#for the first time in more than a decade. today. um. its. its okay to rb. its fine to perceive this in any other way! just thought id...

[cannibalismyuri]

all's fair (war and peace)

kisses on cheeks and necks and collarbones and fingers / hands on necks pushing me to my best and on my arm pulling me away from the battle and on my face shielding me from my true self / your mouth bruised and bit and divided and conquered while your hands granted me temporary hope and a fucked up nostalgic dissonance from the real world / practice what you preach, i used to tell you / the difference between your preaching and practice never really existed as a discernable distance, but rather a manifestation of fatal hubris staining the cracks of your mantras / love is war and fair, and peace is unrequited and unattainable / the caverns of your love were too enormous for me too even begin to explore the subtleties of it / the vines of my preconceived notions must have wrapped around your throat as you choked out your repeated stories about gratefulness and being sated with the minimum i was given so that i'd never dare hope for more / when you vanished into the humid mist of the mystery that was so inherently you that i never learned to question it, the gasoline left by your presence burned. and it burned bright in the dark and harsh on my skin / your love wasn't fair or unrequited or unattainable. your love wasn't war or peace. your love was elemental / earth, air, fire, wind, water / your love was all-encompassing and destructive, and i drowned in it.

[theglitchywriterboi]

DEATHS DINER CHAPTER ONE [DRAFT TWO]

Authors note:

Okay, so I'm not gonna post the first 11 chapters of draft two [not that I've gotten that far] as I'm writing all 5 books before finishing the second draft of Deaths Diner, so it'll probably change loads BUT I THOUGHT IT'D STILL BE FUN TO POST THIS SO ENJOY & LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK [& how you think it compares to draft ones chapter one !!!!] Anyway, on to the chapter <3

It was an abnormally cool day. The sky was its normal tint of grey though, so Vlad paid it no mind. His thoughts far off from the world around him as he gently stroked his sleeping boyfriend Tricks head, fingers moving through thick dark brown & orange curls, slowly grazing the bullet hole on his head.

Sat on the fountain, thunder rumbled in the distance, which wasn’t scheduled for today, but Vlad was too lost in his own world to notice.

He looked down at his sleeping boyfriends head, removing his hand from Tricks hair, moving it down to softly rub his soft golden brown cheek.

No one really came here besides Vlad & two other people, one of which being Trick. It was mostly barren around these parts. The ground was a dark grey, only a bit darker than the sky above it. There wasn’t much if any foliage, besides some dead bushes & trees - even those were sparse. But Vlad loved it here.

He loved days like this - being able to sit & relax with his boyfriend. Days like this didn’t come often anymore. Even today his father had called him six times, but Vlad ignored every call. He knew this would come back to bite him, but he didn’t care.

His father had gotten more intense about training him.

It’s not like Vlad was to take over anytime remotely soon, but his father for whatever reason acted as though any day now he’d take over.

Vlad thought this was weird. Before, his father would’ve had to have been forced by higher ups to bring Vlad along, but now he had a million & one things he needed Vlad for.

Rain dripped from the sky, causing Trick to begin to stir. They had been previously been watching the clouds above slowly drift before Vlad had fallen asleep. Rain wasn’t planned for today.

“Fuck whys it rainin’” Trick grumbled, groggy from just being awoken, “Did one of your siblings mess with the weather or something again?”

“Um, I don’t believe they have - they normally send me a message,” Vlad said. He uncoiled the antennas wrapped around his neck, checking to see if he had any miss messages. Just as he suspected, he did not. “Plus remember the last time they messed with the weather? The weather guy nearly killed them,” The two laughed at the memory. Thunder roared even louder than before, but the two were too engrossed in their conversation to pay it any mind.

His siblings were accustom to mayhem. Ages ago, they had gotten all the Lites to for walls around the residents homes. Vlad thought that was particularly mean given circumstances, but they didn’t mess with the residents often.

Another time, they had put some Lites in the river, so when Vlad was doing his work, a bunch of Lites ambushed him. Unfortunately, they had done this when Vlads father had been inspecting his work - he knew they planned for it as they all knew when his father comes down.

But the aforementioned messing with the weather. Not horribly long ago, only about a decade or two, they had broken into The Weathermans tower & messed with the controls. Vlad didn’t quite understand how they were able to, given the fact the buttons are on him, and while he’s by far not a small fellow, Vlad just didn’t understand how it took him around thirty minutes to realize.

Vlad was the youngest of his siblings & his older siblings were accustom to pissing people off. Not all of his siblings lived here - only four did. They were the troublemakers… Well, three of them were. But he doesn’t like to think about the other too much. His other two, not so much. They were both a bit rebellious & outspoken. The Weatherman & his father hated them for that. Not like he & his troublemaking siblings were obedient, not at all. But those two were hard to convince to do something they didn’t believe in. With his other siblings [and himself] they just couldn’t be bothered to kick up a fuss about most things. Only one was like those two, the oldest. But…

“Yeah I mean - you know how bad you have to screw up to piss someone off so much so they almost kill something that can’t die?” Trick said with a laugh.

Footsteps pounded on the concrete as someone ran in their direction. Vlad & Trick stopped talking to see who it was.

Treat - Tricks sister & Vlads friend, was running towards them. Her dark brown & orange curls were pulled into a ponytail atop her head. Instead of her hair cascading down her back, the curls stuck up in the air, though a few fell down her face on either side - she had the same golden brown skin as Trick. Though instead of a bullet hole, she had a large gash on her neck.

As she ran towards them, Vlad could see her eyebrows were furrowed & her face wore a frown.

“D-did you guys hear that?” She asked, her voice shaking with anxiety & panic. Her eyes were glued to the sky, as if it were about to fall out at any second.

“That thunder? Its probably nothing,” Trick said dismissively while Vlad nodded in agreement, “It’s probably just maintenance or somethin’”. That was plausible to Vlad. If it wasn’t his siblings screwing around, then The Weatherman was probably doing unscheduled maintenance. It wasn’t at all common for him to do it with no notice, but it wasn’t unheard of either.

Treat shook her head at that.

“I-I just went to see him - he had no idea what was happening. His buttons weren’t working either,” She explained. Now that was alarming to Vlad. Him not knowing what was happening was extremely concerning - even when people were screwing with the weather, he still knew he could feel the buttons being clicked & pressed for one thing, but his buttons not working? He hardly left his tower anymore, not since he disappeared, but he could still feel every change in the environment. And he always knew the cause.

