper, wiping tears before you turn to scrub the kitchen within an inch of its life.

~~~

Dean rolled into consciousness, right onto the floor. Groaning he sat up and tried to untangle his limbs from the sheets. As you pass his open door you see him sitting up on the floor.

“De! Are you okay?” you asked rushing in and kneeling down next to him.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Hit my face and elbow. Shit, how much did I drink?” Dean asked as he scrubbed a hand over his face.

“You and Sam had quite a few, sorry I didn’t keep track of you guys. I bet Sam is just as hungover as you,” you rambled and looked out the door, ears straining to hear if Sam was up yet. Hearing nothing you tugged at Dean to get him up, leading him to the bathroom you left him there, telling him to holler if he needed anything while you went to check on Sam. Sam was still rolled up in his sheets, you quietly rolled him around to untangle his gangly limbs and then left him, with his door open so you could hear if anything went wrong. You hurried back to Dean’s room and found it empty.

“Dean?” you called into the room, with no response you hurried down past Sam’s room to the kitchen. “Dean?” A hand popped out around a corner holding a fork. “Yes, De, I will cook you some breakfast. What do you want?”

Pancakes on the griddle and bacon in a pan pulled your other sleepy brother from his room. Wiping his face as he came into the kitchen in yesterday’s clothes he fell into the chair across from Dean. Plates of food were placed before them, they dug in, sluggish movements slowly getting more speed and dexterity. When coffee was added a few minutes later, they perked up. Sam and Dean ask questions about last night, when they went to bed, how many they had, how they got to bed. You quietly answer their questions with a cup of coffee and a varying amount of “sorry”s.

“You don’t have to be sorry, Y/N,” Sam said.

“Seriously, stop telling me you’re sorry, you did what you thought was right, and I thank you not making me sleep it off in here.” Dean said sternly. You just nodded, knowing that they wouldn’t understand.

“Y/N, hello, did you hear me?” Sam asks, waving a hand before your face. “Are you going to eat?” You shook your head and held up the cup of coffee instead. Sliding off the chair you were perched on, translation: I want the rest of the food on that plate, the little voice called. You shook your head and turned back to the main counter to clean your mess. Occasionally returning to the coffee cup you cleaned the kitchen and washed the dishes while fighting the little voice off. It has gotten more prevalent in the last couple hunts. The boys are figuring out you aren’t good, at hunting, and they are leaving you home more often so that you don’t get hurt, or get them killed. That little voice was getting on your nerves, only because I speak the truths you won’t believe.

~~~

“Okay, we will back in a week. Cas is going to stop by and keep you company, okay N/N?” Sam says softly as Dean loads up Baby. He wraps you up in a tight hug before kissing your cheek and moving out of the way for Dean to hug you too.

“No boys, no drugs, and have a beer maybe? Loosen up, kiddo, we’ll be okay. We will call,” he said as he climbed into Baby. You stood in the front door of the bunker, arms crossed over your body, your right hand rubs your arm through your thin shirt as you watch the car fade into the distance.

“Cas,” you called into the empty bunker.

“Y/N,” his bass voice rumbles from the war room. “Is something wrong?”

“No, I just wanted to know if you were going to come or not. Y’know, if I got hurt or something.”

“Of course, do you intend to be harmful to yourself? Should I stay the week here or…” Cas trailed off. Clearly not used to dealing with your bluntness about such things.

“No, of course not any more than usual. Paper cuts and shaving nicks still happen though. Damn knives are sharp enough to cut a hair,” you brush off his questions walking towards to kitchen. A cup of coffee finds its way to you, you glance back at Cas as he quickly drops his hand back to his side.

“Floating coffee had better be amazing,” you say quickly, trying to fool him into thinking you were fine, just like you did with the boys, but they are pretty dense. You shook your head, trying to get rid of the voice. Can’t get rid of me, just like Sam couldn’t get rid of Lucifer, you can’t get rid of me. I’m part of you. Shaking your head again you take another couple steps and set your coffee down before resting your head in your hands on the counter.

A soft hand over your back, rubbing comforting circles in your shoulders, accompanied by the heavenly body it was attached to came close, too close. You reached a hand out and gently shoved him away, Aw, even the bird wants to help you. But what can he do? All he does is come in and show you up in front of those HALF-brothers of yours. I suppose he likes the competition of attention, but babysitting. So beneath him. He should be out hunting with them, in your spot, ‘cause, y’know, your ‘broken.’

“I’m not broken, just a little bent here and there. I don’t need to be coddled,” you told the voice, but Cas gripped your shoulders and turned you to face him.

“What is your topic? I am very… confused.”

“I don’t need you to babysit me Cas. Go help Sam and Dean, I’ll be here. Cooped up,” you snapped, but that was enough, all you heard was Cas’s wings and he was gone. You left your full cup of coffee on the counter and wandered around. Cleaning as you went.

Cas showed up a couple times, he forced you to stop cleaning, he sat there and watched you eat, and he took the time to watch a movie with you, one he knew you would fall asleep to. When Cas was there for company, the hours seemed to fly by, but they drug on and on when he wasn’t there. He sometimes had to leave suddenly to help the boys, but he always came back to check on you. You wouldn’t tell him but you enjoyed his easy non-judgmental company. On the last night, the boys were late getting home, Cas had shown up to tell you that they were on the way. He had suggested a movie to pass the time, since they had to drop some things off in a couple places, namely body parts but it happens.

Cas turned on an old documentary that you usually enjoyed, but the stress of the week got the better of you, and you fell asleep on his shoulder. Trying to not disturb you he placed two fingers on your forehead and checked out your body for any ailments. What he found was disturbing to him. He zapped to the impala as soon as he could get your head on a pillow.

~~~ In the Impala

“Hello,” Cas stated suddenly from the back seat. Dean swerved all over the small two lane highway in rural Nebraska headed straight south to Kansas.

“Shit Cas! We told you have to stop doing that. Warn a brother!” Dean called.

Sam turned around in the seat, “What do you want Cas? I thought you were having a movie night with Y/N? Is something wrong?”

“Something is very wrong,” Cas stated simply, Dean pushed the gas a little harder with each detail that Cas said: refusal to eat, not sleeping, constant cleaning, shaking head, and Cas’s diagnosis of mild depression.

~~~

The bunker was quiet the next morning when you sat up in bed. Blearily you rubbed your eyes and wandered to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee that you would eventually dump in a couple hours only to find the boys home, all three of them sitting around the kitchen table talking in hushed tones with food made and a pot of coffee ready to be poured. Cas was the first to look up as you rattled the cupboard door to get a cup of coffee. Dean and Sam looked up too.

“Hey Y/N,” Sam calls out. “Come over here, I made breakfast for us this morning.”

