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abreathofthewild · 4 years ago

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And They Were Roommates, Chapter 2/?

Summary: After the events of Endgame, the Avengers try to regain a semblance of normalcy. Steve Rogers decides to move to a small town, get a regular job and a regular roommate…

Word Count: 3709

Warnings: mentions of alcohol. aftermath of a break-in. mentions of blood (small amount!). suggestiveness. eventual warnings for traumatic flashbacks and ptsd. eventual warnings for smut.

Notes: Hello friends! As promised, Chapter 2 of And They Were Roommates is here. I had a ton of help from @gothiclocalcryptid who went above and beyond proofreading and editing with me so HUGE shoutout to her <3. It was so much fun writing this chapter, especially since I got the inspiration to somehow double the word count?! My essays could never. Thanks for reading and I hope y’all enjoy!

Links: Chapter 1

The physical act of getting out of bed two hours later was nearly impossible. You could care less if you fell into a hole and never came back out. Even the sun rising, soft and golden over the skyline, and the smell of freshly ground coffee beans serenading your senses didn’t really improve your mood.

“Not to be rude, but you look like death warmed over.” The second opening barista, Vanessa, almost never minced words. This morning was no exception. You shot her a playful glare as you followed her to the back, throwing your bag and jean jacket into your locker as she placed another tray of crescents in the oven. “Long night?” The question was followed by her handing you an iced coffee with heavy cream, just the way you liked it.

“How’d you guess?” Your question and expression dripped with sarcasm. “Steve--”

“Steve. Steve! If I hear this story I know I’m going to feel like kicking his ass.”

You gathered your hair into a ponytail and sighed, taking another long sip of your drink. At 6:30, customers were starting to file in, but the early birds were sporadic; it wouldn’t get really busy until about 9 or so. Your face lit up as you greeted the older woman who had walked up to the counter, and she frowned as she heard the tail end of Vanessa’s sentence. After making her latte with no foam, you proceeded to set up extra pastries in the display case and wipe down the countertops.

“Look. He pays half the rent, and we never specified we couldn’t bring people to the house. But sometimes, he decides that 2 AM is a good time to bring home… guests.” You didn’t need to bring other people down to get your point across. But... there was an underlying feeling there you didn’t want to acknowledge. Sure, these girls were gorgeous, but they seemed so… fake. Maybe they didn’t seem fake, so much as not right for Steve. Vanessa saw the excuse me expression manifest on your face as you warred with the thought. You proceeded to tell her how the rest of the young woman’s visit had gone. “...And now he’s picking me up when I get off.” You decided to leave out the part where you walked in and he had watched you watch him. The part where your heart had stuttered so hard in your chest you knew the super soldier could hear it. The part where his mouth so close to your ear had sent a shiver tripping down your spine.

“Earth. To. Y/n.” Vanessa’s mouth was agape as she waved her hand in front of your face. “Girl, where the hell did you go just then? Is there something you’re not telling me? I mean, what could be better than finding out that Captain America is taking my favorite coworker on a date?!”

“It’s not a da--”

“Ah! Ah! Don’t interrupt me! What could be better than finding that out? You’ve despised his cocky attitude. He brings random girls home all the time. It’s not very considerate. He knows he’s too beautiful for his own good and he shows it. Yet, despite being woken up like two hours before you had to get ready for work, you’ve gotten surprisingly peppy the longer you’ve been here. Could it be… No.” Vanessa gasped as a huge shit-eating grin plastered itself on her face. You eyed her warily while the sudden feeling of being totally exposed washed over you. “Could it be you like him?” You shook your head vigorously. Nope. No way.

“Um, no? You just gave me a bullet list of all the things to dislike. I’m sure he was different… before… We all were. He is a hero. Always will be. But he’s at a different point in his life now. I haven’t seen the good guy side of him in person.” Your mind skipped over his smile in the photo on the mantle. “He’s a cad!” You said in your best British accent. Vanessa glared at you in playful disbelief.

“Sure. Okay. I’ll play along. Do you even know where you’re going? Do you have anything to change into?” She emphasized the last question like it was the most important thing in the world. You shrugged your shoulders. In all honesty, the only thing you could focus on that morning was to throw some makeup staples in your bag as you had stumbled out the door. She closed her eyes and let out a quiet sigh. “It’s all good. I’ve got something. I always keep a dress in my car, just in case.”

“Vanessa, you’re too much,” you giggled. “I don’t really wear dresses. He sees me like this every day. It’s not a date. He’s taking me out as an apology. If he can’t deal with me in jeans and a t-shirt, that’s his problem, not mine.”

“You’re with me for another six hours, and I can be very convincing.”

Sure enough, 12:45 rolled around--the two mid-shifters taking over for you two having already clocked in--and Vanessa was pushing you into the employee bathroom to change. You applied some mascara, tinted chapstick, and slipped into the dress. The white cotton felt like heaven, and the v-neck did everything for your curves. You made a mental note to attempt to get something for her that could pay her back. After you let your hair down from the ponytail that was starting to give you a slight headache, you stepped out and grabbed your bag. When you came around front, Vanessa stopped dead in her tracks.

“Ay, Dios mio! You’re gonna make me regret wearing that dress after you, ‘cause I know it won’t look that good on me.” She hooked her arm in yours as the two of you meandered to the front of the coffee shop. “Are you nervous?”

You turned your head sharply in her direction. Were you nervous?

“No, why would I be?”

Vanessa rolled her eyes. “I am still 100 percent convinced this is a date. I would be nervous. What time is it?” You glanced at your phone screen. The numbers read 1:06. A slight flutter of uncertainty pinged around your chest. That first thought of this is stupid… I’m stupid. You shook your head to clear it.

“Let’s go outside and wait. It’s so pretty out today!” It was. There were exactly five tables and chairs outside, and luckily, the one that sat under the dogwood tree was free. It was tucked farther in the back, closer to the building, with an unobstructed view of the street. These factors all made for good people watching. One considerably long conversation later, which had been punctuated by periodic glances at your phone under the guise of checking the time, Vanessa finally hopped up from her seat, planting her hands firmly on her hips as she leveled a stern look at you.

“Uh-uh, we’re not doing this. He proved whatever point needed to be proved. You’ve got better things to do with your time. There’s a new little Mexican-Korean fusion place down the street that I’ve been dying to try. We could drive there faster than you can walk home!” She held her hand out to you, and amidst the usual ‘I’m sure something came up’ excuses you were making for him (making excuses for him--what even was that thought process), you decided to take her lead on things. It wasn’t exactly like you were surprised but it still felt like a rock had been dropped in the pit of your stomach. The afternoon sun was now beating down on the two of you, and an air-conditioned building sounded so good.

“I do have to go home at some point though,” you intoned on a sigh. “It’s gonna be awkward. Probably. Maybe I’ll get lucky and he’ll act like nothing happened.”

Vanessa scoffed. “Unlikely, but some good food and a couple of margaritas will be sure to help that anxiety float away.”

“Nessa! Day drinking? I’m simply scandalized.” But once again, Vanessa was right, and after a Korean Lime Margarita and some excellent Kimchi street tacos, you were in high spirits and ready to take on whatever awaited you back at the house. Vanessa offered to give you a ride home, but you opted for the fresh air and the walk since you were about twenty minutes away. It would give you time to clear your head.

The sun was still out in full force, but a lively breeze had come about so that by the time you turned off of Main Street onto Pine Street, you felt as if you were walking on clouds. Steve had better things to do with his time than to make sure your feelings weren’t hurt. You were a grown woman and he had apologized last night. And if he had been rude today by not shooting you a text letting you know he couldn’t make it… well, it wasn’t unexpected coming from the Steve you knew.

You were so engrossed in giving yourself a pep talk that you got up to your front door, key in hand, without noticing that the door was in fact already open. Immediately the hairs went up on your neck. Something was off. Your breathing came out a little bit fast and shallow. Where was Steve? It was the first thought you could latch on to. He wouldn’t be home. Right? If somebody had broken in he would have made fast work of them. Maybe you were being silly. Should you call out for him? Should you even go inside?

You stood frozen on the doorstep, keys in hand as a makeshift weapon, until you heard noise coming from inside. It sounded like someone was sweeping up broken glass. A sigh of relief escaped your lungs when you finally stepped over the threshold and made your way past the living room and into the kitchen. There was Steve, the door to the backyard open and letting in the breeze. The first thing to catch your eye was the cabinet door hanging on one hinge. The second was all the broken glass. There was so much of it, probably from the dishes that had fallen out of the broken cabinet. Steve was sweeping it into the dustpan. The third thing you noticed was when he finally realized you were there, and he turned to you on a dime. You took in his face; it was flushed, and a nasty open gash was slowly bleeding down the left side of his face.

Time stopped for a moment as the two of you watched each other. The light coming through the west-facing kitchen window was golden, slanting in such a way that it hit Steve’s hair just right, setting it alight. At first, his expression was uncertain. Then his eyes widened, almost imperceptibly, as he realized what he had missed. He turned and threw the debris into the trash can he had dragged to the middle of the floor. His movements were slow, deliberate. You set your bag on the hook next to the open door and walked over to the sink, grabbing a cloth and wetting it down.

“What happened?” You heard him take a deep breath behind you. “Steve, sit down. Let’s take care of that cut.” It was surprising that he did as he was told, the second-hand oak chair creaking under the size of him. You moved slowly as you walked towards him, sensing that whatever had happened was a big deal; the normally-outspoken super soldier seemed at a loss for words.

When he was sitting, it gave you the once-in-a-lifetime chance to be looking down at him. He was still tall, only a few inches shorter in this position, but it was a different perspective nonetheless. The clean washcloth you had wet down felt cool in your hands. The sensation was the only thing keeping you grounded when you stopped in front of him, stepping between his knees to get a closer look at the wound. You bit your lip as you concentrated, softening the dabbing motions when Steve hissed at the contact.

“This should be healing, shouldn’t it?” Your voice was much quieter than you intended it to be. “Do we need to contact S.H.I.E.L.D?” He shook his head and closed his eyes; you had full opportunity to study his face. The beard had been a nice addition, you thought absently. His eyelashes were fanned out across his cheeks. Who had eyelashes that long? It was a bit ridiculous. His lips were pursed and quite involuntarily you wondered what it would be like to kiss them. A lock of hair had fallen into his face, and as you brushed it back, carding your fingers through the dark golden crown, his hands flew up to grasp your hips.

The motion startled you, but you were rooted to the spot. His hands were big, and the gentle motion of his thumbs made your breathing hitch. This was dangerous territory that definitely felt like it was coming out of nowhere. You weren’t equipped to deal with something like this. The heart behind your ribcage was thundering, thumping so hard you were sure it was going to give you away, betray you, and the emotions suddenly washing over you.

“I don’t need to contact them. Just a break-in that I wasn’t expecting. I chased him off. Normal life’s left me soft,” he finally gritted out in a quiet baritone. His hands were still splayed on your hips, and it took everything in you not to lean into the touch. “Guess I have to figure out some other way to say sorry.” You watched as his eyes fluttered open and a sheepish grin painted itself across his face. Was there an invitation there?

A shaky sigh escaped your mouth as you reluctantly extracted your hands from his hair and stepped back; you rolled your eyes, and just like that the old magic of the moment was broken. Still, something skipped in the air around you.

“You hardly have to worry about missing today when you were fighting an intruder, Steve. Don’t be ridiculous. Whaddya say to just whipping something up here and watching a movie? That’s my kind of apology anyway.” You dropped the cloth in the sink and turned around, crossing your arms and leaning back to look at him again. The physical distance had allowed the fog in your brain to clear just a little bit, until you saw the way he was watching you. Lazy, but focused at the same time. “What?” Your skin felt warm under his gaze.

“Nothing. You just look nice is all. Was that dress for me?” If anyone had looked at you right now, you were sure you would have looked like a deer in headlights. You weren’t sure whether to answer or not. His voice had gone all low, and now he was standing, making his way over to you with sure, slow steps. The floor creaked slightly under his weight. Oh, definitely not good. Steve reached forward once more, correcting the strap that had fallen down your shoulder. Goosebumps raced over your flesh. “I like the idea of staying here better too,” he rumbled. You pursed your lips and nodded, taking another huge breath.

“All right then. Um, I guess we should fix that cabinet door first?” Steve’s eyes searched yours for a moment before smiling and ducking his head.

“Yeah, I’ll grab the toolbox from the garage. I’ll take care of that if you can finish cleaning the mess off the counter?” Another nod.

“I’ll check the fridge too, I’m pretty sure we have all the ingredients for pizza.” You took a moment to watch his face; his eyes were distant. It took everything in you to tamp down the urge to reach out and touch him. “Steve, are you good?”

He stuck both thumbs in the air as he headed past you to the garage. Something in the set of his shoulders and the way he quickly avoided your gaze said otherwise, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. The idea that this had just been a normal break-in seemed unlikely. Even if Steve hadn’t been interacting with S.H.I.E.L.D outside of occasional check-ins, there was no way Steve would have been caught off guard by a normal human being. Still, it didn’t feel like the right time to question him about it.

The two of you made quick work of the mess. After a small disagreement on whether pineapple actually belongs on pizza, with a compromise of half with pineapple, half without, the two of you finally settled on the couch to watch the movie. It was some secret agent rom-com you’d seen a few times before, but that always fit the bill for a chill night at the house. Steve, on the other hand, had not seen it and felt obligated to point out all the flaws in the action scenes. It made you smirk and elbow him more than once. After a while, though, you began to feel the tell-tale signs of sleep, your eyes drooping and your breath slowing.

It didn’t take him very long to notice.“Wanna head to bed, sleepyhead?”

You turned to him, your gaze briefly unfocused, and poked his arm.“I wouldn’t be tired at only eight pm if I hadn’t been woken up two hours before my four am alarm,” you replied with a smirk. Despite yourself, however, a yawn escaped your mouth. “I’ll take care of the dishes, it will help me wake up enough to finish the movie. You need to take a shower or anything after fighting the big bad wolf?”

Steve crossed his arms and let out a snort. You nudged his arm again with your elbow. “All jokes aside, thanks for keeping our house safe.” He stilled next to you but finally nodded.

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re welcome. Uh, yeah, I’ll go take a shower. You sure you don’t want any help?” Again, had he always been this nice?

“You’re fine. Go on.” If you had been able to read his mind, you would have known that to hear you say “our house” lit a fire in his veins. You wandered into the kitchen, noting how every detail seemed in focus; the night sounds coming in the open window, the smells of the breeze, the way the tile felt cool under your bare feet. The air felt charged with… what? You noted the gradual switch in your brain. Just this morning, you had been able to rattle off in your head all the reasons you hated living with Steve. You had even contemplated looking for someone else to room with. And now… now, after a brief conversation and some wound care, you really couldn’t figure out why you had decided to hate him. Hate was a pretty strong word.

Two plates and some intense daydreaming later, you wandered back into the living room just as Steve came back down the hallway, adjusting his shirt over the lower half of his stomach.

You were glad the lighting was low, because you were sure he would have seen the flush creep into your cheeks at the glimpse of bare skin across his abdomen. Absolutely ridiculous. Finish the movie. Go to bed. It was very simple. Or better yet, fake a headache? Could Captain America tell when someone was lying? Would you be surprised if he could? No. You sneaked a sideways glance at him as you sat down again. He smelled fresh and like a hint of Old Spice. His hair was combed back but still wet; little water droplets clung to the ends. Without a second thought, you reached out and turned his face to look at you.

“How’s that cut,” you murmured, suddenly quiet. The wound that just hours before had looked like it would need stitches now looked like a thin pink line. Oh god, his face was so close. You could close the space easily. There, there was that look again. Steve was not one to shy away from looking someone in the eyes, and every time he had looked at you in the last twenty-four hours had left you feeling weak and heavy, but in the best sort of way. Your phone buzzed from its place on the coffee table in front of you, the name “VANESSA” emblazoned on the front. You released a breath you hadn’t released you were holding and snatched the phone up. Steve cleared his throat and sat back.

“Hey, Nessa, what’s up?” What was up was that the opener for tomorrow morning had called out, and you were the most reliable on short notice. You agreed to cover the shift and let out a groan of disappointment when she told you she was working the night shift, so you wouldn’t even get to see her. Steve guessed what had happened from the conversation he could hear on his end (actually, he could easily hear both ends of the conversation, but that point was moot) so he locked up while you were getting last minute details.

“It’s all good,” he laughed when you tried to apologize. “We can finish the movie some other time. I had fun tonight. Oh, and, uh, thanks for the medical care.” He had shoved his hands in his sweatpants pockets and was rocking back on his heels. He looked every bit like someone who was definitely planning out his next move. He looked nervous, and somehow you couldn’t wrap your brain around that.