Trick was about to dismiss the notion something was wrong once more when Vlad cut him off.

“Are you sure?” Vlad asked seriously. He had no reason to ask - she wasn’t a joker like that. At least not anymore. Not as long as he’s known her. But he had to be sure.

Just like he thought, she nodded. “Y-yeah,” She began, stumbling over her words as she spoke “I-I was over at the diner when when I-I heard the first clap of thunder, s-so I went to go see him to see what was up as this wasn’t scheduled a-and he was all panick-y & ushered me out” She explained. That was even more concerning. He was a dick sometimes, but he was never panicked. Not even when someone messed with the controls. Not to mentioned he LOVED Treat - so much so he joked that until her & Tricks parents died he’d be her fill-in father [he didn’t extend the same sentiment towards Trick]. That was something in itself as he hated most beings. There was only one person he liked other than her.

Shes more or less his mentee, he loved teaching her things, so for him to rush her out? Something must’ve really shaken him.

Vlad thought for a moment, before standing abruptly, causing Trick to fall off his lap.

“Hey!” Trick pouted, but neither paid him any mind. Vlad felt his anxiety rise to Treats level as the conversation pressed on.

“What do you think is wrong?” Vlad asked. He presumed she wouldn’t know anymore than he did - if The Weatherman didn’t know what was up yet, he doubted she would’ve.

“I-I don’t know,” She began, before she took a moment to remember the events that led her here, “I did hear a crash - a-at least I think I did,”

Vlad tensed. None of this should be happening - at least not now, he wasn’t trained for it to happen now.

“Where did the crash come from?” He asked. Maybe it’s unrelated. Maybe its a completely different thing to freak out over.

Treat though for a moment, before looking around, & pointing northeast from the spot they were currently at, “Uhm… Over there,” She said. Just as Vlad feared. There were only two things in that direction. Vlads siblings & the door.

He thought for a moment on what they should do before he decided to speak, “We should check it out,” He said, attempting to making his voice sound more confident in this choice than he actually was.

In response to his idea, Trick groaned while Treat flapped her hands up & down.

“I-I think we should tell your dad,” She said, fidgeting with her hands & looking around as she spoke.

Trick, who already wasn’t pleased with the notion of trekking all the way to wherever that crash happened, scrunched up his nose at the thought of going to see Vlads father. Vlad wasn’t thrilled with the idea either.

“Do you want to tell him?” He asked. It was well known that although his father ran The Waiting Room [where the dead go before they’re placed in an afterlife], he hated the dead - even though he ruled over them. He seemed to have a particular disdain for Trick & Treat, especially Treat. Perhaps it was because she was so friendly with The Weatherman. That was Vlads best guess at the very least.

“W-well no…” She trailed off as she spoke, still anxiously fiddling, something she normally did. Vlads father was also very busy & while he called Vlad all the time now, he still hated being contacted when he wasn’t the one to reach out to him. Vlad contacting him would probably result in the same fury that would’ve been sparked had Treat contacted him.

“Exactly,” He replied, before turning he attention to Trick.

“Well I don’t wanna go!” He said stubbornly. “I don’t wanna go on a wild goose chase for something that’s probably just your older siblings dicking around. I just wanna stay here & relax & cuddle” He said with a frown, “Plus on the chance there is something wrong - that sounds like a lot of work & I don’t want to end up double dead” Vlad laughed in response to the last addition to Tricks rant.

Vlad bent down to Tricks eye-level, grabbed his hand, & softly spoke, “My love, you cannot be double dead, I’ve told you this before,” He began, “Plus, when was the last time we did something adventurous?”

“I can think of plenty of adventurous things we did last night,” Trick replied with a stupid grin & a wink, causing Vlad to momentarily lose his composer. “And you don’t know that! What if there’s zombies & they try to eat me?”

“I uh- We-” Vlad started, stumbling over his words, face still hot from what Trick had said, “When was the last time we, the three of us did something adventurous,” He clarified “And I told you - zombies aren’t a thing here!”

“Well weather The Weatherman can’t stop isn’t a thing here either,” Trick rebutted. While the two debated on if they should go, Treat stood there watching the two, not intervening in support of either side. Though Vlad knew she was wary of going, so while he assumed she also didn’t put much stock into her brothers arguments, it was a safe bet to guess she wanted Trick to win. In any other situation he would’ve dropped it, but… If this is what he thinks it was, it was far too important for him to let go.

“Come on, I’m sure it’ll be fun,” Vlad tried “And I thought you liked risks” he joked, poking at Tricks bullet hole on his head. To the unfamiliar, this may have been a tasteless joke - the other dead sure didn’t like him making that joke to Trick whenever the three trekked to town. But it’s been ages since Trick died, so he was no longer hurt by the thought of his passing.

“Hey, this wasn’t my fault! One of my few injuries that actually wasn’t due to me dicking around,” He said, even though that wasn’t wholly true, it was mostly true though, “Fiiiinnnnnnneeeeeee, I’ll go… But if I die, you’ve got to visit me in Super Hell, got it?”

“If double death becomes a thing & in turn makes Super Hell a thing, yes, I will visit you,”

Vlad stood brushing dirt off his knees as he did, before holding out his hand to help Trick stand, which he accepted.

Once both boys were standing, Vlad turned to Treat, “Are you ready to go?” He asked. She paused for a moment, anxiously fidgeting with her hands.

“Oh uh… Y-yeah of course!”

Let's go then!” Vlad said with a smile. And so the three headed off in the direction of the crash, and unfortunately, where The Door was.

Living in this world was pretty nice - in Vlads opinion at least. He of course was biased, seeing as he rarely left it. And for one of the underworlds [or rather, the waiting room for all of them], it was very pleasant.

It was dark and gloomy like most of them yes, but there was an ever-present sense of cheer.

The Deaths would bring the dead here to assign them an afterlife to go to.

Some went to a more… Traditional idea of hell/the bad afterlife. Some went to a specialized death place - car crash deaths, murder victims, etc. young deaths - normally young adults or teens 15 or older [for humans at least - the cut off/start depends on what species you are. Theres some 80 year olds there, to a human like Trick & Treat thats beyond elderly, but to an elf thats practically a tween] went to a universe of their own, while people younger than that normally stayed here until their parents/guardians passed. Not all left though. Though the majority went to either a good afterlife or a practicing afterlife. Where they had the capacity to learn & grow before their final placement. Not all learned.

