#I guess I trust these people to clean my pores

[tuulikki]

Ooohhhhh my god I can't believe

Homeopathy? For real? You're telling me to take a pill/cream from the people who believe that water has a memory?

Just in case anyone needs a refresher on this bullshit:

Homeopathy is based on the law of similars (‘like cures like’) which states that a substance that causes specific symptoms in a healthy person can be used to treat those symptoms in a sick person. Remedies undergo a process called ‘potentization’ which describes stepwise dilution from the ‘mother tincture’ combined with ‘succession’ (vigorous shaking). The underlying assumption is that the more dilute a remedy the greater its potency, even though according to Avogadro's number, with potencies beyond 12C (12 centesimal dilutions) the chance of a single molecule remaining in the final solution tends to the infinitesimal.

TL;DR: If you were bitten by a snake, homeopathy would try to cure you by giving you the venom from the snake. But don't worry! They also believe that diluting the active ingredient makes it more potent!

"As world-renowned scientific skeptic James Randi put it: 'this would be tantamount to grinding a grain of rice into tiny particles, dissolving it in a sphere of water the size of our Solar System, and then repeating this process about 2 billion times.' One of the ways by which followers of homeopathy deal with such criticism is their claim that water retains a memory of the substance: even after it is gone its properties are embedded in the water molecules."

[slamminslamminmcgill]

OKAY I’M A GNC VIRGIN SO NATURALLY… I can confess my little (not so little) corruption kink to you 😁 I always think about how Saul would absolutely 10000000000% hire someone especially after finding out they’re still pure through his Saul-style background checks. He’d fetishize the fuck out of them for it and absolutely do the honors while talking really extremely about it, I just feel it in my bones. After all he wants new blood :3 Just imagining the things he’d say… I AM A WHORE!!!!

OOOOO OK PURR!!!!!

combining w/ this

warning: very mild transphobia (saul is a gross chaser and he's learning)

anatomical terms: boobs, vagina/pussy, dick/cock

Saul Goodman always asked his private investigator to get information on people he worked with. Be they long term clients or his own staff, he wanted to know who he was associating with, inside and out. He wasn't going to get caught with his pants down by dealing with someone he couldn't trust. And after you joined his team as his paralegal, you were subject to the same treatment. He honestly wasn't expecting Mike to find much dirt on you, and he didn't. Almost nothing, in fact, but what he did find was far more intriguing than Saul could have ever imagined. He almost didn't believe what Mike told him.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait. Okay. Let me see if I'm understanding you correctly. Kid's never been in a relationship before. Total virgin. I get that. But you're saying he was born a chick, and wanted to be a dude, so he took some hormones and got his boobs chopped off? Are you for real? You can do that?" Saul had asked.

"That's what his medical records say." Mike had answered. "He's been filling a testosterone prescription for 2 years now, and his 'chest masculinization surgery' was last year. Got a copy of the newspaper publication for his name change, too."

"Did he, uh..." Saul bit his lip and tried to think of a non-creepy way to ask his probably-very-creepy question, "Did he get the downstairs touched up, or is he still rocking the original hardware?"

Mike rolled his eyes. "Doesn't look like he had any other surgeries. Guessing that means he hasn't changed it. Now, you know I'm not one to question your motives, but why is it that you care so much about your paralegal's genitalia?"

"Hey, I'm just trying to get the full story here," Saul had said as a quick excuse, "The world's changing! If men can have vaginas, I say let 'em! I'm always an advocate for self-determination."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night." Mike had packed up his things and headed for the door. "Just promise me you won't antagonize him over this. He's a good kid. I'd hate for you to scare him off."

"I promise."

That's what he had said, but Saul could barely hide the excitement on his face when you walked in on Monday morning.

"Well, well, well! Look who it is!" Saul laughed and held his arms out for a hug. "Bring it in champ!"

You shrugged and took him up on it, not knowing that he was looking for an excuse to feel your body pressed against his. "Alright, sure!" You said before subjecting yourself to his tight embrace. "What's got you in such a good mood today?"

Saul's hands started to wander down your back and around your sides to your hips. He hadn't noticed how curvy you were before, but now it was all he could think about. "Well, I, uh... I figured you're not all that used to physical intimacy. Thought I'd show you some of what you're missing."

It took a second for his words to register in your brain. “Wait, what?" You pulled yourself out of his arms. "What are you talking about?"

Saul couldn't hide the satisfaction he was feeling. He wore it plainly on his face, and his voice dripped with it. "Your background check came back clean. Very clean. Pure, I should say."

You could tell he was fucking with you, but you had no clue why or what you were supposed to say to that. "Uh... Okay? Is that a good thing, or-?"

Saul needed a new skincare routine, one that stopped smugness from oozing out his pores. "Depends! You saving yourself for marriage? Cause then I guess you're on the right track."

You gulped. So that’s what he was talking about. “N-No, I’m not. I just… haven’t found the right person.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” Saul pursed his lips and went back over to his desk. “Well, I imagine it’s difficult with your setup and all. Probably hard to find someone so understanding.”

“My… setup?” You asked, wondering just how meticulous his background check process was. Must've been pretty damn meticulous if he found out the details of your lifeless sex life. “What, uh… what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, you know what I mean.” Saul kicked his feet up on his desk, grabbed a pen, and pointed it at you. “Man from the waist-up, woman from the waist-down? I bet that freaks people out, huh?” He chuckled as he set the pen down and took a sip of his coffee. “Not me, though. I’m pretty open-minded. Gotta say, it actually sounds pretty hot.”

"Oh... uh... tha-... thank you...?" Workplace harassment had never seemed so flattering. You wanted to be disgusted. You wanted to throw that coffee in his face, call him a pig, and storm out of his office demanding your last paycheck in the mail. But you didn’t. It was the first time anyone had considered you a sexual being, let alone an attractive sexual being. Rationale and dignity be damned, you wanted more of his attention, but you didn’t want to seem desperate. “So, uh… where do we go from here?”

“We don’t have to go anywhere. Why, did you want it to go somewhere? ‘Cause if you do..." Saul got up from his desk again and strode over to you, brushing some of your hair behind your ear. "...I'd be happy to lead the way." He pressed a tender kiss to your lips, and you, not expecting it whatsoever, tensed up immediately. Saul noticed and pulled back. "Oh, baby boy, have you never even been kissed?"

You shook your head, embarrassed by your own innocence. "N-No..."

Saul didn't even try to hide his excitement. He couldn't believe his luck. He reacted with condescending sympathy. "Ohhh, you poor thing! Whatever am I gonna do with you?"

The answer to that, you'd come to find, was apparently 'strip you half-naked and sit you on his desk.'

"Now, you just lay back and enjoy yourself, okay, baby? I'm gonna help you get ready. I promise, you're gonna love this." He said as he rubbed your bare thighs, gradually lowering his face between them.

"Okay..." You sighed, staring up at the ceiling, not a clue what to expect. There's only so many options when someone puts their face up to your junk, but you had no idea what it was gonna feel like.

Saul spread your lips apart to inspect your virgin anatomy, the first one to explore new, uncharted territory. He'd been through this countless times before, though never with anyone like you, and he liked what made you special. "Aw, how cute! You got yourself a tiny little dick, huh? Is that from the hormones?" Saul chuckled and pressed down on it with his thumb.

Your breath caught in your throat and your body jumped upon contact. "Ah... y-yeah, uh... the testoster-oh! F-Fuck!"

While you were talking, Saul used your distraction as a chance to shove his face into your pussy, swirling his tongue under your foreskin and sucking your mini-cock into his mouth. He even slipped his tongue into your hole and pumped it in and out, probably to give you a preview of what was next. You grabbed his hair and whined, holding on to keep yourself somewhat in the moment with him. You briefly glanced down at him; your eyes met; and he fucking winked.

You threw your head back against the desk and looked up at the ceiling again. Your head was swirling in a way it never had before. It just felt so good. So sloppy, so wet, so electrifying.

By the time Saul pulled his face up, his mouth was literally dripping, and he was gasping for air. He looked unhinged. "Jesus Christ... Are you sure you're a virgin? You're soaking wet."

"I... wha...?" You blushed and hid your face in your hands. "Oh, god... s-sorry..."

"Aw, honey, no, don't apologize for that!" Saul got up off his knees and stood up. He pried your hands away from your face and interlocked his fingers with yours. "It just means you're excited! You must want it really bad, huh?"

You did, but the uncertainty of it all was still so scary. "Mhm... it's, uh... it's not gonna hurt, right?"

"Nope! It shouldn't 'cause I ate you out first. That's what I meant by getting you ready. And you were quite the tasty treat, buddy." He booped your nose to get you to smile, and it worked. You felt calmer instantly. "You good to go?"

You took a deep breath, the air whistling on your exhale. "Y-Yeah, I think so."

Saul worked on pulling himself out of his pants. He lined up his fat cock with your virgin hole and poked it, testing your reaction. You seemed okay, so he slowly, ever so slowly, slid inside and stretched you out. The both of you let out low, deep groans, savoring the new, deep connection you shared with each other.

"Phew..." Saul sighed as he bottomed out in you. "God, that's good, kid. You're the tightest little thing I've ever had my cock inside." He pulled back, nearly all the way out, and then snapped his hips forward. You squeaked, and he did it again. "So... fucking... good..."

So fucking good was an understatement. You wrapped your arms around his back and clung to him, moaning softly and timidly as your sleazy boss took your virginity. You'd always imagined your first time would be romantic and sweet, and on a bed, not hasty, nasty fucking on the desk where your paychecks were signed. Oh well, either way, it felt fucking fantastic.

As was the case with everything else in his life, Saul had lots to say. "Yeahhh, that's it, baby boy, that's it. Take it. I ne- I never... Mmm, never would've thought you had a pussy like this. So wet for me... so warm... so fucking tight... And I get to be the one to break it in... Making me believe in God again, kid... Cause you... you're a fucking angel..."

Hearing his affectionate praise, feeling his firm strokes inside you. The way he talked to you, touched you, kissed you, tasted you. This may have been your first time with anyone, but you could tell it wouldn't be your last with him.

[kn1feinthec0ffee]

shave and a haircut - spencer reid

bi!spencer reid x gn!reader

summary: spencer needs a haircut, and you just so happen to know how to give him one.

warnings: none really, touch starved!spence 🥺

word count: 1,293

notes: this is an uber sweet amount of softness that i will not apologize for bc i love it so very much 

also bi!spence. yeah i said it,, what ab it??

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

you had noticed spencer’s thoughts about his hair even before he did. not that you were a mind reader, but you were essentially the next best thing.

you watched him constantly brush flyaway strands behind his ears to keep them out of the way as he pored over documents. the way he scrunched his nose adorably when garcia playfully tugged on a strand of it. it was obvious - to you, at least - that he wanted a change.

  “i’ve wanted it cut for a while now,” spencer exhaled, shaking his shaggy locks. “it just keeps getting in the way.”

  “i could always give you a trim if you’d like,” you inserted yourself into the conversation.

spencer’s cheeks appeared to tinge pink at the suggestion, but he quickly nodded. “if that would be okay with you?” you giggled, furling up his curls into a messy pile.

  “of course it’s okay with me, i’d do anything for you, spence.” he didn’t know how serious you were, but he felt his heart swell at your meaningful words. “can i come over, let’s say... tomorrow afternoon?”

he barely managed an awestruck nod before you were on your way. perhaps if he weren’t so busy overanalyzing what you had meant, he would’ve noticed the newfound pep in your step that lasted the rest of the day.

——————————

  “wow,” you bobbed your head as your eyes scanned the muted tones of spencer’s apartment. “this is... exactly what i was expecting.”

  “hey,” he feigned offense. “are you saying i’m predictable?”

you pretended to be in deep contemplation at the simple query. “yes, yes i am, i think that’s exactly what i’m saying.”

spencer wanted to roll his eyes, but you were too adorable for him to possibly feel any semblance of annoyance.

once you had laid out a towel underneath the chair and clipped a cape over his shoulders, you clasped your hands together in excitement. “okay! what are we thinking?”

  “i don’t really know, something short i guess?” spencer shrugged. “you can surprise me, if you want. i trust you. just please leave it curly.”

  “it’s been short before, but that was when i used to straighten it and gel it back,” he shivered just thinking about the slick stickiness he used to slather over his hands and onto his head.

  “you did what?” you gasped. “i’ve got to see a picture of that sometime. i’m just picturing little baby reid with his hair combed over to the side.”

  “well, it was only a couple years ago, so i’m not sure if that qualifies-” spencer began.

  “oh it absolutely qualifies. once a baby, always baby. in my book anyway,” you mumbled, more to yourself than anyone else, but that didn’t stop reid from blushing once more. you always seemed to bring that out in him. “i bet you pulled a lot of ladies & gents with a hair cut like that, huh, hot shot?”

he scoffed, picturing the image of him actually having too many people trying to get with him. “oh yeah, they couldn’t get enough of me with all my statistics on kidnapping victimology and the likelihood of being abducted from high-density social situations.”

  “hey,” you curled a finger under his chin to tilt his head up towards you. “don’t do that. you sell yourself short, sweetheart. you’re much more lovely and charming than you give yourself credit for.”

at this moment, spencer was 99% sure you had no idea what you were doing to him. he was falling deeper in love with you as every minute passed, and while he enjoyed it, it was simultaneously excruciating. this is just supposed to be a haircut, he thought. get it together, spencer. you don’t wanna mess this up.

he settled on a simple, “thanks,” as you began snipping bits of hair off in a seemingly disorganized fashion. 

he was so used to haircuts being awkward and impersonal, but this was something else entirely. the soft little tugs he felt as you pulled a strand out between your fingers nearly made his heart stop. the way you hummed a tune to yourself as you diligently worked made him feel so safe and calm. 

spencer only noticed his eyes had closed when he felt the warmth radiating off of you leave him. you were stood over your tools, picking up an electric razor as you walked back over to him. “so much freedom you’ve given me,” you tutted to yourself.

he remained quiet as the repetitive buzz of the razor filled the room. you tilted his head forward, resting it gently on your torso as you gave the hair around the nape of his neck a closer shave. you weren’t entirely certain due to the volume of the razor, but you were pretty sure you had heard spencer let out a contented little whimper against the fabric of your sweater.

the realization hit you like a bus that spencer had most likely been somewhat deprived of touch for most of his life. it made sense; he never seemed to seek out touch from anyone who wasn’t a close friend or relative. a warm feeling blossomed in your heart at the thought that you were providing him with the touch he had deserved for so long.

  “having fun, pretty boy?” you mused - teasing lightly as not to mock him or hurt his feelings - giving his locks a playful tussle. spencer wanted to respond, he really did, but he was so overwhelmingly soothed. your hands were in his hair, trailing across his skin; he was resting his head against the softness of your clothing, but more importantly you as your scent enveloped him.

all he could manage was a brief, “mhm,” too blissed out to conjure up any more intelligent terms from his nearly endless vernacular. he couldn’t help the pout that graced his lips when you pulled away from him, the lack of your relaxing presence filling him with a miniscule amount of sorrow. 

  “alright, time for the big reveal,” you handed him a mirror. “what do you think? did i totally screw up?” you looked to him for his reaction. 

spencer saw that you had given him a side shave, letting his natural curls rest on top and flop in whatever direction they saw fit. he had had hairstyles similar to this before, but this one felt... different. special even. although that could be due to the fact that it was you who had cut his hair. for once in his life, he wasn’t sure. 

  “i- i love it,” he flashed you an award winning smile, filling your tummy with butterflies. “thank you so much, y/n.”

  “no, thank you, the pleasure’s all mine. plus, i think having such a good model helped the end result, don’t you?” you smirked, twirling one of his curls around your finger. his cheeks heated up at the compliment, and your grin only intensified as he answered with a quick nod. 

“oooh, do you want me to wash your hair? that way you can get any leftover hairs out so they don’t bother you when you go to sleep.” spencer nodded eagerly at your suggestion, a warm feeling spreading through his tummy as you smiled. “okay, i’ll clean up out here and throw away all the hair. why don’t you head into the bathroom and bring a folding chair with you, so i can set it up in front of the sink?”

he smiled to himself as you rambled on and tittered about, cleaning the remains of his old haircut. he headed to the bathroom with that same lovesick grin on his face. spencer knew you’d end up being the death of him, and for some reason, he he didn’t seem to mind.

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

as i’m finishing this it’s 1:55am on wednesday and i’m practically half asleep, so the ending prob isn’t great or grammatically correct but if i have the time, i’ll edit this tomorrow

edit: i added a paragraph & tweaked some sentences but i think its a bit better now :)

tags: @sojournmichael @stinkyelf @crazyfore3 @cal-ifornication @eggygorl02 @howdycharlie @eosprincess @mortallythoughtfulgurl @illuxions-x @unlikelyempathpruneauthor @blankets-for-bees @holycandypizza @flyingbabyunicornnamedangel @lovelyrdjr @elitereid @minnie-bby @rexorangecouny @ashwarren32 @fantastic-fans @keomoon @achieveonyourown @jjtheangel @whoreforthebau @theonewithcriminalminds @angelbunnyoxo​

[hawksugarbaby]

Fatgum x reader- Atlas

Fluff + Greek mythology AU.

You were nothing more than a simple human, roaming the built up world to find something new and interesting, something no one could see but you, a secret for you and the universe to hold together. You needed to find something special is what you thought, taking a break at the atlas mountains in the scorching Morroccon sun. sweat bead down your forehead and your skin was hot to the touch but the adventure and experience, the trials to find something undiscovered was worth the peeling skin on your shoulders being soothed by aloe over and over.

Your persistence to find the unknown secret may have started genuinely, you wanted to find what the universe wanted you too, but eventually it gave you a reason to travel the world. You've travelled to 28 countries in 4 years, beginning at 18 and now you're 22, you skipped uni and college, you made money from ad revenue on youtube since your vlogs became popular, and you were incredible when it came to saving money.

Of course, you were still searching, but now you felt like you had even bigger reasons. Exploring the world, drinking in fountains of culture and knowledge, that was perfection enough. But the secret was missing.

You stood up rolling your neck and started your walk up rocky paths of mud and stone to the sandy houses forming a village and your senses lead you to a vendor, golden couscous with colourful, roasted vegetables mixed through smelled amazing and glasses of fresh mint tea lined up for you to drink while eating couscous at the vendors stall. You requested a glass of the tea, sat down, and drank it too quickly, burning your tongue from the hot water. You sucked in sharply and hummed in pain. "Thank you!" you said paying for the drink and continuing to the mountains past the beige buildings with terracotta tile roofs.

You felt like if you walked between the fingers of the mountain grabbing the earth with their hands you would find something unknown. You walked around the spurs peering into the joining point of each interlocked section but none tugged you in, pulled you towards them with mystery.

Apart from one. The sun was on the opposite side so technically there should have been no light, but it seemed perfectly visible to you? Was it a trick of the light? Possibly an illusion? Either way your heart longed to investigate and so you did. You trudged forward kicking a stone out your way and looked at the joining line. "You have to be something right?" you muttered and put your hand between the drack. You drew a triangle, mimicking the shape the spurs made and as quickly as you could blink, the mountain began to shake, not violently, but it trembled like being coerced into sharing it's deepest secrets.

"Okay... mountains don't usually do that" you say with wide eye's as the seam rips apart and balls of moss and rock tumble into a pile on the floor. Was it a doorway for you? Who knew, you didn;t care, whatever it was you were finding out one way or another.

You stepped into the cavern, dripping stalagmites made your head turn in the direction of every 'plop' into the puddle and your hands brushed against the side of the wall for stability and a sense of surrounding. "These feel like bricks?" you whisper in a questioning tone as your eye's begin to adjust to the dark and you found that you were going aimlessly through a long, triangular corridor. The bricks were a muted clay colour with green moss and algae blanketing them, the grout in the walls was black and viridian unidentifiable as something anyone had ever known of.

The terracotta sparsely began to cut into black white and grey granite eventually forming a whole wall as if the bricks had never been there to begin with. The marble was just as unkempt and ruined as the bricks but the walls got wider, further and further away from each other until they opened into a wide, white cavern, glowing and inhumanely clean. In the middle was a statue of a hulking man, holding the sky. He wore no shirt and had a pair of orange shorts on and black sandals, sandals that looked real and hyper-realistic looking shorts that flowed with the draft and skin you could see the detail of every pore in. hold on... fabric made of marble should not flow in the wind and should not be such an even orange no matter how much paint.

You slowly looked up, the chest rising and falling with a huffing breath it had to take, the hands trembled and the lips quivered. The hairs on his leg and arm stuck up with the chill of the wind and his elbows dropped slightly making the sky move. Finally, you dared look at the eye's of the giant, who was looking back at you confused as a bee trying to escape through a shut window. Mustard yellow eye's with sunken bag's looked right back at you and you backed up letting out a girlish scream.

"Hey hey wait!!" he shouted, wishing he could reach out and shake your hand or reach after you to emphasise that he wanted you to stay. "Please! Please don't go. I don't have anyone to talk to, I promise I won't hurt you!" he begged, glancing at your figure backing up and starfishing against a wall like it would absorb you and push you out the other side. "Y-you you're talking! And moving! But you, you're a statue?" you shook your hands in front of you and he laughed lightly. "I'm not a statue, I'm a titan. I'm just a big God to be honest, big God doing his job" he nodded his head at his rhyming ability and you slid down the wall grazing your burnt back. "Don't do that you'll hurt yourself" he said.

You took a deep breath to calm yourself then blew out, another deep breath and blew out, another deep breath then blew out. "Okay. so... what you're like atlas or something? He was... he was a titan right and he just held up the universe forever and that looks like something important like the universe" you pointed at the sphere on his back constantly shifting and changing colours and he made a whiney voice at the back of his throat. "Sorta? I'm Taishiro, nice to meet you" he greeted with a nod and you nodded back glancing again at the exit.

Could you trust him?