“Was the least I could do. I’ll see ya tomorrow?” Steve ducked his head with a smile. A smile that could stop traffic. A smile that had been burned into the mind of every US citizen as the poster boy for America. But to you, it was a smile that was warm. Familiar. And somehow now a smile that was starting to whisper home.

“Yeah, see you tomorrow.” Was there a promise there? You kept the shower water cold that night, trying to focus on something other than Steve Rogers.

#and were live #and they were roommates #inthorantine writes #steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers #captain america #guys im so hype #i cant believe i drilled out #close to 4k words #let me know what yall think

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inlovewithsaturn · 4 years ago

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Dean Winchester’s 42nd Birthday

Dean woke up on his 42nd birthday the way he had been waking up nearly every day in the last few months: an armful of white fur and wet kisses across his cheeks. When Miracle first came home with them Dean had made sure to get her a big, cushy, memory foam dog bed so that she would be comfortable, but it had taken all of three nights for him to relent and let her sleep pressed against his side. He liked having her there, hell, he didn't even try and hide it. He was trying to hide things less now. He was trying to be better. ** **

He was trying to be the man Cas had told him he was.

The thought of Cas had him hugging Miracle just a little tighter to his chest, burying his face in her warm fur. He thought about Cas a lot. His eyes, his final moments, his confession. Dean missed him more than he really thought was possible. But life goes on. You lose people and you have to keep going, no matter how big the ache in your chest gets, you have to keep going. That's what Dean was trying to do. He wanted Cas’s sacrifice to mean something. If he got out now Cas’s death would have been for naught, so he kept going.

There had been some close calls, even as the number of hunts got lower and lower. Dean had a nasty gash still healing on his ribs from where a piece of rebar almost got him, now that would have been a dumb way to go. Those first couple of weeks had been hard. Dean contemplated just ending it all, he wasn't really sure how to go on after everything that happened, wasn't sure how to fill the angel-sized hole in his heart. But Cas’s words played on his head in a loop and he wasn't going to die and throw away the chance Cas had died to give him. He loved the other man far too much to let that happen.

So Dean got up, he pulled on his dead guy robe and grabbed the plate from last night’s pizza rolls, and he scratched Miracle behind the ears. Today was going to be a good day, whether the universe wanted it to be or not. He hummed as he walked to the kitchen. He was doing better. Coffee was scenting the air as he neared the doorway and, oh, bacon? Happy birthday to him! As he grinned and rounded the doorway three things immediately became clear. 1. That was not his brother (way too short), 2. The “unbreakable” glass plates he got at the store were not in fact unbreakable if the cuts pricking his legs were to be believed, and 3. He was going to get to start his birthday by killing whatever son of a bitch had decided to put on that trenchcoat and waltz into his home.

The shattering dinnerware caused the creature to turn in surprise, it's elbow nearly bumping the frying pan to the ground, but it caught it at the last moment. It then turned back, blue eyes locking with green. Dean was frozen, not for long but for longer than a seasoned hunter should have been. In two long strides he had a knife from the butcher block in his grip and was pressing the blade to the fucker’s neck with his other arm solidly around it’s chest. His voice was wobbling when he spoke.

“I dont care what the fuck you are, get out of that body now or your death is gonna take a hell of a lot longer than it needs to.”

The sigh of frustration coming from the monster was almost expected. Monsters were cocky little bastards. The words it spoke though? Rather surprising.

“Dean, if you don't let me go the bacon is going to burn and this is the only pack in the fridge.”

Huh. Okay. So it was going to get extra tortured then. It was one thing to take his shape but pretending to be his angel cooking him breakfast was another. He pressed down harder with the knife, drawing a blood and a wince-

“Cas?”

Dean didn't loosen his hold but he did turn his neck to look at Sam, who was currently in the same position of shock Dean had vacated moments earlier. His brother’s face pushed the tears that were burning the back of his eyes into the light. He needed a drink.

“Sam, get the silver and the holy water from the cupboard,” Sam didn't move. “Now!” Dean gritted out, just as the monster cut in.

“I'm not a shapeshifter Dean, or a demon, I was just trying to make breakfast.”

“Shut up. Stop saying my name.” Was all Dean could manage. He had been thinking about hearing Cas say his name, just once more, for weeks now. This was agony.

Sam had apparently been shaken from his trance because the next thing Dean felt was residual holy water splashing his cheek. He let go of one arm so Sam could push up the coat, his coat, and draw the thin silver blade over skin.

Nothing happened except a few pricks of blood and a sharp inhale that Dean could feel pressed against his chest. Then there was a quiet, fluttering, woosh to his left. A sound he hadn't heard in months.

“It seems I should have arrived at the same time as Cas, sorry about that.”

Dean’s brain was going way too fast. It felt like there was cotton stuffed in his ears and all the way through his skull. The edges of his vision went dark, zeroing in on the figure standing next to the stove, white jacket somehow almost glowing. Now Dean was almost certain that this was a dream because the last thing he saw before fainting backwards into the counter was Jack, smiling like there was absolutely nothing amiss.

His head hurt. Not like a hangover but more like that time a vampire had clocked him from behind with a 2x4. He opened his eyes, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. That dream had been insane. Why was he in the kitchen?

“How is your head Dean?” Cas’s low voice washed over him in a sea of warmth.

“It hurts like a bitch. What happened Cas?”

Oh fuck. Not a dream.

Dean pushed up so he was sitting and tried to stand and tackle the man before him at the same time but the floor seemed to rush towards him and he ended up slumped on Cas’s chest. Warm arms caught him by the waist and sat him back down. A large hand gripped his chin and he was turned to see his brother.

“Calm the hell down okay? You hit your head pretty hard on the counter.” Dean jerked his eyes back to Cas and tried, again unsuccessfully, to leave his hold. His face was turned again.

“He's not a monster Dean, stop moving. You have a cut.” Sam lifted his hand to place a small bandaid on Dean’s eyebrow.

“What?”

“Jack pulled me out. Please let your brother finish his first aid so we can talk.”

Dean sat still.

Once Sam was satisfied with his handiwork he and Cas helped Dean stand and move to the table.

Dean sat still.

This was not happening. How in the world could it be?

Cas sat in front of him. Cas gazed at him with a mix of worry and pure joy. Cas reached out a hand to gently squeeze the one Dean had lying limp on the tabletop. He felt real. He felt like Cas.

“Cas?” Cas smiled wider.

“Hello, Dean.”

Tears slid down Dean’s cheeks as his hand not currently occupied with gripping onto Cas lifted, shaking, to brush across the angel’s cheekbone. He was really here. He was warm and solid and breathing. He was the most beautiful thing Dean had ever seen.

“How are you here?” His voice was barely above a whisper. He was terrified that if he spoke too loud or moved too fast this would all fall apart and he would wake back up in his bed, alone with only his dog and memories to keep him going.

“Jack came to an agreement with the Empty, he could help it sleep if he was allowed to pull a few angels out to help in Heaven. I was the first.”

“I prayed to you Cas. I didn't think you could hear me but I kept praying. How long have you been out?” At this, sadness shadows across blue eyes, guilt evident in his ethereal features.

“A while by Earth standards of time. There was so much to be done. I heard them. I heard you.”

He looks back up.

“I am sorry Dean, we worked as fast as we could. I cannot tell you what it is now, but it is far better than what my father created. Jack is a good leader. It was important I finished before I saw you again.”

“Why?” Dean is now holding both of Castiel’s hands in his own. A sad smile graces Cas’s mouth.

“Because I knew once I saw you I would be unable to leave you again.”

Dean stands, the floor now remaining steady under his feet, and has his arms around Cas in seconds. Castiel stands as well so he can wrap around him, Dean’s face quickly finding its home in the crook of Cas’s neck.

“Thank you.”

“I didn't actually do it, Jack is the one to thank.”

“No.” Dean pulls back so he can see Cas’s face. “Thank you for coming back.”

“I’ll always come when you call.”

Dean pulls him back in, suffocating himself in the scent of Cas. He stays that way for a time, only pulling away when he hears a small giggle from behind him. Jack is beaming, as is Sam, and Dean rushes to envelop Jack in a hug as well.

“Thanks kid.”

“Of course, Dean. It was his choice anyway, I just made it happen. I don't think there is anyone better to teach him how to be human than you and Sam.”

Dean pulls back.

“Human?”

Cas speaks again, anxiety laced into his words.

“Yes, as Jack said, I made the choice. I can go somewhere else if that-” Dean’s arms surround him once again, crushing any doubts he was holding.

“We are gonna teach you everything okay? You're gonna love it.” Dean is smiling so wide his cheeks hurt. Cas is staying here. Cas is human and real and he's here.

“I know you all need to catch up on some things but I do have some pressing matters to get back to, and I brought a birthday cake that I would very much like to eat.” Dean doesn't know if he will ever be able to feel this much joy ever again.

“And I insisted on a birthday pie as well, though it is not traditional I thought it may be appreciated.” Dean’s heart could have exploded right then and there. Cas is the best thing that ever happened to him.

“Get some plates Sammy.”

They sit down, Cas and Dean on one side, Sam and Jack on the other. They eat cake. Dean eats pie. They tell Cas about the things Dean left out of his prayers, like Dean’s application to a local mechanic, and how Eilleen has been staying over more and more. They all hug Jack goodbye and he promises to drop in sometimes. Sam leaves to call Eilleen, and finally Dean and Castiel are sitting side by side in the empty kitchen. Cas speaks first.

“I got you something.” Dean blushes and averts his eyes from the man beside him.

“You didn't have to Cas. You coming back is pretty much the birthday gift of a lifetime.” Cas chuckles at that but slips his hand into the breast pocket of his coat all the same.

“I wanted to. You deserve good things, Dean. Especially on your birthday.” Dean wants to make a joke about how utterly unworthy he is of anything Cas has to offer but the words die in his throat as Castiel stands from his seat to kneel on the cold floor beside him. Holy shit.

“I heard your prayers Dean. I know how hard you tried to get me out. I know about your mom’s ring. I could hear the life you planned out for us. I heard everything. I could see you too. I know how hard you have been working to be true to yourself. I never regretted for a moment that I let the Empty take me. Not one. You are worth everything. I rebuilt Heaven for you, Dean. Everyone will benefit but I did it for you. You are so full of love. From the moment I raised you out of hell I knew I would never lay my eyes on another soul as beautiful as yours. I know I do not technically exist and you are legally dead but I do not want to spend another moment without you. So, Dean Winchester, will you marry me?”

Dean is on his knees, hands cradling Cas’s face, lips crashing against the ex-angel’s before he can even utter his response. He’s been wanting to do this for years. Dean kisses with every ounce of adoration he has in him, pushing away only when he needs to breathe. Their foreheads rest against each other, two sets of tears mixing on cheeks. They are breathing the same air, eyes still closed, chests rising and falling in frantic harmony.

“Yes! I love you. I love you so much I can hardly stand it.”

They're kissing again, soft and sweet. Dean’s fingers are threaded through dark hair, he never wants to let go. They stay kneeling on the bunker floor wrapped in eachother’s arms for what feels like an eternity. Once Dean can feel his knees giving out he stands and drags Cas along with him, the shorter man scooping up the ring box on the way. Dean hadn't even seen the ring yet. Cas clutches his hand and rests it over his heart while he fumbles to get the jewelry free.

It's a simple band, nothing flashy or ornate, but Dean’s eyes catch on something engraved inside. Cas reads his mind, the same way he always does.

“For Love,” Castiel smiles that same watery smile that is seared into Dean’s heart.

“The engraving, that's what it says. I made it before we came.” With those words he slips the ring onto Dean’s hand. He doesn't let go, only uses one hand to pull Dean back in, kissing him with all the love in the world. Dean kisses back, matching him move for move.

The next day they walk hand in hand through the door of the lone jewelry store in Lebanon, Mary’s old ring in Dean’s pocket. Lighter silver than the one on Dean’s finger but fitting all the same. They get it engraved too.

“We are.”

#fanfiction #fanfic #spn fanfiction #spn #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #Destiel #destiel fanfic #also this is my first try and fanfiction since like 2015 so here we go

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horrorslashergirl · 4 years ago

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Night at the Asylum: A Dave Anthony Horror Fic.

Warning: Suicide, Disturbing Themes, Gore, Torture.

Tom and his friends; Julia, his girlfriend and two other guys, Mark and Carlos were in front of the Waverly Hills Sanatorium, backpacks and videocameras with them. It was summer and they just finished the second year of college, and decided to do something interesting, a short movie perhaps, since Tom was on the filmography class.

"I don't know man. This place looks desserted and its frickin' huge." Carlos said, and all he got in return was a roll of eyes from Tom.

Julia didn't wanted to come, since all the stories and urban legends of this place gave her the chills, but she wasn't going to let her boyfriend down.

"Its just one night to prove that there is nothing here but garbage. So, lets go. We have everything we need for tonight." Tom told them and began to march up the big steps of the principal entry, with the three following him.

He pushed the double doors open and stepped inside, the disgusting smell hitting his nose.

"Jeez! Somebody died here?" Mark said, putting his hand on his mouth and nose, his hazel eyes looking up at the big, impossing interior.

"And to think here died over 5,000 people." Julia said in a quiet whisper.

"I think they said they were over 10,000." Carlos interjected.

"Wanna look over this place? I think the cabinets where the doctors kept their files is on the second floor." Tom said, moving up the steps, carefull.

The place looked empty, save for everything that a hospital needed to have, now covered in dirt, bugs and other nasty looking stuff.

After 30 minutes of searching the room with the files and hystory of the Asylum, they finally found it. The Office looked strangely more fresh than the hallways and rooms where the patients resided.

The four began to look through the files, looking for information that might be helpful.

"This place held over 8,000 patients. Dude, that's almost impossible." Mark said, sitting down on the desk, a file in hand.

"I heard that there were much more, but the deads were so many that they created a death tunnel where they transported the bodies." Tom commented, looking over the shelvs that held books upon books of informations about the former patients.

Julia took one and began to brows the files, until a file fell from the book that held the profile of a patient. She crouched down to pick it up, her eyes scanning over the name.

"Dave Anthony?" she said, more so asked and the guys turned to her.

"Who's that?" Tom asked, coming to her side to see what she was reading.

"I heard of him. He is a local legend more so, but yes, he was a former patient here, very unstable." Carlos explained to them

"I thought this Sanatorium held people sick of tuberculosis, not the insane ones." Tom spoke, looking over at Carlos, urging him to tell them more.

"Yes, he was sick, but also sick in the head. I read about him. I heard he killed over 50 people, maybe more, he also raped his wife and killed her and after he set fire to a neighbours house." Carlos told them and he could tell that Julia was affected by the story, by the look in her eyes.

"But its just an urban legend ya know! I also heard that he was so dangerous, the doctors and nurses moved him into the death tunnel, chained him to a wall and left him there to die." Carlos spoke into a creepy voice, trying to scare his friends.

"Very funny? You sure have an imagination." Tom rolled his eyes, looking over at Julia to make sure his friend didn't scared her.

"Oh, but that's not all. After one week a nurse came in to see if he was still alive. He was dead, but he wrote a message on the wall with his own blood.... 'I will be back'." Carlos finished and laughed.

Mark hit him upside his head, telling him to cut it out.

After they more search, it started to get dark and they decided to move into the main room for the night.

"Do you think the story is true?" Julia asked Tom, who put an arm over her shoulder, trying to comfort her.

"Its not true. Tell her, Carlos." Tom spoke and he was tapped on the shoulder by Mark.

"Umm... Guys. Carlos is not here." Mark said with a concerned face.

When they all turned around, indeed Carlos wasn't behind them.

"I think he wants to scare us. Carlos! Come on! Cut the bullshit." Tom said, walking back down the hallways, followed by his girlfriend and Mark.

"Damn Carlos and his stories." Tom muttered under his breath, turning from corner to corner down the dark hallways, until there was a scream, making them all freeze in fear.

"W-Was that Carlos?" Julia asked in a shuttering voice.

Tom followed with his friends on the sourch of the scream and they stopped in front of a door with a small window glass. When they looked through it, they felt paralized. Behind the door was Carlos, strapped on a surgical table that looked like it was used for the theraphy with electroshocks. A set of what looked like headphones was on Carlos head, said headphones connected to an industrial machine that gave him shock after shocka, blood starting to drip from his mouth.

"Help! Oh God! Help me!" he screamed, spitting more blood, his eyes bloodshot.