It was a long complex process, so there was a town were people stayed before placement. After the shock of dying & the fear of being all alone, people enjoyed branching out. Making friends with other dead people, talking about their life before dying, where they think they’ll go. It was nice.

Time also worked differently here. 1 year could pass in a normal universe, while 700 pass here, but then 20 years could pass in the same normal one, but only five months would’ve passed here. It was confusing, for Vlad & the town folk.

No one really lived here full time besides Vlad, The Deaths, Vlads Father, & The Weatherman. Trick & Treat were very special cases - something Vlads father tried to fight, but after The Old Ones talked to him, he had to relent. He did retaliate by making the trios lives [or lack there of in the twins case] a living hell any chance he could. Even their most long-lasting residents weren’t permanent, at least they hope they weren’t.

Vlads antennas buzzed as he sensed his father was calling him. He shook it away. Today was his off time, he wasn’t on call. Whatever it was, it could wait until tomorrow.

As they walked, they passed The River Of Souls.

The river was filled with lost souls - those who had panicked upon learning they were dead. It wasn’t a normal stress or panic, most people didn’t handle it well. Expecting beings to react rationally when learning of their demise was an unrealistic assumption. This was more. It was more intense than your average panic or mourning the life you had.

It was hard to decern, unless you were associated with the death system. Even after years of being here, Trick & Treat still didn’t fully understand.

“We should stop for a second,” Vlad said. The other two stopped, while Vlad walked over to where he kept his fishing pole.

Some souls were able to be fished out - that was Vlads job [part at least]. While the majority… They were doomed to bob around aimlessly in the river forever. He hoped it was nice afterlife for them. The sound of their wails was something the trio were used to at this point.

He had seen one though that appeared to be ready to come out.

He threw a line in near the area he had seen the soul & waited. There was no special way to get them out, the pole was just a conduit that gave the lost ready enough of a connection to pull themselves out.

Finally, after a few moments of waiting, there was a tug.

Vlad held tightly onto his pole. The pull wasn’t too hard, but it was only a matter of time before.

“WAAAAHHH-” Vlad shouted. He had being doing this job for ages, but sometimes they were a bit more aggressive than usual, causing Vlad to on occasion [like this one] to stumble forward. He turned his foot to be parallel with the river, and dug it as hard a he could into the ground to prevent himself from falling in.

See, the lost souls - the ones still unready to come out of the river, didn’t like it when one left.

Vlad watched as other souls pulled the ready one, attempting to make it stay.

Leaving wasn’t just about wanting to & feeling ready. They also had to be strong enough. It wasn’t a matter of literal physical strength - they didn’t have a physical form, they were equal sized balls of blue light. It was a matter of mental strength. At least thats what Vlad believed.

The soul pulled on the pole, while the others pulled on it. Vlad almost thought it was doomed to be lost once more when it popped out.

Vlad grabbed his net, barely catching it before it smacked onto the dirt ground.

“What are you gonna do with ‘em?” Trick asked.

“Ah well… I’ll just carry them until we can bring them to town. A little field trip I suppose, before they get their temporary home?”

“How sweet of you,” Treat said jokingly, “Can I see them?” She asked. She & Trick both enjoyed coming to the river with him, but Treat particularly enjoyed spending time with the lost.

The sound of heavy boots & guns clinking & clacking together filled their ears, while the strong sent of gunpowder filled the air.

Oh no Vlad thought to himself. He was about to try & hide Trick, Treat, & the recovered soul, but due to the fact the land was as barren as ever & a tall figure was already looming over them, he didn’t have time.

One of his older siblings.

“HEEEEEYYYYYY VLADDY!” Sling shouted, as they rushed over to them, before pulling Vlad into a big bear hug & lifting him high off the ground.

“Hi Sling…” Vlad replied. Don’t get him wrong - he loved his siblings, but they, especially Sling, could be… A lot. “Can you put me down now?”

“Oh right,” They said, putting him down.

Vlad took after his father, but Sling having being spawned through different means & for a different purpose, the two didn’t look similar. Though Vlad didn’t resemble any of his siblings. Sling for example, like the others of their siblings that were produce in the same manner for the same purpose, was extremely tall. Vlad, compared to humans, wasn’t short, but compare to his own? He was tiny.

Where Sling differed from their siblings was their attire. They wore a long black trench coat, with black boots, & a black mask that obscured their face. Guns could be seen inside their coat, along with several on their back.

“So, what are you three doing all the way out here?” Sling asked.

“That’s really none of your business, we’re kind of in a hurry-” Vlad said. He didn’t mean for it to sound as harsh as it did. But it was true - they were in a hurry. Trick & Treat may not realize why they were in such a hurry, but they were. Vlad attempted to start walking when Sling grabbed him by the collar, stopping him in his tracks.

“Oh I think it very much is my business little bro. You know you’re not supposed to be over here in any situation, so it’d be a shame if I was forced to tell your dad you AND your friends were wondering around over here,” Sling said. Vlad knew they probably weren’t going to tell his father - they hated him just as much [hell, maybe a bit more] than Vlad did. But at the same time… Sling was a wildcard at times & did enjoy causing problems… Vlad thought for a minute before responding.

“Fine,” He began begrudgingly, “Treat heard a crash in this direction, so we’re going to check it out…” He said. He attempted to not indicate where exactly they were going, but either Sling was too smart & knew Vlad enough, or they had also heard the crash, but didn’t bother checking it out until now.

“Going to the door huh? You were always the more behaved one of us - but I like the switch up. Sounds fun! I’ll be right back, don’t go without me or I’ll tell your dad!” They shouted excitedly, trotting off to go do who knows what. Vlad tried to call out after them, but it was no use.

There wasn’t much out here - a few buildings where Vlads siblings lived, as well as the diner [though not in the direction Sling went nor in the direction Vlad was planning to go].

“W-where do you think they’re going?” Treat asked quietly. They could be doing anything. Going to the door themselves to check out the situation, or just general dicking around. Knowing them they could be gone for hours before deciding to waltz back here.

“I have no idea,” He sighed. He loved his siblings, but they could be a handful at times. Especially the ones that resided here. It seemed as though all his more mellow[ish] siblings left here…

A good few minutes passed & Vlad was about ready to suggest they just go, when the strong sent of chemicals filled the air, nearly making him choke.