“You didn’t have to, you could have got me up, I would have made it for you,” you said quickly turning to face them. Dean pulls out a chair and puts a couple pancakes on a plate for you. After pouring your coffee, you sit down but push the plate forward and rest your forearms on the table with your coffee.

“Sorry I didn’t stay up to see you guys in, I must have partied too hard this week,” you tried to smile, but their faces told the whole story. Sullen smiles, sad eyes, and the absolute smorgasbord of food in front of you; someone found out. “Why are you looking at me like that?” you questioned.

“Well,” Dean started but ran out of steam right there. “I mean…”

“Cas told us everything, said you weren’t eating, or sleeping, all you did was clean. And we are worried about you,” Sam explained in a soft leve voice.

“Do you feel okay? Cas said you’ve been shaking your head, got water in an ear or do you need a doctor?” Dean asked, regaining his thoughts.

Not the doctor you’re thinking but yes she does need a doctor. One that is way too expensive for your little credit card scams. You shook your head and took a sip of coffee, your throat was dry and the coffee slid down into your empty stomach and nestled there warmly. “I’m fine, I don’t know why all of a sudden you think I need a babysitter, just because I’m ten years younger than you guys. It’s okay, I’m okay,” no you’re not, “I don’t know what’s got you guys all riled up.”

The guys tried for the next three weeks, only taking day trip hunts, trying to help you, but in turn they just smothered you. And saying your sorry for doing things only infuriated Dean, no matter what it was about; spilling a cup of coffee, putting the gun back in the wrong spot, putting a book away that he had been reading, cutting him off. Sam was more gentle, but still he seemed to get upset easily now, promising that he wasn’t mad at you, when you put away his books, or made dinner without him to help you get the stock pot off the high shelf. Everything was wrong, and even Cas tired of you. He had tried several times to get you to let him “fix” you, but you always told him you were fine, you didn’t need him to baby you.

Soon enough he just gave up, and so had the boys. They went on longer hunts, and came home less often. You rarely ate anymore and the voice had taken over. It controlled you to the point where you would clean for days on end pass out from exhaustion for a few hours and begin cleaning again. It would say things like they don’t love you that’s why they never come home, they are dead that’s why they’ve been gone so long, they are never coming back, they love Cas more than you, you could never survive as a hunter anyway, you would just die a slow and painful death, maybe you should avoid that slow and painful death by a quick one. Maybe you should kill yourself.

Maybe you should kill yourself.

The thought had been there for months now, end it and be over. It will be okay. You don’t have a need or a purpose anymore. They don’t come home so you should be uninterrupted too. Just do it.