"We have to help him!" Mark screamed, tugging on the door handle, but it was locked. They continued to bang on the door and it finally unlocked itself, but by the time they entered the room, fums were coming from Carlos head, his mouth hanging open as pink foam came out of his mouth.

"T-This cannot be happening!" Mark screamed, tears running down his face as he looked over at his dead friend.

"We have to get out of here. Now!" Tom finally said, grabbing Julias hand and leading her out of the gruesome scene with Mark running after them.

When they entered a hallway, all the glasses of the windows from the doors, pitch black hands with claws coming out. They continued to run, until Mark screamed, one of the hands had grabbed onto his arm roughly, digging their claws into his flesh.

"Help me! Guys!" Mark screamed, pain shooting through his arm.

The black arm tugged on him and his back meet the door, more hands coming out of the door and tearing at his flesh, blood following out and onto the dirty tiles of the hallway.

Julia began to sob into Toms chest, who hugged her tightly to his body.

"We have to move on. He is dead." Tom said, running with Julia to find the exit. They moved so deep into the Asylum that they got lost down the maze of hallways.

They continued to run, until Tom stopped, a loud gasp coming from his mouth and he clunched his stomach in pain.

"Tom! Are you alright!?" Julia asked, crouching down next to him.

He grinded his teeth as he felt an deep pain into his back. He tugged on the back of his shirt and Julia gasped, putting her hands over her mouth; deep scratches filled her boyfriends back, red rivules running down.

"Julia! You have to get out! Now! Something is wrong!" Tom screamed, clunching his head as pain filled his body.

Julia was frozen in fear of what was happening and she stepped back as a row of black spikes shot from his spine. Tom turned to her, his once blue eyes were a pitch black, making Julia take small steps back.

"Tom?" she asked, her breathing getting ragged.

He crouched down, his brown hair turned a snow white, his skin getting a sick look and his nails got sharp and a black color.

"No Tom." his voice got deeper, sounding like more than one person was speaking.

Before she knew it, he lunged at her, knocking her down with him on top of her. His mouth forming a dark grin, the skin at the corner of his mouth starting to rip and a set of sharp teeth pecked from behind pale lips.

"What's the matter Julia? Don't you love me?" he asked in a mocking fashion, his sharp nails, running down the tiles next to her head.

"W-Who are you?" she asked, tears running down her face as she looked up at her former boyfriend.

"Why, you don't know me? You just read my files some hours ago? Such a short memory." he said and her eyes widened, catching on.

"D-Dave? Dave Anthony?" she asked in a quiet whisper, making the entity chuckle.

"In flesh and bones of your boyfriend!" he laughed and gripped her neck tightly.

"I am gonna have so much fun with your soul." he whispered, running his mouth down her neck and to her ear, taking a deep breath of her.

"My, my. Looks like your boyfriend didn't took your innocence..... Fucking pussy." he smirked down at her, now his form completly changed.

He was tall, over 7'0 and smelled of death. Julia began to sob and pray to God, closing her eyes, then she quickly opened them when Dave punched the tile beside her head, cracking the floor.

"Fuck God. There is no God here. I am, you dirty little whore." he glared down at her and like a lightning hit her, she moved from under him, running down the hallways to find the exit, the poltergeist laughing behind her.

"Run, Julia! You can run but you cannot hide!" he screamed at her, then a maniacal laugh echoed through the building.

Julia turned corner after corner, unt she finally found the exit, throwing the doors open and stumbling down the stairs, running to the car and driving away into the night.

After 3 months...

Life after the night at the Sanatorium wasn't the same for Julia, paranoia was following her everywhere, hearing voices, having nightmares. She was turning insane and her parents decided to move her into an Asylum into her home-town. She refused to eat, to even go out of her room, saying that he was following her, that he was going to kill her.

One night she was laying in bed and praying, then she felt a cold presence tower over her form on the bed.

"Still praying to God? Pathetic." the raspy voice spoke into her ear and she felt a cold and black substance drip onto her face.

"Please... Leave me alone. Don't kill me." she begged, tears running down her bony cheeks.

"Kill you? Not now. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe the next week. Probably next hour." Dave chuckled darkly, his black eyes looking down at her, his claws ripping the white bedsheets.

Then just like that he disapeared and the next thing made Julia scream. He was creating deep gashes into her back, then her chest. She couldn't tale it anymore.

Her teary eyes looked up at the bars on the windows then at the bedsheets.

Next day...

Julias parents were on the hallway, at the reception of the Asylum, crying and couldn’t believe that their daughter was dead. She just comited suicide yesterday at midnight, hanging herself on the bars of the window.

The doctors told them that she had intense paranoia and depression, probably because her boyfriend broke up with her.

After the suicide they moved the body from the room and a nurse came in to clean up. She swore the room was much colder than the other spaces of the building.

After she was done, she felt a cold breath down the back of her neck and a rattling of chains.

Slowly, she turned around and she dropped the dirty bedsheets, her eyes wide open looking into pitch black ones.

Before she could scream a black hand with claws moved over her mouth.

"Ah, ah, ah... Now, be a good little girl and don't scream. Will ya?" The poltergeist spoke, his mouth opening and a black long tongue came out of between rows of shark teeth.

The nurse was trembling, her back flush against the door of the room.

"Elizabeth? That's a cute name." he chuckled and the nurse couldn’t believe that he knew her name.

The man or more so the creature was tall, towering over her small frame. Her eyes widened when something crawled out of the entitys mouth, it was black with many legs; a centipede.

The creature moved from the demons mouth and fell down on the floor between the two. Elizabeths legs began to shake when the centipede crawled up one of her legs and under the white nurse skirt.

Green eyes widened and a silent scream left her lips, feeling the slimy thing move between her legs and inside her.

Dave smirked down at her, the centipede disapering inside the nurse, her face paralized in fear.

"I wanted to do this to Julia, but she killed herself. Eh, her lost." Dave grasped her chin roughly, his eyes looking deep into her own and she began to whimper, feeling something inside her.

"That's just something for you to always remember me. See you real soon." And with that he disapeared.

Elizabeth fell down on the white tiles of the room, tears running down her face as a laugh echoed into her head.

The message was clear 'I will be back'.

Authors Note: My first time writing Dave Anthony, my poltergeist OC. I almost forgot how to write supranatural things, but its quit fun.

#Dave Anthony #Horror characters #Horror story #Poltergeist #Demon #Ghost #Evil Entity

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lavender-hemlock · 5 years ago

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From the moment she met him, they were fated to struggle.

She was a specimen to him.

He was a mad man to her.

"I wish I had known I was going to find you earlier, so I could have planned our time together more appropriately, my love."

Perhaps she was getting used to Rori's verbal fantasies of how she would die.

Her frown was evident, but if anything, she seemed less phased as she turned back to her work bench. With care, she put a stopper back on to the potion before she set it down. Deftly, she plucked the dinner roll off the plate before she took a bite of it. To her left, he continued to speak on his woes of her behavior of all things, as she went about eating the roll he had so kindly made for her. She could only suspect it was to keep her strength up since she had been working tirelessly on the serum for the last few hours.

Haine washed down the dinner roll with the tea, and only when he seemed about finished, did she respond. "Oh, I am so glad you have trust in me. You have demonstrated that many times, silly me, to doubt a serial killer."

And she didn't stop there, as she turned her head to glance at him again. "I was only offering you a sample. Nothing can occur with this sort of substance on scent, considering its primary function is only effective on taste or injection."

Taking another sip of the tea, she swiveled all the way around so her back could bump into the work bench, and now he was on her right side. Her expression dictated she was musing something briefly. The what-ifs of his plans and her own. She could have ruined the potion for sure. Added something to brutally murder Rori's only witness so that he would be helpless but to watch his means of getting answers foam at the mouth. Bleed from the eyes. A climax of life that he could not aid or halt until the subject would be rendered dead, never uttering a word. The thought brought a small smirk and light into her eyes at the thought of ruining Rori's plans altogether. Perhaps it could be.

"But, do you trust me, is the question?" She countered instead to Rori, turning her head to look him dead in the eye. Her face gave away nothing.

Yet, what she didn’t expect was his laugh. Rori leaned back against the wall as his amusement danced all around the room in a laugh that would be pleasant- if he were not so hostile. He flashed his charming smile, humored by her question, as sea-foam eyes regarded her in a near glee that she had dared ask that.

"... Would you, Amethyst? Our relationship, our... Partnership. What is it based on? Not respect, surely... I have something to gain from you, but... You've nothing to gain from me." Not that he gave her the choice. Rori shook his head, chuckling. “No, I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you. But, I do hope we can complete this deal, and then, once I’ve gotten what I need you’ll never see or hear from me again. Isn’t that what you want, sweet Amethyst?”

That is what she wanted. Yet at every turn, he would puzzle her in more ways than one, despite being explicitly clear that she meant nothing to him except a means to an end. However, she was more than nothing. She was the personification of turbulent fire. Flickering, flaring, and burning from the inside out. Harmful, devastating, and absurd to bring such heat yet bare no warmth. All of her energy was volatile- her place forgotten- as she leaned off the edge of the table to slide off her seat and approach her would be keeper.

Haine's steps trailed lazily, her fingers clasped around a sample of the serum he so desired. Yet, her eyes never lingered off his half-lidded gaze. She did not stop until she were an arms length away from him. Without a single hesitation, she raised the small vial between them in offering that he would have to move to take. Yet, this was not enough. Rori paused for the punch-line. He couldn’t act one way or the other just yet- no- he couldn't harm her or risk breaking it.

Nothing, in her sharp golden-born gaze, said she was acting out of vengeance for his ire, but her lips parted. A pause of words, before she uttered, "Humor me."

In her eyes flickered morbid curiosity in the glint of orange as her eyes narrowed, skeptical of how he would react. Yet, the look she gave was the same mania that had her crafting the serum for hours without break. The same fascination and curiosity that got her in trouble often- in moments like these with him where he would lash out at her for being daring.

After gazing at her for a few moments, he slunk in dangerously close, his nose nearly brushing against hers as he murmured in a hush whisper to him. "If this is a ploy to kill me, Amethyst... Then I hope for your sake... That it takes in one go. Because if I recover from it, and you're still alive..? I will hunt you down to the ends of the earth. I will take something you love every evening until you have nothing, and only then, will I take you apart until you dream of a way to go back and stop yourself from acting recklessly.”

Even as he whispered every threat that would frighten any soul for days on end, she did not falter.

If anything, her eyes fixed on his and did not advert when he dared to venture into her personal space. Their eyes, parted lips, and sped-up pulses emulated a moment between them that would deceive any other person none the wiser.

Their proximity was an intimate picture of would-be lovers. He whispered to her words with upmost passionate that were reserved for enemies, and she stared at him with a satisfied contempt that warped the picturesque moment into a mosaic of glass shards stained in loathing, hate, and blood shed that had been wrought in their wake clashing with one another.

#black ichor #ffxiv #archives #ffxiv writing #ffxiv rp

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terfhunter420 · 5 years ago

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“how ya holding up?”

This is about how I'm “holding up” how I'm “doing” and if I “need anything” as a covidclerk because so many beautiful kind amazing stellar friends and otherwise have been asking me that more times than I can muster to answer, at some points. The long story short is “fantastic!!” because that's true – every letter of the word FANTASTIC has about a million facets intertwined within them.

Betwixt grief and global pandemic there is an incredible relationship. I have been through the standard stages of grief that I wholly know – I expect to cycle through them in multiples the longer this goes on, while always growing despite/in spite – I created new stages of grief that are probably related to the new type of cognitive dissonance I have mastered, and I have re-grieved the loss of my partner due to the fact that I can feel Nhiki laughing about the most reptilian parts of all this. The word GRIEF and the place of grief is not a triggering word or a scary place, rather, a declaration of floating just above the Earth – place of rest and reflection, a powerful position to be in for action and clarity. I don't want anyone to feel unsettled approaching me knowing I am cycling through a grieving process and I don't want anyone to feel spooked that I am answering with raw emotion.

DENIAL: what denial in a pandemic setting looks like is not true denial, per se. I'm not hoaxin' out or making light of the severity of the pneumonia and organ failure and cardiac arrest perpetuated by this virus. I am trying to absorb as much new information about how the virus behaves in the body and regurgitate harm reduction practices and efforts from each piece of new study. What denial has shown itself to be for me, as time has moved on and on and on, and every day I keep showing up to work in a fucking contagion zone, and I continue to remain healthy – even though I DID get sick when this all started – the more I am (hopefully, productively) twisting what must be fear into believing that I will be okay. I will stay alive. I am not dying from this. I can FEEL the sickening aura of tremendous outsider grief, and it's not colliding with my own. Which is interesting – I am empathic, and I have isolated my own grief from the rest? Is this something I can consider a level-up, or a form of denial? Have I sharpened a tool in my coping toolbox or have I dulled one?

ANGER: there is so much and it is not harmful. I am made of fire – my heart exists on fire – I am surrounded by salty chicks because they throw salt on my heartfire – I am knives – my knives are on fire! – I have a prayer to Lord Shiva tattooed on the base of my neck and it is vibrating constantly. OM NAMA SHIVAYA – wild destruction for the sake of wild growth. I WANT TO SEE THIS FAILED SYSTEM COLLAPSE. I MICRO/DOSE BELLADONNA TO BECOME ONE WITH THE ENTROPY. THERE IS NO FULL, CONTINUOUS UNITY and holy fuck is that scary or what! The response my own store took for basic safety measures was drip drip blackstrap molasses slow. The response the state has been unrolling has been drip drip pure unfiltered honey thick. The inappropriate responses of the TRUMP administration has been a maniacal outpouring of American vomit and bile foam. WHYYYYY of all presidents did this have to happen under this one? Well, some folks I know say it's because that's part of The Plan. I know what they're talking about. I hear them wide and clear – and it does not make sense for me to focus my energy exertion on processing the Grand Scheme of the Bourgeois and how it relates to global elite efforts. You begin saving the world one person at a time, after all. My biggest anger I have felt relates to the social conditioning that I felt like a threat to everyone around me, and everyone around me felt like an even bigger threat. That conditioning is nauseating so I have broken it.

BARGAINING: Should I keep my nails long or keep my nails short? Should I call out of work today? Should I lie about symptoms? I could keep my mouth shut at being placated or I could open it up and let the words fly out. Should I leave the cats to my mother or to a friend if I have to die? Should I spend time with this thoughtful chick? What if I cut most of my fingernails short? How do I get this guy to stop calling me a frontline hero and thanking me for my service? Can I trade spots with Nhiki for one day? What if I called out of work and said I needed a mental health day? What if I lied about symptoms just to get three days off and not two weeks off? What if I bought some scratch off lottery tickets? What if Nina met Death with me? How did I get here and how can I assure that I am never here again? HOW DO I GET OUT OF HERE?!?!? AM I TRAPPED WITH A METAPHORICAL GUN TO MY HEAD OR AM I JUST UNAFRAID? What if this is God (God is short for Good) placing me in a situation that I know I am meant for? How do I convince God (God is short for Good) that I am not meant for this? What if I convinced myself I am meant for this? Oh fuck it turns out I'm meant for this and it was insane to doubt thyself so much in the first place.

DEPRESSION & EXHAUSTION: My strongest trauma-bond is with the experience of helplessness. Living in a big helpless fury for weeks will lead to the inevitable: YANG flame snuffs and YANG must reignite itself. My candle wobbled, the YIN spilled everywhere. Now I have to carefully chip out the wick from the pool of wax, YIN poured up and out and over – tears, tears, tears – I had one night alone since this all started and I spent it in a heap on the ground full of trauma, remembering the way eyes with no life behind them roll in any direction that gravity takes 'em, being terrified that my baby would find me dead because that is the most horrific thing to go through, especially if that corpse wasn't supposed to die any time soon – tears, tears, tears – mourning the loss of our already fucked normalcy and expressing the fears of the future through screaming out to absolutely fucking no one. My face is puffy – and I need to work quick – because I'm too tired to keep going without my flame. What's that? I'm out of time?! TIME TO START TAKING TREMENDOUS AMOUNTS OF CBD. Oh god, perfect. All the serenity, without the cognitive hinderance... yeah baby, a global pandemic is what this shit was made for. At least something is made for this. Oh fuck, I have to remember I was made for this too. Not today – oh fuck, every day is today.