Turning around he saw Sling with two people following close behind them.

One jumped & moved around manically, laughing & talking to themselves. Xe held several glass bottles & vials in xyr hand. Xe had even more bottles & vials on a holster wrapped around xyr boney body, it formed an X around xem. Xe were wearing ripped [or burnt?] brown shorts & no shoes or socks.

The other was stood there stoically, her long black dress flowing behind her. She had a longsword on her back. While he couldn’t see them, Vlad knew she always had knives & daggers hidden all over her body. Compared to Sling & the other, she seemed very annoyed to be here.

“Okay, we’re ready,” Sling said, moving forward towards the door.

“Clay? Nic? What did they tell you?” Vlad asked.

“They said you were planning on checking out the door,” Clay said, her voice bland & bored. She enjoyed messing with Vlad as much as her other siblings did, as well as watching the three panic exploring places only meant for deaths [not that they were allowed to often], but talking? That wasn’t something she was too fond of.

Nic didn’t say anything, only nodding xyr head up & down enthusiastically through twitchy pulls & movements.

“That’s- we’re not not going to- ugh, whatever… Lets just go now?” Vlad grumbled.

With that they set off.

Vlad lead the way to the door, Treat still held onto the soul Vlad almost forgot it was there, until she spoke up.

“A-are we bringing them with us?” She asked after a few minutes of walking.

That was something he had forgotten to factor in. It wasn’t the best idea for a soul, especially a newly healed one, to get near the door. He really should’ve considered this sooner…

Before he could come up with a response though, Sling plucked the newly UN-lost soul out of the net, adjusting their stance, before dropping the soul & kicking it as hard as they could far off in the distance.

Then they turned around & kept walking.

“Why did you do that?!” Vlad exclaimed.

“What? It needed to get to town, so I kicked it to town. Much faster than waiting for us to get done with whatever you’ve got planned,” They explained matter factly.

“That- you could’ve-” Vlad was at a loss for words, so when it became clear he couldn’t formulate a response, they all kept walking. This time with Sling leading their trek, though Vlad followed close behind them.

Soon they reached the furthest point Vlad had previously been allowed to go. A large withering oak tree stood before them, a large dark forest laid behind it. That’s where the door was.

They all began to step in.

It was unnaturally dark in the forest. No light of any kind - even on the rare occasion The Weatherman planned a sunny day [not that today was one of them], the forest was always… Unaffected. Drowning in darkness. Only one person could light it up, but they we’re here right now. Flashlights & Artificial lights did work, but not too well, not that Vlad had the foresight to attempt to bring anything anyway.

Vlad stood close behind Sling, who was walking through the forest with ease. There were no trails or paths of any kind, it seemed as though the deaths walked through these trees by memory alone, all while leaving no tell they were there.

“Aren’t you glad we came?” Sling joked, nudging Vlad in the arm.

Clay took lead this time, while Sling followed behind her. Vlad was behind Sling, practically glued to them due to the darkness. He didn’t know what order Trick, Treat, & Nic were in.

Leaves crunched beneath the deaths heavy boots as they made their way deeper inside the forest. It was dark outside the forest, but inside? Inside it was basically fully black. But his siblings walked through with ease, while he stumbled into every tree, tripped over every rock, & repeatedly got a face full of leaves.

Deaths had better vision than most other life forms - Vlads kind included. It was something that came up so little, it still surprised Vlad how effortlessly they moved in the darkness. While he did have better sight than Trick & Treats kind, it was nowhere near the level of the deaths. He wondered, if it was this dark for him, how dark was it for Trick & Treat? Or was it so dark, that it could no longer be compared?

“Wait wait wait,” Trick said, breaking the silence that had previously only been filled with the sound of rustling leaves & branches breaking. “I think we should link up”

“What?” Sling asked.

“Ya know - make a chain so we don’t keep running into shit?” Trick explained. It took a moment for Sling to respond.

“Um… Okay… You guys do that then.” They said.

So Trick, Treat, & Vlad attempted to do so. Vlad cautiously stepped, practically shuffling around while aimlessly feeling the air. A few moments went by, when Sling let out an impatient sigh, before a hand grabbed Vlads, & stuck it into someone else's, before moving on.

“There, can we go now?” Sling asked, having connected the currently sightless. Vlad nodded, though he wasn’t even sure if Sling was looking at him, but when he felt another hand grab his currently available one & start walking, it was safe to assume they had seen him.

“Oh uh - Maybe someone with better vision should stay in the back so they can see if someone gets lost?” Treat suggested.

“Nics back there,” Sling dismissed.

“Maybe she means someone whos a bit more… Open to talking?” Vlad replied.

Sling just sighed, before the sound of shuffling could be heard, but no one let go of Vlads hand, so he presumed it wasn’t Sling. A fact that would be confirmed a moment later.

“Thank you Clay-e,” Sling said in an annoying playful tone. Vlad heard her grunt in response - which was her nice was of saying ‘you’re welcome’.

Based off the sound of people talking, Sling was now leading the group, with Vlad directly behind them, Trick held Vlads hand, & he assumed Treat held Tricks hand. He didn’t know if Clay was after Treat or if it was Nic. If it was the latter, that’d be unfortunate, because while Nic was harmless [at least to the already dead], xe did scare Treat. When asked she couldn’t explain why, it was simply xyr intensity. Clay probably wouldn’t bother her, but in all honesty, as far as Vlad could tell, it seemed as though Treat had a crush on her. But a crush is a lot better than being scared.

They walked through the darkness, not really talking, just focusing on their destination [and for Vlad, not tripping & bashing his head in. Just because Trick & Treat couldn’t die doesn’t mean he was granted the same privilege].

Vlad almost wanted to ask Sling if they were almost to the door when, after what felt like forever… He felt like he could actually see something.

It was a bit disorienting going from full black to light.

In the distance, bright blue & green lights filled up the forest. But there was something else. Vlad was sure Sling had noticed it at the same time he had, because as his eyes trailed down from the tall trees now illuminated, there was a soft, barely visible [to Vlad] red glow.

Vlad didn’t know what it was, but he knew it couldn’t be any good, given the fact Slings hand tensed upon seeing it.

[tozettastone]

I know I've been posting about other stuff today, but I've actually been working on the SPN Sabriel fic: 'Be Not Afraid, Behold'.

here's a little bit from the start of the next chapter:

-----

Sam woke with a jolt.