I won’t leave until you do it.

~~~

Cas lands in the impala’s backseat, Sam swerves a bit, Dean jumps; “she’s safe, I checked. She’s at peace in heaven. It’s nice-”

“Don’t tell me about her heaven, Cas, just don’t,” Dean says sternly as a tear rolls down his face. Her jacket in his lap, thankful that he didn’t have to burn it in the pyre too. He holds it up to his face, breathes in her perfume.

His baby sister is gone, she killed herself in the farthest bathroom with the bottle of bleach she was using to clean her blood up out of the grout in the tile. Who knows how long she had been cutting, they had tried to help, took her to one of those fancy doctors, they said put her in a home. They had only been gone an hour, a milk run, literally. More tears dotted the jacket and Sam reached out a hand to hold Dean’s, but all he got was a coat sleeve, that was good enough for him. As his vision blurred slightly with tears they pulled up to the bunker, they got out and tentatively went inside. There wasn’t a speck of dust in the whole bunker, not a page of notes out of place, every label facing perfectly outward. In a few days, everything she worked so hard to do would be gone, disheveled, and dirty.

“I’m sorry,” Dean whispered.

#Screamerwritings #supernatural #sisterreader #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #suicide #depression #angst

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truereviewpage · 5 years ago

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The Last Finished Duplex Spots You Haven’t Seen

We’re back with the (finally!) finished photos of the two small-but-mighty bonus sleeping spaces at the duplex! Plus we’ve got pictures and details of two of the hardest working spaces: the linen closet and our locked owner’s closet that guests won’t see – but you can! In short: these little nooks & crannies GO HARD for us. So we’re excited to show you how they turned out.

wall mural | sound machine | striped pillow | similar plant | similar table

Since we have two larger bedrooms on each side of the duplex with closets and dressers (you can see them here and here), we refer to these as “bonus sleeping nooks” – which are pretty common around Cape Charles, as well as in other beach communities. They pass all building and rental codes in our town (yes, we have an annual rental inspection!) and are basically just a cozy spot to sleep extra guests, complete with little comforts like a ceiling fan, light-blocking blinds, a sound machine, and two wall sconces you can flick on & off without getting up.

It’s probably not a room you’d want to sleep in year-round (I mean there is that whole tiny house movement…) but for a weeklong vacation, where you’ll pretty much be hanging out all over town/at the beach and just crashing in here, well, they do the job. We aimed to make them feel cozy, comfortable, and fun – and a ton of visual interest came from the murals that you saw us hang a few months ago (you can read more about how to hang them here).

If you’ve followed along as we planned these rooms, you’ve seen us consider several layout options (bunks! two twins! a trundle! one big bed – or even a murphy bed!), and two side-by-side twins won pretty handily when over 13,000 of you took our poll! They’re more comfortable for grown-ups to climb into than bunk beds (and much easier to make!), plus two twins can be pushed together for a king-sized sleep surface if someone requests that instead (hello versatility!).

A trundle got significantly fewer votes (whether it was a pop up or a traditional one) since many people have kids who don’t sleep well together – or adults who don’t want to climb over each other. And one big bed (murphy or regular) got even fewer votes – probably because there are two other queen beds for people who want to sleep together and folks seemed to like the flexibility of one room where people can sleep separately.

I gotta say I’m not surprised that twin beds won because when we travel we always look for… drumroll please… a room with two twins for our kids! It also doesn’t hurt that two twin beds can be RIDICULOUSLY GOOD LOOKING. Like the inspo photo below (or this one, this one, and this one). I’m 100% convinced that even the smallest spaces can have tons of style!

source

Ok, on with the tour! If you spin around in the space, there’s a pocket door (they make the most of small rooms since it doesn’t swing into the space). We also hung a handy little wall shelf with empty baskets that provide some vertical storage (you could store kids pjs, favorite books, or some clothes in them if you wanted those things within the room).

Here’s a better shot of the shelving system. It’s just 9″ deep (about the same depth as the sconces by the head of the bed) so it doesn’t feel like it’s IN YO FACE. I’m 5’2″ and have no issue reaching each item on those bottom two shelves – and the stuff on that top shelf is just decorative. There’s also room at the foot of the bed if someone wants to slide a suitcase in there.

wood shelf | similar baskets | quilt | walls: SW Spare White

Since we know that may not be enough storage, here’s the good news: there’s a nice, big, half-empty closet just outside the room. Yes, literally one step.

wood shelf | quilt | walls: SW Spare White | trim: SW Extra White | door: SW White Truffle

Here it is all opened up. While it has a few shelves dedicated to extra guest towels and linens – plus a high chair and a Pack ‘N Play for anyone staying with infants – we left the bottom half empty so guests can toss in extra clothes, suitcases, whatever.

And see those silver rods corralled in the bottom corner of the closet? That’s John’s ingenious way of storing the legs to the high chair that lives on that top shelf (so they’re easier to see/grab and not hidden up there on that high shelf). The white hoops are just 3″ PVC pipe couplings from the plumbing aisle at Home Depot ($1.68 each!) and we labeled them so people aren’t like… “are these headless golf clubs? Some sort of fold-away tent? A new way to communicate with aliens?”

Here’s a closer shot of things like a few extra bath towels (each room has a pair left on the bed for guests when they arrive), and we have two Pack N Play sheets for people to use along with an iron, hairdryer, and first aid kit. We had some fun with a label maker as John mentioned on Monday’s podcast (I know, we are PARTY ANIMALS) just so everyone knows where to find things. It also makes it easier for our house cleaners to put things back in the right spot between guests.

We were even able to communicate some simple instructions to our guests with the labels we added. For example, the washcloth bin says “use gray ones for makeup removal please” since we heard from our cleaners that light colored washcloths rapidly get ruined when guests use them to take off their makeup.

We also learned that it’s smart to add photos to your Airbnb listing of the perks you’re offering, so we snapped some shots of the high chair set up downstairs, so anyone scrolling through the pics sees it without having to read a bunch of fine print.

high chair | art | dining chairs

We also took a photo of the Pack N Play, which fits nicely between the double closets in the master bedrooms (as well as in a few other spots). It’s hard to see in this pic, but that window has white faux wood blinds, cause nobody wants to put baby in a corner super bright spot ;)

pack n play | rug | baskets | bench

But the hardest working closets in the duplex are downstairs under the stairs, right next to the TVs on either side. Renters won’t have access to them, but we thought you might be curious to see what’s in our locked owner’s closets.

These closets are for us to store all of the refills and extras that our cleaning people will need to access on both sides of the house as they flip them between guests. It’s all a learning curve to us, so I’m sure this will change over time, but inside we’ve got all sorts of bulk-sized refills for things like hand soap, laundry detergent, fabric softener, dish detergent, shampoo, conditioner, and body wash (thank you Costco!). You can hear more about our adventures of being new Costco members here – it’s a whole new world.

back-of-the-door storage | plastic shelf | gray bins | tankless water heater | door: SW White Truffle