ACCEPTANCE: I am passionate. I am passionate for what my life means. I feel everything and everything and it is very beautiful. I love taking care of people, Nhiki taught me how to be taken care of. My life means help. My life means protection. My life means others are better from my existence – Yes – IT IS SYMBIOTIC, because that is WHAT MY LIFE MEANS. I am indeed a vessel for your sorrows and euphoria of all to flow through one side and come out the other sparkling and validated and warmed. How did I end up working in a vitamin department of a grocery store during a fucking global pandemic? HOW DIVINE THE NATURE OF TIMING – GOD IS SHORT FOR GOOD – ALL THINGS GOOD IN GOOD TIME. I assure you, dear customer, you will do everything I can so you won't die on my watch. My girls... you will not die because you are here, with me, and I love you. I have four beautiful girls in my house, and if I can keep them all fed, Dad is happy. I have a very important woman who has graced me with her presence, and if I can keep her feeling warm and smiling and appreciated, Dad is happy. The normalcy and it's failing systems can be collapsing all around me – somehow my world remains strong, remains in love, and remains standing – REMAINS GROWING AND PATIENT AND PROTECTIVE, as does my nature.

PASSIVE-AGGRESSION: I get passive aggressive at people who actively ignore the public health and safety standards imposed around me... apparently. You know I breathe in my own air for 40+ hours every week so it shouldn't be that much trouble for someone stopping by my store to do that for 40 minutes. Public Health is Selflessness. I feel like I work in an airport with the placating, gentle overhead announcements stuck betwixt the stepmom radio tracks reminding everyone of CDC guidelines and in-store signage instructions. The bright-but-not-abrasively-bright signage directing the flow of the public becomes such background noise that I almost forget it is there until I clean my glasses again or bump into it. I got a “talking to” by my bosses that I am passive aggressive. I probably am... Passive, Aggressive. This whole thing has been a balancing act between the two of these states and I think most moments I'd rather hop off that beam except I can't hop off it so it's a good thing my cautious vibe has taught me how to stay still.

COGNITIVE DISSONANCE: I was raised with the understanding that patience is the best virtue and the only acceptable state to operate from is “calm, cool, collected” – my whole life I've done hard work on balancing the importance of operating from that state with the equal importance of allowing my heart-on-fire to steady burn. Since pandemic started at the grocery store I have become LOUD AND OBNOXIOUS AND DANCING AND PASSIVE AGGRESSIVE ABOUT PUBLIC SAFETY AND HIGH AS FUCK ON CANNABINOIDS and have managed to balance that with MY REQUIREMENT to stay helpful and calm and knowledgable. I do active harm reduction with people that find themselves standing in front of me and a row of incredible forces of nature, looking for the slightest of anecdote for their respiratory/immune/blood/stress systems. And, WOW, gaining that footing in this new balance within a two month period of time has not been always graceful, or easy. Cognitive dissonance was required to achieve it and that's all on my brain's capacity to immediately shift my thought flow, like I have an internal sensory overload kill-switch.

LOVE: My Glorious Baby of Buttercups. You will thrive. I am your dad. I love you. You will always eat before me. I know you know that I know Death, baby. I convene with Death eagerly, and not one morning begins without immense gratitude to Death for Just. One. More. Day. “THANK YOU DEATH FOR SPARING MY LOVED ONES OF THE TRAGEDY THAT WILL BE THE LOSS OF ME. I LOVE YOU – BOOM SHANTI!!” The tip of my iceberg-on-fire of Love is a base idea that I want to give the world everyone... because every one deserves the goodness and glory of the world, and all it has to offer. God is short for Good. Beneath that sea surface, oh my god. It is inexpressible at best, the depths of passion I hold for the well wishes of everyone who has touched my soul. I thought before this pandemic I was already grieving everyone I know and love. I was attuned to mortality salience as sharply as could be. As I continue to know and love ANYONE, the more I grieve. Grief and Love is a tandem ride, and that is the most important lesson I have ever realized. Now, the tuning has only gotten FINER – like discovering a new energy wave that is actually measurable, the edges of my sword of feeling everything all the time are thinner and shinier and more deadly – Here and Now, I am digging pits of love and sorrow for strangers like never before. Reaching new rock bed foundations of my soul's capacity to care about the world and wanting everyone to be okay. Sparkly rock-beds! The infinite vast in my grief for my family, for my chosen family, for my Eastside community, for all of my girls leaves me in awe. I am unabashedly unafraid to speak to everyone and anyone. I MAY SAY I HAVE ALL OF THE TIME – I MAY SAY THAT YOU HAVE ALL OF THE TIME – THAT DOES NOT MEAN THAT YOU AND I HAVE ALL OF THE TIME. I refuse to squander all of this time not connecting.

And then – ohhh and then – as if Grief and Death and Life and Love have not unraveled me and twirled me back up often enough, the brightest softest Violet found herself around me, and I am stumbling, then falling, then floating for such a beauty and my grief for her is already so immense – despite all this newness, my grief for her feels ancient. Where she landed from I don't know – and where she'll go – I can't know. I think of her so gently, softly, and it turns out SHE IS GENTLE AND SOFT – so much meditation has been wishing I could more consciously grasp onto the first moment I saw her because that was the only point in time where I wasn't grieving her so immensely yet – because we caught on like my heart on fire and she can do anything she puts her mind to and she deserves to do anything she wants to do and I am privileged that it seems to be me that she wants to be held by and I'm really proud of her and I want everyone I love to meet her – sometimes it can feel really sad to be always grieving the people you love, and sometimes I question it by wondering if it pulls me away from the present – except when I realize, this practice is a mindfulness practice. GRIEF TEACHES YOU BALANCING PRESENT WITH PAST AND FUTURE BUT NOBODY ACES THESE PRACTICES ALL THE TIME, NOT EVEN DADDY.

AFTER YOU'RE GONE: NHIKI WHY DID YOU LEAVE US – OM NAMA SHIVAYA – NAM MYOHO RENGE KYO – it is always unfair (the word UNFAIR in this context is my inner child speaking) that no matter what is happening that you are not here experiencing it with me. Everything I have experienced since you left our Earthly bond (despite the beauty or despite the turmoil of it) has a permanent burnt tinge of envy of your celestial nature, with your concave shadow (this reformation of my heart) upon it. We could have pandemic'd successfully together – although we may not have known how to do this so easily as I have been without the knowledge I gained from the Death of You – now its just me and my Dad Energy digging all this out, and feeling you're just above up next to me – my missing you is so TANGIBLE it can manifest the whole energy of a room into the shape of your eyebrows, your teeth with the light from the window hitting the spit on them, your hands cracked/tracked open, or healed back shut – whatever you want. I can hear you: “You're so beautiful, Ems!” – and I can hear your bells go off and your tuning fork go off and I can feel you holding me and I can feel the REGRET IN EVERY NUCLEOUS REPLICATING WITH EACH NEW STRAND OF RNA – (REGRET HAS BEEN AN EPIGENETIC TRAIT OF MINE FOR FIVE HUNDRED AND SIXTY DAYS) – regret! about missing our night-time snuggle on our last night together! October 25 2018 was my last chance to hold you and I squandered it – because I fell asleep early – because you were high high high and the next day you finally got high enough and I am here, NOW: sometimes floating over this ground made of griefy-lovey sand dunes not wanting to use the full effort of my toes to keep my feet on the ground for too long, anymore. I do it anyway, with a full understanding of how to fix exhaustion. My grief for you is just love, with nowhere to go – and my grief is thusly my safest resting place. To wander my thoughts in my boundless love for you is to reset, relax, detach from any superficial misery and behold the most powerful thing: EVERYTHING. I remember what the soft edge of your ear feels like on the tip of my nose. I remember feeling the soft edge of your ear with the tip of my nose, and thinking, I need to remember this feeling for the rest of my life because you might not be here for it.

EUPHORIA: I grew a mustache. I left peak fertility and I have never felt more FULL of life.

CREATIVE OVERTAKING: I can see how one may deduct the opposite of “fantastic” based on the raw emotion I openly spew up and out and over. Except... thinking deeply, I couldn't feel so outwardly expressive and creatively fired if I wasn't feeling fantastic. I hold rage and serenity together, I hold grief and love together, I hold water and fire together, I hold anxiety and creativity together. Since the pandemic settled, my creative outlets have expanded into almost every thing I am up to. I made a crossword, I am making collages, I made a painting, I am wandering the neighborhood and being in awe of how lucky I am, I am making up silly songs, I am reading, I am making up love songs, I created a prettier place to sleep, I am wool felting, I am stringing my thoughts together with a new mindfulness level-up, I am etching new facets to listen with in my ears. That's the coolest part...

LISTENING: Throughout my life, I have admired most the people who can make you feel like the only person in a crowded room with how intently and wholly they listen to you. My grandparents, several grandparents. Nine times out of ten, these inspirations in the mastery of listening are people are significantly older than me. Listening is a lifelong practice, after all, so I am naturally in awe of those who have had the most time to practice. I have made it a point to cultivate this ability from an early age. Sometimes, it takes a fucking pandemic to further sharpen your coping skill tools – and your listening skills, too. I think as well, with fleetingly meeting Death more and more often as time goes on, the ability to listen more sharply naturally strengthens. Nothing is worse that not being able to remember what someone sounds like, feels like, looks like – and most importantly, their unique characteristics and mannerisms displayed when talking about something they love.

So these are the classic stages of grief and the newfound stages of grief that I am cycling betwixt and down and over and out. That may or may not answer the question of “how are you doing?” and it's the best way I can answer that one.

I get asked “how ya holding up?” and I'm wondering if that is the same inflection as the previous question, although I could take it for a spin relating to my direct physical position during these moments in time. My back hurts, but it's not terrible most days. My feet hurt, but not most days. I am fed, for most days. My menstruation got wild. My world is not collapsing, I am getting paid, the state gave me back my tax dollars and sent me a cheque for some future tax refunds of mine, I have four beautiful critters to quarantine with. I cook for them, I buy us everything we want, we get El Oasis sometimes, and I come home and the dishes are done.

I come home and the dishes are done was a thing that hadn't happened to me since my Nhiki stopped spoiling me on this plane of reality, so, it's a really special and thoughtful thing that I am treated to – and have been treated to for two months. For a long time after Nhiki left us I unconsciously stopped accepting help with physical things like bringing groceries from the car or carrying things or chores or having my food paid for or help on house maintenance and it has become a new complexity of my grieving process: to allow others to give me physical help that they believe I deserve from them, even if the thought never crossed my mind to ask. No I certainly don't have to do everything just because I don't mind doing everything. It is a special symbiosis and I have been so humbled by my baby buttercup. I love taking care of her – without feeling like I am literally taking care of her, because she loves taking care of me, without feeling like she is literally taking care of me.

Taking care of others – LOVE AND CARE is the only thing that moves me and things and time along. Time suspends when I am useless. And time suspension, well, that's a creepy fucking thing when you live majority of your consciousness on a linear plane of reality. Luckily for me there is literally/technically everyone available to love and care for. Even more luckily, I need not seek anyone. They are dancing down their own paths and those paths happen to collide with mine, and it is beautiful. How am I holding up? Um, considering I have so many fantastical souls I have the honor of caring for – I AM holding up. Not how, just am.

My boss quit our job a few days ago, and I was welcomed into her magical home. There is a deep ethereal bond between two people who have lost big loves to an untimely tragedy. Hers was five years ago – her heart aches for my measly eighteen months. My heart aches for her knowing what she's felt for so long. We talked about the guilt of waking up every day feeling good about being alive. Our loves wouldn't want it any other way, and yet... the void left behind when their suffering finally changed from theirs to ours is a big and trippy one. “Strong people” choose to fill that void with joy, we are both “strong people” although, if anyone asked us personally if we feel strong... we may disagree. Strong is the wrong word. The fact of the matter is, there is no other choice – except to crumble. And, when you are needed – when you have people to care for and attend to, the choice to crumble becomes a non-issue, a non-reality. LOVE IS EVERYTHING, and I feel everything – I am a fully feeling being. DEATH does not stop the fire that tells its story and moves within me. Absolutely not, it only makes the blues deeper and heartier, and the bright more blinding in its awe and heat. In heaven there is no heat, I've heard. Until then: I AM BURNING AND COVERED IN SALT and my business card says “Call me if your love drops dead, I know how you feel.”

The question of “do you need anything?” directed at me will only move me to flip that question back at the bearer. Do YOU need anything? Because baby, I have everything. Other than flipping the question back I tend to tell people “what I need is for you to follow the public health and safety guidelines to the best of your ability” and “stay safe” and “if you think of anything I need or want I would be honored” and I like to hope that is a creative prompt. The kind gestures and thoughtfulness I have experienced off my friends? Oh, they have taken flight with said prompt – soared! – and have filled my heart up!! Lovely!

People intuitively understand kindness, care, love, compassion. Yes these things are practices and yes they are mindfulnesses and every person still has all of this within them. This is the key understanding I try to keep at the forefront of my head, especially when protestors/outsiders storm my city to hold a Trump rally. Their anger is misdirected. Damn every safety net that was spun of illusion and damn every systemic failing that has led to a dramatic display of these human beings wearing their rifles around my downtown. Maybe because my world is so full of kindness, and love, and beauty, and patience... that I failed to remember these sorts of protests/gatherings would indeed happen the longer this shutdown went on. And HEY that’s WONDERFUL fuck remembering that.

Clearly the trifecta of my existence is LOVE and ENTROPY and MUTUAL AID – so to all of you wonderful humans who only reach out to ask me “how i'm doing” and “how i'm holding up” I want you to remember that simply you, thriving in all your glory, makes me proud to be alive and knowing you – and remember that I am constantly betwixt the sparkles of grief and love and anger and serenity and exhaustion and vibrance. So, nothing much with me has changed, even though I have overheard once or twice the theory that “everything” has changed, except the world that changed is not mine – because EVERYTHING IS LOVE. Remember to tell me about yourselves to me. I want to know how you feel, too. Because you matter, and you are essential, and so am I, and we are EVERYTHING.

Thanks for coming to my TED talk.

#covidclerk howareyoudoing howareyouholdingup doyouneedanything love mutualaid entropy

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peaches-of-1 · 5 years ago

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Peachtober | Day 23: Crinkle

Reader x Werewolf!Jimin

Genre: Fluff

A/N: I did my best not to use he/him or she/her when refering to the reader, so please let me know if I did so that I can fix it.

The day starts as usual, with a pair of black pants being slipped on and the routine of teeth brushing. Laptop is dead, so you decided to leave it home as you begin making a quick microwavable breakfast of Hot Pockets. Two and a cup of whatever drink you have left in the fridge. You do the daily makeup look you’ve gotten used to doing since moving to Seoul due to a teaching job you found no joy with.

Still, the Korean city had claimed your heart and so you were lucky enough to get a job at one of the many coffee shops around town. It had been open for hours already as you were part of the afternoon/late shift. After the meal is thrown down your throat, you quickly tie up your work shoes and catch the bus with all of the other college students who are continuously cramming for the next test.

A little hop to the pavement, a turn to the left, pass the nail salon and vintage clothing store lies a tiny store where you were currently making a living.

Casual greetings all around as the manager tosses you an apron, “With Y/N here, I’m gone for the evening. Goodbye, everyone!”

Her and her husband must’ve gotten in a argument and not speaking because those were the only times she left when you showed up.

“What is it this time?” You asked the only other part timer there.

Big brown eyes and shaggy blonde hair was making yet another Brown Sugar Expresso, “Oh, um. Not sure. They’ve been fighting all day.”

“Ahem,” The manager said.

Jimin looked at him innocently, “I said nothing.”

Both waited for their boss to pass by before asking.

“You think this might be the breaking point?”

He laughed, “They’ve reached this point several times before, so I doubt it.” and then he smiled at the young man waiting for his coffee. “Enjoy your drink.”

“Thank you!” He replied in hesitant Korean.

The blonde boy began to set up the fresh batch orange crinkle cookies and then began to sniff, ending up near your cheek. You asked what he was doing, making him jolt backwards.

He looked at the floor and then back at you, “Sorry. You just. You don’t smell like honey today.” and quickly, he busied himself with eating one of those cookies for himself.

“I decided to actually have a real lunch instead of bread and honey today.” You said, blushing. “I didn’t know you noticed.”

The dark skinned man approached the counter again, “Can I have some napkins, please?”

“Here you go.” The blonde said, giving him several.

“Thank you!” he said with a smile and went back to his laptop.

“Jimin-ssi, you should get his number.” You said, nudging him and boxing up a dozen donuts since a regular would be here rather soon on the way to an office meeting.

Jimin shook his head, “What? No. I couldn’t.”

“But he’s totally your type.” You glanced at the man with coffee bean skin.

“I mean, you aren’t wrong, but I have someone I already like.” He said as you rung up the young woman with short brown hair and glasses.