"You okay?" Dean asked, only halfway paying attention to the road that rose endlessly on ahead of them. Its sinuous shape snaked behind them, too, a long stretch of black asphalt that drifted off into the horizon, swallowed by a greenish mass of forest in the distance. There wasn't a lot on either side, and the only other vehicles were freight.

"Um," said Sam, squinting. The impala was a familiar rumble around him. He sat up. "Yeah... Weird dream?"

He rarely dreamed when he slept beside Gabriel, but now that he was back on the road with his brother, he was making up for lost time.

"Sounded like a nightmare." Dean was suddenly really attentive to that empty road, avoiding even the potential for eye contact with Sam.

It was fading now. What had been so clear and reasonable in the landscape of his dreaming mind was now confused and impossible to grasp. The tatters that remained of it were only an uneasy memory...

"Might've been." He fumbled for his phone beneath his seat belt, realised he didn't actually have Jess's number since she'd got a new phone, and then messaged Gabriel instead.

Hey, is Jess still on campus? She doing okay?

A response came three minutes later: Can't believe the first time you message me in a week is about a girl you dated last year. smh. She's fine btw. [Attachment: IMG_1101104].

The photo was a candid snap from one of the libraries at Stanford. Jess looked like she'd been surprised, looking up from her book only to be captured in digital media. She was as pretty as ever, but all Sam felt looking at the picture was—well, it was nice of Gabriel to go out of his way to check on her.

Gabriel? Wasn't really a library kind of guy. It was kind of odd that he had even been close by enough to take the photo—a lucky coincidence, he guessed.

Thank you, Sam sent, and then shoved his phone away.

"Sooo..." Dean drummed his fingertips on the steering wheel. "That a girl?"

"Uh." Sam rubbed his nose. "A friend. Weird dream was about her? I guess. I don't even remember it really. I was just... checking in."

A long pause. "Does 'uh, friend' have a name?"

"Jess? She's really a friend though. We went out one time and I broke it off." And hadn't his recent experience with the Woman in White, Constance, really made him feel good about that choice to sit down with Jess and talk about it? One date didn't have to mean a commitment, of course, but now in hindsight he was pretty glad to have left no expectations behind him.

"Huh," repeated Dean. "What, was she ugly?"

"Was she—? No, Dean." He sighed deeply. "Jess isn't ugly. We... Just didn't fit."

This was a highly editorialised version of events, and he could almost physically hear Gabriel interrupting in the back of his own mind: Is that what they're calling it? Do you remember what did fit? It was my—

Sam hauled his train of thought back onto its rails. Fortunately, his mental image of Gabriel was a lot more manageable than the real one.

He already missed him. It ached like an absent limb. The last time he'd felt like this was years ago, leaving Dean behind on his way to California.

Gabriel typically drifted in and out of Sam's life every second day or so with what now felt like surprising ease. For Sam, few relationships had ever been easy. He'd moved around too much growing up for that. For more than a decade it had just been Dean, Dad and Bobby. Those bonds were important—even when he didn't really want them to be—but they sure weren't easy.

...At some point, Sam was going to have to talk to Dean about Gabriel. He thought this thought intellectually, but even as he did, a less cerebral part of his brain—one which dealt with feelings like anger and fear and disgust—wondered if it was true. Maybe he could just ...avoid talking to Dean about anything Gabriel related, ever.

It wasn't that Dean was homophobic. Not... really homophobic, anyway. But they weren't the kind of touchy-feely people who talked about their feelings. And god only knew Sam didn't want to finally find their Dad after dropping that particular bomb on Dean. He could already see that playing out.

He licked his teeth. This was pretty clearly not the time to talk to Dean about any of the, um, gay stuff.

Can't even say it in your head, huh? sneered a little voice inside him. This one didn't sound much like Gabriel. Sam's meanest and most self destructive impulses never did. The, um, gay stuff, he mocked.

He set his jaw and tilted his head until his neck popped, with the sound of synovial fluid stretching, releasing gases between joints. Pop-pop, soft and satisfying, like a release valve for the tension in his spine.

Dean pulled a face at the noise and turned the radio up.

Silently, Sam turned towards his window, watching the road stream endlessly by. He didn't check his phone.

[the-only-ace]

Can you do a TaeminxReader where both the reader and Taemin are on The Knowing brothers and Heechul continuously flirts with the reader.

hello there~ i honestly don’t know if you still remember requesting this but here you go! i am so sorry for answering after such a long loooong hiatus. also, i am not really familiar with all the segments for the knowing brothers so i apologize in advance if some of them do not make sense. hope you still enjoy it nevertheless!

taemin scenario: just add jealousy

pairing: taemin x reader

word count: 2.3k

summary: taemin and reader have been liking each other for quite a while now and promoting as a duo together makes their relationship even more complicated. maybe a sprinkle of jealousy would finally ignite the sparks between them.

warnings: none

send in your requests here!

taemin plopped down on a seat and loosened the black necktie he was wearing for the knowing brothers recording. he reached over the table to grab a new bottle of water and contently chugged down its contents. the shoot just wrapped up and the cold drink was refreshing especially after participating in a lot of the activities today. he already spent more than a decade doing variety shows but this one made him extra tired. maybe it comes with age? who was he kidding, twenty-seven is not yet considered as old. he can perform and dance for hours and gladly do it again the next day. comparing to that, a tv show guesting should be a piece of cake but why does he feel more than relief to wrap it up earlier than expected.

with a long heavy sigh, taemin tilted his head backward and close his eyes. he knows exactly the reason why he feels exhausted and also annoyed. it was because of his certain senior called kim heechul. 

a frown quickly formed across his forehead as the events a while ago replayed on his mind.

exhibit a:

“with your great chemistry on stage, fans keep on speculating if something is going on between you two. is there something we should know?” heechul asked as the cast talks about your debut single.

honestly, you were not that surprised with the question since it was quite a buzz across social media already. the other members of your girl group practically shoved their phones to your face whenever they saw comments regarding your performance. of course, their loud teasing comes next as if they were a package deal of some sort–which you don’t remember purchasing at all.

“no, we’re both just good friends.” you answered confidently with a chuckle. “i think my chemistry with taemin only comes from how much effort and passion we have put in our every performance. seeing such reactions from our audience makes both of us happy since it means that we did something great up there on stage.”

taemin was nodding silently beside you like a cute little puppy dog as he listened to your answer. he was quite proud of how well you handled the question on your own.