The closet isn’t huge, so we added some wire-shelving to the back of the door to wrangle small items like coffee grounds, coffee filters, tea bags, Sugar In The Raw packets, tissues, sandwich bags, light bulbs, bathroom spray, sponges, small bathroom trash bags, and various soaps. Then we bought one of these tall plastic garage shelving units and split it across the two owner’s closets (thanks to the sloped ceiling, one half of the unit fit perfectly on each side).

The plastic shelf helps us store toilet paper, paper towels, kitchen trash bags, and extra linens in case the cleaners don’t have time to fully launder everything between guests – or if they find something that has been stained or ripped that needs quick replacing. We’re learning that these very short turnover windows make it really important to have extra items on hand so there’s not a huge last minute panic. Here’s hoping!

Some people reading the list of things we’re providing might be like WHAAAAAA????!!!” but many other rentals in our area offer those things and we wanted to as well. It totally varies by where you live I think. In the area where John’s parents have their beach rental, nobody provides sheets or towels (EVERYONE BRINGS THEIR OWN!) so it’s pretty funny to see how much things differ by region.

This locked closet is also where we access the tankless water heater & the HVAC system, so there is a hidden key that our plumbing & HVAC pros can access if they ever need to get in to fix something without us being there.

So there it is. The last few finished interior duplex spaces! We still want to do a video walk-through so you can see how it all flows and connects. And we still have to photograph the back patios, which I can’t wait for you to see! They turned out even better than I hoped. Completely unrecognizable from what was back there before. I feel like they might be my favorite makeover in the entire duplex project! So cross your fingers for some good weather so we can get them all photographed ASAP.

P.S. You can see all of the other finished rooms of the duplex that we’ve already revealed (two kitchens! the front and back of the house! four other bedrooms! six bathrooms! two living & dining rooms! two mudroom/laundry rooms!) along with how we planned the layout, tiled the floors & backsplashes, etc, here in our duplex category. It’s almost two years of updates covered in just 20-something posts!

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The post The Last Finished Duplex Spots You Haven’t Seen appeared first on Young House Love.

The Last Finished Duplex Spots You Haven’t Seen published first on https://aireloomreview.tumblr.com/

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endlessarchite · 5 years ago

Text

The Last Finished Duplex Spots You Haven’t Seen

wall mural | sound machine | striped pillow | similar plant | similar table

source

wood shelf | similar baskets | quilt | walls: SW Spare White

Since we know that may not be enough storage, here’s the good news: there’s a nice, big, half-empty closet just outside the room. Yes, literally one step.

wood shelf | quilt | walls: SW Spare White | trim: SW Extra White | door: SW White Truffle

high chair | art | dining chairs

pack n play | rug | baskets | bench

back-of-the-door storage | plastic shelf | gray bins | tankless water heater | door: SW White Truffle

*This post contains affiliate links

The post The Last Finished Duplex Spots You Haven’t Seen appeared first on Young House Love.

The Last Finished Duplex Spots You Haven’t Seen published first on https://bakerskitchenslimited.tumblr.com/

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additionallysad · 5 years ago

Photo

The Last Finished Duplex Spots You Haven’t Seen http://bit.ly/2MFpKTN

wall mural | sound machine | striped pillow | similar plant | similar table

source

wood shelf | similar baskets | quilt | walls: SW Spare White

Since we know that may not be enough storage, here’s the good news: there’s a nice, big, half-empty closet just outside the room. Yes, literally one step.

wood shelf | quilt | walls: SW Spare White | trim: SW Extra White | door: SW White Truffle

high chair | art | dining chairs

pack n play | rug | baskets | bench

And before I show you the locked owner’s closet, I couldn’t resist throwing in this before & after of the upstairs hallway. Here it is today:

tile | wall: SW Spare White | trim: SW Extra White | doors: SW White Truffle

And here’s that same vantage point when we bought the house back in 2017. How funny is that pink trim? It was one of the reasons we chose a pink tone for all of the doors on this side of the house (White Truffle by Sherwin Williams). The super cool wallpaper border didn’t come back, but we did move the door to the master bedroom over about 5′ to the right so we could add this awesomely useful hall linen closet, and WE’RE SO GLAD WE DID.

back-of-the-door storage | plastic shelf | gray bins | tankless water heater | door: SW White Truffle

*This post contains affiliate links

The post The Last Finished Duplex Spots You Haven’t Seen appeared first on Young House Love.

#additionally sad home renovations

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kpopfanfictrash · 8 years ago

Text

Enough (II)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: You/Baekhyun

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 3,200

Summary: You and Baekhyun have been married for two years. Somewhere during that time, things started to go wrong. Now you’re trying to leave. But can you?

[Part I]

The note flutters to the floor. Baekhyun’s knees give way, folding in on himself. Chest heaving as the world fades to pinpricks around him.

Baekhyun. It’s not enough. The life I want isn’t the one you do, so I’m letting you go. Now you can be the person you want to be. Know that I’ll always love you. Y/N

“Go away.”

Chanyeol slams his hand against the door before wincing, shaking his fingers out. “I’m not leaving until you let me in, Byun Baekhyun!”

“Huh. Guess you’ll be out there for a while then.”

“This isn’t funny!”

“What is funny, Chanyeol?”

Chanyeol frowns. “Hey. Are you drunk?”

“What is drunk?” This, followed by a hiccup.

“You’re drunk.” Chanyeol groans. “Great. I’m going to have to break down your door.”

There’s a weak noise of protest from beyond. “Wait… I’m coming. But I’m not putting on pants.”

Over a minute later, Baekhyun opens the door.

“Well.” Chanyeol looks his best friend up and down. “You look like shit.”

Baekhyun says nothing in response, turning around to head back inside. Chanyeol steps over the threshold into what looks like the apocalypse itself. Dirty dishes stacked in the sink, mounds of dirty laundry on the floor. Chanyeol is careful to edge around that and as he enters the main area, Baekhyun sinks onto the couch, pulling a mound of blankets up to his chin.

His hair is unkempt and unwashed, sticking in several different directions. As promised, he wears no pants, just blue boxers that look several days old.

Chanyeol sighs. “This is gross.”

“I don’t care.”

Chanyeol’s brows raise. “This, from the man who bought a three piece suit once ‘just because?’ Who told me not brushing my teeth twice a day was the reason I’d never get a girl?”

“As it turns out, none of that matters.”

Chanyeol sits on the couch. There are dark circles beneath his best friend’s eyes, purplish bruises stark against his pale skin. Baekhyun has always been overly hard on himself and once again, Chanyeol tries and fails to push away his anger with you. He knows that you love him. He knows that you’re miserable as well, so why couldn’t you stay?

“Don’t blame her.”

Chanyeol’s gaze jerks sideways. “I wasn’t. And stop doing that.”

A flicker of a smile crosses Baek’s lips. “Right,” he exhales, taking a swig of the alcohol from the bottle in hand.

“And that’s enough of that,” Chanyeol frowns, moving to take the glass but Baekhyun grunts and snaps his teeth like a dog. “Fine, then.” Chanyeol flops back on the couch. “Drink yourself into oblivion.”

“If only.”

Chanyeol doesn’t know what to say to this, letting the silence drag on until the sun slips below the horizon. As the TV program they’re watching comes to an end, Chanyeol turns to face him. “Do you think you’ll go into work tomorrow?”

Baekhyun gives a low, hollow laugh.

“Come on. People are starting to worry. It’s been a week – when are you going to pull out of this?”

Baekhyun slumps, wrapping an arm around his middle. “And then what?” His words are half-muffled into the blankets. “Y/N was my future.”