You looked at him, “Oh, really? They must be the luckiest person in the world to have your affection.”

“Well, I don’t think they know. I have secrets that I don’t want them to be a part of. Secrets like how your crinkle cookie recipe is the best thing I’ve ever had.”

You smiled. Then the bell on the door rang as another regular came in which made your heart jump. They were so cute and suave, but not your type. Still, he was very handsome and always showed up in a crisp suit usually with some sort of unique pattern on it.

“I’ll have a--”

“Pumpkin Spice Caramel Latte with extra foam?” You replied. “It’s easier to remember because you always put your own spin on the seasonal specials.”

He smiled, “Yes, and with a--”

“Chocolate cinnamon bun? Coming right up.”

The Korean blonde man snuck another cookie as Y/N served their obvious crush. Their customer had to know that they were into him. It was clear to Jimin as he worked on cleaning a now empty table with a pencil left on the floor that he’d just put in the lost and found for whenever the woman came back. However, the pencil smelled strange. It was moist smelling...ah, it seemed that she liked to bite on her writing utensils.

“Jimin-ah, can you make some more muffins, please? We’re running out.” Y/N called as they approached the table of an elderly woman who came here ever since her daughter was in middle school.

The daughter rarely came here anymore, busy travelling according to the mom.

As the day went on, the two worked well. The other owner left to go buy flowers for his wife since he felt bad. He told Y/N to lock up since Jimin had to leave earlier. The young blonde had been nervous all day, knowing he would have much time after work to go to the store and then get home before he--a gentle hand scratched the back of his head, calming him down.

“Are you ok, Jimin-ie?” Kind eyes asked the now smiling face.

“Y-yeah. I’m just behind on groceries.” He replied. “I have a big meal to make.”

Y/N nodded, “You really like meat, don’t you? I remember your friend Taehyung visiting and handing you a lot of meat last month. A cooler of it or something. Is it already gone?”

Brown eyes glittered as he nodded at you, “Y-yeah. I do like meat a lot.”

The last customer left, and it was an hour until closing. Jimin could tell Y/N was looking for something inside of her mind. Thinking deeply.

“I’ve got this. You go do your shopping..”

Jimin asked, “Really? It’s not safe for you to be by yourself for so long, and I am supposed to walk you to--”

“I’ll be fine, Jimin. I’ve got my phone on me, and we’ve got tons of knives.” Then Y/N motioned into the corners. “Also, cameras.”

Quickly the man left and then felt his torso for something. He circled around the lockers in the back, like a dog chasing his tail. Then the sparkling trinket of a wolf necklace was dangled in front of him.

“The chain broke and it landed in a drink during our daily rush. I’ve been keeping it in my pocket. Almost forgot about it.” the beautiful coworker said, placing it in Jimin’s small hand.

“Th-thank you, Y/N.”

Then soft hand felt his head, “You’re not getting sick, are you? Your voice is deeper than usual.”

The young man covered his mouth and quickly gathered his stuff as he talked rapidly, “It’s nothing. I promise. Even so, I should go to the doctor’s and get it checked out, but only if it gets worse. I’m sure I’ll be better by tomorrow. Just tired. Sometimes voices get deeper when the person is tired, don’t you know. Um, anyways, I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N. If you need me, don’t hesitate to call me. Be safe. Ok bye.”

And out the door he went.

You blinked and smiled. Jimin was an adorable coworker, always so excited to see you and very good at following orders. Almost like a puppy, especially when his hair got shaggy. Even the way he often pushed back his hair was like a dog scratching at his ear. Since things were slowing down, you decided to begin the nightly shut down of all the machines since you wouldn’t be cooking or baking anything else for the night.

The time ticked by, and then it was time to lock up. You jumped over the counter and turned the sign. The only things left on were the lights and the speakers as you blasted your favorite K-rock songs as you swept and mopped. You were thinking about your Halloween costume since your friend was holding a party at her place on the spooky holiday.

Maybe you’d see if you could fit your old maid costume or see what outfits went well with a pair of leggings. Nothing too important or special. Just a chance to get drunk with candy corn flavored vodka and cinnamon soju made just for the fall season.

Last thing you had to do was throw out the trash, so you turned off the lights and the speakers and threw your messenger bag on before heading out, making sure to keep the left over blood orange crinkle cookies. You had given the café the recipe, yes, but you yourself hadn’t had the treats in a while.

However, you heard the clanking of trash cans. Was it another cat or a stray dog? Two eyes glowed back at you once it noticed another being near it.

“Ya! Get away from there!” You called, too tired to think about the danger of approaching a potentially rabid animal.

It seemed to back up, though. Then you turned on your phone flashlight, allowing you to confirm the animal was not a cat. It was bigger. It was much bigger than you had seen any dog. Not just any dog. Wolf. It was a full grown wolf that seemed to be not just beast, but had human like legs covered in tan fur. It got on all fours as if faced you. It fan towards you, and you thought you were a goner. Instead, the creature dashed away, but not before you caught the glimmer of silver with green emerald eyes.

That was Jimin’s necklace around that thing’s neck. You ran after it without any hesitation, forgetting about the trash and not realizing that somehow you’d have to fight a wolf to get back your co-worker’s iconic necklace. It wasn’t running as fast as you thought a beast like that could go, so he was easy to catch up with.

The wolf was hiding behind a tree whining.

You held up your hands, “Hey, you have something that belongs to my friend. I just want it back and then I’ll leave you alone.”

“I’m...so...hungry. Stay. Stay back!” It growled.

“So you can talk…” You looked around and saw a nearby convenience store that was still open, such as most things were. “Stay here.”

You quickly went to the store and bought all the stale and warm fried chicken you could afford. Then you dashed back and placed the buckets near the tree and said that you were going to back up. However, you were not given the chance as the form lunged at the poultry. It was no mistaking it now in the moonlight and the street lights. This was a werewolf, something you believed to only reside in fairy tales and fiction of tradition.

There was nothing you could do except watch as it swallowed most of the food whole and spit the bones to the side. Once it seemed to calm down a bit, it waved its tail as it sniffed around your bag. You gave the creature the box of orange cookies that resided inside, the only thing it could be smelling.

“Thank you.” The werewolf said. “I forgot to stock up food and began to wander.”

“You’re welcome.” You replied with a smile. “I should get home, but I need that necklace around your throat. It belongs to a guy I work with.”

It retreated when you said that, starting to stand and walk away.

“Oh, come on. He might like me back if I return it to him.”

The creature stopped in his tracks and asked, “You like him?”

Your cheeks became heated. Did you really just tell something like that to a stranger? A werewolf too?

“Y-yeah. He’s a dumb guy I work with, really sweet. I’m not his type. He’s out of my league, but I would be happy enough if he were grateful to me. He wears that every day. The chain snapped earlier, and I’m sure you just found it near the building, so please.” You stuck your hand out.

“You’re not out of his league. He’d be lucky to go out with a person like you.” His body language was almost...shy?

You laughed, “How could you know?”

“Because I’m him.” He turned around and you saw the unmistakable brown eyes of your coworker. “Y/N, it’s me. It’s Jimin.”

“...what?” You blinked. “You’re joking. Just give me the necklace, and I--”

“You come in everyday smelling like honey because you put it on your toast. You memorized the order of that cute business man because you think he’s cute, totally your type. You always make sure that secretary's order of donuts are ready for her ahead of time. Y/N, please believe me.”

By instinct, you stepped back when he stepped forward.

He sat down, “When you scratch the back of my head, I love it the most.” and he got into a non-threatening position.

You approached cautiously and scratched the back of his head. Just like Jimin, he closed his eyes and smiled, putting his head back as to get more of your touch. It was him.

“So, I’ve got a crush on a werewolf.” You laughed at yourself. “Seems just about right.”

“Would you like to have a werewolf boyfriend?” He asked.

You shrugged, “Sure. Why not?”

#BTS #Jimin #Park Jimin #Bangtan #Jimin x Reader #Reader x Jimin #nb!Reader #Female!Reader #Male!Reader #enby!reader #non gender specifc #Werewolf!Jimin #Human!Reader #Afterhours #food mention #food tw #Day 23 #Peachtober #Inktober

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birthdaylobotomy · 6 years ago

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felt like writing some horror. tw for body horror and gore, as well as disturbing imagery and ideas

when i was little, maybe 8 or 9, i heard about these monsters. these beasts. my mom told me they came and peeled the skin off of you, and the chewed off your flesh. they didn’t eat you, no, they weren’t interested in that. they just wanted to rip you apart out of some sick desire. when she told me about that i wasn’t really scared. after all, i had torn up clams that would wash onto the shore. i was sick too.

but then i got sent away to go to the state school. away from the ocean and away from my mom. there was something about me that was different, the men in white uniforms informed. i didn’t really get it at the time. i thought i was like anybody else.

i could inside of myself. i could see all the million colors and patterns and the beating and quaking. i could see the ugly little snakes that coiled around my organs, black with no teeth. i could turn my eyes inside out and spend hours seeings it all pulse and shimmy. everyone else at the school could too, but they never described seeing the ugly fat snakes, so i left them out of my descriptions. and when i was 13, and the doctors started cutting as all up, they didn’t see any midnight serpents. so i told myself it was fake, and i was just thinking it all up.

i wasn’t really good with the other kids. i liked to make them bleed. two would be talking and i’d throw a rock at ones head and beat the other with a stick. i’d ambush them, and leave them to bleed out on the grass. it was some sort of game i thought. some kind of trick of the eye.

the doctors wanted us to start using our vision more outwardly. stop spending all your time looking in sort of thing. some kids couldn’t really handle the pressure- we’d be doing some test, like throw that pebble across the field, and a kid’s head would just pop. explode, right on his shoulders. thinking too hard i guess. it freaked everyone out, and so the doctors started injecting us with shit. once a month, a kid would be chosen. the kid would get a shot, do a test, and if he lived he was sent off to fight, and if he died, he died.

the night before it was my day, the snakes threw a party in my guts. i looked inwards and saw them all tangled up in each other. they were filled with wretched joy. “You are gonna die!” they cried. they were so happy.

the next day a sleep deprived i told the doctors i didn’t want the shot. i told them about the serpents and how they spoke to me. the doctors, i don’t think they heard me.

so i killed them.

i ripped them apart like little clams. shell from shell. skin from meat. they all died.

when i looked in i didn’t see any organs. i didn’t see any lungs or heart or bones and beating. i only saw worms, millions of little black confetti, dancing, singing, squirming-

i hated it.

i went to look back out- away! away from this mess, away from his hollow horror of killer worms-!

but i realized i was unable. my eyes locked. rolled far far back. my mouth began to foam as i clawed at my face, as i scraped at my skin. but all i heard was the chorus, the singing. i howled but could only spit. i was killing them. i was killing the doctors and the kids and the staff and i was breaking the glass and bleeding and spitting-

when i was little, a boy filled with monsters and thick black poisions, i ripped apart a million humans. and i haven’t stopped.

until today. my eyes turned out today. i looked out. i looked at my hands and saw them torn open, stale blood and old meat. there is nothing inside anymore. no organs and no beasts. i’m still a thin bruised kid.

and i am on the beach. the water is darker, and the world is quiet. i look down the shore.

and i see a million dead clams.

#horror #horror tw #body horror #body horror tw #writing #my writing #text #txt

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thegooseprincess · 5 years ago

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The 5 Times Tony Stark Was Not in the Spider Protection Squad and the 1 Time He Was

This one time, I was out in the woods with my mentor, when she suddenly screamed bloody murder and I thought something awful had happened but it was just a cockroach. Here’s chapter 2. Enjoy.

**********************************************************************************

II. The Rescuing of the Recluse

"Your hand is shaking again."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious. And if the next words out of your mouth are 'You're welcome, Lieutenant Sarcasm', I'm going to throw this screwdriver at you."

Peter rolled his eyes. "Whatever, Mr. Stark!"

He turned back to the web-shooter he was working on. It had been a weird morning. Weird, but also really, really good. He had been unexpectedly woken at 4 am by his phone buzzing on his nightstand and in a sleepy haze, he had hit the 'answer call' button without even checking the caller ID.

"H'lo?" he'd mumbled deadly into the phone.

"Hey, Peter! You up?" came the obnoxiously chipper, yet comfortably familiar voice on the other end.

"M'str Stark?" He had pushed himself into a sitting position, rubbing his eyes and stifling a large yawn. "I 'm now, I guess. 'S goin' on? You okay?"

There was a pause and Peter thought he heard a slow, shaky breath.

"You're still a fan of the Avengers, right?"

"Yeah?" Peter had replied cautiously, unsure of just where this too-early-in-the-morning conversation was going.

"How would you like to meet them today? A few of them, I mean... And not in a fight this time."

Peter remembered feeling as if his eyes were going to bug out of their sockets. Before he knew it, he had agreed to spend the week at the Compound with Tony to meet the Avengers when they arrived. Peter grinned as he remembered the conversation. After he had hung up, he had eaten a nice breakfast, cleared the idea with May, and waited for Happy to pick him up outside his apartment. Now, he and Tony were buried deep in their respective projects in the lab at the Compound. All of Tony's jittery early morning restlessness had worn off, and Peter could tell that his nerves were kicking in. He could assume that the man's thoughts were spiraling out of control, as they often did, no matter how hard he tried to conceal it. Peter started fishing for a conversation topic to distract him.

"Mr. Stark? Am I going to be meeting the others as Spider-Man or Peter Parker?"

"Hm?" Tony hummed, not looking up from his work. "It's up to you, kid."

Peter's smile faded slightly. Tony had been acting so distracted and stressed the past few weeks, and the imminent return of the old team only seemed to exacerbate his anxieties. Peter couldn't blame him after what happened in Siberia. Tony hadn't told him everything, but he could fill in the gaps. Without thinking, he placed a hand on top of his mentor's to steady it. Tony stared at it for a moment, as if unsure of what to do, and Peter quickly pulled away, hoping he hadn't done something too terribly wrong. He felt his face burning red.

"It's okay, kid," Tony finally said. To Peter's surprise, he reached over and squeezed his hand reassuringly. "Thanks for coming over on such short notice. Introducing yourself as Spider-Man would be fine, but I know for a fact that they would love to meet Peter Parker."

The older man cleared his throat awkwardly and turned back to his project. Peter followed suit, his smile returning. They worked in comfortable silence for a few minutes, simply enjoying each other's company. That is, until the peace was shattered like glass. Without warning, Tony let out a blood-curdling scream, nearly startling Peter out of his chair as he automatically reached for his half-finished web-shooter.

"Mr. Stark?!"

Tony was grasping at his chest and sucking in deep breaths of air. "Peter!" he said, his voice cracking a little. "One of your eight-legged friends just skittered over my hand and across my repulsor. Kindly get it out of my lab!"

Peter let out a relieved laugh. "That's all? I thought someone was murdering you!"

"Yeah?! I think it was a brown recluse, so I was probably on the verge of being murdered!" Tony sputtered. He jabbed a finger at a dark shape scurrying across the table. "There it goes! There it goes!"

"Drama queen," Peter muttered, loud enough for someone without enhanced hearing to pick up on. He hopped up onto the table in a single bound.

"Don't sass me!" came the indignant reply.

There it was. There was the Tony that Peter knew. He grinned.

The spider was now huddled up against a tool kit. It was most definitely a recluse, but Peter shoved a pang of anxiety aside. At least it wasn't radioactive. He dove for it, knocking the kit to the ground in the process. A box of screws turned over and scattered across the table and many rolled to the floor. The spider also fell to the floor and made a run for the shadows.

"Watch it, Underoos! You're breaking my lab!"

Peter launched himself again and nearly collided with DUM-E. The robot gave a high-pitched chirrup as he picked up a fire extinguisher and swung it towards the spider-kid, inadvertently knocking over all of the glassware at Peter's work station. Peter tried to catch the beakers, but to no avail. Chemicals spilled out everywhere and there was a loud BANG! as they reacted with each other. Some loose papers suddenly burst into flame. Both Peter and Tony were yelling now. DUM-E beeped excitedly and doused them both with the extinguisher. They both shut up. The fire burned.

Peter reached to wipe some of the foam off his face, but just ended up smearing it. He snickered when he saw Tony was covered in the stuff too. Tony was trying to look put out, but was having difficulty due to the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. He wrested the extinguisher from DUM-E's claw and aimed it at the fire.

"Spider got away."

Tony shrugged. "I suppose he can stay. He can earn his keep by eating any other crawlies that make their way in here." His voice dropped a couple octaves, "The Lab's Best Defender." He chuckled at his own joke. Peter laughed too, not quite knowing why Tony found it funny. And suddenly they couldn't stop. Tony tried to pick some of the foam out of Peter's hair, but he was shaking too hard from laughter to really have much success.