One look from him and it wasn't hard to tell he was overjoyed to finally talk to someone so you stood in front of him with your hands on your hips so he could see you while he was looking down. "Should I know who taishiro is, not to sound rude but everyone's heard of atlas, who is taishiro?" you asked biting a nail and the titan nodded understandably, fair enough, you would ask valid questions.

"so like, zeus wanted to do something cool and like "oh look i'm redeemable" se he basically said hey all the titans weren't so bad and just did what dad told them to so they all got freed or whatever but someone still has to hold the sky so they gave me the job" he said in one breath which was impressive to you but he wasn't finished. "which is okay, I don't mind it here but it's boring and lonely and my arms have cramp and God I miss food. And like they just made me a titan, they just chose me off the street after work and were like yo we need a new titan and I thought, hey y'know what i'm a hero, i'd be doing good for the world but i'm bored and hungry" he finished his ramble and you giggled.

You opened a packet of pistachios and a muffin and looked at him. "Can I climb you?" you asked gripping the pistachios in your teeth and pulling the muffin in a travel cup that clipped to your belt. "Sure! Not like you're very heavy to me" he joked and you laughed quietly grabbing the threads of his sandals and pulling yourself up like a climbing wall. "Oh you're so small. It tickles" he laughed. Resisting the urge to twitch and jerk you off his leg. You climbed quickly like the ropes in gym class then when you got to the shorts you pulled yourself up until you rested on his knee, flat as a table.

"Uhh, I think this should be good" you nod and balance cautiously to sit down pulling out the muffin and tapping his knee. "Hey open your mouth" you ask and he does so without question. You throw the muffin like a shot put and he grins, savouring the sweet, chocolatey taste "sorry their human sized" you sigh and shuck the pistachios for yourself, chewing on the green nuts with hundreds of questions buzzing in your head.

"So you were a hero?" you question flicking the pistachio shell into the bowl below you where taishiro's feet stood rooted to the ground. "Mhm. BMI hero: fat gum. I was like 46th, the world thinks I retired, that's what I told them but to me i'm still being a hero" he explained and you hummed agreeingly. "It's pretty hero like to give up everything to hold the weight of the world" you smile up at him and he blushes lightly. "Aw, you sound like one of my old interns. I miss it sometimes though, and I miss talking to people so much, it gets lonely here" a breeze flew past you and he shivered, but didn't lose an ounce of balance on the sphere, it was firmly rooted above him, it could have been suspended for all you knew. "Yeah, I bet, especially since being a hero is a pretty team focused job right?"

He smiled sadly and looked up at the tiny exit. He couldn't fit through doors like that anymore, he was the height of the eiffel tower and with one step he'd crack open the crust of the earth. "Yeah. you sound like you know what your talking about" you smiled tucking your hair behind your ear and shrugged "I do. I went to shiketsu to be a hero but when I left I was like... nah, that ain't my purpose. I wanted to like, find a secret the universe had that no one else knew about so i've been travelling for 4 years and I guess you were the secret right?" you thearised and he agreed happily. "It's cool knowing the universe wanted you to find me!" "heck yeah it is!"

You stayed with taishiro for a few days before having to leave and you had never felt so sad before. It was finally over, you didn't have a reason to travel anymore, you found the secret and had solidified a friendship with him but now you were leaving? Despite the snacks and drinks and stories shared about what you'd seen. You felt guilty leaving him again but he looked overjoyed. "I'll visit soon okay!" you shouted and he nodded "I'll see ya around. Say hey to little red riot for me, and suneater!" he instructed and you saluted exiting the cavern back into the dank corridor.

You kept your eyes trained on the ground until you left the mountain. A shimmering rainbow was directly in front of you and you swiped your hand through it like a cloud of smoke you tried re-directing.

The rainbow fizzled and formed into a human with long white hair and pasty skin, a long sundress with rainbow accents and black eye's. "Hi, (y/n) (y/ln) am I right? Oh I know i'm right don't worry, i'm iris Goddess of the rainbow and a messenger for the Gods of sorts. See I'm here to offer you a fast pass from wherever you are to right here in Morocco, next to our dear friend Tai whenever you please" she said with a smile, arm around your shoulder and walking away from the entrance like a car salesman.

You crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow interested but cautious. "What will it cost me?" you ask bluntly and she laughed, slapping your back lightly. "Your hilarious kid. No it costs you nothing more than a prayer or 2 to me and my dear friend Hermes, see he's the God of travel, he's my partner in this see, and what we'll do is just zip you over here faster than you can think!" she exclaimed. You nodded and thought. A free service from 2 Gods? Were they typically that kind? No not really so...

"Oh I see. Zeus wants a fuck doesn't he" you jeered and the sky's went pale grey, like the colour your skin would go if you;d seen a ghost. Iris choked and looked up. "Um... the God of the sky does take an interest in you, yes." you rolled your eyes and stuck your tongue out at the sky. "Keep it in your pants buddy! I want the fast pass for free or I tell yo wife!!" you bargained, though it was hardly a haggle as the king God, terrified of his wifes wrath, told irish to just give you it for free.

"Thank you! I'll be sure to think of you when I see rainbows from now on, maybe we can have a chat! Oh oh or come see me and Tai some time, he says he gets lonely, you should visit him!" you grinned with a wave and said your address, being transported immediately like cargo from morocco to your home.

You crashed into your bed and huffed grabbing your limbs to make sure you were completely there. "DOES THIS WORK WITH OTHER COUNTRIES!" you shouted to no one in particular, your voice cracking while you spoke and then collapsed into bed, falling into a deep slumber.

A/n: Not gonna lie I really dont like thos chapter. It feels rushed and boring, I think I'll revisit it at somepoint. If you have any feedback feel free to comment!

[immxrtalbi]

Twinkle Riddle

AO3

Rated T

"Hey, Tom!" Harry said, waving at him.

"Potter." Tom gave him a curt nod and muttered the password.

"What was that? I didn't hear you." Harry pretended to lean closer to him, which was stupid since he's a portrait.

Tom's eyes twitched. "You heard me very well. Now I suggest you open the door or I'll make sure you go missing." Thank Merlin no one was around because Tom couldn't be seen threatening a portrait.

"I was kidding!" Harry jumped back and opened the door. "Nice talking to you."

~~~

Tom never wanted to murder someone so badly in his life. Not even murdering his father would give him satisfaction like killing Harry.

"What's the password?" he demanded.

"Don't you know it?" Harry tilted his head, a sly smile forming.

"I don't." Tom seethed. "The password doesn't change until tomorrow."

Harry shrugged, innocently. "I guess they changed it early." He laughed when Tom took out his wand. "Careful, Tom. Someone is coming."

Tom swiftly put away his wand and smiled at the young Slytherins. Harry watched in amusement as Tom lied about forgetting the password, saying something about prefect duties taking up his time.

"It's.. uh," the second year hesitated, then cleared his throat. "Twinkle Riddle." Both boys looked anywhere but at Tom. Harry laughed from behind them and then opened the door.

Tom gave a nasty glare towards Harry as he entered inside.

He'd find a way to destroy Harry Potter.

~~~

Harry seemed down on a beautiful sunny afternoon. No one except Tom noticed. Why he noticed? Because Harry was an open book. Too bad he didn't care.

Tom said the password, then waited, expecting Harry to delay him as always. Although, Harry did the opposite. He opened the door quietly. Raising an eyebrow, he said, "Finally been put in your place, Potter?" Tom waited for a sassy remark. Again, nothing came.

Harry only spared him a glance before he focused on the ground. It was pathetic for someone like him.

Something inside Tom made him want to snap him out of it. "What's wrong with you? Are you finally being replaced?"

To his horror, Harry began crying. Tom never thought such a day would come. Harry wiped away his tears with his palms; more came out. He crouched down and hugged his knees, shaking nonstop.

Tom shut the door and cast a silencing spell around them. He also cast a disillusionment charm. He didn't want to be disturbed by anyone.

"I repeat, what's wrong." Tom's eyes narrowed.

Harry rubbed his nose with his sleeve as he took off his glasses. "I'm sorry. I try not to get like this-"

"Harry," Tom snapped, "what's the matter?"

"I hate being a portrait!" Harry cried. "I hate it... I see everyone smiling and having the greatest time of their lives. I never got that. I died young..." He laid his cheek on his knee. "I wish I wasn't a portrait."

It never occurred to Tom that Harry was dead, and at young age. He seemed like he was only a year or two older than Tom.

This changed everything.

"I know how to get you out," Tom said, a smirk on his face, "but it's not going to be pleasant." His hand slowly touched the portrait. "If you really hate being here, I'll help you gain your freedom."

Harry's mouth opened, then closed. He stood, gazing at Tom with a strong emotion, then little by little he approached, scared that it was a trap. But the sincerity in Tom's eyes said otherwise. As he placed his hand on Tom's, Harry's lips twitched.

"Thank you."

~~~

News went around that Harry's portrait was missing. Everyone panicked and cried for their favorite portrait. The Slytherins looked everywhere but found nothing.

Tom showed no concern about the issue. However, that didn't mean he didn't fake it. He had been the first to go to the headmaster, worried and heartbroken that Harry was gone.

Months later, Harry was easily replaced by another portrait. And Tom needed to go back to the orphanage for the summer. As he got on the Hogwarts Train, he took a small frame out of his pocket. It was easy to snatch the portrait and shrink it with magic.

"How are you holding up?"

"You need to wash your robe," Harry muttered. "Also, it's dark in there. Reminds me of your soul." Ah, there's those sassy remarks.

"Be patient. Now that I'm out of school, I can get you out of there. I simply needed to get you out of Hogwarts first."

Harry was quiet, then asked, "Why did you help me? You never liked me." He stared at Tom with wide eyes. They never talked about it before, and now Harry thought it'd be the perfect time.

"People usually say thank you without needing a reason," Tom said in a low voice.

"You're right. Bring me close to your face, I want to see something." Harry had a mischievous look on his face. Tom didn't know why he listened. He brought Harry close to his face. "Closer."

"Any closer and your canvas will be on my pores!" Tom hissed.

Harry snorted. "Like you have any pores. Your face is clean! C'mon trust me."

Tom obeyed. And if it was possible he felt a tingling sensation on his face. He pulled the small portrait back. "Did you kiss me?"

Harry's face was red as a tomato. "My thank you. And it was a kiss on the cheek, you git. I'm not kissing you until I'm out of here."

Tom's thumb caressed the painting, mainly Harry's face, which annoyed the older boy. He was trying to shoo it away.

"I'll get you out," he promised. Tom held onto the frame and watched the scenery as they left Hogwarts. No one would bother Tom so he had Harry all to himself throughout the whole ride.

Harry closed his eyes and for the first time dreamed of freedom, with Tom by his side. His Twinkle Riddle.

[soopersara]

Awkward

Another year-late oneshot? Yes. Gotta clean out the backlog before I can start on anything new, I guess. (To be fair, though, this is the third prompt off of this anon’s list that I’ve filled, so... it’s just the first one I’m filling specifically for them. Oh, and Tumblr ate the ask because it’s the worst.)

AO3 | FFN 

Zuko knows that Katara is worried about the upcoming comet, so he does his best to cheer her up.

He lets out a slow breath. He isn't sure why he's doing this. He wants to cheer her up, but surely there are other ways—better ways, less humiliating ways to do it than this. But Zuko has never been very good at plans, and this is the only idea he can think of. It will have to do for now.

He finds Katara exactly where he left her, legs curled up to her chest and staring into the darkness out the window. She looks small right now, small and uncertain.

He would do anything to change that. That's why he's here, he reminds himself. This is for her.

That doesn't make it any easier to begin.

"You're still up?" he asks.

Katara looks up, startled, then gives him a small, faint smile. "Yeah. Just—a lot to think about, I guess."

She curls inward again, and Zuko ventures a little closer.

"Worried?"

She nods. "Aren't you?"

He is. He has been worried for ages now, almost for as long as he can remember. He isn't sure he remembers what it feels like to not be worried. But Katara—he isn't sure why, but it stings to see her so consumed with worry. Even though he knows the reason for it. Even though he feels the same.

"I brought something."

She cocks her head to the side and her eyebrows raise. By the dim light of the lamp on the table in front of her, she is illuminated in shades of copper and gold.

"Is 'something' the scientific term? It sounds very specific."

His face flames, and he forgets what he planned to say. He produces the broad, flat box from behind his back and drops it beside the lamp.

"Here. Uh—" The words refuse to come back, and he turns to leave.

"Zuko, wait." Her voice is soft, just a little hesitant, and it pulls him to a halt. "Could you stay for a little while? I can already tell it's going to be a really long night."

He turns back. Of course. For her, of course he'll stay.

"Besides," she adds, smiling. "You can't just bring a box in here and not tell me what's inside."

On second thought, maybe he doesn't want to stay. This was a stupid idea. She's worried about the comet, and about Aang—about all of the innumerable ways their lives could change or end in the next few days. Silly distractions aren't going to help. And if she opens that box, she's going to know what kind of an idiot he is.

But he's quickly losing all ability and desire to tell her no. Especially now. When they're all fighting to keep from falling apart, he doesn't want to refuse her anything. Even if it makes him look like an idiot.

Honesty, he decides, is the best option. He can't force himself to leave her alone—he doesn't want to leave her alone, so he'll just tell her the truth. That the box is nothing worth her concern. That he's more than happy to talk to her, or to listen, or to sit in silence for the whole length of the night if she forgets about the box.

"That," he begins, rounding the table to take a seat on one of the cushions beside her, "is a stupid idea I had. It's nothing. Really."

"I don't think you have stupid ideas, Zuko."

His face heats as he settles in.

"At least not recently," she amends.

"I broke my less-stupid streak," he says, staring out the window along with her. "Sorry. It's nothing. I should have left the box where it was."

Katara's curiosity isn't so easily satisfied, and she leans forward, resting a hand on the cover. "Can I be the judge of that?"

Zuko swallows. "I guess so."

This is going to be humiliating.

He looks away, but from the corner of his eye—his good eye, the one that can see her all too clearly on the periphery—he watches her hands lift up the lid and push aside the fabric wrapping inside. Zuko clenches his fists, bracing himself for the inevitable awkwardness, and Katara's hands trail delicately along the edges of the box.

"What's this?" she asks, her voice quiet and almost breathless. She lifts out the first portrait and holds it at an angle to take advantage of the lamplight.

"It's—my family. When I was younger. Since you went looking for pictures, I thought—"

"I wasn't looking for them!" Her words come in a rush, and when Zuko turns her way, he thinks she might be blushing. He envies how subtle her blushing is. "I told you guys. I was just looking for cooking pots."

Though he can't bring himself to look at the portrait, or at her, he can't keep the smile from creeping slowly over his face. "Right. Of course that's why you ended up on the other side of the attic with all the portraits. When the kitchen is already full of cooking pots."

"Shut up." She nudges him, but the smile is evident in her voice.

"Anyway." Zuko shifts uncomfortably."Since you found the wrong baby pictures, I thought you might want to see the right ones."

"You thought right." She reaches toward him, her hand brushing against his. "But come on, Zuko. You have to at least tell me who everyone is. Here." She leans back, the portrait in her hand, and her head comes within a few inches of resting on his shoulder. "You have to be in this one, right?"

He takes a deep breath before he nods. "Right there. I must have been two or three in this one." He tries not to look too long or too hard, but the image is already burned into his mind so well that he could draw it from memory.

"Awww." Katara's voice softens, and she leans even closer, pulling the box onto her lap. "So that must be your sister—who's the older boy?"

He looks at the portrait again, at the sleeping infant in a little basket on the ground and the squirming toddler held around the middle by a boy with a gap-toothed smile. "My cousin, Lu Ten."

She nods, and her fingertip trails over the image of tiny Zuko. A soft, placid smile settles on her face, and after a minute, she pulls out the next one. "This is you too?"

In this one, Zuko is a little older, probably four or five, and crouched over a tidepool, small hands outstretched for something just beneath the rippling surface. He nods. He remembers that day. He remembers being that small and curious, full of eager questions that his mother was always willing to answer.

He clears his throat. "I kept asking my mother questions about all the things moving around in the tidepools. She was telling me all the names of the fish and the crabs and snails—" he trailed off for a second. "And after that, we collected seashells all afternoon and she helped me figure out what they used to be."

He feels Katara's gaze on him, warm and soothing. "That sounds nice." Her voice is barely more than a breath, and he can feel the slight heat from her cheek bridging the gap to his shoulder. She pulls her eyes away and looks at the portrait again. "Do you still remember all of their names?"

"I—I'm not sure. It's been a long time." He remembers some of them. The soot-tipped snails and the little colorful lilypetal fish—he can't think of any of the others right now, not with Katara's head hovering so close to his shoulder.

"You're going to have to tell me all about them when this is all over," Katara says quietly.

Right. When this is over. Just a few more days now. He tries not to think about what that will look like—what could go wrong in the meantime.

Instead, he only nods. He can't linger on that. He is meant to be cheering up Katara. That's more important right now. Even if his face burns and his stomach ties itself into knots with each new portrait she looks at.

Katara pores over the pictures one at a time, examining them all, asking questions like she's thirsty for every tiny detail she can glean from his past.

Zuko doesn't know exactly how he feels about that. No one has ever really been this curious about him before, so excited to know more about him. Usually, no one digs any deeper.

With anyone else, he might think that there is malice beneath the surface of her interest, that she wants to know him so that she can cut through him with less resistance. That's been his experience with most people. But Katara—there is something in the softness of her voice, the wide-eyed wonder as she looks over his memories that softens him as well. He is still wary. He isn't sure that he'll ever reach a point when wariness isn't his first response. But he tries to trust her. Though his insides quiver a little in anticipation every time she begins another question, he does his best to answer. He stumbles over his words and forgets what he's trying to say, but Katara doesn't seem to notice. Or if she does, she doesn't react.

At long last, she reaches the last portrait in the stack and pulls it into her lap.

Her fingertips trail along the edge of the canvas, and this time, she doesn't speak. She doesn't ask any questions. She just studies the portrait, the painting of little Zuko, age nine, still unscarred and happier than he would be for too many years after. She lets out a slow sigh, and Zuko can see the soft smile on her face as she leans toward the side, letting her cheek finally come to rest against his shoulder.

"Sometimes I can't believe how cute you are," she says, her voice quiet.

Zuko is stunned by the weight of her head on his shoulder. Too stunned, for a moment, to even realize what she's just said. How cute you are. Present tense.

It has to be a mistake. Katara almost never misspeaks, but if Zuko was ever cute—and he's not sure that he ever was, even before the Agni Kai—those days are long gone.

"Maybe when I was little," he concedes. Though he knows that it's not exactly true, he can't bring himself to contradict her.

Katara nestles in against his side. "Nope. I'm an expert on the subject. You're cute, Zuko." She tilts her head just enough to meet his eyes.

Zuko frowns. She's wrong. He can't be cute, especially now, but her expression is perfectly sincere.

"I—" he begins, then swallows. He can't remember what he was going to say, and his mouth feels very dry all of a sudden. Then, against his will, words spill out of him. "You're cute too."

His face flames when he realizes what he's said, what he's done, and he pulls away, burying his face in his hands. "Spirits. I'm sorry, that's not what I—"

Katara has no time to react to his sudden movement, and she lets out a small yelp as the shoulder she was leaning against moves out of her reach. She falls over, landing on her side against Zuko's back.

Zuko is fairly certain that he's going to either combust in a puff of smoke or melt into the floorboards, leaving a big, stupid, reddish smudge where a firebender once sat. People would go on tours of this place someday, and they'd see the puddle that used to be Zuko, and some stuffy old tour guide would point to the spot on the floor and announce to all the spectators that, 'Here lies all that remains of the disgraced former prince of the Fire Nation, Zuko. He met his end in a most undignified manner after admitting that he found a waterbender pretty.'

Zuko's impulse is to pull away again, to wrench himself from underneath Katara and to run out of the room without explanation. He stops himself, though, when he realizes that he would only send Katara toppling again. His face grows hotter and hotter, and he doesn't dare to move.

Still half-sprawled across Zuko's back, Katara giggles. Then laughs. Then keeps laughing as she rolls onto her side and wraps her arms around him from behind in a strange, lopsided hug.

Zuko can't decide whether staying still and silent while Katara hugs him from behind is the best course or not. He can't make this any weirder than it already is. If he does, then Katara is going to be that stuffy old tour guide telling people about how Zuko died of sheer embarrassment and melted into the floor. Except that she's Katara, and she'll never be stuffy. She'll be beautiful no matter what her age, and—oh, spirits, he really has to stop thinking before he lets anything more slip out.

"I'm so sorry," he manages to croak after a too-long pause.

Katara is still laughing, and she squeezes him tighter. "Don't be," she manages between giggles. "You just wanted to cheer me up." She pulls herself all the way up this time and holds onto his shoulder to steady herself between more bouts of giggling.

"I made everything awkward," he laments.

"And that's what I love about you."

Her words don't sink in until she lets out a surprised squeak, claps a hand over her mouth, and buries her face in his shoulder.

"Wait. What did you just—"

Katara shakes her head. "Nothing," she says, voice muffled against his shoulder. "I didn't say anything."

"Katara." He takes hold of her shoulders and pushes her back just far enough so he can see her face.

Oh. She's blushing. Zuko isn't imagining it this time—her cheeks have taken on a slightly darker hue, and she's avoiding his gaze. His heart skips. She meant it? He doesn't want to get his hopes up, but she wouldn't be blushing if there weren't some truth to it, would she?

"Did you just—" He breaks off, his eyes wide and his face aflame.

Katara meets his gaze and gives a small, crooked smile. "Um—surprise?"

His head spins, and he can feel his mouth pulling into a smile. He never would have dared to hope, but Katara is smiling, and he's smiling, and he has to remind himself to breathe.

"Since we're already making things awkward," she resumes, "there's something else I might as well tell you."

Zuko can't stop staring into her eyes, falling deeper and deeper into the endless blue that looks almost like silver by the pale light of the single lamp.

"There is?"

Katara nods. "I really want to kiss you right now."

His mouth goes dry again, and he is numb when he manages to nod. "That—that sounds good to me."

And that was a stupid response, he tells himself, but before he can think of a more dignified one, Katara's lips are pressed against his.

Zuko's eyes close, and a bit of the tension drains from his shoulders. Maybe he can handle this, he decides. He's still the most awkward person he knows, but maybe that isn't such a bad thing after all.

[animebaby00]

No Buts To The Pumpkin Guts (Katsuki Bakugou x Reader) - One-shot

(Halloween 2020)

"Come on, Katsuki."

"No."

"Please ?"

"No." 

"Pleeeease?" 

"Jesus, Y/N for the last fucking time, no !" 

You puffed out your lip, sitting on the floor by the angry blonde's bed where he sat, scrolling through his phone.

"You're mean." You mumbled with a pout

"What, just because I know the difference between something logical and something that's just plain stupid?"

"It's not stupid !" 

The male groaned, running a hand over his face, "Why would I want to waste my time tearing the insides out of a round, orange piece fruit and stab a face into it?" 

You blinked.

A very... interesting choice of words. But you expected nothing less from the famous Katsuki Bakugou.

Still, the answer was obvious.

"Uh, because it's fun ?" 

"Tch...yeah. For annoying little brats.."

You made a disapproving sound in the back of your throat while throwing your hands up in the air in disbelief, "Ugh, I can't believe you ! How can you not want to carve a pumpkin !? That's like...not wanting to eat cookies during Christmas time!" 

"Totally different scenario, Y/N."

You smacked your hands against the floor, "It is not !" You exclaimed, "It just doesn't make any sense to me as to why you wouldn't want to." 

"A lot of things don't make sense to you, dimwit." 

You narrowed your eyes eerily, earning zero reaction out of the blonde male. Then you let your head fall, a sigh leaving your lips.

But there was no way in hell you were giving up.

Oh no. You were just getting started.

Time for Plan B.

Which was also your angry pomeranian boyfriend's biggest weakness.

You worked your face in preparation, scrunching it up and holding your breath. You could feel your cheeks warm up while you clenched the fabric of the shorts you were wearing. Your quirk gave you the power of water production and temperature control from the pores of your body in the form of anything between geysered spouts or misty droplets, so naturally, making hot 'tears' spill over the edges of your eyes came easy.

You allowed your body to tremble slightly, causing your hair to fall more over your face.

A whimper left your mouth.

And that immediately caught his attention. 

His body stiffened,eyes slowly moving to look at your shaking form on the ground, fists clenched as a tear dripped from your chin and onto the exposed skin of your thigh.

His crimson eyes widened as he lifted himself off the bed, crouching down so he was eye level with you.

 "Shit, Y/N ! What the fuck ? What's wrong ?" He reached a hand out to grasp your shoulder. 

But you slapped his hand away.

He gasped as you pulled your head up, eyes glossy and cheeks red. Your lip was quivering. 

"What's wrong ?," You asked with a hiccup, "You have some nerve Katsuki. All I wanna do is spend time with you and you won't swallow your dumbass pride and carve a pumpkin with me !" 

Bakugou's mouth dropped open slightly. 

Were you serious? 

He stared at you and your lips tightened as no words left his mouth. 

'Okay. Now for the icing on the cake.'

"Fine then," you said in defeat, standing up "Guess I'll just do it by myself. Or maybe I'll go ask Izuku if he'll carve one with me."

The bitterness of your final words caused an immediate reaction. As you turned to leave, a large hand grabbed your wrist and you were pulled forcefully into a broad, warm chest, and no sooner than that, words were being barked loudly into your ear.

"Like hell you will! There's no way I'm going to let that shitty Deku get near you! Especially when you're all upset and shit !"

You rolled your eyes into his shoulder since Bakugou couldn't see, mentally groaning at his fruitless jealousy he held for Izuku since the two of you were just friends and would never be anything more.

But then he said the one thing that you were hoping he would say.

You could feel Bakugou's arms circle your waist tightly as you pulled your head back to get a look at his face. 

His eyes were sharp with anger, teeth gritted.

"Go and grab two of those pumpkins from downstairs."

Your eyes widened.

"Huh?" 

"You heard me." 

You couldn't believe it. Was your trick actually going to work ?

"You mean...you'll carve a pumpkin with me ?" 

Bakugou sighed, and flicked your forehead.

"Ow! Hey!"

 "Don't tell me you're going deaf now too. I can carve a way better pumpkin than that stupid nerd any day! And you better not think otherwise. Now go. And stop crying." He wiped away a stray tear from your cheek.

"I don't like it when you cry…" he mumbled.

And cry no more because hearing those words leave his lips caused you to completely forget about the stinging pain on your forehead as a bright smile all of a sudden graced your face, any apparent sadness gone as you removed his hands from your waist and clasped them between your own.

"Yay ! Thank you, Katsuki ! You're the best ! Stay here, I'll be right back !" 

You kissed his cheek and skipped out of his room in a fit of giggles, leaving the blonde alone in his room, highly confused.

He could feel his eye twitch in annoyance as he resisted the urge to chase you down and drag your ass back into his room. 

But there was no going back now.

So instead he sighed, running a hand through his spiky hair.

'That damn put together.'