“Y/N was a future, Baek. Just one.” Chanyeol sighs. “Look man, it sucks. I’m not saying you’re going to be okay today or even tomorrow. But I wanted you to know you have me. You have work. You’re not alone.”

Baekhyun doesn’t answer. The TV light flickers over him, making his shadows more pronounced.

“I’m going to go. But promise you’ll eat, okay?” Chanyeol looks to the desolate coffee table as he stands, sweeping a large stack of crumbs into the trash can. With the rest of the room, he decides not to bother. He’ll need more time for that. “Promise,” he repeats.

“Promise.”

Chanyeol nods. He’s almost at the door when Baekhyun’s voice pipes up. Small, quiet.

“Yeol?”

“Yeah?” Chanyeol turns.

“Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

The door closes behind Chanyeol and once again, Baekhyun is alone with his thoughts.

Poor company.

He holds the whiskey in one hand, staring into its amber depths as though they hold an answer. He couldn’t bring himself to say why you left. Like a coward, he let Chanyeol think it was because of the long hours and the distance. If it was just that, you would have stayed.

You tried to talk to him but he shut you out. Baekhyun kept telling you later and hoped you’d forget. Or better yet, that you’d decide he was enough for you. Baekhyun has never been enough for anybody. He thought for you though… maybe.

Baekhyun tips the rest of his drink back.

He hasn’t slept in a week. Not since the morning he woke to discover you gone. He’s tried to sleep, tried to forget. Every now and then he’s so exhausted he dozes off for an hour or so. Never in your bed. The sheets still smell like you and he can’t quite bring himself to change them.

Part of him doesn’t want to sleep.

Because every time he sleeps, he forgets. And each time he wakes, the pain is like a fresh cut. Slicing into him, leaving him gaping. Gasping. Wanting. His hands reach for a body that’s not there. For a warmth that’s gone cold. For the strands of your hair, the smile on your face, the wrinkle of your nose. All gone.

He can’t breathe. Baekhyun presses his eyes together, lowering his face into his hands. His face is wet – he hadn’t realized he was crying. Fuck. Baekhyun stumbles into the bathroom, dropping his hands on the sink to look in the mirror.

“No wonder she left you,” he mutters.

Baekhyun looks down, too shaken by the resemblance to his father. A man he’s tried so hard to forget. And yet the proof is staring him straight in the face. Both of them, failures. Both of them, without the ones they love. And of course the kicker – both of them unable to blame anyone but themselves.

He was so scared – why, though?

That’s the part that kills him. The knowledge that deep down, Baekhyun wants a family. Wants to see your eyes on a girl and your hair on a boy. Wants to hold children, cuddle them, kiss the tops of their little heads. To tuck them into their beds and read stories. Deep down, he wants to be the father his own never was.

He’s paralyzed by fear, though. Afraid that his own lack of a father means he’ll be lacking. The deepest, darkest parts of himself are afraid he’ll be a disappointment. To them. To you, he knows you would understand. Knows you would love him anyways. But to them? Your faceless boy and girl? He just couldn’t risk letting them down.

Baekhyun drags a hand over his face.

“Not that it matters now.”

Though he speaks out loud, no one answers. Of course no one does.

Remembering his promise to Chanyeol, Baekhyun heads into the kitchen. The lights are all off but he doesn’t bother to turn them on, opening the door to the fridge and staring inside. Nothing looks appetizing so he shuts it, a piece of paper fluttering softly to the floor.

It stands out on the dark wood, the white back of a photograph. Baekhyun thought he got rid of all of them. Two days after you left – the first day he left your bed – Baekhyun went a bit crazy. Sweeping things off counters and tables in mad dashes. Some things broke in the process, sprinkling the floor with ceramic and crushed glass. Baekhyun stepped on it at one point, sharp pieces cutting his skin and drawing blood.

It hurt less than the other pain though, so he didn’t really care.

Baekhyun stares at the photo, daring himself to pick it up. He should throw it out. The ones you kept on the refrigerator were your favorites and whatever’s on the back will only hurt him more. Fingers shaking, Baekhyun flips it over. He should have tossed it in the garbage disposal.

It’s from your wedding. Your first dance as husband and wife. Baekhyun dips you as you laugh, a halo of light around your body. He kissed you immediately after, parting your lips with his, pressing you to him. More memories follow, unstoppable now that he’s opened the floodgates. Baekhyun’s eyes close remembering that night. You on your marital bed, kissing every inch of your body, whispering his love as he entered you.

The first time he ever made love was to you. Before then it was just sex. Sex was great and some of those girls he even loved, but never made love. He never wanted something so intimate, so revealing. With you he craved it. Wanted more from each touch, each look. He’d never been a romantic guy. Baekhyun was more the type to forget your anniversary, grab a birthday gift on his way home. He was the type who took you out to dinner and called it even.

Two months after you your first date though, you woke to Gerbera daisies and coffee.

Gerbera daisies, because Baekhyun knew they were your favorite. That was when he knew he wanted to marry you. Knew he would be lucky to spend the rest of his life with you because any woman who made him feel that way, who could make him want to be more than what he was – that was who he wanted to be with.

In the mirror behind him, Baekhyun stares at your bed. He can’t stop thinking that was the last night you spent together. He can’t bear to think of it that way. It just can’t be the last time he held you, the last time he was inside you, the last time you were part of him.

Chanyeol keeps asking why he hasn’t called, why he hasn’t gone to find you - and the truth is he’s scared. Scared you’ll reject him. Scared you’ll close the door for good. And then of course, there’s the fact that you changed your number.

Baekhyun was drunk, practically incoherent when he first tried calling. Past the point of caring how pathetic he sounded – screw his pride, he wanted to hear your voice. Even if it was just for you to berate and yell at him. At least that would be better than this maddening silence.

The phone only rang once before a mechanical voice told him the number he was trying to reach had been disconnected. Baekhyun hung up and promptly threw his phone at the wall, shattering into a thousand tiny pieces. Like himself. He was angry for calling. At you, for changing your number. At himself, for making you leave. At you, for leaving.

But maybe anger is what he needs to pull his life together. Anger has always been a friend of his. It motivated him through high school. Kept him in college. Even for that year or two after, when he was just starting out. Baekhyun always had a large pool of hurt to choose from.

Anger about his father. Anger at himself. Anger at everyone around to whom things came easily. That motivation got him good grades, his scholarship, his future. It helped him to move up faster than anyone else, because Baekhyun always felt he had more to lose.

Always felt he had more to prove.

Except with you, of course. Baekhyun never felt he had to prove anything to you. You just loved him. Unconditionally. Or at least, you did.

But maybe anger is how he gets past this. Gets past you. Still staring at your bedroom in the mirror, Baekhyun strips off his shorts. And gets in the shower.

Is he doing any better?

Chanyeol’s ellipses blink back at you after your text. He’s taking a long time to answer, which makes you think he’s trying to spare your feelings.

No. Did you really think he would be?

You wince. Okay, maybe he’s not trying to spare your feelings.

No. I don’t know. Chanyeol, I just … please take care of him.

You sigh, tossing your phone to the side and leaning against the bed. You’ve been staying at your co-worker’s place. Crashing in Lauren’s spare bedroom and paying rent. It feels like you’re taking steps backwards, moving in reverse. Kind of like this whole year actually.