"Pete, buddy, you are without a doubt the weirdest kid I have ever met!"

"Look who's talking, weirdo! The Lab's Best Defender!" he mimicked Tony, who laughed even harder.

He looked like he wanted to say something, but he just picked a piece of foam off his arm and flicked it at Peter. Overhead, FRIDAY's cool voice sounded through the speakers. "Boss, the Avengers have arrived."

They were still giggling uncontrollably as Tony opened the door. Steve, Natasha, and Clint stood on the doorstep. Peter took one look at the startled expressions on their faces and burst into another fit of full-on laughter.

"Hey guys!" Tony somehow managed to say through streams of tears.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

#tony stark #peter parker #irondad #mcu #marvel #fic #fanfic #spiders #dum E #spider son #spiderman #ironman

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put-them-thangs-away · 1 month ago

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i NEED to go on another episode rewatch spiral but i also NEED to not put myself through this episode again help

#why am i like this why #screaming edens #like i NEED to pick it apart like im sure i will not be finding any pleasant hopeful foreshadowing BUT I STILL WANT TO TRY #G O DDDDddddDdDd!!!!!#jesus FUCKING christ #i am eating glass i am throwing up blood i am foaming at the mouth #jack and joker #jack and joker the series #jack & joker #jack & joker the series

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marchm-langdon · 6 years ago

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Resurrection

Plot: Emma comes to stay at the hotel for James grand opening when things done go as plan with her boyfriend while staying at the hotel

Word count: 4,902

Warnings: mentions to abuse, small bit of blood and gore, smut, murder

Note: I do not condone or try to seem like I know everything about abuse.

August 23, 1926 this grand hotel, The Hotel Cortez, had just been announced to open, and the word was getting out amongst all the ladies where everyone ended up hearing about the handsome bachelor that was James Patrick March. The word was that he was opening, and inviting everyone to the various parties he was throwing there for the future. Basically everyone was invited to these parties and all the girls wanted to go to meet the bachelor in the hopes of ended up catching his affections.

This short, small, blonde haired girl, with emerald eyes, was walking into the hotel with a guy by her side. She was smiling, wearing a dress that was a bluish green color with matching heels, holding onto the guys arm. She seemed happy besides him, but, secretly ,wasn’t at all. The guy besides her was a tall, well dressed man with black hair, and ocean blue eyes. He was a long time friend of the owner, James Patrick March, which meant he had come to celebrate the opening. He walked Into this large room that had a table with several bottles of alcohol such as gin, champagne, and scotch to name a few with a big chunk of ice for anyone who wanted some with their drink, and a record player on a table besides the couch that was in the room near the entrance slightly. There wasn’t music playing since everyone was chatting amongst themselves in the big room some making small talk while others was talking about business matters.

The girl looked around not leaving the males side as the male went over to the famed owner. He smiled, “ ah the lovely mr. March. It is a pleasure to finally see that you have opened your marvelous hotel. I know it was years in the making for this to come into light as you have wanted it.” The lady besides him didn’t say a word. She looked down a bit then looked up to look at James. James looked nodding to the guy, “ ah! I am very proud to see that you, are here and, like it as much as i do.” He smiled bending down and taking the girls left hand pressing a gentle kiss to it as a hello, “ it is lovely to meet you. I am James Patrick March.” The girl looked, “ Emma. It is very lovely to meet you also.”

Emma smiled some, as she courtesies to James letting go of her arm around the guy she was with. She moved seeing a friend and quietly asked, “may i talk to my friend, Pandora, you’ve met her before?” The guy nodded, barely giving Emma the time of day, as Emma went over to a friend. Pandora whispered to Emma, “ is this not an amazing hotel?” Emma nodded, “ yes.” She bit her lip and pandora teased her some, “you like Mr. March.” Pandora smiled then Emma blushed and shook her head, “ He is attractive, but you know I am with-“ pandora nodded, “ I know. It is such a sad thing when you could find someone better and richer.” Emma shook her head, “ I can’t…”

only having one friend who she’s known for ages they spoke for a bit; As quietly James spoke to the guy more for a second, “ why do you not stay here for a couple of days? I can set up a nice room for you both to stay near me if you wish?” The guy nodded, “ we would love that. I am very glad you invited us to come to this astounding place.” Her boyfriend moved to look back at Emma before back at James.

James looked at Emma, “ please do stay for dinner. I would enjoy it gratefully.” The guy nodded, “sounds wonderful we will stay.” James looked, “ please give me a minute.” The guy moved, going back over to Emma, to let James talk. James grabbed a glass of champagne that was on the table. He grabbed a drink stirrer, that was made of glass, to get everyone’s attention tapping it against the glass of champagne. Immediately everyone went quiet looking at the handsome man. Emma looked at the brown haired male before looking at her significant other. James had given his speech thanking everyone for coming and talking about the circumstances of which why they were in this room. At the end of his speech he got a bottle of champagne then shook it; opening it letting the foam spray on him and in his mouth. Having his eyes dead set on the blonde in the room, not being able to keep them off of her.

after the speech people were talking and enjoying the party some moving downstairs to dance. Emma, Pandora, Em’s partner, and James was still in the original room. Pandora was still talking to Emma about some various stuff like dresses, various clothes, some make up, but pandora had ended up getting up excusing herself to leave to go downstairs for her to leave. Once Emma knew she was alone with her partner and James she just tensed up the air showing it a bit being a stuffy feeling almost around Em and her partner.

The room was already cleaned, having the dinner table set, and James could sense the air in the room, especially around them, so decided to try to help the situation, “you two must be starving. Why do we not eat? The food should be ready pretty soon. If you wish to join.” Emma smiled opening her mouth to say yes, but the guy nodded cutting her off before she could say anything, “ we will.” Emma got up going to a chair and James pulled the chair out for her. She sat in the chair as James pulled her up close to the table; the guy sat down as James did also before sipping some scotch. James was close to Emma without really thinking about it. Her partner sitting a bit away from them getting a bit angry that she sat near his friend.

The girl kind of had a moment of thought. What would happen when she was alone with her “boyfriend,” and what would happen if she was? She was thinking about all of this trying to keep herself calm with all of this going on with who she was with, and what it would do to her. She kind of ended up eating quietly letting the men talk. Not paying attention at all, but over hearing James talk about some various stuff about the hotel. After dinner was over, which having Emma barely eaten today, she got up looking at James, “ May you escort me to my room?” James nodded getting up, “ Please, give me a moment.” He walked out of the room before Emma could ask if she could come or what was happening. James went down to the lobby to get their keys for them. Emma looked at the male she was with shaking some now.

Her significant other looked at “his girl” as he stood up walking over to her and whispered to her, “ you better be astounding for while we are here. If you think about whoring yourself out to my friend I will make sure you do not think about it again.” Emma looked at him nodding looking down being a bit scared again it only growing more. Starting to shake she whispered, “ I will not-“ she couldn’t say another word before she was silenced hearing the door knob turn. The door opened as moving away from the boy the girl simply just tried to seem like nothing was happening. Hoping she wasn’t failing in all of this.

She wanted to cry, but pushed back some tears. James opened the door walking in; handing the key to his friend while still holding Emma’s to open her door for her, having separate rooms, as he turned on his heels to show them where they were to stay. Leading them down the hall as James walked he felt a weird sense of energy coming from Emma. He lead her to her room, which was right next to James, and opened the door. The guy however was a bit away from Emma and James. Emma walked in but was way too scared to say anything but give a simple, “ I wish you a good night.” Not looking at James as she heard the door close. Playing and hoping that HE would not do anything to her tonight.

After changing and doing her normal routine. It felt like eternity she had been in there, and would feel even worse in the moments to come. Pulling the sheets back she stopped a force telling her to stop and hide. She almost did it, thinking about how easy it would be, instead of that she just opened her door to see where a knock came from as the guy she was with standing in front of her. Gulping she looked up at him. A gust of fear over came here making her be paralyzed almost. Wanting to flee but didn't have the ability to. A loud noise was heard from the next room as James was about to get changed for bed in his undershirt and underwear only thinking nothing would happen. He didn’t feel like killing tonight or so he thought it would be like normal, but the walls were Thin on this side of the hotel. James stopped listening hearing some small, faint, yelling with noises of someone being hit as well. Feelings like he had to do something he walked out of his room. Marching to where he heard the noise.

Pausing for a second before listening again. The guy was slapping Emma for several things that didn’t even make sense or reason as to why. The guy always thought Emma was more than what she was since she never even did anything before; Hell this was her first “boyfriend” for that matter. So why would she do anything terrible? Some thoughts racked up in her mind doubting what she could or even would do. She felt like she couldn’t do anything like even breathing without being yelled at.

Getting on top of Emma she yelled at the guy, “ get off me!!” James had to do something, realizing it was from Emma’s room, as he busted into the room. He pulled the guy off her before getting a knife of his. Slicing the guys throat open he gushed blood it getting on Emma. James smiled having more satisfaction then he thought he would from killing someone he thought of as a friend; the female shook more but not screaming a little bit of joy sparking in her. She had dealt with this for almost five months; being use to him doing this every night they were near each other.

James wasn’t going to stand for this behavior; Being disgusted by the behavior he held the knife moving to let the body fall on the ground. With a thud he laid lifeless bleeding out a little bit. Something about her spoke to him when she wasn’t screaming about watching him kill. He looked at Emma, “ are you fine?” Emma glanced at James from looking at the dead body. She nodded some but couldn’t speak or even say a word. All her emotions were stopped being just astonished by all of this, and the man standing in front of her holding the bloody knife in his hand with blood on the floor, it also dripping from the knife, bed and her. Making herself stand she looked at James then shakingly walked over, without going near the blood on the floor, and hugged him. She was thankful to him for finally doing something she needed to get rid of. Being surprised by the girls reaction James just looked at her for a moment then hugged her back after tossing the knife to the floor for now. Not caring what happen to it knowing it would get cleaned up.

Letting go from the hug after a few moments Emma sat on the bed closing her eyes, exhausted from the situation, and being weary of the blood and knife on the floor. Still not knowing what to do anymore about this situation. An onslaught of feelings came over her without saying a word she sobbed a bit. Not knowing what to do anymore and knowing She now couldn’t go back without the guy with her. She would be shamed for it and probably disowned. March moved wiping her tears away, “ please do not cry. It will be fine; do you need to stay here?” His voice was calm and caring wanting to make sure she was alright. A silence fell between them as the blonde gathered herself together. A part of her was scared, but knew how things had to be done for her to feel safe. Hopefully happy also.

“May we talk in your room after I clean up?” She said then James nodded, “ I can have the body cleaned up.” As Emma nodded she went to the bathroom. Cleaning up, showering to get the blood off of her. While in the shower she got side tracked her thoughts wondering about what did and could happen. Would she be happy living here? Could she make a life here? Once out she put on a clean night gown then something over her to make sure she was modest in front of James. Walking out of the bathroom she looked at the empty room then walked out of hers to James right next door. Knocking she looked around. She knew how this looked to everyone else, a young girl going to a mans room late at night, but she partly did not care. James went over to the door opening it letting her in. As she walked in the door, James closed it locking it to give them privacy. Some that they would need in this moment.

Emma sat down in one of his chairs crossing her legs. She looked at the man before looking down. Was it right to do this after HE was killed? Why isn’t she freaking out about this? Could the man in front of her give her more of a future? All these thought ran through her head. She kind of fell Into herself but remained proper. James walked over to her sitting down near her, “ what will happen if you went back?” Emma straightened up in her seat, “well...” pausing for a moment to think about it, “if I do go back I will have questions to answer. People might think I did something....or we called it off. I will get blamed for it being over.”

James paused then nodded, “will it make it better if you did not come back and married me instead?” Being thrown for a loop she looked at James, “ you would...marry me? Why?” James nodded, “ I can tell you are a kind girl, and you did not do what most people would do if they saw me kill someone in front of them.” Yeah Emma didn’t freak out, but how could she when she was getting punished for everything she did? He released her from the prison she was in. She was grateful for all of this. Especially then wanting of him to marry her. Was she that special?

After thinking about it for a moment she knew it would be the best idea but wasn’t all the way in, “ will it be done in private?” Nodding in agreement he asked, “ is that a yes?” The girl titled her head then getting up walking over to James, “let me think about it, please?” She basically had no other choice inside, and he was attractive but was going to think about it. James smirked then nodded getting a ring he had made for when he was to marry; giving it to her to keep while she thought about it. Going back to the room for the night she couldn’t get the proposal out of her mind. Did he like her at all or was this just a last minute option? She couldn’t grasp why he wanted to do this. Sitting in her room on the bed sighing some falling asleep on the bed holding onto the ring. When she awoke in the morning to a knock at her door; she got up, sitting the ring that was now on the bed on the nightstand, answering the door. She looked around not seeing anyone, but when she looked down she saw a tray of food with flowers. Bending down picking it up she took it inside closing her door. There was some eggs, toast, and bacon on the plate. They were a mixture of roses and lilies in the thing of flowers. She smiled then blushed some seeing a note tucked under the flowers. Getting the note she read it. It was a heartfelt note from James hoping she was okay, and that he wished to make her comfortable while staying here even if she does not wish to marry him.

She got the ring from the night stand looking at it. She sighed some then looked back at the note; it felt normal to her strangely enough; James made her feel that way and loved already even barely knowing him. She went back near the plate, pulling it closer to her, holding the note. Keeping the ring on the nightstand for now.

Emma was warmed by the thought that he wanted and cared for her so much, but right now she was starving so ate her food almost inhaling it. Once finished she looked at the flowers. Setting them on her nightstand besides her. Around the middle of the day, she went to find James. Going to his room first but to no avail; so went around looking for him. Hearing something in a room on another floor that she didn’t even know existed she walked in. Seeing James whip this girl with barbed wire type of whips pounding into her dead body. Emma paused finding herself frozen not knowing what or how to feel about this. Finally getting the courage she ran out of the room before James noticed hoping he wouldn’t , but he did notice hearing her footsteps run away from the room. He stopped fixing himself running after her. He was wearing his mask and his bottom half, it being undone some, grabbing her hand. Emma stopped looking at James. Shaking not looking at him having nothing to say to him. James couldn’t say anything for his actions, and she couldn’t say anything about her emotions them being a tangled mess in her mind. Suddenly she took the mask off, “do you normally do these kind of things?” Giving a small shameful nod to Emma looking at her.

Em looked down then mumbled, “if we marry will you kill like that ever again? The whole…” she couldn’t say the words. He shook his head, “ no I will kill, but not do that stuff while I do it.” Nodding Em kind of came to the realization she was mostly alone. Having it hit her that she did need to marry James. Being shaken up still about what all has happened while staying in the hotel. Maybe her thoughts was quick and being a bit rushed, but she thought she had to do it having adrenaline in the moment. Barely knowing him couldn’t stop her. Was it right to do this? Would she regret this if she did this? Should she live to the fullest not being scared of anything?

However at dinner she sat there picking at her food. Sitting at the end of the table with James. It was a quiet evening as either of them still felt a bit bad in their own ways. Putting down her silverware she spoke up, “ James, May we speak for a moment?” James looked up at Em nodding, “ why yes. What is it about?”

Changing her mind of what to say she asked, “ May I stay in your room for the night?” Nodding james mumbled, “ why yes you may. Are you alright?” Not answering him she let the silence fall. After that they then retired to James’ room for the night. Being quiet this evening Em ended up excusing herself to her room for a moment. While in her room she held onto the bed frame after grabbing the ring. She closed her eyes then whispered, “ just say yes. There is no reason to not say yes.” James got worried so walked in on her saying that hearing it partly. He walked over to her taking her hand hearing the ring drop to the floor, “if you wish to take up my offer-“ Emma cut him off saying it really fast without thinking,”I will!” It wasn’t a yell just too loud for the both of them being so close to each other. A silence falling between them for a second before James made Em look at him. “Are you sure about this decision? I do not want for you to do something you regret.”

Emma nodded it being a spur of the moment decision, “ I’m sure…” swallowing hard after then she moved to walk out then James held her wrist, “ please, do stay for the night in my room? You should not be alone. I am afraid of what might happen if you are.” Em looked at James, as he was picking up the ring from the floor, then nodded, “if it is alright just nothing for now till we are married as if we are courting.” Having James nodded in agreement, putting the ring on her hand, She knew she had no reason to not trust her soon to be husband, but thoughts of that night and what did happen lingered in her mind. How could it not being so fresh and freeing being away from him? If anything happened she would not hold back. Even if maybe it was weird for the whole situation and sudden in what was happening.