~~~~~~~

You returned about 5 minutes later, a giddy grin on your face as you entered Bakugou's room and shut his door

There was a small wagon at your feet that you pulled in with you, filled with two large pumpkins, a sheet, a big plastic bowl, and some carving tools.

Bakugou clicked his tongue at your joyful expression, "You're a real piece of work, you know that ?" 

"Hm?", You said cheekily, bending down to pick up the folded sheet from the wagon, "Sorry. I don't know what you're talking about." 

The blonde shook his head, body leaned against his bed post as he watched with arms folded across his chest as you lay the sheet out on the floor before also laying out the bowl and tools. 

You sat down, dragging the wagon with both pumpkins inside closer to you.

Your eyes turned upwards to see Bakugou staring at you with an annoyed, stiffened face. But it didn't phase you in the slightest.

Honestly, you thought it was kinda cute.

You patted the floor next to you.

"Well ? Don't just stand there. We have pumpkins to carve !" 

The male gave a reluctant sigh, dragging his body over to where you sat, taking a seat next to your form just as you placed the two pumpkins on the sheet covered floor. 

"Here's your shaver and carving knife." you held your hand out with the tools for him to take, but just as he was about to, you teasingly pulled your hand away.

The blonde's annoyed expression deepened as a smirk found its way onto your lips.

"Can I trust you won't do anything bad...Explosion Boy ?" 

Bakugou scoffed, "What the hell do you take me for? A murderer?"

"Wellll," you pondered, "I just thought about your description of pumpkin carving from earlier. What was it ? 'Why would I want to tear the insides out of a round, orange piece fruit and stab a face into it?' And your hero name for a time waaaas 'King Explosion Murder' if I'm not mistaken."

"Tch, shut up." Bakugou snatched the tools from your hands and moved his pumpkin closer to his body. 

You watched with amused eyes, another giggle leaving your lips as you started working on your own pumpkin.

The two of you began carving away, slicing and sawing out the top in order to reach the stringy, seed filling.

You pulled the top off by the stem, revealing the sticky squishiness inside. Bakugou did the same.

Then you both proceeded to gut them until they were empty and scraped clean.

This was your favorite part. Probably the best part about carving pumpkins.

You reached your hand in, grabbing a handful of the gooey goodness and pulled out to see your hand covered in orange sliminess. 

You squeezed your fist tighter, the guts oozed through your fingers, and a happy chuckle left your throat.

Then you heard another scoff.

"You are such a fucking child."

Eyes trailed slowly over to look at Bakugou, who was mindlessly cleaning out his pumpkin as well. But with a scooper.

"And what's the problem with that ? Being young at heart isn't a bad thing." You argued,"Besides, you're the one who asked me out so you have no choice but to deal with it."

Bakugou rolled his eyes, and you continued to watch him. His arm was bent at an odd angle as he attempted to remove more of the pumpkin's insides. 

It looked kinda uncomfortable, and you decided it was pointless as well when he pulled the scoop out to dump it in the plastic bowl, only to see a smidge of it land on the rest with a soft *glop.

But just as he was about to go in again,

"You know using your hands is easier right ?" 

He looked at you, lips pursed downwards, "I'm not using my hands." 

"Why? You'll get done faster." 

"I'm not making a giant fucking mess like you are, dumbass." He said gruffly, shoving the scoop back inside the pumpkin.

You furrowed your eyebrows at his stubbornness, but it was a constant normality. Bakugou hardly ever took advice from people. Even if it was from you.

A sigh left your lips as you made to continue working on your pumpkin….until your eyes became transfixed on something.

Specifically, the bowl full of pumpkin guts.

The lightbulb ignited, and boy did you know you would regret it. 

But you just couldn't pass up the chance.

Your body scooted closer to him, and he seemed to catch your movement since his eyes looked your way in noticing your closeness, his scooping actions coming to a halt once again.

"What the hell do you want ?" He asked gruffly.

You giggled, "Come on Bakugou. You need to lighten up ! What's a little mess…."

Bakugou's eyes narrowed as you reached behind your back, wondering what shitty stunt you were about to pull. 

He couldn't see what you were handling or grabbing at, but your next words made the hairs on the back of his neck rise with uneasiness.

You smirked deviously, "...when the mess is part of the fun?"

And then you brought your hand forward, your palm filled with gooey pumpkin insides, inching closer and closer to his face.

"Y/N don't you fucking-"

But it was too late. Your hand pressed into his cheek and moved down his neck, the stringy orange substance squishing against his skin. You went farther, all the way down to his chest, not even hesitant in stopping.

Until Bakugou grabbed your wrist, and you looked up at him, more specifically, into his eyes…. that were burning with intensity.

If looks could kill, you'd definitely be dead.

"Wipe that shit eating grin off your face, you brat."

You eyeballed his stare, your own eyes gleaming with mischief, "Annnnnd what if I don't ?" 

He growled, "You better watch it, because after that little stunt you pulled earlier with and what you did just now," he pushed you backwards causing you to let out a yelp, and pinned you down to the floor underneath him, "You're going to pay."

You tried to squirm away, but it was completely useless. Your strength was nothing compared to Bakugou's. 

His hand scooped up a handful of pumpkin guts, and you watched with amusement as he held it right above your face.

"What happened to not wanting to make a mess 'Suki?" You mocked.

"Hmph," he smiled amusingly, getting closer to your face, "That's the second time you've used my word against me today."

"Well, maybe you should watch what you say."

"And maybe you should stop being so god damn annoying."

"You like it."

Bakugou used his other hand to pin your arms above his head, "Maybe I do, maybe I don't. But you better tone it down smartass, otherwise it's gonna put you in situations you won't be able to get out of...for example."

He raised his arm, putting his head near your ear like you did to him, "...like right now."

And he smashed his hand into your face.

You squealed, laughing, kicking and squirming and he spread the guts all over your cheeks, forehead, and neck, even going farther so some carded into your hair.

At some point, his hands left your wrists, and with your hands free, you were able to finally escape from under him, face sticky and tinted orange.

He smirked at you as you wiped at your forehead, collecting more goo on your fingers

He wanted to play THAT game, huh ?

So be it.

 You reached towards the bowl, enveloping another huge handful of pumpkin guts.

You sat on your knees, eyes narrowing at your hot-headed boyfriend as a devious smirk grew on your lips.