Staring at the ceiling, you try to ignore the knot in your stomach that’s been present for weeks now. Ever since you left. At this point, you wonder if it will ever go away. You pull your knees into your chest. A futile attempt to soothe the aching hole you’re left with.

More often than you care to admit, you wonder if you did the right thing. Wonder if you should have stayed longer. Tried harder. Sat Baekhyun down. Tied him to a chair. Forced him to have the conversation with you. But no, his continued silence is proof that even if you had tried – Baekhyun’s answer would have been the same.

When you left, you didn’t want him to find you. Now you’re not so sure. Do you really need children? Many couples don’t. Babies are stressful, expensive. You were happy with Baekhyun once. Couldn’t you be again? But that’s beside the point. You picture going back to him and know that while you’d be happy, you’d always be just a little bit empty inside. You would love being a mom. You would miss having a child. Yours, adopted, surrogate - it doesn’t really matter.

The point is, if you go back now you’d always feel there was some part of yourself you gave up. Something compromised that no one should ever have to compromise.

How can two people get past something like that?

They can’t.

“Another!”

Chanyeol watches Baekhyun take another shot, wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve. The guys around him cheer, Sehun clapping Baekhyun on the back and yelling something in his ear. It’s the first time Baekhyun has gone out since you left. Chanyeol was worried he wouldn’t come, was worried Baekhyun would spend the whole time in the corner sulking.

Turns out he needn’t have worried. Baekhyun has been the life of the party since his arrival. Buying rounds and requesting songs, talking to everyone from the bouncer to the bartender. His brown hair flops lazily over one eye as he grins at his friends.

Chanyeol tosses the rest of his drink back. He hasn’t told Baekhyun that he’s been in contact with you yet. It was you who reached out to him, wanting to know if Baekhyun was okay. Wanted to know how he was.

Chanyeol ignored you at first, until you told him why you really left. Then he felt compelled to say something. When you confessed the truth, Chanyeol was overwhelmed. Baekhyun loved kids – of course he wanted them with you. Or so he though, before he heard your devastation. Before he listened to the hitch to your voice. You said you couldn’t pretend and Chanyeol was forced to believe you.

Baekhyun laughs and Chanyeol notices a familiar glaze begin to enter his eyes.

Sehun returns with another shot. “To being single!” he yells.

Baekhyun pauses, staring at the shot like it’s poison but takes it anyways, smiling his dazzling smile and tipping it down his throat. “To being single!” Baekhyun shoves his empty glass across the counter. “Excuse me.”

Chanyeol watches his friend stumble towards the bathroom. He slams his own glass on the counter and follows. A few steps outside the men’s room he grabs Baekhyun’s jacket, flipping him around to meet his gaze. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Baekhyun squints blearily at Chanyeol’s hand. “Yah. This is an expensive suit, Yeol.”

“To being single?” Chanyeol quotes. “What the hell are you on about? It’s only been a month.”

Baekhyun breaks free, shoving Chanyeol’s arm. “Don’t judge,” he snaps, struggling to push past but Chanyeol stops him. “What do you want from me?” Baekhyun lets out a frustrated noise, blinking back unshed tears. “You want me to move on. I can’t move on. You want me to be happy. It’s too soon to be happy.”

As Chanyeol takes a step back, his hand falls from his friend’s jacket.

“She left me, okay?” Baekhyun glares. “She left me and she’s not coming back.” On these last words, his voice breaks and Chanyeol can finally see past the façade.

Baekhyun is still miserable, still destitute. Chanyeol crosses his arms. “Have you tried to reach out to her?” When Baekhyun doesn’t answer, he sighs. “I’m worried, Baek. I’m worried you’re trying too hard to move on from something fixable.”

“Fixable? What about this is fixable?”

“Just tell her you want kids.”

Baekhyun’s mouth drops open. “How do you –?”

“Just tell her you want kids, because it’s stupid to pretend otherwise.” Chanyeol gives Baekhyun a long look before he walks away. Heading back to the noisy center of the bar.

Baekhyun watches him go, still reeling. His phone vibrates. As Baekhyun pulls it from his pocket, he recognizes the sender. Chanyeol. He’s texted him an unknown number.

“Hi, this is Y/N! I’m currently unavailable, so leave a message after the beep.”

BEEP.

“Hey. It’s me. Baekhyun. I – well, I just …. Did you know you left your shampoo here? It’s been on that shelf in the bathroom for a while … I haven’t moved it … Fuck. That’s not why I called. I called because I miss you. And before you ask, I haven’t been drinking. I did at first. A lot. Yah… This is all wrong. Y/N, I love you. I love you and I want to fight for you…. For us. I was scared, Y/N… and stupid. I let my fears keep me from what I want. What I want is to be a family. I want kids, Y/N. You think my eyes would be pretty on a girl? Just wait until you see your nose on one. I want to hold our kids, care for them, raise them…. Shit. Please just talk to me. Please …. you know tomorrow’s our anniversary? I don’t know if you remember … but I do. I’ll be in the park all night. Please just. If there’s any hope for us…. Please just come. Bye.”

Baekhyun wraps his scarf tighter, stuffing his hands in his pockets. It’s cold. Colder than he thought it would be. He stares at his breath clouding in the air before his face.

It’s been two hours now. Two long hours he’s sat here, wondering if you’ll show. Certain that you won’t. And then something makes him stay a little longer. Whispers at him to hold on.

If he leaves, he’ll regret it.

Baekhyun stares at the park, remembering all the times you’ve come here. It’s a small space, just across the street from your apartment. Not much here besides a set of swings. Swings that Baekhyun sits on now, slowly pushing his feet against the pavement. His stomach is in knots. Tied, twisted, tangled in the mad sort of hope belonging only to a certain class of dreamers.

Another hour passes and it’s 11:00 pm. Baekhyun stares at the street, refusing to blink for fear he’ll miss you. For fear you’ll pass by.

All that stares back at him is silence. Silence, and the sound of his own thoughts.

Again.

Baekhyun closes his eyes. He won’t cry. He’s picked himself up once already, he can do so again.

Then… a hand touches his shoulder. Soft, warm. Smelling like daisies.

Baekhyun opens his eyes.

“Hi, Baekhyun.”

It’s you.

[Master List]

Author’s Note: Thank you so, so much for all the love I got for this piece! Part III still to come 💕 (songs: Say Something - A Great Big World & Christina Aguilera, Between the Bars - Elliott Smith, Foreigner’s God - Hozier, Small Bump - Ed Sheeran, Nicest Thing - Kate Nash)

#baekhyun fic #baekhyun angst #baekhyun fanfic #exo fic #exo angst #exo fanfic #exo baekhyun fic #exo baekhyun fanfic #exo baekhyun angst #byun baekhyun fic #byun baekhyun fanfic #byun baekhyun angst #baekhyun #exo #exo baekhyun #byun baekhyun #Enough

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of-another-broken-heart · 8 years ago

Text

today was... long.

once I finally got to sleep, I managed to stay that way until like... 3 pm? I think?

I got woken up because the kids’ father put on some DVD that was just a bunch of loud music videos or something. It was a song that reminded me of lil sis, though, so my first assumption was that she was blasting music because she was home “alone.” I thought mom was at work, bro was at a friend’s place, and the kids’ father was out of the house. The only part of that I got right was mom being at work.

I ate the last of the leftover stew for lunch. I was scared it had spoiled, but it seemed to be fine after I reheated it.