Getting a bit closer to each other over the course of the time, having spent a month almost together in total. Shaking Emma knew the wedding was tomorrow basically today since it was so early in the morning. Whispering to herself, “god what if he calls it off? What if he does not like me anymore?” Laying there not being able to sleep at all that night as when it was about eight in the morning she looked at the time. Getting up walking shakily, still, to her dress in the closet.

Putting it on by herself managing it somehow. Emma waited not eating at all; when it was time for her to walk down she got her bouquet. Wearing an ivory long sleeve dress, with lace all over. Her veil had lace all over it also, fixing it to cover her face, as she walked down to the lobby where James was and the priest. It was only them and the priest not even letting her friend know she was doing this. Being scared of what she or others might say if they knew. Seeing the time she rushed down to the stairs scared she would be late. Stopping near the stairs so she didn’t seem like she was rushing.

Walking going down the stairs she looked at James. Getting to the end, after taking her hand, James held her hand being able to tell she was shaky. He was smiling holding her hand tighter to hopefully make her feel more comfortable as the minutes went by. She did find some comfort in this calming down slightly.

As the wedding was ending she kissed James then he picked her up taking her to, now, their room. Once in the room James laid her down as she started to shake bad again being nervous. Making out with her; she followed him feeling his hands undoing her dress. She took her veil off, tossing it to the floor, undoing his clothes as well as fast as possible. She felt like she couldn’t take it off fast enough having a rush of lust overcome her, but she paused realized now she was naked in front of her new husband, him also being naked now. Her bruises were showing, for the first time, now she had on her body from HIM. Her cheeks grew hot and red looking away. James stopped looking at them, “ did you and him ever consummate?” She shook her head, “ no. He never even kissed me or fully courted me. All I had was an ask then to stay near him.” Nodding he ran his fingers over the bruises. Putting her arms around his neck he kissed every bruise on her body, “ I will make sure this does not happen again to you ever.” kissing her neck some after saying that. She closed her eyes some whispering, nodding, tiredly, “ do as you wish...” James nodded, “ yes mrs. March.” Kissing down her neck then moving, pulling her closer to him. He rubbed himself some before just ramming into her. Out of a reaction she hit him somewhat hard. Instinct came over her moving her hand.

A small chuckled came from him before Emma grabbed the gun from his night stand. Placing it to his head she smirked some, “ now that hurt Mr. March...” James had a mixture of shock and a smirk on his face being turned on more by this. He took the gun from her with one hand the other slightly pleasing her, “ now pointing a gun at me is not such a good behavior. Especially considering that it is loaded, dear.” Emma bit her lip managing a mumble, “ can’t handle a gun to your face?” James shook his head, “ I can, but you do not want to be a wife and a widow in one day?” Emma nodded realizing his point even if it was fun to be dangerous. She kissed his neck as he continued again not really showing mercy. She knew he killed it wasn’t a secret to her, and walking in on him doing it wasn’t hiding it from her at all. she was fine with it as long as he didn’t get caught.

Em moaned loudly arching her back. Getting through the pain just feeling amazing now, and better then she had before having James inside her made her feel loved and wanted for the first time in her life by a man. James held her hand as she held his back. Smiling not caring what happened to her; he had came in her and pulled away then kissed down her stomach to her clit. Giving some attention to it as he wanted to make sure she felt better then before. As she did feel amazing her moans filling the room. Almost screaming at some points so loud she felt the hotel could hear it all.

After a night full of passion and lust she held onto him falling asleep as he fell asleep also being in a happy state and peace of mind for once. Waking up early though he had that itching feeling and needed to kill. Knowing it won’t go away til he did he got up, getting dressed in a suit, then found someone that was staying by his hotel, who was a beggar, brought them back. He was thinking how to kill them, but decided to just hit them with a hammer then cut them up letting their bodies grow into nothing with acid.

There wasn’t screams but James was covered in blood cutting up the body trying to hurry back to Emma. He got the body to just bone with the acid and went back to Emma. She had just woken up when James walked in. She covered herself up sitting up. She saw the blood then got up and walked over to him. She made him look at her for a second. “Please tell me you got rid of the body.” She almost sounded like she was begging but was still demanding in the tone. He nodded then went to the bathroom. She stood there and sighed a little bit. Her mind now worrying he would get caught. Would he get caught a week after their marriage? Could she handle losing him already? Pushing away the thoughts to lay back down in the bed.

After getting out of the shower he walked out to get dressed. She got up, still unclothed, knowing if she only worried it would end bad for their marriage. Swallowing hard she helped him, tie his tie, before he put his hands on her waist pulling her close. She giggled moving putting her legs around his waist carefully to not mess up his suit. He moved his hands to her ass taking her back to bed. She whispered, “ we have to eat.” He shook his head, “it is not ready yet. But it is very impolite of me to be the only one dressed here. I think we might have to fix that. Don’t we, dear?” They were interrupted by a knock on the door before they could do anything else or she could nod as a yes. She looked, quickly covering up, as James got up going to the door opening it.

#ahs #american horror story #ahs hotel #james patrick march #james patrick march x emma #james march #james #james x emma #james x oc #oc #my ocs #fanfic #im genuinely anxious about this post #I really hope people like this #mr march #mr. march #uhm this fanfic might not even go well #this hopefully will be more than one part

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senor-plume · 3 years ago

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Our Summer of Sickness

I used to drink all of my beer on an empty stomach and when I would throw up she would come to the bathroom door to check on me or if my head was in the kitchen sink …spewing… she would run in from the other room and rub my back as I let it all go …usually a good six pack worth of beer would exit through my mouth

which I always thought was a major waste of brew

but when I began vomiting up foam she was concerned

“It’s not normal to have throw up look like that go to a doctor …pronto”

I ignored her advice and nightly I would vomit this foam stuff but it was on a beautiful summer morning that I found my wife on the back porch smoking a cigarette when it all turned serious

I wished her a good morning and lit up my own cigarette when I turned to her to say something or other when she gasped

“Kevin… you are yellow… your whole face is yellow. Let me see your eyes ( she was in nursing school at the time) so I showed her and she immediately got up saying “I’m calling your doctor right now.”

the next thing I know she is driving me to the hospital and I knew it was serious when they took me right in …no stop at the waiting room

they began taking blood and asking me questions like: “Have you been eating shell fish?”

But the scariest part was when they asked for a urine sample

now, I did notice that lately my piss was on the dark yellow side but there at the hospital I pee’d out a dark brown urine …looked like coffee and that spooked me to the core and I knew I was in for…something

I was in the hospital for four days as they nursed me back to health and when I came home I had more drugs on me than Elvis and MJ combined

turned out I had a dying pancreas (20 years of dinking will do that to you ...and all that time I prayed for my liver not knowing the pancreas can get fucked up as well)

my wife took amazing care of me and I am not exaggerating the tiniest bit when I say I would not have made it if not for her and her soups and glasses of juice and her complete confidence in me

and she’d wear her old cheerleader outfit and root me on as I quit drinking

the hard nights when beer could not be an option any longer

she was exactly what I needed at that time and I am so very glad we went through it together

seven years later we are no longer married and I drink responsibly no longer do I down eight beers a night I drink only when I feel like it which is very rare

my vice of choice is now the reefer which leaves your pancreas alone

those seven years ago though ‘The Summer of the Sickness’ is so far behind me now that when I do think about it it seems surreal how close I came to not having the chance to carry those bag of pills into my house and recover

the yellow faded…so did the beer cravings and my wife was a trooper as I became sober and healthy again

she never need to rub my back in the kitchen again

never a concern for my safety as I was living healthy and I have to admit that once I recovered I felt like a zillion bucks

I still owe her something for the kind deeds she did for me but I know in my heart that there is really nothing like saving someone’s life

so I now I always send her cards on the major holidays and think only good thoughts of her when I reflect on what we went through

that summer that summer

that summer was an odd one when I was so very sick and even odder is I look back fondly at that time

I was loved more that summer than all the other forty three years that came before and although I felt like death would grab me by my collar at any minute I’d go through it all again to receive that kind humanity just one more time

#TUMBLR POETRY #tumblr poets #poetry #poets #poem #lit #alt lit #creative writing poetry #werealllight

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lolabean1998 · 6 years ago

Text

Avengers Fanfic - 3rd Super Soldier (Part 4)

That night the whole team gathered for a team meeting and to get to know you. It was nice seeing everyone together, laughing and joking together. It made you think of a loving family, Steve and Bucky cooked up an old recipe from there childhood whilst everyone asked you questions and told stories, you were having too much fun to notice that Steve and Bucky already knew the answers to the questions you were asked. You tried your best to answer every question but there was only so much you could remember about yourself, your memories were spotty and blurred so you found it difficult to talk about your past or explain how you knew things about yourself like your favourite food or colour.

"Ok guy's settle down. Let the poor kid eat in peace, she's supposed to be resting. Doctors orders." Banner called as every one settled around the dinner table. The food was amazing, it was nothing fancy but never the less was incredible, the flavours dancing around in your mouth mixed with the happy family environment gave you an odd feeling of home. It had awoken something deep down inside that you didn't even realise was there, the sense of safety. At this moment, surrounded by new friends, great food and laughter, you felt untouchable, safe, snug... Home.

"What are you grinning at, Cheshire cat?" A young boy called Peter asked, chuckling at the huge grin plastering your face.

"I may be the Cheshire cat but you, my friend, are the caterpillar." You quipped cheerfully, you didn't have an answer to that question yet.

"Oooh, looks like you've got some competition there Sam, looks like Miss Y/N is giving you a run for your money." Peter teased as he helped clear the table.

"Miss Y/N? Jeez you make me sound old, call me Y/N/N!" You smiled making your way over to the sofa with everyone, ready for the movie. You didn't notice Bucky and Steve flinch at the nickname you had given, you had no idea that it was them that had given you the nickname almost a century ago. You found a spot on a sofa a little way from everyone else, all though you'd had a great meal and a laugh with every one you still felt the need to distance yourself a bit from the whole group. They were just so close knit, you didn't want intrude.

"That's not happening!" Bucky stated, picking you up from behind and carrying you over to the sofa right in the middle of the group.

"Bucky,what are you doing? Put me down, rabbit teeth!" You cried, feeling very confused about the reason behind his behaviour, not realising that you had used the nickname you had given him when you were little. Bucky placed you in a spot beside Steve, taking his spot on the other side.

"I grew into my rabbit teeth thank you very much!" Bucky snorted, giving you a cheeky grin to show he was only playing.

"Yeah but it took a good couple of years didnt Buck." Steve blurted through giggles. You sat awkwardly between the two, the feeling that you had missed the obvious washing over you in waves. Bucky noticed you stiff posture and pulled you towards him a little, rubbing your arm to reassure you.

"Will you clowns shut it so we can start the movie!" Tony called throwing a handful of popcorn your way.

"Clowns to the left of me, Jokers to the right, here i am, stuck in the middle with you." You sang just loud enough for Bucky and Steve to hear, pulling a very surprised glance from the pair of them. "What? I know stuff!" You claimed defensively. You spent the night watching Star Wars with the rest of the team, throwing popcorn to Peter whenever he came out with random facts about the movie. At some point during the night Bucky's arm had wrapped around your shoulders pulling you closer and you had snuggled comfortably into his side. The pair of you remained in that position for the entire night, too absorbed in the movie and eachothers warmth to notice the silent bets being made beneath your noses. When the movie marathon was finally over, the team dispersed disappearing to their rooms for some much needed sleep. Steve and Bucky walked you to your new room making sure you were ok before heading to their own rooms. It was plain and simple but Tony had still managed to kit it out with some great technology you didn't understand, the walls were bright and cheerful, the bed was soft and comfy, dressed in your favourite colour. There was a small desk tucked in the corner by the glass wall overlooking achres of green behind a gorgeous outdoor swimming pool. You scanned the room, looking for any other possible entry points besides the door, checking the onsuite bathroom pulling down the shower curtain as you went. Every one knows knows that's the first place a murderer would hide, Duh. Once you were certain the room was safe, you threw on the pair of pale blue pyjamas the were neatly folded on your bed and snuggled into bed, Closing your heavy eyes and swiftly drifting off to sleep. You hadn't been asleep long when the nightmares began again. Flashes of long needles pushing into your veins and different doctors and scientists all wearing that same cruel, blood chilling grin, rapidly became clearer and clearer until it felt as though she was there relieving the torture. The sound of your own screaming freed you from the haunting horrors of your past. Your once fluffy pyjamas now clung to your sweat soaked skin, the duvet had been launched across the room and was now covering the desk and there were several fist shaped dents in the concrete wall above your bed. You lay there for a moment catching your breath and gathering some form of composure before deiciding to take a cold shower, throw on a pair of jogging bottums and a sports bra and head to the training room.

You walked silently down the corridor opting to take the stairs instead of risking waking anyone with the unnecessarily loud ping of the elevator. The training room was dark and empty, with only the equiptment to keep you company. A punch bag in the corner of the gym caught your eye and you knew it was the perfect distraction from the night mares. You wandered cautiously over, keeping the lights off so you wouldn't draw attention if someone was to walk past. After scooting carefully past the rest of the equiptment you reached the large punch bag, although it looked brand new it already had several odd patches over it from being beaten by super humans with metal arms you figured. Taking a deep calming breath you took your position before dealing the bag a powerful blow to the centre, quickly followed by a procession of fierce hits and kicks. Allowing you body to take control and putting full force into every punch and kick, the memories of your H.Y.D.R.A training flooding back with each move you used. The memory of your first training session hitting you with full force, the yelling from the perverted commander ringing loud and clear in your ears, the teeth shattering jolt of electricity from the tazer stick they used running through your body like it did every time they used it. Muscle memory is a gift to most people but those few, it is the greatest curse of all. The memory of the high voltage tazer they used, had you dropping to the floor and foaming at the mouth reflecting the fits that foul weapon would induce. The fear of being tazed again had you up and fighting again the minute you regained control of your body, each time you rose your hits would be harder and more precise, splitting each bag you used. You didn't know how long you had been there, reliving the same memory over and over again unable to escape but judging by the thick layer of sweat on your skin and the foam by your mouth it had been a good couple of hours. You lay fitting and foaming at the mouth when Bucky arrived, he too had been suffering from nightmares. It wasn't until he turned the gym lights on that he saw you shaking on the floor, foam oozing out your mouth and every muscle in your body twitching and tensing making the veins in your face and neck pop with rage. He instinctively rushed over to wake you from your trance. By the time he reached you, you were already up on your feet and back to attacking the punch bag in front of you, handing it a powerful upper cut and splitting yet another bag. He could hear you muttering words of instruction to yourself as you changed the bag, but they were odd, you weren't talking to yourself you were repeating the demands of some one else.

"Y/N, Y/N, it's not real you can stop. Come home Y/N!" Bucky soothed carefully edging closer to you, his movements slow so he wouldn't startle you. He knew startling you would cause even more trouble. But just as he got within a couple of feet, the instructions changed, you were reliving another memory, triggered by his approach. Before he knew what was happening you had spun round to face him and were throwing punchs and kicks left, right and centre. Without meaning to Bucky had started a battle he desperately didn't want to fight, but you were relentless the instructions being bellowed at you were slipping off your lips like a mantra. "Come on doll, i need you to wake up! This isn't real!" Bucky called but you were too far gone, he was out of options. He skillfully brought the fight to the mats, where you couldn't as much damage, the whole time using defensive moves so he didn't harm you. "F.R.I.D.A.Y I'm going to need some help down here." he called helplessly.

"I have notified the Team, they are on their way!" F.R.I.D.A.Y replied almost immediately.

"Come on Y/N stop this please. You're home doll, you're home!" Bucky continued trying to get through to you, trying to pull you from the horrors that had engulfed you. Within seconds, the team arrived, bursting through the door. Banner's face immediately crumpled into an angry glare when he saw, Y/N fighting Bucky. "Come on doll, i really need you to stop now. If you don't Banner's gunna kill me." Bucky pleaded, dodging several different moves from a multitude of different martial arts. Sam and Peter went to help Bucky but were hurriedly pulled back by Steve and Banner.