"Oh, it is SO on."

~~~~~~~

You were out of breath, panting for air with adrenaline pumping through your veins. 

Your body was laying halfway on top of Bakugou, the upper half of your torso and your head laying right between his open legs on his lower abdomen. 

He was breathing hard and huskily as well, his stomach rising and falling from underneath your chin.

You'd think you both just run a marathon or went through some hardcore, intense hero training.

But no. You were both battling for air because of a pumpkin gut war, and if your tired out bodies weren't proof of that, your clothes and Bakugou's room was. 

The simple t-shirts and shorts you both wore were smeared with orange as well as the skin of your arms and legs. There were guts mushed into your hair as well as Bakugou's, and the sheet you had placed down on the floor was no better. The floor itself? Let's just say you were thanking GOD his floor wasn't carpet. 

But even in a giant mess, you were happy.

Out of breath, but happy. 

"Idiot."

You moved your head, "What ?" 

"That's it. I just wanted to call you an idiot."

You smacked his leg with a huff, "You've already called me that over a dozen times today. Or are you just calling me that because you're jealous that I won our little pumpkin brawl ?"

"Hah ? What are you talking about ?" he pushed his body up with his arms, "I totally kicked your ass."

You tapped your chin, "No...If I remember correctly you went down first. "

"Well, then your memory is shit." 

"Oh is it now ?"

Bakugou gripped your chin, "The shittiest."

Your lips pursed into a smile,"Care to help me... refresh it then ?"

He answered you by roughly pressing his lips to yours, hands holding the sides of your face while you gripped his shirt. 

He moved his hand to the back of your head, carding his sticky fingers through your hair as you pushed your body more into his. 

However, the heated bliss ended much quicker than you would have liked. Bakugou pulled his lips away from yours, moving his head to the side so that his lips were near the crook of your neck.

"And by the way, Y/N…" he whispered gravelly.

"Hm ?"

His lips tickled the skin by your ear, "You're cleaning ALL of this up."

"Hahaha, thanks that's….WAIT WHAT ?!" 

[zuffer-weird-girl]

I've always imagine whenever it's Mother's day or S/O's birthday , Kai and Kaito becomes a war of "who can get the most affection and praise" out of them. 😭

The moment he woke up and returned to his senses he slowly got up from the bed and stared at you with a rare smile on his face before crouching down the slightest to kiss the tip of his gloved fingers to soon place in your forehead.

Thankfully you didn't wake up, but you did sleepily whined and burried your face on the pillow claiming even sleeping that it was too early.

"... even getting older you're still a brat." He mused monoustly before shooking his head in disbelief.

He carefully closed the door to let you have your minutes of peace while he made his way to the living room.

Tiny footsteps aproached him and he immediately turned around with a glare at his 3 years old son.

Little rascal also had a light sleep apparently...

"What are you doing up brat? Have any idea what time it is?" The kid deadpanned while walking towards his father.

"Why are you awake if its a bad thing daddy?" Chisaki scoffed at his son question and continued to walk towards the living room, cringing at noticing his little defiant following him.

Come on... one day. Just one day let him have his angel for himself...

He overhauled one part of the floor and took it out a tiny black box and smirked, you always scolded him for getting stupidly expensive things for you every since you two met... but this time he couldn't help himself at seing this on the showcase of some shop.

His kid gaped at seing his present and he smirked to himself, perfectly apparently.

"You're going to give this to mama?" The kid asked monotonously but his usual serious eyes wide open in surprise.

Chisaki nodded before pushing the box in his pocket before grabbing his cellphone to both check the time and also see when the roses were coming.

"Why?"

He deadpanned before looking in surprise at his son, innocently expecting a answer, did he... did he forget?

"Kaito. It's your mother's birthday. Don't tell me you forgot.." He stated simply before he saw his kid widening his eyes in both terror and sadness.

"I DID!" the kid exclaimed before Chisaki shushed him with apalm over his mouth angrily.

"Brat your mother is still sleeping!" He whisper yelled at the kid before letting go of his son, whose now surprisingly was calm again.

The kid deeply thought for a second before letting a "oh!" And running back to his room in hurry.

"... I am not even going to ask. I would only lose time and pacience..." he sighed in annoyance before he saw the message that it was soon going to be there what he had comanded...

Now the real problem... food.

He refused to ask help to Chrono with those things, especially when it was his wife's birthday but god helped him on making a decent food because he couldn't cook for shit.

And he wouldn't ask a take out or to other subbordinate of his to do it. If he didn't saw how the food was made or didn't trust the people at all he wouldn't even spare a glance at it, neither his angel.

Absolutely not. He was instrict to those things, and that's final.

When he entered the kitchen he fkund his son furiously drawing on a paper before mumbling some incoherents words and kneading them to went for a another one.

".. you're going to clean this up later brat." The kid nodded while he looked for a book to at least help him a bit.

Now... what was the easiest and cleanest thing to do as a breakfast that you enjoyed?

"Daddy you don't know how to cook." He glared at his smirking son on the table with fire in his eyes "But I'm not complaining. That means mama will like my gift the most."

He sighed in annoyance before stopping at one page. Waffles sounded easy and he had already saw you eating once... and to colaborate he had the machine.

Score.

"Of course. A messy drawing of a rascal would surpass a jewelry, and that's only one of the things I am going to give it to her."

"Daddy; a drawing, a kiss on the cheek from me to mama is enough to leave her with a smile on her face... and besides!" He kid smiled devilish at him "I can say 'I love you mama', different from you!" He pointed at Chisaki, who now seemed irritated, while he sended another death glare at the toddler, putting angrily another pair of much more longer gloves... just in case.

This brat knew how to get on his nerves...

"Remind me again how many years you know your mother, Chisaki Kaito." He said monotonously before placing the items on separately.

"Uh... my whole life?"

"Exactly. Three years in total. Put that plus all the years that I dated and years of marriage. Who is in advantage in here?" The kid opened his mouth before Chisaki bitterly interrupted "The answer is clearly not you. You lost today son of mine." He said while poring the solids ingredients on the bowl.

"No I didn't!"

"Don't increase your tone of voice." He now went to grab the eggs, making a disgusting face already.

He had to break them? And these disgusting yolk were on it?

Those gloves he was using were going to the freaking trash can after this.

He hitted the egg carefully on the counter and deadpanned at seing it didn't even cracked.

"Can I break them?" The kid asked with seriousness in his eyes but alresdy at his father side pleading silently.

"No. You're going to make a mess." The kid pouted at his father comment.

"No I am not. Mama always let me break the eggs."

"Does she now..?" He mused before trying again with more force, accidentally letting a bit of the egg white spill on the counter.

"SH--- dammit!" He almost cursed in front of his three year old child.

"What was that part about me making a mess daddy?" The kid asked more innocently than everthing as he stared at the eggwhite sliding down the kitchen counter.

"Kaito grab a handkerchief. Disgusting..." he growled the last part as he angrily throwed the broken shells on the trash.

The little boy obyed to his father's order and grabbed a tiny handkerchief and went to wipe it off before Chisaki yanked it out of his hands to pass a cleaning product on it.

"There. You can't clean without these." He handed back the handkerchief to his son before hesitantly picking another egg, this time wenting to break him in the bowl instead.

"Daddy can I please break this instead?" The kid tried again but winced at the muffled shout of anger of his father at the moment he let some of the eggshells drop in the bowl.

He sighed before he sended another annoyed glare at his smilling son.

"... grab a chair midget." He growled while he picked the handkerchief from the now gleaming boy to scrub himself the place where he had dirtied in disgust.

The kid pushed the chair to his father side and eargly grabbed one as his father merely stared at it, unamused.

Chisaki had to control his anger and surprised face when he saw his three years old son, perfectly cracking a egg on the bowl without any mistakes. The kid throwed the shells away in the trash before quickly washing his hands, shortly after extending his tiny chubby arms to his father with a 'ta-da!'.

"Shut it egg breaker." He flicked his son's forehead before chuckling lowly at his son giggles.

He went to grab the food mixer before his son called him again, this time with a quite worried tone of voice.

"What?" He asked annoyed while his son pointed at the bowl.

"When I see mama making waffles she usually breaks the eggs separately and beaten them before mixing with the other things."

"... pardon?" He now grabbed the book to only read what his son had said... he had skipped that part...

"I... it's not much of a difference."

Come on what could change if you didn't beaten the eggs earlier right?

Before he noticed, Kaito had grabbed the food mixer and before he could stop him the kid had turned it on the maximun... spilling on both of them.

He twitched his eye in complete disgust and irritation while his son merely stared at it ahile saying a 'Ops...'

"Yeah... 'ops' Kaito, is definitely the right word. Surely." He bitterly and sarcastically said while his son sended him a guilty smile.

"Sorry?"

He sighed while abruptly closing his book and grabbing the bowl looking at it.

"I guess there is still some to make at least two or three... Let's leave them on the machine for now. Both of us need a shower... urgently." He said to his son who obediently nodded, helping him clean up the mess before he went along to the bathroom.

~

You had woken up with the sounds of whisper yells and the smell of something burning.

...wait. SOMETHING WAS BURNING?!

You got up on your feet and quicly dressed up on something before running out of your bedroom to follow the disgusting and terrifying smell.

Oh god it was coming from the kitchen...

You oppened the door in worry before deadlanning at the scene in fromt of you...

Your husband and son... trying to take what seemed like a burned waffle out of the machine with knifes.

You silently made your way out, to not disturb them before closing the door.

What has gotten in your boys to do this? And since when Kai wanted to cook something?

Kurono appeared on the hallway with a 'tired as fuck' expression and stared at you, while pointing at the door, silently demanding answers.

"Kai and Kaito are cooking something." You answered not so sure of yourself anymore.

Hari suddenly widened his dark eyes and looked at the direction of the door before letting out a snicker.

"No wonder the smell of burnt. I get it. Ah by the way (Y/N)." You looked up at the man whose now was pointing at the door.

"There is a little present from Chisaki for you outside." He said while waving his hand, walking away from there "Happy birthday I guess."

You widened your eyes at his words, now everthing made sense... you giggled before going to the door and see a rather beautiful bouquet of golden and red roses.

You shook your head in disbelief with a smile, scenting the sweet aroma of the flowers in front of you.

Kai never changed...

"Maybe its better a take out?" "Absolutely not... although there's nothing much we can do for now..."

You heard both voices of your husband and baby getting out of the kitchen.

"There is the other one that turned out good at least." The kid pointed before Chisaki deadpanned.

"One. One only."

You aproached both of them who were with their backs turned to you.

"Angel I know you're behind me." You yelped, before you could even poke your husband shoulder he had caught you.

Your baby smiled widely before hugging you tightly to him while saying 'Happy birthday mama! I love you with all my heart!'

"Aww thank you sweetie! I love you too!" Chisaki scoffed before he pointed with his palm at his son.

"This brat only reminded that what it was today only because I said it to him." The kid gasped while you giggled, picking your son up even despite having the bouquet on your hands.

"He is a child Kai." You whispered affectionately while he only rolled his eyes.

You went to thank him with a kiss on his masked nose before the hand of your son prevented you from doing it.

"No kissing mama! Is gross!" The kid whined while you almost burst out laughing at your husband's expression of oure annoyance and irritation.

Karma is a bitch isn't Chisaki?

"Alright! Alright! Maybe later~" you winked at your husband whose merely lifted an eyebrow of his, but still behing that mask had a smirk...

Your son immediately protested though.

"Here. Angel." You looked up in confusion before he montioned for you to turn your back to him.

You eyed him suspiciously bit obeyed anyway, soon feeling the brush of his gloved fingers on your neck before you felt the cold materia of a necklace.

"Kai..." you mused desperately before turning it to him, smilling at the subtle sigm of his own behind that black mask of his.

"Only the flowers weren't enough?" You asked sarcastically before you sighed in hopeless at the affectionate shook of his head.

"A golden necklace isn't much... especially when the person receiving is you angel of mine."

"Can I at least know how much you payed for this mister?"

"For you to scold me later? No. I threw all the hints away. So stick with that." He said harshly but you laughed anyway.

He sighed before lowering his mask and placing his gloved hand to cover his son's eyes.

"Just accept it brat, I'm kissing your mother anyway." He said before crashing his soft lips in yours.

Kaito immediately made a 'ew' before placing hsi own hand over his ears to not even hear a sound, even if you two were silent...

The moment he separated he looked deep i your eyes before murmuring lowly in the skin of your cheek

'I love you. Happy birthday (y/n)'

Despite years of knowing him and being married, hearing those words were still somehow a little difficult to hear since Chisaki preferred to show this with actions and gifts than anything else.

But every time you listened from his voice, it was just so... intense and honest, it made your spine shiver as your whole body warmed up.

"Take that rascal." He mumbled to his son, taking his hand off from his son's eyes to push his mask back up.

"Huh?" The kid had listened nothing...

"Here." Kai llaced his hand in your lower back "There is still some things."

"More?" You asked in disbelief "You can't be serious..."

"Was I ever a man to joke around?"

Sighs...

No. No he wasn't.

[queen-of-deans-booty]

The Devil You Know: Part Two

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2,304

Warnings: typical supernatural violence, language, angst, blood, you know the usual

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Any and all comments on these are appreciated. I really want to hear what you guys think about this one!

Feedback is the glue that holds my writing together.

Tags at the bottom

The air is thick with tension, and no one has the nerve to say anything about anything. If the angels and other hunters know what you did, then surely Crowley must know. Plus, if he has been listening to what’s been going on in this car, then he knows about all the arguments you and Dean have when Sam isn’t around.

“Are we going to talk about it?” Crowley finally speaks up.

“Talk about what?” Dean gruffs.

“The baby.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“No, Crowley’s right. We should talk about it,” you say and turn to face Crowley who is sitting in the back. “You see, I want to have a mature conversation with him about why I did what I did and why I kept it from him. He’s being a baby about it and whines whenever I bring it up like I don’t have any feelings.”

“No, Crowley, tell her if she had any feelings about it, then maybe she should have come to me. We should have made this decision together. Instead, she went behind my back and took away my child without letting me know I even had one!”

“We discussed this already Dean!” you shout and turn to Dean to face him head on. “Sure, I was wrong to do it behind your back, but we literally had this conversation weeks before I got pregnant! What, your decision changed in a blink of an eye?”

“I guess we’ll never know, now won’t we?” Dean shouts back.

“You’re both acting like children!” Crowley yells louder than you two, which gets you to shut up. “Maybe I should have brought Sam along. Look, can we focus on what’s in front of us?”

“Whatever,” you scoff and turn to the office building in front of you where the demon Brady was.

You look through your binoculars and see people in the lobby just talking to one another.

“Demons?” Dean ask.

“No, human shields,” you answer.

“Demons are on the twelfth floor. How did you know that?” Crowley asks you.

“I can see a black ring around their bodies if they are demons. A white one if they are angels.”

“Do you see one around me?”

“I’m surprised I can see what your vessel looks like at all. You’re practically covered with the stuff. Way to blend in,” you scoff.

“Regardless, we’ll have to find a way in through the back.”

“You Winchesters make everything so complicated,” Crowley groans and disappears from the car.

“Where did he go?” you ask Dean.

“Shit,” he mutters and looks through the binoculars.

You take one look to see the demon behind the security guard at the front desk. He waves and then slits his throat just like that.

“Shit!” you yell and scramble to get out of the car.

Dean follows you to the front of the building, and you tap on the glass door to let him know you’re here and he needs to unlock the door.

“It’s open!” he yells. You and Dean run inside to see him wiping the blade on the security guard’s jacket. You and Dean look at him like he just murdered innocent people, and he only shrugs. “What?”

“You fucking killed them?” you yell.

“We're on a tight schedule. Come on,” he taps your shoulder lightly and heads over to the elevator.

You and Dean get on, and Crowley reaches inside to press the button for the twelfth floor. He steps away from the doors with a smile.

“Go get ‘em, tiger.”

“You're not coming?” you ask as you stop the doors from closing.

“Oh, no. It's not safe up there. There's demons.”

“No shit Sherlock.”

“Look, just do what I told you, a-and try to be convincing. It'll work like a charm. Trust me,” he encourages and pushes you back into the elevator.

The doors close, and you’re trapped inside the metal box for twelve floors with Dean. The silence is intense, and it feels like hours until the doors open again. Brady is in the main office, but in order to get to him, you have to get past his demons.

They charge at you with hatred in their eyes, but you’re ready to take them on. Dean leaves your side to take care of two while the other two focus on you. There is one on either side of you, and they start charging at you as if they can take you down by doing so. Your right hand reaches out to the demon on your right, and blue magic shoots out of your hand to swirl around his neck. You do the same to the demon on your left, and now both are under your control.

They fight for breath, and you waste no time defeating them while you can. They follow your movements since your magic links them to you, so you move both arms in front of you which causes the demons to head slam into each other. You take a couple of steps towards them and place blue hands on their heads. Much like before with Pastor Gideon and his team of hunters, the demons in front of you began to seep from the pores of their vessels. The longer your hands are on their heads, the more they are being expelled. Only when they are completely out, do you take your hands away. The bodies drop to the floor as the smoke disappears back to hell, and you look at Dean who watches you.

“What? I told you I can do this now.”

“Come on,” he rolls his eyes and heads for Brady’s office.

It’s like the demon knows you’re out there, so he uses his demonic powers and opens the door for you.

“Dean Winchester and Y/N Singer. What, no appointment?”

“Like you’d accept ours,” you mutter and head inside.

Dean wipes Ruby’s knife on a jacket hanging by the door to clean it, and the doors behind you close on their own.

“Well, then, you're just on time. Have a seat. How's your brother?” Brady asks. Dean gives him a death glare, and you both take a seat in front of his desk. “Well, down to business, then. What can I do for you?”

“Actually, it's about what we can do for you.”

“Really?”

“Me, Sam, and Y/N dropped two of your jockeys. I think you know that.”

“Yes. I got the memo.”

“Well, we kept their, uh, secret power rings. Which is why we’re here. I hear some folks saying that you want them back, and you were willing to pay.”

“Hmm. Where are they?” he asks with his hand on his chin.

“Not here,” you answer. “But because you want them, you’ll come with us civilly out of this batcave here, and we can discuss a transaction.”

“Who says I want them?”

“Excuse me?”

“Who says I want them?” he repeats slowly.

You and Dean exchange looks of confusion, and he’s the one to speak next.

“You know… folks.”

“You see,” Brady clears his throat and gets up from his desk to circle around to the front, “with War and Famine, even if I could cram the rings back on their bony fingers, I doubt it would do much good. They're withered husks right now—fetal position on the floor—all thanks to you two. So, I don't want the rings. What I want is retribution, and I'm gonna rip it right out of your asses!”

“Look out!” you yell and lunge toward Dean to protect him, but Brady is much faster.

He holds out his hands in front of him and locks you and Dean in place. Your throat begins to close as much as Dean’s is, and the demon throws you out of his office and into the hall. You land right next to Dean with a groan and look up to see Brady walking slowly towards you two.

“This is so good,” he chuckles. “Therapeutic, for sure.”

He lifts his hand to do some more damage, but you’re quicker this time. Your magic forms a force field over you and Dean so that it blocks Brady’s powers temporarily. The demon grows frustrated, but because he is the Horseman’s right-hand man, he’s a lot stronger than he lets on.

“Come on, we have to go,” you groan in pain.

“I don’t think so,” Brady growls, and uses all of his strength to throw you across the room despite a force field.

You go flying into a small table, hitting your head on the corner. The room spins as things get blurry, and you’re seeing three of Dean and Brady. As much as you want to help, you can’t do it in this state. You groan and lay limp on the floor with nothing else to do but watch.

“You know, Dean, I really owe you one, buddy, 'cause I feel,” Brady kicks Dean in the stomach now that you’re out of the way, “so,” another kick, “much,” another kick to the stomach, “better!”

“No, Dean,” you mutter.

Despite him hating your guts, you can’t help but love the man. Your magic goes into overdrive as it tries to help you fight to stand up, but even as you try to stand on your own, you crumble to the ground.

“You’re going to be okay, sweetheart,” Dean says as he uses all his strength to hold you against his body.

He saw an out and took it, taking you with him along the way. The room is still spinning even as your magic courses through your veins. You mumble incoherently as you use Dean as a support system for your body.

“Dean, Y/N, where are you going? We're just getting started!” Brady yells.

Dean presses the buttons fast, and the doors close before Brady can get close to it. Without any distractions, you move away from him and use the handlebars on the back of the elevator as support.

“Are you okay?” you ask as you blink rapidly to make the blurriness go away.

“I’m fine,” he sighs.

The elevator reaches the lobby, and the doors open to reveal what you left behind: dead bodies. Crowley is nowhere to be found, but at the moment, you don’t seem to care. You exit the elevator cautiously because Brady can appear almost anywhere at any time. It’s eerily quiet—too quiet. Neither demon is anywhere to be found, so you leave the elevator as quick as possible.

Suddenly, you’re hit in the exact same spot as you were before, and you go crumbling to the ground. Dean is next, and Brady stands behind you two with a wicked smile.

“Good meeting, Dean and Y/N. You know, I'm excited,” he laughs.

You turn on your back and watch as Crowley comes up behind Brady with a burlap sack that has demonic symbols on it. He shoves it over his head and begins bashing his head with a crowbar. Brady falls to the ground in a bloody mess.

“Evening, Uncle,” he grins.

“What the hell was that?” Dean coughs and stands up.

He offers you his hand, and you take it to haul yourself up. Your vision is blurrier than before, and you press your hand to the tender spot.

“That was perfect.”

“Perfect? He didn’t want the fucking rings. He wanted us, you dick,” you spat.

“Imagine the surprise on your face,” Crowley laughs.

“What?”

“Your ignorance and misinformation. I mean it’s completely authentic. You can't fake that,” he says, and you and Dean give him the death glare. “What? I-it went like clockwork.”

“Not for us, you fucking bitch!” you yell then wince at the pain in your head.

“That's what you get for working with a demon,” he tsks.

“Oh wait till I get my hands on you,” you threaten.

“Not in that state, darling. Come on, we need to hit the road before more come back.”

You and Dean are in the front seat, and Crowley and Brady are in the back. Dean is driving while dabbing his head with a rag he found to stop the bleeding. Your head is throbbing, and you have one blue hand on the wound to heal it from within and without. Crowley is busy doing whatever he’s doing, but you’re not paying attention to him.

“Dean let me heal you,” you sigh.

“Yeah like you can in that state,” he scoffs.

“Stop being a dick for once and let me heal you god damn it!”

“Pass,” he says and throws the rag down by your feet.

You roll your eyes aggressively and look away from him to avoid another argument. Your head is feeling better by the second, and soon, you’re no longer in pain. You turn back to Dean to try and convince him to let you heal him when you hear something squishing in the back seat. You and Dean look behind you to see Crowley carving something in Brady’s chest.

“Hey, hot stuff, watch the upholstery!” Dean barks.

“Up yours, mate. This bit of carving will tie our friend here down. No zapping off and no smoking out. He’s locked in the meat suit. It’s an important piece of our bargaining strategy. Now, up here, we don't want I-50. Take 93 north.”

“What are you talking about?” you ask.

“Look, we can't take this guy back to Sam.”

“Why the hell not?” Dean demands. When he gets no response, he grows angrier. “Crowley!”

“They got history, alright?”

Dean doesn’t take this as an acceptable answer, and he slams on the brakes. The car screeches to a stop, and you have to put your hands on the dashboard to prevent yourself from going through the windshield.

“You want to go anywhere, you start talking. What history?”

Crowley takes a deep breath and begins his story.

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[chaoskirin]

The Seven Seas--Chapter Three

Fandom: Queen Genre: Sci-fi/Gen Rating: PG Chapter 3 Word Count: 1720

Freddie spent the next several hours (and hours and hours) pacing the barn and outlining a plan. For the sake of suspense, said plan will not be described here, although, wonderful readers, it might be described as amazing and daring! Filled with intricate precisiveness and wild creativity! Genius! And most importantly, incredibly unlikely to succeed!