“so does that mean you’re still single?” the super junior member continued to ask.

“um… yeah, pretty much.” you laughed as you nod.

“then i can ask you out?” well, that one caught you off guard.

“hey, isn’t that a bit inappropriate?” taemin can’t help but interrupt your conversation.

“why is that?” the older guy snapped back and sounded a bit offended.

“because…” okay, taemin did not really think this through but thanks to his variety show experience, he was able to blurt out an entertaining response. “aren’t you a bit too old for her? wouldn’t that put you to… i don’t know, jail?” the comment earned laughs and more insults from the other members.

“look here, mister! she’s of legal age so what do you mean jail?” heechul stood up from his seat and started to point his index finger towards his junior.  "also, don’t you guys think it’s up to y/n to decide?“ he directed his look to you and raised an eyebrow. “so, what do think?” he tried to pull off a flirty look.

“well, they do say age doesn’t matter in love.” you shrugged as you went with the flow.

taemin knew that you’re also good on variety shows especially on how open you are to any situations that were thrown in your way. you always have the best responses and reactions. that is why people from the industry love to invite you over to shoot an episode with them. however, he kind of hoped that you have let go of the idea of flirting back.

exhibit b:

heechul pulled out the empty chair beside him and patted it, indicating for you to sit beside him. you removed the black backpack you were wearing and placed it on top of the desk as you gladly sat down next to him.

“so where should i take you for our first date?” his sudden proposal caused you to scoff and let out an amused laugh.

“well… i do love eating expensive steak in a fancy restaurant where i can wear a beautiful dress that you bought while thinking of me.” you teased with a sweet smile.

“isn’t that too much for a high school student?” he mumbled to himself before reaching out to brush the stray hair on your forehead. “okay, oppa will do it for you.”

you placed both of your hands underneath your cheeks and looked at him cutely. “thank you, oppa!”

“oppa? more like samchon if you ask me.” taemin looked back from his seat in front of you two.

“alright, what the hell is your problem today? did i do something wrong?” heechul replied incredulously with his eyes wide.

“he’s just probably jealous. he wants some steak too.” you playfully stuck your tongue out before pushing taemin’s head so he would look in front once again.

exhibit c:

all of you are now playing the whisper challenge and it was yours and heechul’s turn. he was the one guessing and you were the one mouthing out the words. both of you are going at it for a while now and it makes you a bit frustrated on the inside. you can feel the sore throat creeping in as you blatantly repeated the same phrase over and over. he’s great at a lot of games but this one is definitely 100-percent not his forte.

“ah… ah ah, i know it now!” he finally said confidently with his right first up in the air. “i love you…”

his answer made you cover your face and burst out into fits of laughter before waving your hands in front of you indicating that he guessed the phrase wrong.

“i love you!” he repeated with more conviction.

“no, that’s not the word!” you shook your head while giggling.

“yeah, i know that’s not the word. i just want to say it to you.” he nodded before giving you finger hearts which you immediately reciprocate.

both of you are playfully flirting for most of the recording but this one got to be the cheesiness lines you heard today. 

taemin was pulled out from his train of thoughts when he heard you snickering loudly from across the room and his head hastily snapped in your direction. there you were, wearing a high school uniform that matches his and he was not going to lie, he was stunned when he saw you wearing it the first time this morning. you look bright and youthful with the red checkered bow around your neck. your high-waisted skirt emphasizes your curves. your pair of black thigh-high socks were the perfect length to make your legs look longer. your hair was pulled up on a half ponytail which he doesn’t usually see on you so it was a sight for him to remember. there was a soft blush on your cheeks and across the bridge of your nose. the gloss on your lips was also mesmerizing as it catches the light every time you speak. that didn’t help at all given the fact that he often caught himself staring at your lips too much lately.

seeing you made him think that if you both met as high school students, he would have undeniably confessed to you in an empty classroom after class. he chuckled at the thought. he was not quite sure if you would have liked him back in high school since he was not confident in himself back then.

his daydreaming was cut short when he realized who you were talking to. it was none other than the kim heechul. he can’t help but observe as the two of you conversed animatedly with each other. he knew that heechul was a funny guy but he’s not that hilarous for you to laugh that hard. while listening to whatever story he has been conjuring, you were pulling your hair up in a quick messy bun since the studio was quite hot with all the lights around. 

what happened next almost made taemin fell down from his seat. a scowl immediately appeared on his face as he watched heechul casually wiping the sweat on your nape with his handkerchief. not that taemin was counting but that was the 9th time he flirted with you today and not to mention that it was already after the show.

he bitterly watched as you both bid your goodbyes and now you were walking towards him. he cleared his throat and took another gulp from his water bottle.

“what’s with the long face?” you asked in fluent english as you sat down on the desk in front of him.

“what?” he looked up with a confused face.

“i thought you were taking english classes?” you mocked him–this time in korean. you nonchalantly reach out for his drink and took a sip.

you and taemin knew each other for quite a while now, almost 4 years to be exact. you were on friendly terms with him even before debuting as a duo but after spending these past few months preparing together, you have gotten much closer with him. too close that it became complicated for both of you. it was quite obvious that you two were acting more than friends but no one clearly expressed their feelings yet. the tension between you and him when you were alone became heavier and heavier as the days went by. you always have this urge to bring up the situation you two are in but everytime you were about to speak out, taemin would suddenly open up a conversation about a whole different topic.

“so what were you and heechul-hyung talking about a while ago?” yep, lee taemin always has awful timing.

“he just wanted to make sure that he didn’t make me feel uncomfortable during the recording a while ago.” you shrugged.

“oh, how sweet of him.” taemin scoffed and straighten up from his seat. “he even has to wipe your sweat for you.” he muttured under his breath.

“what was that?” you already heard what he said but it was too faint and you just wanted to make sure.

“nothing.” of course he would deny it. what did you expect?

“so… are you like jealous of heechul or something?” you were only joking, well half-joking. you used this opportunity to slowly open up the topic and to finally know where do you stand in his life.

he held your gaze for a few seconds before crossing his arms across his chest. you were not fully prepared for his serious stare and for what he said next. “and what if i am?”

“huh?” your dumbfounded voice was a couple of notes higher than usual.