I made myself a cup of coffee, which went wrong in pretty much every way possible. Tried to measure out the coffee grinds - almost put a whole extra spoonful in. Poured water into the reservoir and pressed “ON” - then realized the coffee filter basket was sitting on the counter. The maker gurgled its way through “brewing” which I had to help by unclogging the drip hole - which kept getting blocked up by grinds that were directly in the drip area instead of suspended a little bit above in the filter basket. I had to carefully wait for the whole thing to drain, remove my cup, unplug it, disassemble the top lid, rinse it all off/out, replace the filter, use a second cup, pour the coffee through the filter, rinse my cup, transfer my coffee back into my cup, and then re-rinse the filter basket and other cup. THEN I went to add some creamer, only to find the bottle hadn’t been opened yet and the foil seal was fucking SUPERGLUED down. I literally had to use a pair of needle-nose pliers to unpeel the damn thing. Like a sardine can, y’know? I grabbed the “pull tab” and then rotated backwards

I barely drank any of the coffee all day. The cup is still down here, still half full.

I used some compressed air to clean out some of the dust in my pc tower. Then I slapped it back together (it’s very easy access actually - one screw, and the side panel is free to unclip and slide off) and got to settling my desk again. I decided to plug my speakers back in. I also decided I didn’t want my USB hub on my desk any more, so it’s being stealthy behind one of my monitors, chilling on top of my tower. I went ahead and plugged in my webcam again. Didn’t really have plans to use it, but figured “why the hell not?”

Then I tried to test it out.

That went poorly.

Trying to use the Logitech software to Quick Capture with it gave me a BSOD.

Twice.

(I wanted to make sure it was the same thing causing it, and not, y’know, my hard drive actually failing)

Took to google, and it seems to be a combination of Logitech’s software and drivers being buggy as hell and at odds with some sound settings/drivers I have set to have precedence over the Logitech ones. I think, specifically, it’s because I keep my condenser mic plugged in, and set as my default sound input device. Logitech webcam w/ built-in mic doesn’t like that.

Freaked me the hell out and I was super stressed and shit, but an hour or two of research had me simply resolved not to try to use my webcam any time soon. At least, not while my mic’s plugged in. Probably.

I tried to clean a bunch down here, too. I made... some? progress? I guess. I put all my dirty laundry in a basket, vacuumed a little, put some trash into recycle piles, reorganized my pantry and snack stashes, played with my violin a bit (I really need to save a bit of money to take it to the music shop in town and get it tuned and/or restrung... I’m still missing the D string I broke the last time I tried to tune it myself) and started trying to put some more clothes away.

Then I found out why the bottom drawer of this one dresser squeaks so horribly when I try to use it.

The entire back of the bottom came unstapled and was chilling on the ground. And it didn’t like the idea of getting shoved back up to fit through the drawer hole.

If you build a dresser, and each drawer can’t handle being full of folded jeans, it’s a BAD DRESSER and that shit needs to be fixed. I am so damn tired of this particular feature in dressers. Like, sure - the sixty-buck particle board one I got from Walmart? I get it. Understandable. I got what I paid for. This particular dresser, however, is fucking solid wood and hand-made and it’s supposed to be the good shit but it’s just being shit. UGH.

I pulled the whole drawer out, emptied it, flipped it over, and stacked all my jeans on it to try to un-warp it. My jeans weren’t heavy enough. FUCK KNOWS WHY - they were heavy enough to bust it DOWN in the first place, but not enough to bring it back???? FUCK. So I stacked my “end table” basket on it, too. (the basket is mostly sleep aids, pain killers, and hand lotion - shit that would be on/in a side table if I had a ~complete bedroom~ or whatever). That brought it most the way down.

I was going to make my bed again, and do some tote shuffling. I bought this giant tote about a year ago, designed for holding an artificial christmas tree and decorations. It’s got wheels and snaps together really well - so I figured it’d be great so mom could stop using the beat-to-shit boxes she has to juggle up and down from the attic. But, she said this tote is too big, and never used it, soooo I was gonna use it. First I had planned to put some MH stuff in it. But, I don’t want to unpack anything from the boxes I carefully Tetris’d already. So I figured I’d put all my blankets and sheets in it! Because the tote I have for that is currently cracked open because it has wimpy clasping power. And also I own more bedding that I need. Like... 4-5 complete sets?? Two of them I’ve had since middle school. Anyway, they don’t fucking fit in that tote, and I’ve actually had a small pile (from my giant laundry fiasco) that never got put away at all. So, big tote seems a fine candidate for all that.

Except I didn’t get that far.

I ended up bringing my bro over to one of his friend’s houses a little after 6. I spent three bucks on myself at McD’s. Got a burger and fries. Ate in the parking lot, in my car.

Tonight was also the memorial/fundraiser. Mom checked in with me to see if I wanted to go before she left, but I was still in the middle of tidying some things up, hadn’t brushed my hair or changed out of my pajamas... and I really couldn’t afford the $20 entry thing, and probably would have felt really out of place and/or depressed as fuck there. So I declined. Didn’t go.

I guess I kinda zoned out off and on today, too. I’m not sure. Maybe not? I kept busy for the most part...

Mom got back home around 11. She ended up winning some of the fundraiser items - a starbucks basket, and an “Italian” one (some wine, some pasta, some sauce) - so that was neat. I went to pick up bro at that point. I’d been on standby since 10, waiting for a message or something because I’d asked how long he planned to be over, and he’d said probably until 10. I didn’t know if he was allowed to stay later, or if I was being an asshole adult by leaving him there an hour past the time he was welcome... but I figured better late than never, and it’s not a school night, so if they were having a good time, and the adults involved were cool, and extra hour was fine.

Turned out his friend’s brother(? - I think) was going to give bro a ride home, but I got there before they left. Oh well.

Here I am 3 hours later and I feel like I just auto-piloted to this moment, and have been slowly going through my rechargeable batteries and getting them all juiced back up.

But I’m going to try to sleep now. Soon.

The women’s march today was... a thing. I cried at some of the news. In joy, mostly. Also in guilt. Regret. Shame. Inadequacy. Feeling a lot of ways all at once. More than usual, I mean.

#personal

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progressalways · 5 years ago

Text

New Week, new Life

Hi everyone! When you get to read this post, it will be a little over a month old. I know myself, if I attempt to change so much in my life at once AND try to keep a daily diary of it on here, I’ll get overwhelmed by the “pressure” of posting it. Weird, but that’s me.

So, I’ll let tumblr do its thing and post this a month later for me. (It’s February 24th today)

As I didn’t work today, I wanted to get a head-start on my mess to make things easier for myself during my work days.

As a result, I had a very long to do list for today:

❍ do all the dishes ❍ clean the kitchen (clean out the fridge, countertops, stovetop, oven, sink, floors) ❍ do a load of laundry ❍ clean the bathroom (sink, toilet, bathtub, floor, change towels) ❍ clean the living room (tidying, dusting, sweeping and mopping the floors) ❍ start on the guest bedroom (tidying, for now... so much tidying) ❍ start straigthening up the car (so much random stuff in there...) This might not look to bad for some of you but for me, it was a lot. Still, I did my best.

Until lunch, it looked like this: ❍ most of the dishes done ❍ fridge, countertops, stovetop and oven are clean ❍ bathroom sink and tub are done, towels changed, toilet cleaner sitting in the bowl and doing its thing ❍ living room mostly tidied up

I was pretty proud of myself. It’s hard for me to stay focused when I don’t feel like a have a real deadline. In my mind, I need to be done cleaning when my guests arrive. With no guests arriving, there was no deadline for me and I was caught in my usual mental block of ‘I’m just doing this for me, I can do this whenever- and it doesn’t matter if I don’t... nobody will know.’ Well, I’ll know and I’ll be sad as usual. But, I finally want my life to change, so I’m going to push myself as far as I can.