Somewhere around the five o'clock mark, Roger ordered a pizza which never arrived due to the rather remote location of the farm. He spent the next excruciating hour complaining about his insatiable hunger, until John raided the chicken coop and fried some eggs.

Brian was torn between being appalled and relieved. After all, the chickens ought to be allowed to keep their eggs... since they made them, after all. Roger asked Brian what he thought cakes were made of, so Brian swore off cakes for at least the next couple days, at least until he could scrub the vision of affronted chickens out of his mind.

John said "at least they aren't being vaporized," which was quite sobering and put everyone directly back on task.

It should be said that the appearance of aliens on earth had a rather profound effect on Brian, who, up until that point, only hoped aliens existed. Ever the pragmatist, though, he never believed earth would make contact with the various other denizens of the universe until far after he was dead and buried. After all, relative physics still reigned supreme as the dominating theory of everything in the universe. And with no way to travel faster than the speed of light, aliens simply couldn't reach it from wherever they made their home.

Except they had. And they'd dropped by like a very undesirable relative during Christmas celebrations--everyone wanted them gone, but they had to be appeased and placated first. Perhaps even force-fed copious alcohol until they passed out in a peaceful stupor, while the kids drew fake marker mustaches under their noses.

"Do you think," Brian said to John after the four of them split into two groups. "Do you think they'd let me question them about the stars? How they got here? Where they're from?"

John blinked slowly.

"It's not a stupid idea to ask!" Brian insisted. "Just because they want to raze the planet doesn't mean I have to stop learning. And if they really think I'll spill all their secrets then they must not want to destroy me very much. I can't tattle if I'm dead. Don't you think?"

"If I say yes, will you get back to work?" John asked, flicking the end of a soldering iron at him.

Brian grunted and went back to poring over the star map Glasses left behind. He vastly preferred absolutes, whereas Freddie's "plan" just happened to be chock full of conjecture and dumb luck and a good measure of stupidity. Absolute stupidity, which Brian supposed counted as an absolute, just not the kind he wanted. That made him nervous, and therefore talkative.

"It's just..." he said as he tried to figure out Denmark's location in relation to an earth star chart. Thankfully, he never left home without one, just in case. "They could have the secrets of the whole universe stowed away on that little ship of theirs."

"And if they did, and you end up dead?" John asked. "What would you do with them?"

"Well, I'd know."

John rolled his eyes. He'd set aside the soldering gun in favor of a welding torch, and so he was able to dramatically flip the black welding mask down over his eyes to signal the end of conversation. The git. Brian looked away as John ignited the flame.

"I don't even know if it's in the right bloody hemisphere," Brian muttered to himself, returning to the star map. He couldn't read the alien language scrawled out across it, plus it appeared the aliens preferred some odd derivation of base-8 math... which meant he couldn't even parse their coordinates. He was sure it made sense to them, but in the moment, it was infuriating.

That meant he had to manually study every sector of the alien map, then line it up to the earth map. If he could figure out the first sector, he might be able to proceed. The problem was parallax. After all, why would the aliens make a map meant to be viewed from earth?

Damn parallax. Why couldn't all the species in the galaxy just decide on a standard map!

Meanwhile, John got to build... Well. Brian wasn't entirely convinced it wasn't just another cat tree for Freddie's cats.  Freddie assured everyone this little bit of the plan was critical, though. And it was up to Brian to find the proper angle of whatever it was so he could--

Ah. Wait a minute.

I'm sure you're all very bored by now, and I wouldn't blame you. After all, this is just filler really, since one can't just go from aliens arriving to aliens being defeated. The point is, all the great writers in history somehow universally decided that a story can't be told without costing its readers vast amounts of time when they should be doing other things. Say, filling their washing machine with lemonade, or ironing their socks, or stacking teacups on a sleeping cat. Or watching egg whites dry as they drip down the siding of your irritating neighbor's house. Not that the author has ever done that.

In order to create suspense and drama, most writers masterfully fill their stories with plot dynamics. However, this plot is fairly cut and dry as far as stories go, and the author is not masterful in any sense of the word, so she's just decided to waste your time with this rather pointless filler text.

However, as you've been reading this, Brian May--brilliant scientist that he is--has been using his time with all the wisdom and efficiency one would expect from a future astrophysicist. As John continued to weld his rather confusing scaffolding, Brian chanced upon the exact miniscule plot detail he could utilize to make sense of the alien map. Thusly did he shout "Eureka!" ending this particular section of the story.

You're welcome.

---

"You can't just write a whole song in one day," Roger said.

"Well, I don't intend to. We have five days," Freddie returned, straightening a bit in his seat and looking down his nose in haughty confidence. Into the phone, he said "No, I won't hold. I'm Freddie-Fucking-Mercury--What do you mean who??"

The line went dead. Not because the other side had hung up on him, but because rats had chewed clean through the phone line again. Bother of all bothers. If only he had his cats here, the damnable rats wouldn't be such an issue!

"Roger, be a dear and chase the rats off again, would you?" Freddie asked. When cats weren't an option, Rogers did just fine, and as a bonus, they didn't leave rodent corpses on your pillow in the morning. At least Freddie hoped they didn't. He probably should have asked.

"Five days or no," Roger said, returning from his chase, "the pressure must be intense. I mean, if it's going to work, it has to be perfect, doesn't it? No room for error. And you have to trust not only yourself to remember the lyrics, but you also have to have absolute faith in your bass player, and your guitar player, and your drummer who's a bit of a flake."

"Just a bit?"

"Last I checked."

Freddie tut-tutted. "It'll work. Look, it's a short story, and the author always writes happy endings. What makes you think it won't work?"

"Well, I have to be disagreeable, don't I?" Roger asked, flopping down on the couch next to Freddie. "Let's see what you've got so far."

Freddie handed over the notepad.

After a dozen quiet minutes of earnest contemplation, Roger said, "All you've written is the title."

"The Seven Seas of Rhye," Freddie declared. "It's a good title! I was thinking a sort of... Bar song, I guess. Maybe a--"

Roger was shaking his head.

"Oh, what. We've been bleeding out all our creativity lately." Freddie stood, hands on his hips. "There's none left, is there? You're right. Five days to put together a song and get people here so they can bear witness to my amazing plan? It's not long enough. We'll just have to cancel! There shouldn't be consequences for that."

"There probably won't be," Roger agreed. "Just the annihilation of humanity, I guess. Nothing major."

Freddie pursed his lips. Yes, that was a problem. He'd have to power through. As always.

"Look," Roger said, pulling a comic book out of his back pocket. He always carried one, just in case. We've got aliens on earth.

"Rhye."

"Whatever. We've got aliens. Make it epic."

Freddie paged through the comic book. Although the cover seemed to hint at an epic space battle far into the future with high-tech space suits and murderous monsters, the inner pages had been replaced by porn. Porn Freddie didn't even particularly like. "Roger," he said, holding up the least scandalous image he could find.

"Well, you weren't supposed to open it." Roger at least had the wherewithal to appear sheepish as he snatched the magazine out of Freddie's grasp. "If it gets boring in the barn, do you think I'm going to want to read comics?"

"I'd hope that you'd be writing like we're supposed to be," Freddie said, curling his nose up as Roger tossed the magazine on the end table. "Not--"

He paused as inspiration struck, and a single phrase popped into his mind.

I Stand Before You Naked to the Eye.

The basis of the song began to form around it. "Listen," Freddie said, handing Roger the phone, which was still not connected to anything. "First, I need you to take over securing the advertising to get us a proper audience. Make some calls. Get the people here. Can you do that?"

Roger nodded. "And?"

"Yes. Second, I need you to never, ever tell anyone that I got the idea for this song after looking at your raunchy porn."

Roger smiled. Narrowed his eyes. "Put I'm In Love With My Car on the B-Side to Bohemian Rhapsody and you've got yourself a deal."

[im-robins-bitch]

Kiss me again | c.h

masterlist

I was gonna post this tomorrow but i just hit 400 followers so thanks, that's kinda insane 💖

You feel more than you should for your best friend, maybe it’s time to admit it. 

warnings: swearing, sorta a sex scene?

word count: 9k+

“He sounds lame” Calum commented, laying back on your arm-chair with a yawn. You crossed your arms, hitting the top of his head as you walked past carrying the large pizza box. “Just saying,” He mumbled, grabbing a slice. He noticed the sweetcorn on top and scrunched his nose.

“Switch?” You questioned, holding out your plate with a matching pizza on it only with a lot less sweet-corn and a lot more tomatoes. He nodded, taking the plate with him making you grumble as he placed the slice of pizza sloppily in your hand, you could already feel the cheese sticking to your thumb. “He was just being a gentleman.” You explained, getting back to the topic at hand, your recent date. “the food was really-”

“shit.” Calum finished, making you open your mouth to protest but Calum beat you to it “You ordered pizza as soon as you got back in,”

“Fine, ok, he took me that new fancy place.” You said, although you didn’t really need to explain, the satin dress on your body was more than confirmation. “I did tell him I didn’t like places like that, but I don’t know I guess he just wanted to impress me.” You sighed.

Calum snorted, watching as you curved your pizza, shovelling it into your mouth, your hand cupped underneath to catch the rouge toppings trying to escape. “If only he could see you now.”

“Are you saying I don’t look hot as fuck covered into tomato sauce?” You joked, wiggling your red saucy digits at him. “Oh you look absolutely divine” He laughed, putting his plate back down on the table, “Some might even say you look delicious!” He moved from his position on the armchair and sat down in front of you on the floor, hooking one of your fingers with his and bringing it to his mouth to lick the sauce off.

“Ew Calum gross!” You laughed, shoving him away, making him knock back into the coffee table, the thud from his crash covering up the thudding of your cheat.

“I was just helping you clean up, and what do i get from the trouble? a concussion!” He said dramatically rubbing his hand against his head, which didn’t even hit the table.

“God, you are such a drama queen!” You groaned, trying to hide the smile on your face by stuffing it with more pizza.

“Are you going on another date?” Calum asked, his voice taut as he leaned forward, pulling his legs up to his chest, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Hmm?” You stuttered between bites, moving your hand to cover your mouth. “Oh you mean with-h-” You stopped, choking on a bit of chicken, “w-with William?”

“William, god even his name is pretentious,” Calum huffed under his breath, settling his head on his hands.

“Yeah I think so, he asked me, I hope its more...fun next time.” You pulled Calums plate your direction, putting down the pizza crust that you knew Calum was going to eat whether you offered it to him or not. “What about you? Didn’t you have a date with-”

“Oh yeah...” Calum said, feebly reaching to scratch the back of his head. “I broke up with her...”

“What?” You stuttered, “Why didn’t you tell me? you’re supposed to tell me these things before they happen! Those are the best friend privileges!” You rambled, “God I don’t even think I have any ice cream left.”

“It's ok,” Calum laughed, “It’s not really a big deal, she was more of a distraction really.” You raised your eyebrows, encouraging him to keep going. “Well, I was sorta...am sorta in love with this girl.”

Your eyes snapped wide, your heart both beating out of its chest and ripping apart at the same time. Never in your life did you expect Calum to tell you he was in love with someone and the fact that he felt that way made your heart leap with joy, your best friend was in love. Though you felt a sting, as if you had just been stung by a scorpion, because there you sat in love with you’re best friend always hoping maybe he felt the same, but now it was clear that was only a fantasy. 

 A few seconds past without you saying anything and you noticed Calum was growing anxious, you realised you had to say something “BEST FRIEND PRIVILEGES!” You yelled, sliding off the sofa to sit down on the floor with him making Calum giggle and move to sit with his legs crisscrossed, mirroring you.

“Yeah, I wanted to tell you sooner but...” He gazed down at his lap,

“So are you not going to tell the girl how you feel?” You questioned, biting down hard on your lip trying to prepare yourself for the reply.

“I-I want to I really really want to but I just can’t.” He reached his hands out for yours and you gladly gave them to him, watching as his fingers traced circles into your palm. “She doesn't feel that way about me”

“How do you know?”

“Huh...” He hummed focusing his attention on following the ridges of your palm with his pointer finger.

“How do you know she doesn't like you,” You asked again, trying to catch his eye. “No offence cal but you’re not that great at picking up when people are into each other.” He opened his mouth to protest but was cut off by you instead, “Do you remember when you thought-”

“that you were in love with Mikey because you were giving him ‘the eyes’“ He mocked. “You flirt with everyone all the time, you’re difficult to read.”

“Yeah well I’m assuming if she caught your attention she’d not such an easy catch” You joked, closing your hand around his giving it a squeeze “Trust me cal, if she isn’t into you now its because she probably didn’t even think you were an option, as soon as you confess your gonna be all she thinks about.”

“Do you think so?” He said quietly, hating to admit he needed this much comforting over something as stupid as love.

“I know so” You confirmed, giving his hand a warm squeeze.

Calum squeezed it back, looking at your hands thoughtfully. He let out a big breath “Actually, Y/N, the thing is-”

“AH, one second,” You said, pulling yourself up from the floor with a groan, to pick up the house phone. “Hello?” You mumbled into the cream block, you’re phone looked like it had come from the 80′s and it was very unusual for people to be calling it. “William,” You greeted with glee, turning to Calum to give him a soft smile and a wink, “hmm, oh no I’m fine my phone’s just on silent...”

You continued to chat to William on the phone, trying to steer the conversation towards hanging up as you looked at Calum regretfully, but you didn’t want to seem rude considering you had only been on one date, was in rude to invite someone over for pizza as soon as you finished a date? You didn’t think so, but you didn’t want to give William the wrong idea, especially now that it looked like Calum was definitely not an option anymore, as much as your heart wished he was.

After 5 minutes you finally managed to say your goodbyes and jumped back down onto the plush carpet with Calum. “Can you believe that he looked through the entire phone book just to find me so he could wish me goodnight, I told you he was sweet” You giggled. “Oh, you wanted to tell me something?” You questioned, cocking your head to the side, trying to ignore the how plush Calums lips looked as he pulled on it with his teeth.

“Uhm, yeah...I wanted to tell you I....I need help with packing? Can you help me?”

“You haven't packed yet?” You questioned, staring in disbelief when he nodded his head “you're leaving in like two days?”

“Some of us don’t start packing a week before there holidays,” Calum joked, laughing half-heartedly as he picked at the fibres of your carpet.

“I think going on tour requires a bit more planning than a trip to Florida “ You laughed. 

For the first time in a long time, an uncomfortable silence fell over the two of you. You squirmed on the floor, leaning back against the sofa trying to picture the girl that managed to make your best friend fall for her. 

A couple of weeks later you lay in a cush four-poster bed staring up at the ceiling noticing the brush marks from when it had been painted. You felt something drip down onto your shoulder and you’re eyes focused again on William who was floundering on top of you. Sweat was dripping from his every-pore, although you didn’t understand how because he wasn’t doing much. 

His hands lay either side of you like a cage you couldn’t escape from. His body thrust into yours and your eyes furrowed. He looked down at you, his face was so concentrated, you tried to smile up at him but from the way he looked away and picked up his pace it was clear it looked like more of a grimace.  

Your mind trailed to Calum, walking in on all the girls he’d fucked on your couch just because Ash couldn’t stand the noise anymore. Even when you went upstairs you could hear the sounds they would make, his name slipping from their lips like a mantra. 

Fuck, it’s not like you hated missionary all the time, but this was really like torture, the worst part was you just didn’t want to have to ruin your first time together by telling him he was just rubbing his cock in between your thighs, you wondered if he even knew what a vagina was, or if he had even watched any porn..  

You rolled your eyes to the back of your head, trying to picture yourself somewhere far away. You’d tell him next time, but for now you just sat in bed wondering how no one else had mentioned this to him and cursed that the responsibility laid on your shoulders. 

You sat on your porcelain throne wrapped up in your fluffy towel watching as steam raised from your skin. You didn’t particularly feel like getting up and drying yourself off, the hot water draining you of energy. Instead, you scrolled through your phone waiting for the air you dry you off a bit more. Only a couple of seconds and you already saw three posts of the same photo of Calum coming out of a bar in Paris walking next to (probably not even with) a tall beautiful brunette. Usually, you wouldn’t give these photos a second thought, but now they just made you wonder about his mystery girl, he hadn’t had much time to text you while he was off and you hadn’t wanted to bring up the girl he was in love with again, not sure you could deal with too much disappointment at once. 

You leaned back against the toilet seat, your thumb flicking the screen up and down just seeing the two photos again and again. It was dumb, really dumb to be thinking of your best friend this way, for the longest time you were just happy with this, the two of you were insanely close and knowing that he hadn't been interested in love always gave you this weird sense of security, that you could take your time, that nothing was going to get in between the two of you. 

He’d always called you his favourite girl (apart from his mother and sister) you had always corrected and he would nod with a smile “apart from them. Your eyes started to water, realising that soon enough maybe that wouldn’t be the case. He would have a new favourite. 

You scrolled up, deciding not to torture yourself any longer, refreshing the page you were filled with relief when that photo was replaced by an advertisement for plane tickets for Paris. 

For Paris. 

Your fingers were working before you even knew what you were doing, your mind didn’t even register the very high price-tag as you dropped your towel running around your flat to find your card, spotting it laying on your coffee table, spilling out of your purse. You clutched it in your hands, typing in each digit with a shaking hand, cursing that phone wasn't going fast enough. 

When you had managed to get the detail correct (it took 3 times because of your shaking hands and pruney fingers) You flopped onto the sofa with a sigh, staring at the screen. 

You’re going to Paris!

YOU WERE GOING TO PARIS. You had no idea what you were doing when you ran to your wardrobe, throwing clothes into an oversized backpack. When you drove down to William’s and knocked on his door until he came out, leaving him with a fleeting sorry and “it's not you, it's me”. 

You’re brain wasn’t even working when you went to the airport, needing to ask for help every second of the way, your brain to frazzled to even understand what each person was saying.

You spent the whole flight pushing the nerves out of your mind, pushing out every thought in your mind. Your legs were bouncing and you just wanted to sleep until you arrived but you didn’t want unwanted dreams slowing down whatever the fuck it was that was motivating you to do this. 

You clutched your fist, in your hand and stared out the window listening to mindless music to escape your mind.

The plane landed and you called Calum, but you were immediately sent to voicemail, you tried everyone but only got voicemail or no answer at all. You gave up, instead looking at twitter, they had a concert somewhere and you were going to go and find it. 

“Yoyo!” You mumbled after spending a good portion of time standing on the pavement, tourist threading through you as you scrolled through the 5 seconds of summer hashtag. You tracked down a taxi and asked them to drive you there. The drive felt like it was lasting a life-time, the taxi drivers small talk about what brought you to the city and love was to much for your brain to comprehend at that moment, once he got to the venue you dashed throwing money at him before you dashed out the car. You could hear the faint sound of fans screaming and the hum of music, not quite able to make out whether or not it was who you were hoping for. 

You looked for some kind of back door, a fire exit, even a window but couldn’t find anything. Your heart was plummeting every second, what the hell were you doing. You were in the middle of France, no idea where you were, you had just given most of your money to a taxi driver and had no way to get to Calum at all. Then you felt your phone vibrating in your pocket, pulling it out you saw Ashton and answered it as fast as you could.

“ASHTON YOU ARE MY SAVIOUR!” You sang through the phone. 

“Y/N whats wrong? are you ok? you’ve called so many times is something wrong? we’re in France we cant help remember” Ashton’s voice was filled with nerves, and you could hear the hustle and bustle behind him. 

“Yeah, so am i!” You exclaimed, “It’s a really long story but i’m here like outside so please come let me in, I really need to talk to Calum.” 

“have you hit your head? Y/n do you need some kind of ambulance?” 

You sighed, you really didn’t have time for this, and every second you stayed on the phone another inch of doubt crept into your mind. “Yeah I really do need an ambulance, because I’ve gone insane, insane on love so please Ashton let me in because Calum is the cure!” You blurted. getting antsier by the second. 

“Huh..are you about too.”

“Tell Calum I’m in love with him, yeah! So if you could let me in before i change my mind” You needed to keep talking, to keep moving, every time you stopped to think the only thing you felt was your brain telling you how bad of an idea this was. 

“No stay there ok, someones on their way. I’ve got to go, only came to pee” No sooner than Ashton hung up did a large man in a black shirt open a door, you had been certain was welded shut moments ago. 

You were ushered down cream corridors, it felt like they stretched on forever, you could hear the echo of the crowd and the music, your heart racing whenever you heard Calums voice “Sorry guys when you gotta go-” You heard Ashton say slightly muffled through the walls. The wind was knocked out of you, how long were they going to be on stage for, you didn’t know how much longer you could keep up this act. “You’re going to need to wait here.” The man said, finally leading you to a small dressing room. 

You sighed, plopping yourself on one of the wooden stools as the man left and closed the door. The room was covered in posters for events that were going on, some brand new and some so old they were peeling at the sides. Your eyes flicked to the brand new poster of 5 seconds of summer, your fingers trailing over the photo of Calum. 

Were you really about to do this, did you really fly all the way to France just to get rejected? You knew Calum, he wouldn’t stop talking to you because of this, but he sure as hell wouldn’t talk to you as much as he did now. 

Then he came in, sweat dripping from his chest, his tattoos peeking out of his black wife-beater, his face squished in a smile clearly excited but exhausted from his performance. He was looking at the boys behind him, laughing at something luke said, furrowing his brows in confusion when they stopped walking and slammed the door shut locking him in the small room.

He was about to spin around, thinking this was some dumb prank again when he spotted you, a smile instantly appearing his face, his eyes filled with disbelief. “Y/N? Is that actually you or did i fall asleep during the set?” 

You walked towards him, grabbing his hands in yours, twisting at the rings that adorned each finger. You took a deep breath, before looking into his twinkling eyes. 

“I love you, no. I’m completely enamoured by you Calum Thomas Hood and I flew all the way to fucking France just to tell you and even if you’re about to reject me please can you just wait for a second and kiss me first”

Your grip on his hands grew tighter, squeezing down hard enough to turn them white. His eyes scanned your face looking for any sign of doubt or joke. Your eyes began to water, your sudden surge of courage suddenly wearing off. “or you could just...reject me if you want” You mumbled meekly. 

Calums hands wiggled out of your grip and you moved away, bracing yourself when he pinched himself, “ouch” he exclaimed, before doing it again, looking to you and back at his sore arm again.  “I really must be awake.” he panted breathily

Tears began to roll down your cheeks, but his hands quickly cupped your cheeks and rubbed them away. “I love you too.” He confessed, bringing your face to his in a soft kiss. 

His lips brushed against your cupids-bow before they met yours more firmly. His hands moved to your jaw squeezing slightly as you moved your lips in sync with his. You could taste the salt from both of your tears, dripping down your faces with relief and happiness. “I love you,” You mumbled against his lips.

“I love you .” He whispered, his breath panting against yours. 

“I love you,” You said, nudging his nose with yours.

“I- hey wait.” He pouted, pulling his face back. “best friend privileges! You’re supposed to tell me when you’re in love with someone.” Calum said, his hand falling from your jaw to your neck giving it a soft squeeze

“fuck best friend privileges, I want girlfriend privileges.” 

“Yeah...like what?” He inquired with a teasing smirk. 

“Kiss me again” 

So he did.

[artigas]

i've been trying to build a skincare regiment but i just have no idea what sources to trust or what products to use, there are so many names! how did you figure out your skincare regiment?

another anon message: pLEASE tell me how to build a skincare regiment! ;o; my face is a mess most of the time, but i still don’t want to put fucking walnuts on it