"If we go in now we're only going to freak her out more, we need to think about this instead of going in guns blazing." Steve commanded, looking back up to see you rapidly becoming more and more aggressive, Bucky had no choice, he was going to have to fight. "You're going to have to fight back, it's the only way you get out of this Bucky." Your fist faultered at the mention of Bucky's name, somewhere deep inside you heard. Seeing this gave Steve an idea. "Ok here's the plan." Steve spun round to face the team, "Parker, i need you and Clint on those beams, on my mark, fire to disable only and avoid any tazers. Vision you and Wanda jumpin once the rest of use have her held down, i need you to step in if we can't get through to her. the rest of you surround the mats and make sure you go unnoticed. Let's go." The team split up, taking their designated posts,waiting for the signal. Bucky continued talking to you and trying to reach you, he couldn't help thinking he could have prevented all of this if he had just stayed with you. Once Bucky had guided you to the centre of the room Steve gave to signal, Parker and clint immediately fired, covering you in webs and nets. As soon as you were down the rest of the group launched into action, pinning you down so Banner could give you a sedative. The second the needle touched your skin you let out a petrified scream, the fear in your voice sent Bucky flying to the rescue tearing the needle from Banners hand before it could pierce the skin.

"We do this the hard way with out needles or people snooping around in her head." Bucky insisted, the sound of your terrified screams and the raw determination in your struggle for freedom was too much to handle. "Hey Y/N/N, i need you to come home now. Its Bucky and Steve, we're here to take you home." Bucky soothed, his flesh arm softly stroking your wet hair.

"Leave him alone. Leave him alone." You mumbled, repeating the words over and over but this was different from what you had been saying before hand, this was from a much earlier memory.

"The bullies are gone now Y/N/N, you can go home now. They've gone there's no need to fight any more sweetie. Let Bucky take you home." Nat insisted softly, She had caught onto the memory that was now flashing through your mind. You were back home, squaring up to group of boys bigger and older than you, standing up for a kid you'd never met. She gave Bucky a gentle nudge with her foot, signalling for him to countinue, your screaming had subsided entirely now and your mumbles were getting quieter with every verse.

"It's time to come home doll. You were great, but its time to go home." Bucky whispered, your head now rested on his lap, the finger tips of his flesh hand tracing patterns up and down your arm.

"Come on Y/N/N, you're going to make Rabbit Teeth late for dinner." Steve added, keeping his voice warm and soft. You were almost home, almost back to reality but something dark still had a firm grasp on you setting in another wave of terror. Your panicking limbs fought against the webs and bodies hold them down.

"I WANNA GO HOME! LET ME GO! LET ME GOOOO!" You shrieked, the force of your voice tearing at your vocal cords as you kicked and screamed for your freedom.

"Pull her out!" Steve commanded, giving Vision and Wanda permission to dive into her mind. The pair linked hands before searching through the hellish maze of you mind for you. They found you trapped in a strange glass box covered in ice, screaming to be let out, Wanda didn't hesitate to shatter the glass box and grab a firm hold of your wrist, nodding to Vision to pull them out when she was ready. Your body froze as you zoomed through your mind past the doors to your nightmares and the reaching arms desperately trying to pull you into a torture chamber from your past, landing back into reality with a wheezing gasp and a thud.

"Y/N! Are you ok? How are you feeling? What hurts?" Bucky rushed, the second your eyes opened.

"My eye's." You groaned, staring up at Bucky's worried face. "My eye's hurt!" Bucky looked at you in confusion, he thought you're hands or head would be the first thing to come to mind. "But the pain will go once i stop looking at your ugly mug." You teased giving him a cheeky but painful grin. "What the fuck are you guys doing and why do i feel like I've been hit by 14 buses?" You questioned feeling exceptionally confused as to why everyone was sat around staring at you in the training room in the middle of the night. The team released your limbs, allowing you to sit up and give Bucky a peck on the cheek for being a good sport.

"Y/N what exactly do you remember?" Tony asked in his signature tone pulling a very confused look from you tired and sweaty face.

"Um, going to bed!" You stated matter of factly, feeling more confused by the second.

"So you don't remember anything at all about the last few hours?" Tony asked with concern, you didn't find this amusing any more, you're body hurt all over, you were drenched in sweat and Bucky had several bruises dotted across his face and arm. You sat there in silence for a moment, taking stock of your injuries; broken hand, bruised elbows, legs and feet, bloody knuckles, bruise to the back of your head and what felt like dried foam on the edge of your mouth. What the hell have you been up to girl? It was almost like Bucky had read your mind because just as you opened your mouth to speak he cut you off.

"You had a really bad night terror and took it out on a few punch bags until i stopped you and focused your attention on me." He explained carefully, making sure he didn't trigger any more nasty memories.

"Let's get you cleaned up!" Nat suggested when you struggled to remember what happened, she thought it was best to keep your mind off the the last couple of hours. You nodded in agreement before clambering to your feet.

"Good idea you stink!" Bucky teased covering his nose as he helped you up, your legs were sore and it hurt to stand, you tried to walk but stumbled over after the first two steps, the strength in your legs had been completely drained away and even your super human healing was struggling. Vision quickly swept you up in his arms before you could fall again whilst Bucky waited with Steve an Tony, watching as everyone went back to bed leaving the three of them alone together.

"Why has this only just happened now? Why not when she was healing? What changed?" Tony pondered, the vision of you screaming in fear on the floor still front and centre in his mind.

"We left her to sleep on her own. When she was recovering people were checking in on her all the time, this is the first time she's been alone." Steve pointed out after a moments thought.

"But what about during the night? Who was with her then?" Tony questioned, desperately trying to get to the bottum of your nightmares.

"I was, she was in my room. When ever she started talking or moving in her sleep, I'd tell her she was ok and hold her hand. She was so easily brought back i didn't think this would happen!" Bucky explained, guilt weighing heavy in his voice.

"This wasn't your fault Buck, you couldn't have known this was going to happen. None of us did." Steve reassured as the three men headed back to their rooms. Just as they were making their way down the corridor leading to their rooms they were met by Banner and Wanda.

"We need to talk!" Banner declared seriously, his face was twisted into a worried and sad expression.

"I'll leave you guys to it. I need to see if Y/N's ok." Bucky admitted before heading down to your room at the other end of the corridor. The group waited for him to be out of ear shot before continuing.

"What i saw in her mind, was horrifying. The traumas she's been through are taking over the memories of her past, the memories with you." Wanda reported with a heavy heart, the horrors she saw in your mind were enough to make her head explode.

"There's something else as well." Banner added, placing a comforting hand on Wanda's shoulder, he knew what she had to say next was going to shake the team to the core.

"She escaped with a USB full of all their mission plans, she hid it somewhere but the only way to find it is to make her remember." Wanda explained, silent tears rolling down her cheeks as she spoke. She could feel all the pain you had felt, see all the memories you had blocked out and it was crushing her.

"And if she remembers the chances of her surviving are slim." Banner finished, he knew that reliving the horrors of your past would destroy you.

Masterlist

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philcreateddan · 7 years ago

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I found you thinking about me

title: I found you thinking about me

words: 2k

warnings: none

the windows cleaner rushed au nobody asked for but I still wrote after reading it at @antiphannie ‘s blog

it’s 2am so I won’t feel responsible if there is a typo or the plot doesn’t make sense maybe it will in the morning idk

In retrospective he should have seen it coming. When his mom had phoned him with a cheering voice, a tone a bit too high, that should have been his first clue. The “meeting” she enthusiastically, too enthusiastically, sold him with his uncle should have been his second clue. The complete obviation of his financial situation during the whole conversation his third.

In retrospective, Dan should have known his mom had arranged him a job interview but he fell for it anyway.

Now it was too late.

Way too late because he is already flustered and his uncle (Al? diminutive of what he doesn’t remember) is very fast while explaining the job he has in mind for him. There is a moment of sheer panic where Al the uncle seems to consider the idea of having Dan as an actual part of the construction on the last apartment. His face must have been enough for the idea to die just as quick and at least Dan breathes in the certainty he won’t accidentally throw a hammer into someone’s eye.

He is waved goodbye with an hour for the next day and that is how Dan ends up getting a part time job cleaning windows.

The building his uncle is working on is not as big. Nine floors, the top one being renovated due a plumbing problem which must mean a nightmare for the other floors, Dan thinks. Most of the walls have gigantic windows and balconies, their fence also of glass. And those are Dan’s job.

For ten convenient pounds the hour Dan puts on a fluorescent yellow implements of security and with a few explanations of how to clean in the least amount of time, starts at the fourth floor. He has been given the floors of below while someone else was in charge of the top ones. Dan suspects his uncle has been part of that unfair measure but he wasn’t going to complain.

The scissor lift sounds and shakes and Dan is glad that of many of his fears, height isn’t one of them. The lift stops on the balcony of the fourth level and he cleans the glass fence first. Mr. Miyagi in mind, M.I.A. blasting on his ears he finishes quite fast then proceeds to jump into the balcony to clean the windows. And almost trips over a golden pig.

Dan recovers his balance before falling into what seems to be a soon to be tree and that is when he takes a moment to look at the balcony. What has been put on it by the owner. Apart from the golden pig of doom, at least a dozen of plants, and the too big to be a houseplant one, in pots of different colors and on the opposite corner, right between a chair and a coffee table, a cock. The rooster figurine looking completely off on cement instead of grass.

Again Dan has to recover in order to do his job. Whoever lives there, he thinks disappointed of the closed curtains, doesn’t have taste at all.

The rest of the day goes by fluidly, no other balcony the same but neither as shocking as the first one. It’s early enough for most of them to still have their curtains closed and some of them are not even home which is a relief. His arms are sore and he is asked to come back next week which is good because he needs the money but his unused muscles are already screeching in pain by the time he has to handshake his uncle.

The week goes by in a blink and the scissor lift guy recognizes him enough to wave and smile. Dan smiles and half bows and keeps walking by mind kicking himself for being so weird. Tyler, the creator is his companion this time and he is too immersed lip singing to notice at first that the curtains are open.

Dan steps on the balcony carefully this time. Nods the golden pig of doom and stops when he turns to the first window. The kitchen is visible. A few more plants are there and at least three boxes of cereal which must mean a family lives there. Explaining the weird figurines. If he gets a bit closer he can almost see the magnetic figures on the fridge.

But he is freezed on spot because there is someone in the kitchen. Someone who hasn’t seen him yet and is preparing a cup of coffee.

Dan considers for a moment moving swiftly to the other extreme of the balcony and start there instead but of course he is anything but swift and the movement alerts the person inside. There is a shared moment of panic when their eyes meet because Dan feels his skin heating with embarrassment and the other person looks like a scared deer in front of a car.

He reminds himself that he is working and should go on like the professional window cleaner he is so he takes a few breaths and focuses his sight on the immediate bright thing his peripheral vision has been focusing on to give the man some privacy.

Golden pig of doom owner is wearing bright yellow emojis pajamas.

Dan blinks a couple of times but before he can contain himself a snort erupts from his chest. That is, by far, the most hideous layer of clothing he has ever seen. Covers his hand and looks back up at the guy who follows his gaze and blushes. For a second there Dan thinks this guy is going to close the curtain, complain to his uncle and he will lose his job just like that. Ugly pajamas rolls his eyes instead and exits the kitchen.

Dan laughs a little then, taking out the implements to clean the windows after wasting so much time already when a voice nearby startles him.

“They are cozy alright? And I will not be laughed at by a possible burglar this early in the morning.” His voice has a subtle yet present northern scent Dan would have laughed at if he had not been taken by surprise like that.

“I-I’m not a… I mean…” he points to the lift waiting for him and the pajama guy doesn’t react.

“I know. It was a joke.”

“Oh.”

“I doubt a thief would wear a security helmet.” He says on the same monotone tone.

Dan looks up being reminded of the stupid helmet that makes his hair looks worst than a drunk bird nest afterwards and says “Right.”

The guy seems to think for a moment, rubs the pinch of his nose and enters the flat again.

Dan wants to flee. He starts cleaning the windows at speed of sound and considers asking his uncle to maybe clean every floor but this one when his peripheral vision alerts him once more of pajama guy. Looks to his right and a mug is handed his way.

“Sorry. I am not an early morning kind of person and without caffeine in my blood I am a grumpy rude white version of Hulk.” He says with a kinder voice already, his face a little heated but less stoic.

Dan takes the mug out of inertia. “Bruce Banner is white though.” He retorts mind kicking himself again so he takes a sip of the coffee to shut his mouth instead. Too hot and strong for his likes.

The guy lifts an eyebrow but shrugs “I believe my skin is whiter than his. My Hulk form would be a nice pastel green.”

Dan almost sputters.

“Guess Hulk is the definition of grumpy anyway. But you get the point.”

“Not laugh at your pajamas before you have coffee. Got it.”

“It was either this ones or nothing at all so they saved us from a different kind of awkward moment.” He says taking a slurp of his maybe second cup and this time Dan does choke a little with the bitter beverage. “Or not awkward. Either way it would have been a moment worth recording on camera.”

Dan’s jaw probably disconnects from his mouth for a moment there. He notices then how the guy is wearing glasses and the just woke up quiff and how they are almost the same height and a bit of stumble on his chin and Dan believes this could be the start of a porno. He would though. He so would.

“I’m scaring you enough for today. It’s the lack of coffee, I’ll leave now. If you need anything let me know.”

Dan doesn’t look but he could swear the golden pig is laughing at him.

The following week he tells, Tom; scissor lift guy, he wants to start at the bottom and Tom says that’s not as practical but doesn’t complain.

Ivy Ocean is singing in his ears and this time Dan has come prepared to not be taken back by cute ugly pajamas guy (a nickname his friend Louise has laughed about for at least five minutes) if he is there again.

As soon as the machinery stops he notices something on the coffee table. His curiosity takes the best of him and he jumps in right away.

A bowl full of cereal, one glass of milk and one cup of coffee. Dan doubts his half time job allows him a thirty minutes recess for breakfast so he looks at the note next to the bowl.

Apologies for last week :( Not my best behavior. If you need anything ask Piggy, it knows where the bathroom is ^-^

–Phil

Dan takes the glass of milk and given he doesn’t have a pen with him, commits a crime on his profession. Foams a part and instead of cleaning it, writes on it. Messes it up a few times so he goes for short sentences instead.

Thanks. Can’t eat that much at work. Piggy bullies me >_> Cellphones are a thing :3

–Dan

The week after he brings a pack of notepads and a pen and low hopes because, as Louise had said “He could be married or living with his mother or worst; be straight! Dan for fucks sake at least get in his house and check the insides of his drawers before anything else!”

Phil is there already, sitting on his chair this time. Two mugs on the table. One apparently empty.

“I think I did a better job cleaning my window last week Dan.” He greets with a smile. He isn’t wearing his glasses this time and his hair seems to have been accommodated to look not as just woke up-ish. Dan still finds his face fascinating.

“Difficult to clean and eat at the same time.”

“I’ll never offer you cereal again then.”

Dan starts to foam up the windows “Maybe your roommate will.” He says, testing the waters.

For a moment Phil doesn’t answer so Dan looks at him. Phil’s eyes are wide open glancing inside his flat. “I live alone so if last week you met someone here it was either an inverse kind of thief or I should call an exorcist. Stop laughing!”

To be fair Dan is laughing so hard he composes himself before it turns more embarrassing. “Sorry, sorry. I didn’t meet anyone, I only assumed… sorry but your face!” Phil puts a hand on his heart and sighs.

“Oh my God. I just moved in I don’t know if there is an entity polite enough to let cute window cleaners in when I’m away. Next time just ask me what you want to know.”

Dan’s still smiling and somehow manages to keep foaming when he says “Alright then. What made you buy a real tree for a balcony?”

Dan comes down at least an hour later and Tom gives him a look, tells him next week he should try to be faster or they’ll get complains. With a new contact on his phone and new information to give to Louise, Dan assured Tom next week he’ll be earlier than ever.

Weeks go by between texts and calls and video calls and working hours with Phil cleaning each leaf of his houseplants while Dan does his own job.

Between jokes and anecdotes and questions.

Between Phil learning Dan is a philosophy student who enjoys conferences more than actual classes and would love to try theater if he weren’t afraid of falling off stage so much.

Between Dan learning Phil is four years older and works with a friend called PJ making games and it is the first time he can afford such a big flat without the help of his parents.

Between Dan realizing this person is one he doesn’t want to let go and that maybe Phil wants to keep him near just as much.

In retrospective he should have seen it coming. When Tom winked and told him to say hi to fourth floor guy. When the golden pig of doom was on the table instead of the floor, Frank Ocean singing in his ear the moment he saw the window covered in foam with Phil’s signature letter on it.

Wanna go on a date tonight? No emoji s pj’s ;3

–Phil

In retrospective, Dan should have known. But he doesn’t care, because he writes underneath it just as fast and even pets the damn pig.

Finally. Txt me details. Mushy dork

–Dan

#phanfic #phanfiction #phanfic au #dan and phil #phan

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