“i said,” he leaned forward and looked up to you under his lashes. “what if i am jealous?”

you sat there frozen. you helplessly stared back at his eyes and looked for any signs that he was just fooling around. except it was clear as day, he meant what he said. you always have waited for this. you imagined all the possible scenarios. you even prepared what you would say once this was brought up but why were you speechless now? why do you feel all clammy and nervous? why can’t you calm down your frantic heartbeats?

you took a deep breath and forced yourself to bring back the confidence you once had. “then why don’t you ask me out already so you don’t have to feel threatened with every guy out there.”

“you know what?” he stood up and suddenly he was now towering over you. his scent wrapped all around you and it made you overheat even more. “i might just do that.”

“then i might just say yes.” you crossed your arms and hoped that it can disguise your slight shaking. whether it was from excitement or not, you do not know anymore. everything was happening so fast that you were not sure if you were comprehending them properly. you felt light-headed as you waited in silence.

“so we’re doing this?” his low voice broke the stillness.

“yes!” you responded a little too enthusiastically for your liking. you’re a mess right now, you ain’t denying that.

taemin chuckled softly before discreetly slipping his fingers under yours. 

oh, god. you felt a shock and then a shiver from his touch. it was not like it was your first time to have skin-to-skin contact but this one was quite different. you can feel the tension slowly rising along with the heat on your cheeks. you can feel the frustrations that were build up every time you wanted to touch him in a not-so-friendly manner. you were willing to bet your life that he was currently feeling the same as you when you witnessed his eyes dilate and darken.

“look, as much as i want to make out with you right now. we can’t.” he took a step back and put his hands in the pockets of his black slacks.

you felt both relief and disappointment when he widened the distance between you two. you can now catch a breather at last.

“i mean we can’t… here.” he suggestively added before turning away. “i’ll be waiting in my dressing room.”

there goes your breath again. 

it took you a minute to recover after hearing his inviting words. you looked around while you fan your warm face with your hands as if it helped with cooling yourself off. you closed your eyes and relaxed yourself for who knows how many times already. you then hopped down the desk and made your way to the place you can’t wait to go to.

if this was what jealousy does to taemin, you absolutely cannot wait to see more of it.

[nat-20s]

 Part 8 of the wonderful! Au: the boys answer some questions! Up to you to decide if they actually clarify anything!

(also on AO3)

~*~

Martin: Hey everyone! I know what some of you are thinking right now: it's not Tuesday, why is this episode in my feed? I know significantly more of you are thinking: I don't consistently keep up with podcast releases, how much free time do you think I have, buddy? To answer your queries: this is a bonus episode! We're answering listener questions to clear the air and/or have fun. Also, I don't know, around 20 to 40 minutes a week, as that is the average amount of time per episode? Maybe during your commute? My husband's omnipotence has been gone for five years, we just have to guess at that sort of thing now.

Jon: For legal reasons, that last statement was a joke. In fact, to cover all of our bases, we do not guarantee that any of our responses are genuine.

Martin: Just because we say we'll answer things doesn't mean we'll answer truthfully. Though, honestly, I think we might make it more enjoyable if we do tell the truth. Like, I don't necessarily have a fun lie prepared for our first question from konspiracyking97: "What's their fuckin deal anyway?"

Jon: Is this referring to the oblique references  we've made about being from a parallel reality and only ending up here as a consequence of ending one apocalypse and potentially starting another or the general premise of the show?

Martin: Oh, it's gotta be general premise, yeah?

Jon: In that case, I'm Jon, the other voice you're hearing is Martin, we're married, and we talk about things that are..nice? Good? Usually generally but occasionally rather specifically pleasant.

Martin: That pretty much covers it. It's not a complicated show. Uhh, next question comes from Shane: are either or both of you aliens? Nope!

Jon: Well..

Martin: No. We are 100% human people from Earth, we are under no definition extraterrestrial.

Jon: Eh..

Martin: Okay, first off, I know the tone of that 'eh' and "not fully human" is not synonymous with alien, so even if 100% is being a bit generous, we're still from the same planet as our listeners.

Jon:..

Jon: But. We sort of aren't though. Technically speaking.

Martin: No no no no no. I don't care if it's parallel, Earth is Earth is Earth, regardless of whatever nonsense metaphysics might be occurring.

Jon: So what you're saying is that if you got sucked through a portal and landed on an Earth where dinosaurs were still the predominant species, you wouldn't consider yourself to be an alien?

Martin: Nope!

Jon: I'm certain that they would consider you an alien. All of their mammals are probably shrew sized.

Martin: Sounds like a them problem.

Jon: Sounds like a-?! You know what, no, this will be an off the record debate, for now, I suppose I concede that the two Earths and our physiologies are similar enough that we might, maybe, not count as aliens.

Martin: Thank you. Anyway, our next question is from anonymous, and asks, "Is all of this an ARG?"

Jon: A whomst?

Martin: Alternate reality game. It's a method of storytelling that's interactive with audience, and usually has, I dunno, a certain suspension of disbelief to it where it pretends to be something actually happening in the real world until a dramatic reveal. A lot times it was used as a marketing gimmick, but others have done it just for fun. I can show you some examples after the show?

Jon: So it's in essence a more involved creepypasta?

Martin, delighted: Aw, babe, I'm never going to have a handle on what pop culture you are and aren't aware of, huh?

Jon: We were born within a year of each other, and I've told you that I was a deeply morbid teenager, you should probably be able to intuit some of things, love.

Martin: This coming from a man who has yet to see "It's a Wonderful Life", but has seen every film in the "Banjo Cannibals" franchise, including the Easter special. Jesus doesn't exist in the Banjo Cannibals universe, why does it have an Easter special?

Jon: The movies are rather shoddily translated from Russian, so I'm fairly certain the Easter component of that special was invented wholesale in the English version.

Martin: You say that like it answers more questions than it raises.

Jon: Yes, because it does. Oh, and to answer anonymous's question, no, this isn't an ARG. From my understanding of it, if it were, it'd be a poorly constructed one, as there's no real game element to any of this.

Martin: Hmm. Well, sometimes the game component is just trying to figure out what's going on with the story, or if there's any deeper content, and people are definitely doing that with this show.

Jon: That's not by design though. It's more a side effect of us having poor brain to mouth filters, I'd say.

Martin: Harsh, but fair. Oh, this next one is from Zac, no K, who asks, "Are you two actually even married?"