Hello!! Forgive my late response, friends!! I hope you are still around and following my blog to see this. Skincare is intensely personal and because it’s your skin and you do not want to harm it, you have to proceed cautiously. I’m no dermatologist! But I do think there are a few things I can share. First, I figured out my skincare regiment by breaking down my major concerns: I had an oily t-zone (meaning: my forehead, my nose, and my chin) and extremely dry cheeks. After I began using makeup, I would sometimes have pimples and texture. I also knew my skin was sensitive. Knowing your needs is an intrinsic part of knowing what you want to address. I will say that I have no experience with acne or with major skin problems- if what you’re hoping to address is a bit more difficult than issues like: dryness, oiliness, breakouts, fine lines, etc than you should really speak to a professional, I think! After I boiled down my issues, I did research. There’s a great app called Think Dirty that runs through the a broad range of skincare, hair, and beauty products and tells you which ingredients raise any red flags and why. Generally speaking, you should avoid skincare that contain needless fragrances as much as possible, as this can often irritate the skin and sneak in some Not So Rad ingredient into even an otherwise wonderful skincare regimen. Speaking from my experience, I find that those who have sensitive skin may esp. feel irritation from added fragrances. I personally wouldn’t suggest abrasive face washes and exfoliates, like Kylie’s Infamous Walnut Scrub, because you don’t want to cause damage to your skin through small micro-lesions, scrapes, and cuts that are caused by rubbing these materials against your skin aggressively. This is especially damaging to dry areas of the skin, pimples, etc. While exfoliation is, imo, a great way to get rid of dead skin cells, brighten up the skin, etc, I personally prefer a chemical exfoliate and find these more effective at cleaning out my skin and showing long-term results. Still, if you opt for physical exfoliate, it should be as gentle as possible- nothing involving shells, hard salts, sharp or shard-like materials of any kind! Also, make sure to read the ingredients in products like skin-peels: if you have sensitive skin, retinols especially can feel very irritating. Another quick tip: if you have oily skin, guess what? Moisturizing your skin is not your enemy. Moisturizers don’t have to be greasy. Look for a moisturizer that’s labeled non-comedogenic, which means it won’t clog pores, and steer clear of mineral oil, cocoa butter, lanolin, and petrolatum. Alternatively, reach for moisturizers that contain ingredients such as glycerin, hyaluronic acid, aloe, and squalane, which won’t trap oils in your pores.Again, I can only speak for myself. My regimen looks like this: Every morning and night I wash my face with a Lush charcoal soap (charcoal can be tricky and also abrasive, so proceed with caution- I find that Lush’s formulation is both soft and non-drying, so that’s just what works for me). I then apply The Ordinary Niacinamide 10% + Zinc 1% to address oiliness and outbreaks, Hyaluronic Acid 2% + B5 to address dryness, and Argireline Solution 10% for fine lines. After that, I slap on some face cream and sunscreen! I have found that this routine has absolutely changed my skin. On top of that, as a makeup user, I make sure to really clean my face after makeup use: never sleeping in makeup, using both a makeup removing soap, washing my face, and then using micellar cleansing water. I know this can be a lot, but my reasoning is this: If I can spend X amount of time applying makeup, I need to be willing to spend more than a minute removing it. Makeup is nice, but healthy skin is important. 

I’ve recommended The Ordinary to a few people before and so far, I’ve only ever heard good things from my friend- the beautiful, wonderful @crucifythenburn included! The Ordinary is cost-effective, but instead of selling one product with multiple uses, they essentially sell the building blocks. You have to develop your skincare regimen yourself, so you’ll often end up using several different items to target your concerns- or not! My friend simply uses The Buffet and she’s been swearing by that product alone for three years now! If you’re interested in checking them out, here are some recommended articles: (A) (B) (C).

From what I understand, you can reach out to The Ordinary for guidance. As a quick heads up, be mindful of what products should not be mixed- article B has a section on it, but I always remind people that products containing Retinol (Vitamin A) shouldn’t be mixed products with Vitamin C. Also, all skincare products should be tested first! Do a little patch test. See if you feel irritation. The idea that “if it stings, that means it’s working!” is not my mantra. There is a difference between a product giving you a tingling sensation and burning. A skincare product should never cause pain. Frankly, I don’t even play with that whole tingling shit. At the end of the day, your skincare is super individual. If you want my recommendations for skincare products from The Ordinary specifically, hit me up and I’ll try my best- but don’t forget to look up reviews on reddit, look up youtubers who might provide honest reviews (I personally adore Gothamista and I’d stay away from folks who receive a lot of PR), and just exhaust your avenues. You do wanna be careful about what you introduce to your skin, but the resources are out there- I know it might seem daunting, but you can do this! Hit me up if you need anymore help!!

[liquor-and-intellect]

WHEN WE ALL FALL ASLEEP WHERE DO WE GO? H.S. AU part two: xanny

Jay is force to be reckoned with. She does what she wants and the consequences aren’t as bad she’d expect. She stays out late, drinks with her friends and sleeps with Kai- who may or may not have a girlfriend.

When Jay meets Harry, her life seems to slow down. Feelings start to slip through the hard exterior that she’s worked so hard to build. She could finally learn to be vulnerable and overcome the scars left by her childhood that she didn’t realize went to deep. 

Follows Billie Eilish’s Album. part one

part two: xanny

“What is it about them?

I must be missing something

they just keep doing nothing.

Too intoxicated to be scared.”

- Billie Eilish  

A cigarette butt grinded itself into the ashtray, causing a hiss as the small ember flickered out. The smoke from it winded itself up into the air in a braided pattern before disappearing in the haze of night.

There was a laugh as Winnie fell into Hunter. Her blonde locks fell around her face as she rested her head on Hunter’s small frame.

They were high. Winnie gave Hunter a Xanax a short while ago because she was tired of listening to her “being so high-strung”. It would be maybe another fifteen minutes before the giddiness would wear off and I would be pushing them into the backseat of my car with limp limbs and glassy eyes. The desire to have another drink bit at my throat-- but I pushed it away. We were at Winnie’s “friend of a friends” dingy apartment and there was no way I was going to be shitfaced while these two were high as a kite. Also, with the way one of the guy’s eyes drug itself down Hunter’s body, I refused to leave them alone.

This is where my life felt monotonous. Every week it was the same, Hunter and Winnie get high, I get a bit drunk until they become bearable and we sleep until noon if we don’t find someone to take home with us. It was this viscous cycle that I jumped into on a whim of boredom and it wouldn’t spit me out until some consequences of my actions made themselves known.

Not that I worried too much about consequences. If I did, I wouldn’t keep knocking knees with Kai every time my skin itched.

Hunter giggled as the guy next to her pinched her side, causing her to knock a drink off the table and onto my lap. Thankfully these weren’t my work jeans, but the red stain that covered the surface of my thighs still had me silently mourning the loss of these pants.

“Shiiiit,” she sang the word, letting the syllables fall off her tongue lazily. “so sorry, Jay.”

I shook my head. “It’s fine. Let me go wipe this off and then we”- I made an effort to sternly look Winnie and Hunter in the eyes- “are leaving.”

There was a groan as I stood from the table that sat on the small back porch. It was nothing but cement and a wall that screamed to be pressure washed. Walking through the cloud of hazy smoke—don’t ask about the origin of the smoke, because even I wasn’t so sure—I opened the sliding back door, cringing as it screamed on its track.

What is it about them?

I didn’t understand Winnie and Hunter’s—and all the people they associated themselves with—desire to get high on pills and weed every fucking weekend. Does it just not get exhausting?

I also didn’t understand my desire to stand around and watch.

I found the bathroom immediately, as there were only two doors connecting to the small living room. It was small, with peeling striped wallpaper and a light bulb that flickered on and off above the countertop. You could obviously tell a man lived here, the toilet seat was lifted and hair from an electric razor littered the sink.

Gross, I grimaced but still rifled through the cabinets for a clean towel.

I had been halfway scrubbing, halfway muttering profanities at my stained jeans when the door to the bathroom opened.

“Oh! I’msosorryIwasn’teventhinkingtoknock.”

I looked up in surprise at the sound of a rushed British accent coming from the man who seemed to take up the entirety of the small doorway. “I’m obviously not naked so you’re good,” I muttered. The idea of putting up with another stoned person making me feel suddenly aggravated.

He paused. “Jay, right?” he asked, ignoring my rude remark.

I glanced away from the boxed wine stain on my legs and looked at him again. It was the guy that had been with Kai the other night. Harry. The singer, the one who had stared me down as I stood amid Kai’s social circle, secretly asserting myself into Tiffany’s life like I had business doing so. His hair was tousled, and his pink lips pursed in expectation of my response.  

And, also, he wasn’t high.

“Yeah… “ I looked as if I raked through my brain for his name- as if there was a way I could have forgotten it. “Harry?”

He nodded. Harry was tall, almost taller than Kai—which was saying a lot. He didn’t exude the tough guy vibe that seeped from every pore of Kai when he puffed his chest, but rather seemed… authentic? I didn’t know if that was the right word, but I honestly didn’t like to take much time on first impressions. They were meaningless.

He leaned his shoulder against the plastic frame of the doorway, crossing his arms over his chests. I took note of the tattoos on his right arm. He smirked. “So, we’re coworkers, yeah?” The words slid of his tongue.

I raised my eyebrows at that. “Seems like it.” I let no emotion of that encounter leak into my voice. It wasn’t that I didn’t want Kai’s friend finding out—I could not care less—but I didn’t want a random stranger who was blocking the only exit casting his judgement onto me.

His gaze fell down to the red stain on my thighs and widened slightly. Finally realizing why I was standing in the bathroom. “Ah, sorry about those pants,” he hummed. “Do you… I don’t know… Need help?”

I snorted obnoxiously. “No, I’m good. Unless you mean to assist in getting two inebriated girls in the back of an uber, then I might take you up on that.”

Much to my surprise, he nodded. “I have a car,” he said. “let me drive you guys home.” He looked to the cup that was on the counter, insinuating that I had been drinking as well.

I had been but, “It’s just coke,” I told him, although he didn’t ask, and I owed no explanation.

His green eyes sparkled at that. “Canned or bottled?” he asked.

“Canned, obviously.”

Harry laughed and the sound of it reminded me of wooden windchimes on a patio.

Shit, had there been that much secondhand smoke?

“Canned is quite definitely the only way to go,” he agreed.

I wanted to continue on this conversation desperately, but I heard the high-pitched laugh of Hunter and I knew that without her normal crippling anxiety holding her back, she was going to embarrass the shit out of herself if I didn’t intervene.

“So, back to those inebriated girls I had mentioned,” I said.

He nodded, cringing as the laugh got louder. “Got it.”

Harry, this random man that I did not even know-- and probably shouldn’t have trusted so quickly-- helped me coax Hunter and Winnie into leaving the table of stoners on the porch. There wasn’t much of a party going on and I think these two girls were stealing the show as I interrupted, because everyone seemed very upset that I was forcing them to leave.

They groaned and cussed at me as I talked them into getting in the car. Hunter whined that she really liked the guy that had brought the weed—in a very drunken and broken sentence. I knew she was too intoxicated to be scared at the potential threat of going home with him, so I resorted in physically pushing her out of the small house.

It was in that moment, that I learned that Harry wasn’t there to actually “hang out”—and by hangout, I meant get drunk or high—but rather drop off mail that had been delivered to his house. The “friend of a friend” of Winnie’s, Gavin, apparently used to live with Harry but moved out when rent went up.

I found an odd comfort that I wasn’t the only outsider here.

When Harry and I had gotten the girls into the back seat, I grumbled, “Their pretty heads are going to be hurting tomorrow.”

He chuckled in agreement and opened my door, gesturing for me to get in. It took me a second of staring at him in surprise before I ducked into his car. I don’t think I ever had a man open a door for me.

“I really shouldn’t be trusting you to take us home,” I stated as Harry settled into the driver’s seat, the purr of the engine warming the car from the November chill. “I don’t even know you.”

He pulled away from the curb and hummed in agreement. “We are coworkers if you really think about it.”

I laughed, a foreign noise that my body hadn’t experienced all night.

“You guys work together? That’s awesome,” Winnie cried from the back.

I rolled my eyes. Oddly enough, Harry never questioned my relation to Kai.

Kai worked at some form of marketing firm—which I guess is where Harry works as well. His father owned the company and granted Kai a managing position at the ripe age of twenty-three. He went to college, received his associate’s and hasn’t been jobless once. Some part of me envied him in a way. When I had packed my bags from my small Nevada town and moved to L.A., I was practically homeless. I had no goals here. No infamous dreams of becoming an actor or a singer. I just wanted to exist. Exist far away from the home that haunted my nightmares with the ghost of my father. Something drew me to the city of Los Angeles. Maybe it was all the hype or maybe it was just another decision that I’ll learn to regret one day.

Add it to my list, I thought.

As the girls giggled in the backseat, I navigated Harry to the direction of our neighborhood, not wasting my time on small talk. Strangely, I enjoyed his company. The pressure of not having to keep a conversation alive took a weight off my shoulders.

He eased the car in front of our apartment, it was a townhouse square that all ran together and allowed enough space for Hunter to stay over on nights like these. The bricks were a bit old, with ancient ivy growing up the corners, but it was my solace.

The girls climbed out of the car with groans and walked up the steps to the front door. They disappeared with a click as I stood in front of the car not knowing what to say to Harry.

Thank him, you need to thank him.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he announced, walking with me toward the sidewalk in front of my apartment.

I smirked. “I wasn’t going to.”

He tilted his head back, chuckling up at the streetlamp. It was in that dingy yellowish glow that I allowed myself the privilege to glance over his features again. Soft brown, tousled hair that kept falling into his eyes and would cause him to run a hand through it to push it back. His eyes were green and not just a blue that bent the line between the two colors, but rather fresh plants and growth. The green of new beginnings.

He was tan- and the tan that represented the melanin of the west coast sun where we resided. The kind of olive that would be seen running straight into the waves without a care to the danger it entailed, but rather a love for the rush it provided.

“Well,” he said, breaking me away from where my eyes had been focusing on his arms. They were muscular and scattered carelessly with tattoos. “since your gratitude is so endearing, you can thank me by going to get dinner with me. Tomorrow.”

My brow furrowed together. Did he just ask me on a date? I wanted to say yes, but I didn’t date. And I also had a habit of self-destructing quite frequently. “I don’t even know you,” were the words I resulted in saying. My brain mentally kicked itself. I was notorious for this kind of thing.

“Yeah, you keep saying that,” he chuckled.

Much to my surprise, Harry sat down on the cement steps behind him, leaning his elbows back and stretching his long legs in front of him as if he had all the time in the world. He smiled a pink, warm smile that reached his eyes and my heart. “What do you want to know?” he asked.

I scoffed. “I’m not playing ‘ask me a question, love’.” I mimicked his thick English accent.

He shrugged. “Neither am I.” Harry didn’t seem fazed by my rude remark.

Resigned, I sighed and sat next to him on steps, enjoying the feeling of his muscled shoulder brushing my own.

He filled the silence.

“My full name is Harry Edward Styles, my mum is from England and my dad is from L.A. I’m a marketing consultant—but I guess you already knew that,” he chuckled.  “In my free time, when I’m not running the advertisements of the city of dreams, I drink my coffee black with a spoonful of honey, pet dogs and play music in dingy bars.”

I paused. Dumbfounded, I lost all form of words. What was I supposed to say to that?

In conclusion, I threw my hands in the air and said the most eloquent thing I knew to say. “I don’t know what to say to that.”

He laughed. “Start with telling me about you.”

I guess that Harry noticed the struggle on my face as I tried to find some sort of semblance of my life that was interesting enough to tell, because he said softly, as if talking to a child, “Start easy. Where do you work?”

“Emiliano’s Italian Restaurant.” “Are you from L.A.?”

“No.”

He looked thoughtful as he asked, “What brought you here?”

I shrugged my thin shoulders; goosebumps were starting to linger on my skin from the breeze. “I haven’t figured that out yet if we’re being honest,” I whispered.

Harry didn’t let his gaze linger too long on my face and for that I was really appreciative. I wasn’t comfortable with vulnerability. Instead, he clapped his hands together and stood up, holding a hand out to me. “Well, now that we’re practically best friends, I’ll pick you up tomorrow at seven.”

“Please don’t try to kiss me on the sidewalk

On your cigarette break

I can’t afford to love someone

Who isn’t dying by mistake.”

part three

[raspberryparker]

chocolate orange | one

Peter Parker x Fem!Omega!Reader — A/B/O Verse AU

← previous | mini-series masterlist | next → 

word count: 5,732 i’m so sorry summary: peter hasn’t presented yet so he’s blowing off some steam in the tower. there may be a lack of control on his part. maybe. warnings: see masterlist one paragraph where blood is drawn so if you’re scared of needles, please skip it; light mention of blood, obviously

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━━━━━━━━

   Plaster dribbled down the wall like pebbles as the sound of the harsh impact echoed around the darkness in the room.

   His chest rose and fell rhythmically with each heavy breath he took in through his nose. They were the type of breaths that moved his whole body, his abdomen tensing as he exhaled angrily. He felt the beads of sweat along his hairline slide down the side of his face, cooling the skin of his neck before dipping below the muscle tank he wore.

   Peter didn’t remember how it had happened, but as he pulled his fist from the new hole in the wall and stretched his fingers, the tendons screaming in protest and his knuckles raw and bleeding, he wasn’t surprised.

   He felt the pain in his hand before he realized what had happened. And as he gathered his surroundings he saw where he was, what he'd done, plaster gathering like dust on the floor, and a new fist-sized hole in Tony Stark’s expensive wall.

   He blinked rapidly, shaking his hand out and looking at his palm in absolute bewilderment. The skin was angry and red, the creases more defined, and he felt the blood pumped by his thundering heart throbbing in his fingertips. Stumbling backwards on the mat, he almost fell flat on his ass as he panted heavily. 

   He’d lost control.

   Peter could hear the chain holding up the punching bag behind him creaking softly as it swayed back and forth, the thing he was supposed to be throwing punches at now forgotten. After all, he’d only come to the Tower that night to blow off some steam. But he’d let it go too far.  Peter let his thoughts stew in his mind as he railed on the punching bag before him. His fists were beginning to cramp but he’d been relentless, refusing to ease up on the jabs even though his arms ached and groaned with every reach. It had all happened so fast. He hadn’t even noticed the unbridled rage that was fuelling his every move until it was too much, seeping from his pores and pouring off him in waves of steam, before he consequently well and truly lost all control.

   He tried to focus his breathing and ease his racing heart, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing a palm to his forehead. He couldn’t go on like this.

   “You know,” the all too familiar voice chimed from behind him. “Someone’s gonna have to pay for that.”

   Peter whirled around, surprised he’d allowed someone to sneak up on him. Usually, the prickling sensation on the back of his neck would have alerted him to someone approaching but he hadn’t felt anything. Nothing other than the irrepressible fury that screamed through his veins, anyway.

   “M-Mr. Stark.” 

   The words sounded breathy, more like an exhale, as all the wind was knocked from him when he saw his idol, mentor, and the reigning Alpha in his life standing behind him with arms crossed. He’d thought he’d been careful; he’d instructed F.R.I.D.A.Y. to not inform Tony of his arrival or what he was up to, but of course, the older man always had the upper hand.

   The man in question looked far from impressed. Peter had never seen him dressed so casually, but he quickly chastised himself for being stupid enough to think that he’d be dressed formally in the middle of the night in the comfort of his own home. Tony’s arms were crossed over the old, faded Slayer t-shirt as he leaned against one of the pillars in the Training Facility, the loose jeans he wore ripped at the knees on both legs, and he was missing his usual tinted glasses. A teasing smile found its way onto his lips, but Peter didn’t seem to see it.

   “M-Mr. Stark, I’m s-so sorry,” he stammered, stooping to pick up the bits of plaster and clean up the mess. “I-I’ll take care of it, I’ll fix it myself if I have to, I promise I-”

   “Hey, hey, hey,” Tony muttered, his voice taking on a higher pitch and soft tone. He was trying to calm the panicking teen in front of him, stepping forward slowly with his hands outstretched. “I was just kidding. You know how many times someone’s punched the wall in here? I practically have the repair guy on speed dial.”

   Peter felt his breath leave his lips in a stuttering sigh, the tense posture he was maintaining easing from his frame. His shoulders fell slowly and he allowed his head to follow suit, looking down at his hands now covered in white dust and crumbly pieces of wall. He let them fall to the floor with a soft clatter. He jumped as Tony’s hands landed on his upper arms and he looked up at him with wide eyes.

   “Christ, you’re shaking like a leaf,” Tony muttered, fingers squeezing Peter’s biceps softly in an attempt to ground him. “What’s wrong, kiddo? I’ve never seen you like this.”

   “I-I just—”

   “Come on,” he said softly. Tony let one hand go and guided Peter slowly to the edge of the mat to their left. “Sit down. Take a breath. You don’t have to tell me but you do need to calm down a bit.”

   As he settled onto the mat, Tony sitting cross-legged beside him, he played with the elastic of his light grey sweatpants, the floor cold under his bare feet. He wondered why Mr. Stark was being so calm and comforting, and then quickly remembered the news stories that flooded the tabloids and entertainment channels years prior when Tony himself had struggled with anxiety. One particular public breakdown stuck out in Peter’s mind, and suddenly he felt his heart tug for his mentor, in both sorrow and thankfulness. But Tony had gotten better, and if there was anyone Peter could trust, it was him. He steeled his nerves then, taking a sharp, shaking breath through his nose. He noticed absently that Tony had unintentionally started trying to calm him with his scent, the smell of fresh laundry and pillows reminding him as much of home as Aunt May’s comforting scent did.  

   “I’m sorry,” he said softly. Tony just about rolled his eyes, but a fond smile took over his expression.

   “I told you it’s fine,” he said. “It’s a wall. It’s replaceable. But—” he poked a finger softly into Peter’s shoulder. “—you’re not. So, what’s up? There a reason you’re sticking your fist through my wall at three in the morning? And why is it so... F.R.I.D.A.Y., hit the lights, half the brightness.”

   The large room lit up around them, the dim light warming the cold atmosphere of the floor. Peter hadn’t even realized he’d forgotten to turn the lights on. He’d been so preoccupied with his goal that it completely slipped his mind. He could see Mr. Stark better now, the light revealing just how tired he looked. The dark crescents under his eyes held creases in them, and for the first time that evening (or morning, he supposed) he wondered why Tony was also awake this late.

   “I just wanted to blow off some steam,” he admitted, playing with his fingers in his lap. “There wasn’t exactly a lot to do tonight. I did my rounds but… it was too calm. And it probably sounds really bad, but I usually take out all of my feelings on those people who deserve it.”

   Tony chuckled softly next to him, his hand coming up to rest on Peter’s opposite shoulder. “It doesn’t sound as bad as you think.”

   “I guess,” Peter shrugged. He brought a hand up and scratched at his head, his hair unruly and fluffy from hours confined in the mask of his suit and from exerting himself on the equipment around him. “I just… I get so angry.”

   “Why?”

   Peter glanced up at Tony, his brows furrowed in fear.

   There was one specific reason for his frustrations, but the anxiety of looking pathetic in front of the person whom he never wanted let down stopped him from speaking. He never wanted Mr. Stark to think any less of him, and they’d been getting closer and closer and more comfortable with each other as the man continued to mentor him over the years. He didn’t want to undo it all by seeming like a helpless child. He’d just got Tony to consider him (somewhat) an adult.

   “Hey, it’s okay,” Tony said, squeezing his shoulder. “You can tell me.”

   “I…”

   Peter screwed his eyes shut, spots growing like ink blots behind his eyelids from the force of it, and took a deep breath.

   “I’m natureless.”

   When he opened his eyes again, his irises adjusted to the light and he only saw Tony blinking at him, a blank expression on his face. He panicked for a moment, wondering if he’d heard him correctly.

   “And?” Tony asked.

   “Mr. Stark,” Peter said, voice cracking. “I’m eighteen.”

   “Right, right.” Tony let his hand fall from Peter’s shoulder, looking away from his face as his brow furrowed. “When are kids supposed to present, again?”

   “Uh, between fourteen and sixteen.”

   “Oh,” he said then, glancing up. “You’re really late then.”

   “Two years,” Peter nodded.

   “But you could just be a late bloomer,” Tony said. “It’s not impossible. Why’s it got you all worked up?”

   “It’s not me,” Peter mumbled.

   “What do you mean?”