After tea-time update: ❍ laundry is in the wash ❍ kitchen is done completely ❍ bathroom is done ❍ car: all trash is gone, random stuff is no longer in the car but at its rightful place Now, I’m waiting for the laundry and am procrastinating on my guest-bedroom and living room. Ugh. To be honest, I’m only procrastinating on my guest-bedroom and my plans for the living room get mucked up as a result. Once I’m done with the living room, I HAVE to do the guest-bedroom, you know? I couldn’t just not do one thing on my list. I’d feel like a failure then. But, if the living room isn’t done either, the guest-bedroom doesn’t matter as much, right? At least, that’s what my mind is telling me. And I know it’s bull. I don’t want to NOT do it, but it’s hard to get started. My guest-bedroom is a mess. There’s laundry to be folded, letters and papers all over the place and dust-bunnies galore. I avoid the room as much as I possibly can but I hate how much it haunts me whenever I go past the door. I guess I’ll have to suck it up and remind myself that this is not a one-day task. I promised myself half an hour in that room today, not more, not less. I’ll do my best for that time and then I can be satisfied that I did what I planned to do. I can do this!

Update after dinner: I did it. I started my timer and did half an hour in the guest bedroom. And it was wild. I got about half of the pile of clean laundry put away and cleared the desk a little bit (read: shoved piles of papers in the basket/drawer they belong in without sorting them in order). Also, I decided to clean out the basket containing the printer paper. I was honstly disgusted with myself. I found calendar inserts for 2018 in there D: (And a dead spider... but we’ll all ignore that, right?)

Well, now I’ll go get my laundry from the wash and hang it to dry in my guest bedroom. Lucky me, I finally got an empty clothes horse to hang it, too. Before bed update (10pm): Yay for me! ❍ Living room is picked up, dusted, sweeped and mopped ❍ Laundry is drying in the guest bedroom ❍ already took out the trash from cleaning my guest bedroom ❍ prepared for tomorrow: planned my day, set my alarm, set out my clothes, prepared things for breakfast, sorted laundry so it only needs to go in the wash ❍ changed the sheets, pillow and duvet covers and picked up my bedroom ❍ took a nice bath and shaved my legs ❍ gave myself a manicure ❍ did all of my skincare routine before bed So, day number one was a rousing success :D Let’s hope for the best tomorrow.

#homemaking #self-improvement #self-care

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endlessarchite · 5 years ago

Text

The Last Finished Duplex Spots You Haven’t Seen

wall mural | sound machine | striped pillow | similar plant | similar table

source

wood shelf | similar baskets | quilt | walls: SW Spare White

Since we know that may not be enough storage, here’s the good news: there’s a nice, big, half-empty closet just outside the room. Yes, literally one step.

wood shelf | quilt | walls: SW Spare White | trim: SW Extra White | door: SW White Truffle

high chair | art | dining chairs

pack n play | rug | baskets | bench

back-of-the-door storage | plastic shelf | gray bins | tankless water heater | door: SW White Truffle

*This post contains affiliate links

The post The Last Finished Duplex Spots You Haven’t Seen appeared first on Young House Love.

The Last Finished Duplex Spots You Haven’t Seen published first on https://bakerskitchenslimited.tumblr.com/

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endlessarchite · 5 years ago

Text

The Last Finished Duplex Spots You Haven’t Seen

wall mural | sound machine | striped pillow | similar plant | similar table

source

wood shelf | similar baskets | quilt | walls: SW Spare White

Since we know that may not be enough storage, here’s the good news: there’s a nice, big, half-empty closet just outside the room. Yes, literally one step.

wood shelf | quilt | walls: SW Spare White | trim: SW Extra White | door: SW White Truffle

high chair | art | dining chairs

pack n play | rug | baskets | bench

back-of-the-door storage | plastic shelf | gray bins | tankless water heater | door: SW White Truffle

*This post contains affiliate links

The post The Last Finished Duplex Spots You Haven’t Seen appeared first on Young House Love.

The Last Finished Duplex Spots You Haven’t Seen published first on https://bakerskitchenslimited.tumblr.com/

0 notes

endlessarchite · 5 years ago

Text

The Last Finished Duplex Spots You Haven’t Seen

wall mural | sound machine | striped pillow | similar plant | similar table

source

wood shelf | similar baskets | quilt | walls: SW Spare White

Since we know that may not be enough storage, here’s the good news: there’s a nice, big, half-empty closet just outside the room. Yes, literally one step.

wood shelf | quilt | walls: SW Spare White | trim: SW Extra White | door: SW White Truffle

high chair | art | dining chairs

pack n play | rug | baskets | bench

back-of-the-door storage | plastic shelf | gray bins | tankless water heater | door: SW White Truffle

*This post contains affiliate links

The post The Last Finished Duplex Spots You Haven’t Seen appeared first on Young House Love.

The Last Finished Duplex Spots You Haven’t Seen published first on https://bakerskitchenslimited.tumblr.com/

0 notes

truereviewpage · 5 years ago

Text

The Last Finished Duplex Spots You Haven’t Seen

wall mural | sound machine | striped pillow | similar plant | similar table

source

wood shelf | similar baskets | quilt | walls: SW Spare White

Since we know that may not be enough storage, here’s the good news: there’s a nice, big, half-empty closet just outside the room. Yes, literally one step.

wood shelf | quilt | walls: SW Spare White | trim: SW Extra White | door: SW White Truffle

high chair | art | dining chairs

pack n play | rug | baskets | bench

back-of-the-door storage | plastic shelf | gray bins | tankless water heater | door: SW White Truffle

*This post contains affiliate links

The post The Last Finished Duplex Spots You Haven’t Seen appeared first on Young House Love.

The Last Finished Duplex Spots You Haven’t Seen published first on https://aireloomreview.tumblr.com/

0 notes

endlessarchite · 5 years ago

Text

The Last Finished Duplex Spots You Haven’t Seen

wall mural | sound machine | striped pillow | similar plant | similar table

They’re more comfortable for grown-ups to climb into than bunk beds (and much easier to make!), plus two twins can be pushed together for a king-sized sleep surface if someone requests that instead (hello versatility!). A trundle got significantly fewer votes (whether it was a pop up or a traditional one) since many people have kids who don’t sleep well together – or adults who don’t want to climb over each other. And one big bed (murphy or regular) got even fewer votes – probably because there are two other queen beds for people who want to sleep together and folks seemed to like the flexibility of one room where people can sleep separately.

source

wood shelf | similar baskets | quilt | walls: SW Spare White

Since we know that may not be enough storage, here’s the good news: there’s a nice, big, half-empty closet just outside the room. Yes, literally one step.

wood shelf | quilt | walls: SW Spare White | trim: SW Extra White | door: SW White Truffle

high chair | art | dining chairs

pack n play | rug | baskets | bench

And before I show you the locked owner’s closet, I couldn’t resist throwing in this before & after of the upstairs hallway. Here it is today:

tile | wall: SW Spare White | trim: SW Extra White | doors: SW White Truffle

back-of-the-door storage | plastic shelf | gray bins | tankless water heater | door: SW White Truffle

Some people reading the list of things we’re providing might be like WHAAAAAA????!!!” but many other rentals in our area offer those things and we wanted to as well. It totally varies by where you live I think! In the area where John’s parents have their beach rental, nobody provides sheets or towels (EVERYONE BRINGS THEIR OWN!) so it’s pretty funny to see how much things differ by region!

*This post contains affiliate links

The post The Last Finished Duplex Spots You Haven’t Seen appeared first on Young House Love.

The Last Finished Duplex Spots You Haven’t Seen published first on https://bakerskitchenslimited.tumblr.com/

0 notes