   “I’m not exactly, popular,” he snapped, his brow furrowing as he spit the words out. The Alpha raised his eyebrows, surprised at the outburst. Peter looked away sheepishly. “I’m sorry. But… I don’t have a lot of friends at school. Only Ned knows that I’m Spider-Man but I didn’t even mean for him to find out. To everyone else, I’m just a nerdy loser. And being a loser and scentless isn’t exactly a great combination.”

   He sniffled harshly, feeling his eyes sting. Peter shut his eyes, refusing to cry in front of Tony, and he wiped at his nose with the back of his hand before going on.

   “It pisses me off. But I can’t do anything about it, so instead I let loose by kicking criminals in the face. When that wasn’t an option, I came here. But I guess I lost control.”

   Tony laughed then, clapping his hands together. “Better out than in.”

   Peter allowed himself a smile at that, looking up at his mentor.

   “Well, if it’s really bothering you,” he began. “I can take you up for a visit to our resident mad scientist. He might be able to pinpoint why you’re so late. Those seven Ph.D.’s must be good for something.”

   “Dr. Banner’s here?” More importantly, he was still awake? Why was everyone in the Tower such night owls?

   “Always,” Tony smiled. “And don’t worry about bothering him. He’d probably not get to sleep around seven anyway.”

   “Okay,” Peter smiled, allowing himself to relax some as Tony stood up. “Thank you.”

   “Don’t mention it,” the Alpha muttered, ruffling his hair. “No, seriously—”

   “I know,” Peter laughed. “Don’t mention it.”

   Tony smiled then, wide and toothy as he looked down at the boy. “And go take a shower. You stink something fierce.”

   ━━━━━━━━

   The water soothed his aching muscles as he stood below the steady stream in the white tiled shower. Shutting his eyes and taking in a breath through his mouth, drops of water slipping past his lips and wetting his tongue, he rinsed the shampoo out of his hair as he allowed his mind to wander.

   His presentation hadn’t always been a concern for him. In fact, he’d been perfectly healthy. On his fourteenth birthday, May had taken him to the government regulated checkup with a pediatrician to check on his progress as all children were made to do at the age of presentation. The doctor had given him the all clear, and though it was impossible to tell one’s classification before they presented, he had said that it was most likely that Peter would turn out to be Beta or Omega.

   That thought haunted him for the next two years, even during the time he was bitten and gained his new abilities. It always bothered him.

   How he wished he’d present as a Beta. Though male Omegas were not uncommon and were more and more respected and accepted by the day, it was still hard for them within a traditionalist society. It was the same way for female Alphas, but they didn’t have it nearly as bad. Peter thought about MJ and how she’d stayed home for a month when she presented as Alpha during Sophomore year. She came back to school angry and tense, refusing to speak to anyone until her friends had reassured her that they didn’t think any less of her. In fact, the classification suited her. She brushed off the compliments, but she calmed down about it over the next few months. If Peter had presented as Omega, he might have done the same. In any case, he didn’t blame her.

   The summer before Junior year, Peter turned seventeen. He woke up that morning in early August and felt… nothing. He almost cried as he lay awake on his bed, staring at his ceiling. But he never did.

   May had been concerned, insisting she take him to see someone and bathing the apartment in the scent of a stressed out Omega, but he’d brushed her off. Assuring her that it was fine, and knowing full well that May simply didn’t have the income to accommodate a trip to the doctor, he went on with his life. But there was always that nagging thought at the back of his mind.

   If he thought that no one would notice, he’d been sadly mistaken.

   “Well, well, well,” Flash jeered at him from across the school cafeteria on the first day of school. “Penis Parker. How’d summer treat you? What’d you present as? Oh, wait.”

   Peter flinched at that, ducking his head and focusing on the carton of chocolate milk next to his tray. He noticed the anger coming through in MJ’s scent, a warning for anyone around to back off and leave them alone. That only made him sink lower. He didn’t need her to protect him.

   “So not only is Penis Parker a loser,” Flash said far too loudly, so much so that he had the attention of almost everyone in the small cafeteria. “But he’s natureless, too? I never would have guessed. Actually, it suits you, Parker. Just more proof that you’re below the rest of us. Not even an Omega.”

   “Fuck off, Flash,” MJ snarled from the other side of the table.

   “Oh yeah, get your Alpha bitch to protect you.”

   MJ moved to stand, but Ned’s hand on her arm held her back. She glanced at him and caught the look he was giving her, bristling as she settled back into her seat. She stabbed a fork into her apple and held it up lazily.

   “He’s not worth it,” she muttered. Ned nodded across from her.

   As Flash walked out of the room, he glanced over his shoulder, throwing back a final insult.

   “What a pathetic excuse for a pack.”

   As he glanced around at his friends, all grumbling into their food about what an asshole Flash was, he realized that no, it wasn’t a pathetic pack. It was the best family he could ever ask for.

   Across the table from him, Abraham and Betty, a Beta and Omega respectively, sat quietly next to Ned, cautiously looking at Peter with sorrowful eyes. Betty offered him a small smile, which he returned unenthusiastically. She poked at her mac and cheese with a plastic fork, her appetite gone from the outburst. Pushing it weakly toward Abraham, the boy took the extra food with a large grin.

   “Don’t pay attention to him,” Ned said. His brows were furrowed and his cheeks were red from the anger he felt, though he did a decent job of hiding it. “He’s just another knothead jerk.”

   As a Beta, Ned was probably the most level headed of their small pack. MJ was the Alpha, but no one kept her in check the way he did. Though he was still the giddy, comic and Star Wars obsessed boy that Peter knew in his childhood, since his presentation he’d been able to keep calm when it was the most critical. He’d presented around the same time as MJ, and they found comfort in each other when struggling to fit into their new classifications.

   And Peter was only slightly jealous.

   From beside him, a quiet voice chirped up, having been silent during the whole ordeal.

   “Yeah,” Y/N said. Peter turned to her and almost melted at the soft smile on her lips. “I know we say this every time but that only means there’s some logic behind it.”

   “Oh, definitely,” MJ agreed from the other side of the Omega, a mouthful of apple muffling her words. “But if it comes to it, I will rip off his knot.”

   “I don’t think we have to go that far,” Betty interjected with a nervous laugh.

   MJ shrugged. “Just sayin’.”

   Peter felt a hand on his shoulder and glanced over at Y/N. That same smile was still playing on her lips. He felt his heart tug longingly toward her, and he had to look away before he started blushing like a fool.

   “Thanks, guys,” he muttered.

   “We always have your back,” Y/N said.

   He wished she wouldn’t do that.

   It wasn’t even that big of a deal but almost everything she did made him fall more and more helplessly in love with her, if that was what he could call it. He didn’t even know what he felt for her; he just knew it was strong and it was persistent and it would bring him to his knees if she would do so much as ask. It consumed him almost entirely whenever they were together, and even when they were apart. He’d never been this infatuated with anyone before. He’d had his crushes, sure, but this was different.

   The word was right there at the front of his mind, but he knew that if he even thought about it, he’d lose it.

   They’d met through Betty in Sophomore year. The two girls had a U.S. History class together when she transferred to Midtown Tech in late October. He still remembered when Betty had introduced her to the group during lunch. She and Betty stood together, holding hands. She’d looked so sheepish smiling softly behind her hair. So shy. But it was normal, and it also wasn’t surprising that she was clinging to Betty so closely. A new school full of new smells and new people would make anyone anxious, but Omegas felt those emotions much more strongly than Betas or Alphas did. Seeking comfort in another Omega, Y/N opened herself up to Betty and allowed the physical closeness to calm her. And once she’d gotten accustomed to the small pack and they’d accepted her as one of their own, it was virtually unnecessary. But Peter did see them wrapped up in each other whenever one of them was stressed or anxious. It always made him smile.

   Y/N was another reason that Peter feared presenting as an Omega. Though relationships between people of the same classification weren’t unheard of, they were infinitely more complicated and painful if both parties didn’t try their absolute hardest to make it work. And he didn’t want to put her through that.

   He still saw her smile when he closed his eyes, her perfect lips and bright eyes, and still smelled the scent of berries and citrus breeze, so familiar he could almost taste it, when he thought about her. He felt guilty for feeling that way, knowing what his presentation would most likely turn out to be. He should have saved himself the pain if it did turn out the way he expected.

   But he couldn’t help it.

   She smelled like summer, and home, and—

   Peter shook his head, water from his hair spitting against the walls and the door of the shower cubicle, rubbing his eyes as he tried to rid himself of the thought. He wouldn’t allow himself to think it. That much he wouldn’t do.

   The ride up the elevator after he got dressed, his hair still wet and dripping slightly along the floor, was uncomfortable for Peter. He’d told F.R.I.D.A.Y. that Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner were expecting him, and the AI had instructed to get into the elevator. His stomach flipped, and this time it wasn’t from the speed of the car as it rose (which used to knock him off his feet but he’d since gotten used to). No, this time the weight that rested at the bottom of his abdomen was an all too familiar feeling of anxiety and fear. He was worried about what Dr. Banner would tell him; if he’d just confirm his fears that he was defective in some way. That would have been just about the last thing he needed.

  As the elevator doors slid open, for a moment Peter thought F.R.I.D.A.Y. had taken him to the wrong place. He’d thought she was taking him to the medical lab, and what lay in front of him looked far too homey to be anything as sterilized as a lab. The centre of the room was clear, but the rest of it was full of counters and tabletops with hologram charts floating above them, and the far window to his right that stretch across the entire wall overlooked the lounge and bar where Tony hosted his infamous parties. It was warm inside, and smelled like fresh baked pastries and candles. Peter could see mugs lining the counters and tables, loose stacks of files and papers weaving between them.

  The music was pounding as Peter stepped into the new environment, a heavy drum beat followed by screeching guitar riffs ringing through the room and making the vibrations in the floor run up through his feet and legs. Glancing to his right, he noticed Mr. Stark leaning against a countertop with a coffee mug in one hand and a muffin in the other, crumbs clinging to his beard. Dum-E was whirring slightly to his left, a broom in his grip and a dustpan taped to his base as he clumsily tried to sweep up the muffin crumbs that fell from Tony’s bites. He was wearing the Dunce cap again. Peter tried to suppress a smile.

   To his left, past the clearing in the room, there was a small set of stairs that led into a glass-walled room. Peter recognized it as the medbay, the white bed in the centre of it looking like something out of a futuristic movie. Actually… everything before him looked like it came out of a movie.

   Dr. Banner stood in the doorway of the medbay, his expression pinched and his hands on his hips over the white lab coat. His brow was furrowed and his mouth was moving, trying to say something to Tony but the other man was completely oblivious.

  Tony noticed Peter approaching, and smiled around the rim of his mug, leaning down to press a button on a glass tablet sitting on the surface of the desk. The music came to an abrupt halt. Dr. Banner visibly relaxed, hanging his head.

  “Thank you,” he sighed, hopping down the steps. “Finally, my head can stop pounding.”

  “It wasn’t for you, Doc,” Tony smiled. He stood up from his position and walked toward Peter. He held out the muffin. “You want some? It’s blueberry. Who knew the Doc could bake, huh? Thing’s delicious. Actually, wait, what am I saying? You can’t. Sorry, kiddo.”

  “Ah, Peter,” Dr. Banner said, walking across the lab to approach him. “Good to meet you.”

  Peter took the hand Dr. Banner held out to him, his brows furrowing at the same time as his eyes widened, a confused expression on his face. There was way too much happening around him.

  Here he was shaking hands with someone he had learned about in school. It was getting increasingly difficult to keep his cool. And now he really wanted that muffin, but was unsure why he couldn't have it.

  “It’s very nice to meet you, too, Dr. Banner,” he replied.

  A smile made its way onto the doctor’s face, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Please, just Bruce is fine.”

  “O-okay.”

  “Hope you haven’t eaten anything in a while,” Tony said as Dr. Ban—Bruce made his way to the other side of the lab. “Bruce’s gonna take your blood. I’ll give you a muffin after because, unfortunately, we’re fresh out of lollipops.”

  “He’s not a kid, Tony,” Bruce called from where he was setting up a microscope.

  Tony held his hands up in defence, the coffee almost spilling from the mug. He set it down on the nearest table and jerked his head, motioning for Peter to follow him.

  “You nervous?” Tony asked, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Peter was still following him. They crossed the room and went up the steps, entering the medbay. Now this looked more like a lab. Everything was white and smelled like lemon scented disinfectant.

  “A little,” he admitted. “But I just wanna know what’s going on.”

  “As anyone would,” Bruce said as he walked in behind them. “You can go ahead and take a seat, I’ll just be a second.”

  Peter sat on the white cushioned bed, a hologram screen beeping softly next to him. He felt like a kid again, waiting in the doctor’s office as his legs dangled over the side of the examination table. But this time it was different, and he knew it all too well.

  Bruce stood beside him wrapping a strip of something similar to velcro just above his elbow and tightening. Peter could feel it restricting the blood flow, but also saw the veins in the soft skin of the inside of his elbow protruding.

  “I’m not gonna take much,” Bruce assured him. “Just enough to run some tests. You can look away if you want.”

  Peter did. Having Bruce leaning over his arm like that, he was finally close enough to be able to tell what the doctor’s classification was. Peter finally realized where the smell of freshly baked pastry was coming from as Bruce poked his arm softly trying to find the best place to draw blood from. After all, the muffins hadn’t been that fresh. The comforting scent of a Beta was all he needed to calm down enough to allow himself to breathe through his nose and distract himself from the thought of the needle millimetres away from his skin.

  “Okay, you ready?”

  Peter nodded, shutting his eyes.

  He felt the pinch of the needle pressing into his skin and flinched, holding his breath until the pressure on his arm subsided.

  “There we go,” Bruce muttered. He removed the strip around his arm and Peter immediately felt relief flood through the limb. “You can have that muffin now.”

  “Catch.”

  As he stood from the bed, Peter caught the blueberry muffin that was thrown his way without looking up, too preoccupied with observing the redness of his arm. A minuscule drop of blood formed on his skin and Peter watched as the tiny wound sealed up within seconds. He heard Tony start the music again, but this time at a much more acceptable volume so they could still talk. Glancing around, he saw the both men had already left the medbay and were standing next to each other in front of a glass screen suspended about one of the counters.

  Peter rubbed at his elbow with his wrist, muffin still in his hand as he stepped toward them.

  “Hey, Pete,” Tony said. “You want a biology lesson from the Doc?”

 “Sure,” Peter replied, feeling giddy that a man he’d looked up to for years was about to teach him something.

  “You know how classification is determined within the body?” Bruce asked.

  Peter shook his head, peeling back the paper liner from the muffin and taking a bite from the bottom. Tony was right; it was delicious.

  “I didn’t exactly pay too much attention during that class,” he admitted sheepishly, voice muffled by the muffin. He left out the part where he admitted to sleeping through it because he hadn’t slept the night before because of his rounds. 

  “Well,” Bruce went on. He moved from the counter to the table behind it, typing something into a hologram keyboard built into the countertop and observing the monitor of the same quality above him as he spoke over his shoulder. “Everyone’s born with all three classification hormones. Even if you’re an Alpha, there’s at least a little bit of Omega and Beta hormones in there too.”

  Peter hummed, chewing thoughtfully. He knew that much. That was one of the reasons it was so hard for doctors to tell someone nature before they presented.

  “During puberty, one of those hormones starts getting produced more than the others,” Bruce went on. Turning back to them, Peter could see he’d prepared a microscope slide with a drop of his blood, sliding it into place on the lit stage and peering through the eyepiece. He spoke even as he was spinning through the lenses. “Like how girls produce a little bit of testosterone even though their main reproductive hormones are estrogen and progesterone. It’s the same principle. The classification hormones are also why growing pains include the reproductive organs. Your body’s changing to adjust to your new nature.”

  “Yeah, that makes sense,” Peter muttered, picking out a blueberry and letting the sweet dried fruit sit on his tongue.

  Bruce hummed to himself as the three of them stood in silence, the quiet music and the clicks of the microscope the only sounds in the room.

  “I gotta say, Peter,” Bruce said, looking up at him. “This is one of the most interesting blood samples I’ve ever seen. The radioactivity alone is astounding. And I think I know what’s wrong.”

  Peter felt his stomach drop again as Bruce motioned for him to follow to the largest screen in the room. He left the rest of his muffin uneaten, suddenly lacking an appetite. Bruce tapped on a glass tablet similar to the one Tony was playing his music from before the screen lit up with floating words and numbers and graphs.

   “Usually this would take a really long time, but we’ve got the equipment to give us quick results,” Bruce said.

   “Thanks to whom?” Tony asked mockingly as he came to stand behind Peter.

   Bruce rolled his eyes and went on. “You do have the three classification hormones, there’s nothing to worry about on that front.”

   Peter sighed in relief, allowing his shoulders to relax as he watched Bruce focus in on one particular bar graph.

   “It’s the levels of those hormones that are throwing me off, though,” he said. “You went to the checkup when you were fourteen, right?”

   “Yeah,” Peter replied. “They said… they said I’d be either Beta or Omega.”

   “Well, they were right.”

   He knew it was coming. He knew what Bruce was about to tell him but it didn’t stop the drying of his throat and mouth as he struggled to breathe. He swallowed thickly, looking up at Bruce and seeing the concerned expression on his face.

   “From what I can tell,” he said. “You were supposed to be an Omega.”

   And there it was. Out in the open for the world to see. Peter looked down at the glass on the surface of the table, feeling dejected for a reason he could not understand. He knew deep down, and for a long while, what he was supposed to be. But denial is a funny thing, when it's strong enough, that is. One particular thought nudged at the back of his mind as he took in Bruce's words, the tang of orange peel bitter on his tongue as his favourite scent enveloped him. This time, however, it was not welcome. The last thing he wanted was to think of her right now.

   “How old were you when the spider bit you?”

   Peter almost didn’t hear him, too entrenched in his own thoughts. The hand on his shoulder shook him from his trance. He felt Tony's fingers squeeze him softly.

   “I-I’m sorry?”

   “How old were you when you got your powers?” Bruce repeated.

   “Uh,” Peter mumbled, trying to think back. “About fourteen.”

   “So I was right,” Bruce smiled.

   Peter frowned, confused once again. Bruce gave him a reassuring look and pointed to one of the bars on the graph.

   “This is your Omega hormone level. And this,” he said, pointing to the bar next to it that was just about the same height. “Is your Alpha hormone level.”

   “M-my what?” Peter stammered.

   “Yeah,” Bruce smiled. “That little tiny one is your Beta level. I think it’s safe to say you won’t be a Beta. But I had theorized that it had something to do with your abilities and I think I may have been right.”

   “What do you mean?” Peter asked, a scared expression on his face.

   “It’s nothing bad, don’t worry,” Bruce grinned. “In fact it’s fascinating. Think about it,” he said and held his hands up, gesturing as he explained. “Your abilities, what are they? Enhanced strength, speed, agility, senses, reaction time, and ability to fight, among others. Now, what classification do those sound like they would belong to?”

   “Alpha.” The word dropped from Peter’s lips as almost a whisper, and he glanced back up at the graph as he began to understand where Bruce was going with his explanation.

   “Exactly. My theory is that even though you were set to present as Omega, as soon as you got bit something clicked—” he snapped, and Peter jumped slightly. “—and your body panicked. It went into overdrive, producing more and more Alpha hormone to try to accommodate your newfound powers and characteristics that are more suited for an Alpha. At this point, it’s too hard to tell what you’ll present as. It’s pretty fifty-fifty. But I have to say, you would be a rather strange Omega. Hopefully, your scale tips the other way, for Spider-Man’s sake.”

   “Yeah,” Peter muttered, Tony’s hand still firm on his shoulder. "I hope so too.”

━━━━━━━━

A/N: i blame my friends for encouraging me. i know a/b/o isn’t everyone’s thing but it’s my guilty pleasure and so i had to indulge. this idea has been stewing in my head forever. don’t hate me please. my sexual preferences are showing, aren’t they? also the lab is based on the one in aou which i just watched so

part two and three are coming out tomorrow and the day after! 

read it on ao3 add yourself to my taglist! like my work? consider buying me a coffee!

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peter taglist and some mutuals:  @fuckyou-imspiderman  @naturallytom   @loverholland   @tomshufflepuff   @peterstrainingwheels   @marvelsswansong @themarauderstheoutsidersandpeggy   @psychedelicmagnum  @jazmins-main-hoe    @spideypeach  @neptuneparker @peterporkerpete @butwhyduh @girl-tips-from-satan @hollandroos @hollandsosterfield @neptuneparker @calumsendgame @scftholland @spiderrrling  @lovelyspidey  

[avengerscompound]

Mind Control

Skin Contact:  A Bucky Barnes Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count:  3262

Series Warnings:  Angst, smut (vaginal sex, oral sex), PTSD, mentions of past torture.  Superpowered Reader.

Synopsis: While on the run in Romania you come across a man who has a past very similar to your own.  When the people pursuing him track him down, you assume you will never see him again.

Mind Control

It had been a year since Bucky had run.  You’d packed your bags and taken off too.  You weren’t sure where to go now.  You traveled around Europe for a little using fake passports to get around, but slowly your limited funds started to dwindle.

You stopped in Vienna which wasn’t the smartest move.  It was expensive and too exposed.  You hoped the crowds would allow you to blend in.  You found a massage parlor that would hire you.  It wasn’t too hard, reach across the table and touch someone’s hand and you can convince them to almost do anything.

It’s when you stop that you finally start catching up on the news.  News of the Winter Soldier blowing up the UN in Berlin.  News of Captain America going rogue.  The Avengers falling apart.

The Winter Soldier.  You knew him.  You knew well before his name was cleared that he wasn’t the one that blew up the UN because he was with you in Bucharest.  He was your Bucky.  The man who was too scared for you to even touch him.  Who when he finally did trust you he was so unused to any physical contact that wasn’t meant to cause him pain, he almost couldn’t take it.

The thought of him being on his own and running again made your heart break.

There wasn’t much you could do about it though. You were just a chemist on the run with no money.  How could you possibly help him?

So you did nothing.  You settle in Vienna.   Living in a tiny shitty apartment.  Avoiding closer relationships and saving money for when you need to run again.

You step into the room for your four o’clock.  The last appointment for the day.  An American tourist.  He’s already naked and lying face down when you walk in.  Something about the way his pheromones smell seems off when you close the door.

Clients were always a little nervous when you came in.  It’s a vulnerable position and you’re a stranger.  This man wasn’t nervous he was alert like he was ready to spring on you.

You took a deep steadying breath and stepped towards him.  He was large.  You couldn’t overpower him. If you played it calmly though you could mess with his brain.  Knock him out.   You look at your chart and move forward like nothing’s wrong.  Controlling your own adrenalin so you remain calm.

“Mr. Grant?  I’m your masseuse.  You wanted a one-hour relaxation massage?”  You ask stepping over to him holding your hand out in case he lunges at you.  He is large and broad-backed.  His body hair is fine and pale making it look liked he’d waxed and his muscles were really defined.

“That’s right.”  He says.   He remains still but the way his adrenalin just jumped put you right on edge.  He was planning something.  There was something strangely familiar about him.  The way his brain chemicals replenished was not like anyone you had felt before.  Anyone that is except Bucky.

You pick up the massage oil and squeeze it on his back.  His muscles tense up as the cold liquid hits his skin.  Normally you would warm it in your hands first but you were worried he’d take the opportunity to overpower you.   You put your hands on his back and put your powers to use.

You lower his adrenalin and noradrenalin so he has no fight instinct at all, and up his serotonin, so he feels high.  “Do you feel that, Mr. Grant?”

He mumbles his reply and sluggishly turns his head.  He has a blond beard that matches his hair color and pale blue eyes that currently looked clouded.

“Who sent you for me?”  You ask your voice low and calm.

He blinks up at you.  “No one.  I just heard word…”

You freak out and increase his norepinephrine making his pulse race.  “What do you mean you heard word?  Who the fuck are you?”

When he speaks he sounds terrified.  The way you have altered his brain chemicals he actually thinks he is going to die right now and there is nothing he can do about it.  “I’m Steve Rogers…  I’m not here to hurt you…”

You stop suddenly and let him up and he scrambles away from you holding his hand over his heart like a man having a heart attack.  “Steve Rogers as in Captain America?”  You ask looking the man over.  He does look like he could be Captain America.  The build, and the hair.  The eyes.  You can see him in the eyes.

“Not anymore.”  He says.  You can tell his brain chemicals are returning to normal on their own.  His body’s built to correct it’s abnormalities quickly.  “I’m sorry if I scared you.  There was just word of someone enhanced here.  I wanted to see.”  He slowly realizes that he’s sitting naked in front of you and pulls a towel up to cover himself.

You ignore everything he just said despite the fact it meant that you weren’t anywhere near as careful as you should have been and AIM could have found you at any point.  This is Captain America.  He had protected Bucky.  That is the only thing you care about.  “Where’s Bucky?”  You ask.

He looks at you and confusion seeps from his pores.  “How do you know Bucky?”

You pick up Steve’s pants and throw them to him.  “We knew each other in Bucharest.”

Something in Steve shifts, he starts eyeing you with the suspicion you felt for him when you walked into the room.  “Who are you?”

You go to touch him, to calm him back down so he will listen but he dodges you and backs away the towel still just covering his dick.  “I’m not anyone.  I was an experiment, like him.  It was a coincidence we met.  But it was a good one because we needed each other.”

“That sounds a little implausible don’t you think?”  Steve growls.  

“But not as implausible as two men who grew up with each other being super soldiers?”  You snap.  “Look, you came to me, Captain.  I was trying to stay hidden.  You’re here now and I want to know where he is.  I loved him and he went out to buy fresh fruit and they took him from me before he got back.”

Steve approaches the massage table cautiously.  He smells like a man who’s been cornered by a large dog but isn’t sure if it wants to attack him or it just wants pats.  He picks up his pants and pulls them on.  “Bucky is… Bucky’s safe.  It’s hard to explain, but he’s gone into cryofreeze.  He doesn’t trust himself.”

You slump against the massage table.  You thought you’d moved on.  There was always that little undercurrent of worry that wouldn’t go away, but you had assumed he was living.  To think the man who had been so shy and scared of you was had shut off because he was worried about hurting other people.

“He froze himself?”  You ask.

Steve approaches you and puts his hand on your arm.  “He was pulled apart by Hydra and rebuilt into a weapon. They used him to do things he would never have done.  He was used again when he was just taken in Bucharest.  I want him back too.”  He stops and runs his hands through his hair.  “It’s why I came.  I’ve been looking for ways to help him get his mind back.  Keeping my ear out for people who might have something that could help him.  There were whispers about a person who could calm with their touch.  I thought it was a long shot, but right now I’m desperate.”

“I’m not sure I can help, but I’ll come.  I’d like to see him.”  You say.

You pack your things and travel to Wakanda with Steve.  He has resources you didn’t expect.  Having the king of Wakanda on your side has benefits.  You’re taken straight to a lab and a tube is raised from the ground.  The tube has a glass front and for the first time since he left to buy fruit, you see Bucky.

There is so much to take in.  He still has the cuts and scrapes from the last fight he was in.  His metal arm is missing.  But the thing that you notice most is how peaceful he looks.  He looks like a man who is just sleeping and who hasn’t ever had a nightmare.  There is a slight smile on his face.  He is clean and his clothes fit.  You have never seen him like this.  You start doubting coming here at all.

You put your hand on the glass as the scientists fuss around getting ready to thaw him.  “Are you sure about this Steve.  He looks peaceful.”

Steve folds his arms over his chest.   “No.  I’m not sure of anything anymore.  And I hate that.  I was always sure. I always knew what I had to do.  What was right and necessary.  Now I can’t even choose what to wear without second-guessing myself.  But I want him back.  I need him.”

The scientists move you away from the tube and you go and stand behind Steve and watch as the machine suddenly gushes steam and the glass tube opens.

Bucky stands blinking.  His eyes settle on Steve first and he looks confused.  “Stevie?”  He says.  Steve takes a step forward and Bucky’s eyes settle on you.  He breathes your name and approaches you slowly.  “Is it really you?”

You reach up and touch his jaw and he leans his head into it.  “It’s me, Buck.  What are you doing here?”

Bucky steps closer to you and hovers just inches from you.  He looks at Steve and then back at you.  You can feel the desperate need on him.  Not sexual need exactly.  He just needs something.  Peace?  Human contact?  His own mind?  You step forward and wrap your arms around him and press your face against his chest.  

He flinches at first and his arm wraps around you, his chin rests on the top of his head and he makes a purring sound.  You smell something in the room that feels out of place.  Jealousy.  You open your eyes and realize it’s coming from Steve.

“We should go somewhere more comfortable if we can.”  You say to Steve.

He nods and goes to speak to someone.  The whole time Bucky just holds you not saying anything.  You put your hands on his bare skin and regulate his brain chemistry.  He relaxes and goes from feeling like a twitchy brick wall to being soft and warm.

“Okay follow me,”  Steve says coming over to you.  You take Bucky’s hand and follow Steve down the hall to what appears to be a small apartment.  

Before you sit down with Bucky you turn to Steve and look at him.  “What?”  He asks.

“Why are you jealous?”  You ask.

Bucky looks between the two of you and tenses up.  You pat his arm and force his brain to release serotonin so he relaxes.  You feel a little bad controlling him like this, but you don’t want any conflict.

Steve shakes his head.  “It’s not - I’m not - I just haven’t hugged him and it’s been seventy years.”

Bucky looks up and Steve and you let him go.  “I’m sorry, Steve.”  He says embracing his friend.  “What they did.  I’m not who I was.”  He murmurs against Steve’s skin.

Steve closes his eyes and the way both his and Bucky’s pheromones swirl together you feel like you’re intruding on something very private but you have nowhere you can go.  So you just stand there awkwardly watching.  It’s not about lust or sexual attraction.  They love each other.  It’s pure and simple.

“I know, Buck.  I’ve changed too.  But we’re both still there.”  Steve says holding Bucky tightly against him.  

Bucky pulls away and looks from you to Steve.  “Did you unfreeze me because you can get the soldier out?”

Steve looks at you helplessly.  You clear your throat.  “I don’t know.  I’m not sure I can, but I might be able to do something that means you can live with him.  So you’re the one in charge.  Buck, what they did to you.  You might just have to accept that’s who you are now.”

Bucky collapses on the couch and rubs his hand down his face.  “Steve, I said I just wanted peace.”

You sit down next to him and put your hand on his leg.  It’s not skin contact so you can’t use your powers but you want him to have that touch where he knows you aren’t manipulating him.

“What if you can’t ever get rid of him?  You going to just abandon the people who love you?  Stay frozen forever?”  You ask.

“You don’t understand what it’s like living with what they did to me.”  He mutters.  “What they made me do. What they can still make me do.”

You shake your head.  “No… you’re right.  I can’t even begin to fathom it.  I can tell you what I do understand.   I understand what it’s like to be tortured.  I understand what it’s like having to leave people for their own safety.  To never see the people you love again.  I understand right now I can smell Steve and he’s terrified.  I can’t tell you for sure why.  But I could have a pretty good guess.”

Bucky looks up at Steve.  “You’re scared?”

For a second Steve looks like he might deny it but he slumps and nods his head.  “Of course I am.  I lost everything.  You’re my best friend and I’ve lost you three times now.  This has to work.”

Bucky sighs.  “What did you have in mind?”

You sit cross-legged on the bed facing Bucky.   Steve has given you some space to work, realizing that given the nature of your powers this might become more intimate than Bucky would be comfortable with if Steve is around.  He’s taken his shirt off so you have more of his skin to access if you needed to.

“What they did to you, to control you, they tried to do to me.  Different they, but same technique.”  You say putting your hand on his arm.  He flinches at first and then relaxes.

“Sorry.  It’s been a while.”  He says rubbing his arm just where you touched it.  “Why didn’t it work on you?”

“I can control my own brain chemicals.  Trying to interrupt my neurotransmitters is kinda useless when that’s pretty much exactly the thing I have complete control over.”  You explain running your hands up his arm.  He shivers, his muscles twitching as your hands move over him.  “I think I can undo the triggers.  It will take a while.  I’ll basically be retraining your body to behave how it’s supposed to.  But the soldier, he’s part of you now.  I can’t undo what you did.”

Bucky takes one of your hands in his.  “What I did - what they did to me - I can learn to live with that.  Knowing that someone could turn me into a weapon at any time.  That I can’t live with.”

You move your hand to his chest and start increasing his serotonin.  He tenses up again but the increase in the pleasure chemical makes him relax quickly. “You know I won’t hurt you right?”

He nods.  “You know for me, we only happened a week ago.”  He says quietly, dropping his eyes.

You shift closer to him and push his hair off his face and flooding him with endorphins.  He actually moans when you do.  “There hasn’t been anyone else.”  You say quietly.

He pounces on you, pushing you back into the mattress.  You kiss furiously and as you do you let his own pleasure chemicals take control.  You can see exactly where they’ve damaged him so the triggers will work.  You run your hands through his hair and shift some amino acids to the damaged spots.

Bucky’s mouth moves to your throat and you let your head fall back over the side of the bed.  He runs his hand over your chest, squeezing your breast.  You moan and wrap your legs around his waist and he grinds into you.

“Fuck.”  He growls against your skin.  “I missed how you feel.”

He tries to pull your shirt off but fumbles still unused to moving with his arm missing.  You sit up and take it off yourself along with your bra.  He’s on you again, sucking at your breasts, mouth wide, tongue flicking over your nipple.  You drag your nails over his back and he squirms over you, a deep rumble forming in his chest.  You shimmy out of your jeans and push his light cotton pants down too and his cock presses hard against you.

He starts to kiss you everywhere.  His mouth ghosts over your skin.  He licks and nips at you.  He peppers kisses over your collarbone and sucks marks on the underside of your breasts, your hips and inside of your thighs.  By the time his lips touch down on your pubic mound, you’re soaking.  The scent of your desire for each other fills the room.

He runs his tongue up your folds and you jump under him.  A sudden jolt shooting through you from the spot his tongue touch.  He laughs.  “I made you jump.”

You scritch his hair and hum.  “You made me do all kinds of things, don’t stop now.”

Bucky sucked at your folds and licked all over your labia in broad strokes.  He drew little shapes of your clit before sucking it into his mouth and pressing it between his lips.  Your skin prickles and heat builds in your stomach like it's something solid and holding back your orgasm.

Endorphins and Phenylethylamine flood your body and you let them push your orgasm over.  There’s a sudden rush over adrenalin as you come hard, pulling at his hair and crying out his name.

He sits up cross-legged again and pulls you up to him.  You climb into his lap and as you lower yourself down he guides his cock into you.  He rests his hand at the small of your back.  You roll your hips and wrap your arms around his shoulders.

“I can’t believe you found me.  I thought when they came that would be it for me.”  He sighs looking up into your eyes.

“Me too.”  You reply and start kissing him again.  Slow and gentle to begin with, quickly becoming hungry and passionate.  He starts thrusting up into you, and after not long he pushes you back down and starts pounding hard into you.  Propping himself up by the elbow.  You bring one of your hands to your clit and as you start to rub it, you hold him by the back of the neck and look deep into his grey eyes.

You come again.  This time it’s like a wave that washes over you.  Making your muscles clench and serotonin and prolactin trigger all your pleasure centers.  You pull Bucky down into a kiss and open up those pathways in him too.  He groans loudly and empties inside of you.

He slips from you and rolls onto his side.  You both start kissing again, and while you do, you play with the receptors in his brain again.  They’ll take a while to train, but now you’re doing it you feel confident you can fix this.  He can be the one in control.

[kainfamilyfortune]

Thea - Journal Entries #19-21

“All that are worthy of taking the steps to repentance shall be cleansed of sin, doubt, and most importantly set upon a new path. These steps are never to be taken lightly. Nigh, you must come to me with grace and certainty that this path is without any shred of doubt, yours alone. 

The journey will be long, possibly encompassing between the veils of both life and death - you must have perseverance to allow me to guide you. For if you are to be cleansed, allowing the Light within to permeate all that you are and all that you ever will be, you must be willing to trust what sometimes may never be trusted. Forgive the damned. Love those who have never known such emotions. 

Your path lays before you. Only now, you have met me. Let go of thy fears, and take my hand. I will guide you home.”

     - Unknown,  ext. Azerothian Lightbringer pg. 3

19. Home

Pa sat in his musty worn chair basking in the warmth of the fireplace when I entered through the tiny back garden door. It was late, I had just finished the ending council meetings and debriefings from the front line in Stormwind keep. Pye had given me a glowing recommendation to our king, Anduin Wrynn, who smiled at me as he crossed the long distance between his throne and where I knelt before him. “Rise, Ms. Kain. Although we face casualties, you and your team have given us hope that this war could soon end. We need people like you, but you must be rested and healed. You-your foot, how bad is it?” I winced slightly as I rose to be face to face with my king. “The on-board medical staff reset it... after I reset it in the field, it’s at least broken in three places, my King.” He winced in sympathy towards my condition, before slowly turning away and heading back to his seat. “Ms. Kain, I’m appointing you to take at least four weeks off for you to heal. Do with what you want that time, but I will require your assistance for upcoming deployments in the future, Commander.” He said the last line with a smile, Pye even joined in the praise as he lent his arm as a crutch for support. 

-

I snapped out of the memory looking towards my father in the dim firelight. Sound asleep, with a glass of lambic still half full. I sat in my chair next to his, setting the wooden cane Pruet had gifted me as we got ashore on the small wooden end stand between Pa and I, taking off my glove and nimbly unknotting his fingers around the glass. He snorted and began to lull back, as I stifled a laugh in my chest. I took the remainder of the glass in one swig and leaned forward admiring the flames, setting the empty glass on the table and grabbing the fire poker and stirring the embers, flipping a new log atop. Although spring was quickly approaching, winter winds still pressed upon our fair capitol. 

I leaned back, slowly taking my boots off, then my pauldrons, and finally my chainmail chest-guard. The soggy bandages with sweat and blood needed to be changed and I desperately needed to bathe, but that could wait until morning. Before getting too lost in the fire I grabbed the glass and got up, leaning on the back of my chair for support and walked over to our kitchen, pouring myself more of the lambic. I tilted the small pony keg to get the last remnants of the contents in my glass. I would surely need to pay a visit to the Pig and Whistle to have them deliver another. Maybe two. I had quite a bit of money now from the recent deployment, along with a bonus because of the new promotion so that was nice. I limped back over with the full cup to my chair, nursing the glass over many hours as I reflected on the events of the battle we had won. King Rastakhan was dead, and although Jaina had been dealt with a near fatal Horde counter offensive, she had made it out by the skin of her teeth. We had dealt a wound to the Horde that they surely would not recover from so easily.

I awoke with a stiff neck and the smell of eggs and the sound of bacon frying in a pan, the first of morning light cascading into the our dusty little hovel in Old Town. I raised my eyebrows attempting to open my eyes fully, rubbing them so they could focus a bit better. “When did you get home last night, didn’t even hear you come in!” Pa gleefully pronounced as he set the plate of breakfast before me. I smiled, “Thank you Pa. I uhh-I came home pretty late, must have been past twelve-bells. I didn’t want to wake you.” He laughed, placing a plate of his own on the end stand. “Well now I’ve got you to thank for for the crick in my neck. But I guess that’s nothing compared to what you must have been through! Fresh bandages are in the wash room, I went ahead and started to draw you a bath, you stink like a sailor, and look like you haven’t bathed in a month!” He laughed shoveling his food into his mouth, dripping egg into his shaggy unkempt beard. 

“Gee, thanks Pa.” I said a little condescendingly, before jesting with him, honestly happy to see that I made it out alive to be here, sharing this moment with him. “I umm-I haven’t bathed since Kul Tiras. So yeah, no wonder.” I began eating my breakfast, not realizing how hungry I was, before too long we had finished and Arthur went to the wash room to cut off the water, coming back out with fresh linens, trading it with my now empty plate. “Pa.” I said with a soft tone. “Thea?” He replied, holding both plates heading towards the sink. “I-I’m glad to be home. The things I saw... I really didn’t know if I was-” He cut me off, setting the plates down atop the pile of dishes on the sink and embraced me. “I... I didn’t know if you’d come back. After reading your letter, I started to procure arrangements with Father Fortea. I cried for two days, thinking I was going to lose my daughter to this war. When I awoke this morning to find you by my side... Thea. I’m so happy. So happy that you are home.” Tears began to streak on my cheeks, as I embraced my father, the only waves of emotions I’ve let out in front of him since Dustin was killed in action. 

He wiped the tears away from my now laden cheeks, “Bath is waiting, get in before it get’s cold. I... I have news as well regarding your letter, once you’re washed up.After that I’ll have you run into town, if you’re up for it?” I nodded before he helped me up from the chair and then walked me over to the wash room. I shut the door and took off the remainder of chainmail leggings and then my undergarments and soiled bandages. I dipped my toes into the water gauging the temperature, steam gently wafting around me as I entered. Blood began to rise to the surface after I had submerged myself. I poured a little extra soap into the tub. Suds began to form as I gently appraised the wounds that had already begun healing up. Luckily not too many stitches were needed when we had retreated to safety of the ship. A week had passed and the wounds have already closed up around my hand and leg, so I began the slow process of taking out the excess stitch-work. 

An hour had passed, scrubbing every inch of dirt and grime out of my pores. The medical staff only had cleaned around my wounds so I wouldn’t get any infections, so the rest of my body was filthy. My pruned fingers and toes meant that is was time to get out. I lifted myself up, pulling the plug for the drain on my way out as I grasped the towel my father had given to me, wrapping it around myself. I watched the combination of dirt and encrusted blood slowly filter out into the drain along with a few auburn red hairs. 

After carefully and slowly ascending the narrow steps to my room I looked at myself for the first time in what seemed like an age in my full length mirror, admiring each of my wounds with hyper focus. I never really disliked my body, but never praised it either. I never tried to feel pretty or embrace myself in lavish or revealing clothes. I always considered myself plain, average. My scars always stopped me from feeling like I was beautiful, but I recognized that I’ve been stared at in the past. I never admired my curves. I never saw my dimples. I never embraced my soft skin. My armor was like a second skin to me now. Only showing my title, and not my own expression. I feel like today, I’ll wear something nice. A tan sundress, with orange lilies. Yeah. I like this.

As I walked down the steps, I could peer through our tiny side window to the back of the abode, Pa was pruning and weeding the small garden, adorned with his dilapidated straw hat. It was closely approaching mid-day, grabbing my new cane and walked out the back door and my father gave me a bright smile, “Thea, you look lovely. Here,” He gestured towards the chairs in the garden, wiping the sweat and fresh soil off his brow, his expression turned much more serious, worried. “Tell me about your dream.”

20. Collective

I recalled everything, every detail of the encampment, how the two brothers acted, as well as the death of Andrew’s brother, Silas. He nodded, his face becoming more troubled. He got up out of his bench seat, pulling up the lid and pulling out a very worn tome, he dusted his hands and opened it, lifting his eyes to glance upon me and then back to the book as he filtered through the pages, before stopping and lifting a finger to point upon a singular passage as he recited, “Andrew Cordovo Kain, first of his name, son of Jules Derek Kast, and Ingrid Bell Kast, who took on his mother’s maiden name after Jules had past of the first reported case of Tyr’s Disease. When Andrew began to show signs of the disease himself, his devoted brother...” He paused, before saying aside, “The name, it’s redacted.” I looked to him, slightly defeated, but I nodded for him to continue, “Second of his name, and acting, but not appointed, High Priest of the Arathor city-state gave his life to save his brother, and succeeded. Nothing else is known of this day. Andrew went on to lead the citizens of Arathor to Alterac, Dalaran, and finally Stormwind. After years of conquest, and aid in the formation of the church of holy light, he passed away peacefully at the age of 63. Succeeded by his wife, Maria Nicole Kain, and their four children...” He stopped, looking up to me, “You believe that his brother, his name was Silas?” 

I looked out to the garden not wanting to meet his gaze, but I nodded, “I’m... I’m almost certain. Unless I’m... I’m just going crazy. But...” I had a thought, possibly a way to know for sure, “The church, they... they must keep records of who was in their ranks, even from the beginning, and not just in Stormwind, but everywhere.” Arthur looked to me with a mild surprise, “Yes, yes, I would assume that they archive them, Arathor was a millennia ago, but they must have had records. The... The only issue is that, even if our personal family records are redacted, then it’s highly likely that the public ones would be so as well. But I’ll ask around. Is there anything else?” He looked to me with the same worried look in his eyes, the only thing I left out was the voice, the voice that made the deal with Silas, it chilled every fiber of my being thinking back to it, as if she was looking at me now. “No. Th-That was all, thank you Pa. You didn’t have to-” He shushed me, “I insist. Now get Cordon to help you with those kegs when you go into town, okay?” I smiled to him and nodded.

“Okay.” I said, as we both got up and he hugged me gently. My tan sundress flowing in the wind as I opened the gates out of the gardens, and into the cobble stone streets of the bustling capitol.

21. Road to Ruin

I went to bed early, no more past seven bells, slightly drunk from the two glasses of Bradensbrook Gorse that was gifted from Cordon after a long chat of goings’ on in the rest of the world. As I laid my head down to rest finally, I began to dream again.

The rush of a waterfall and the sound of rain greeted me as I opened my eyes laying witness to a damp field of grass and mud before the pond with the sheer rock face climbing to the higher reaches of grey sky. As I rolled upon my back I watched the rolling clouds whisper distant thundering tales to one another. Lightning bolted between them in anger. I sat up slowly, soaked and decided to limp over towards the pathway adjacent to the cascading falls of the pond.

As I walked the path, the loose cobblestones made my broken leg, shattered foot, shoot in sharp pains. I wanted to stop, but I needed to find respite. I was compelled to continue forward. My hips ached, to compensate for the poor weight distribution to continue up the small hill and I crested I was greeted by another larger hill. Light help me.

I stood there a moment waiting an answer, an answer that would never come. So I bit my lower lip and grunted down the hill and persevered through the next more daunting hill, soaked in a downpour that was only getting worse by the minute. My muscles flared in anguish as I reached the top of the path and I collapsed to my knees as I was met with a third, even larger hill.

I touched my leg with the open palm attempting to channel the healing energies I have known all throughout my life but I was empty. My connection, broken. I could feel anxiety welling into my throat, burning with an abhorrent acidity. I would surely die a peaceful death upon this lonely road. I winced, groaning and muttering curses as I got up, leaning upon a nearby post for support. Dusk was quickly approaching and I needed shelter. I needed rest.

My thoughts drifted, trying to block out the fire I was feeling all over my wounded body, drifted towards the unknown, what if this series of hills never ends, only becoming larger and larger, forever? That could not be, I was close. So very close. “Aghhhh!” I had to scream aloud, as I felt the shattered foot splinter more from the weight of the burden I was carrying. Rest. You need rest.

I fell to my knees before cresting the hill, tears of agonizing pain dripping down my face. One by one I gripped the stones, crawling up the remainder of this hill that would never end, inching my way one step closer, my breathing became rapid, the elevation of these trails leaving me catching every last bit of oxygen.

I looked upon the summit and saw hope. A hut of architecture that was familiar, I just could not place where I had seen it before. The lantern lit interior was warm and welcome as I clutched upon the next banister at the top of the hill. The sloped roof cascaded the dripping of the shower as thunder began to roll ominously in the distance. I continued pushing forward, down the path.

My body collapsed in the oval entry way, as I tried to regain my breath from the trial that was before me and there, sitting in the chair facing away at the well worn writing nook was... me, and as the figure shifted, setting down the quill back into the nearby inkwell, she stood to face me. Her straw hat covered her eyes. She wore plain clothes, well equipped for the humidity, and she whispered one word. 

“Owl.”

-OOC-

Took a very long break from most social media. So this post has been a bit dusty and long overdo - which I might continue in due time. But other matters have prevented such. Thanks for reading <3

Want to catch up? 

Devotions Book I

-Forest