Jon, flat: We are, but it's under false names because this whole thing is an elaborate insurance scam.

Jon, incredulous: Yes, obviously, we're married. What did you hear in this podcast that would make you wonder otherwise, and how do we rectify it?

Martin: Clearly we need to up our quota for how "disgustingly in love" and "horrifically sappy" we are per episode. Which segues nicely into the next question from Gwen, "What's your favourite wonderful thing you've brought so far?" My answer: my husband. He's kind of my favourite in most things, you know?

Jon: Boooooo

Martin: Why, what's your favourite thing?

[Jon reluctantly sighs]

Jon, indulgent: being married.

Martin: A: serves you right for trying to pretend you're the less horrifically sappy and romantic one even though earlier today someone put a love note in the lunch they packed for me-

Jon:- Lies and slander! I have never, in my life, done that, even once.

Martin: Oh, sure, not even once. And you definitely don't reserve the lilac sticky notes specifically for my lunches because you know I like the colour. 

Jon: I..I don't.. you're rather ruining my image here.

[Martin snorts]

Martin: Can't have the audience think that you are, on occasion, an incredibly doting husband-

Jon: -A title I would argue we both share-

Martin: - which is obviously why, even with it being your favourite thing you've brought, being married to me is just a small wonder-

Jon, audibly rolling his eyes: As I already explained-

[A Pause}

Jon: Actually, you're right-

Martin: Wait-

Jon:- I really should have brought it as a larger wonder-

Martin: Wait-

Jon: though I should warn you, I think I'd have far too much material for just one little segment-

Martin: No no no no no-

Jon:- In fact, I think I might have too much material for just one little episode-

Martin: Joo-oon-

Jon: I might have to do a whole series! Where would I even start? I mean I could talk about how every day I get to watch the early morning sun highlight your curls when I get up first, or hear you quietly humming and shuffling around the kitchen when you do, or I could talk about how the lunch notes only started in the first place as retaliation to the notes you would leave on the mirror for me to find, or how every time I get to see you at ease in a way that you aren't with anyone else, it takes my breath away, or I could talk about how cute I find the lines between your eyebrows that you only get when you're thinking something petty, but you know it's petty so you don't want to say anything-

Martin: Okay, okay, Christ, I give !up I surrender, and will cease my teasing on this particular topic.

Jon, probably making the :3 face: You don't have to stop. I mean, I could also discuss how very, very attractive I find your voice when it takes on a teasi-mmph!

[There's a pleased hum, then a pause.]

[The audio quality is slightly changed, as if the recording has been stopped and then started later]

Martin, giddy: Uh, heh, anyway, Eric asked what the least favourite thing we've brought was, and because of Jon's attempt to embarrass me live-

Jon, overlapping: It's definitely not live-

Martin:- on air, I'm gonna say it's my husband.

[Jon scoffs]

Jon : If the past few minutes are any sort of indication, I'm going to go ahead and saying that you are lying.

Martin, sighing contentedly: Maybe a bit, but how was I supposed to resist when your indigance gives you that adorable little nose scrunch? In reality, my least favourite thing was probably, um, mini golf? Which, I still don't think is inherently bad, definitely superior to regular golf, but when it's the only thing a next door two year old wants to do with you, the charm begins to wear off a bit.

Jon: Wow. A rather scathing review of a toddler.

Martin: Not so much a scathing review of a toddler as it's a scathing review of minigolf's inability to keep its appeal after the third time in the same week.

Jon: Mmm, the sound effects rather quickly go from part of the atmosphere to part of the irritation, don't they?

Martin: So what's your least favorite thing we've covered here?

Jon: Oh, love, I'm not going to pretend to have nearly enough memory of what we've covered so far to have a least favorite.

Martin: Really? Nothing that you regret or rescind?

Jon: Well, regret, certainly. It was one of the weeks where you went first, and your second item was mutual aid funds, and what they can do for marginalized communities, and I had to follow it with fucking Slapchop.

Martin, poorly suppressing laughter: In your defence, Slapchop, or whatever offbrand we have, is pretty useful, especially when either your scar or my arthritis is acting up.

Jon: I'm still not convinced you didn't somehow see my notes for the recording and decided you get revenge for the first year that we knew each other.

Martin, no longer suppressing his laughter: Yep, you got me! This marriage wasn't an act of insurance fraud, but it was a near decade long con to humiliate you on a podcast that about twenty people listen to. I'll draft up the divorce papers immediately, and then we can finally go our separate ways. 

Jon: I'm glad you've at last admitted it. Such a weight off of my shoulders. Goodbye forever then.

Martin: Right.

Jon: Right.

[A beat.]

[There's a pfft from one of them, before both dissolve into giggles that lasts a good 30 seconds.]

Martin, slightly out of breath: I can't believe we're the kind of people that talk this much about speciality kitchen gadgets.

Jon: Sorry about that.

Martin: God, don't apologize. I'm, like, deliriously happy with our varying degrees of useful cooking ware filled life. If you had told 25 year old me that one day he'd be debating the merits of getting a tortilla press with his husband, he'd have wept, I tell you.

Jon: Funny, if you told 25 year old me the same thing, he would've said "You don't know the future,piss off" and then quietly have a bit of a panic at 3 am that night.

Martin: I bet you were insufferable in your mid-twenties.

Jon: First of all, who isn't, secondly, I was fresh out of Oxford, and third, I was insufferable in my late twenties, as you can attest to, and I'm insufferable now, as you can further attest to, so extrapolation would indicate that, yes, I was insufferable back then.

Martin: Probably a different kind of insufferable, though.

Jon: There are different kinds?

Martin: Of course! You used to be "prick boss" insufferable and now you're "smug in a way that I can't admit I find hot or it will go straight to your head" insufferable.

Jon, in the aforementioned smug tone: Oh, really?

Martin: See, see! Straight to your head.

Jon: Well straight is probably the wrong descriptor-

Martin: Oof, 4 out of 10 joke, babe.

Jon: That would be a far more convincing rating if you weren't grinning right now.

Martin: It's a genuine review, I'm just well known to be a sucker.

Jon: You and me both, darling.

Martin: Okay, if you're pulling out darling, you're clearly in too giddy of a mood to be focused on recording. Last question, from Jess, "You two mentioned meeting at work, but how did you actually end up together?" That's easy, Jon pulled me out of a hell dimension and then we went on the lam together to Scotland.

Jon: If that's not the way to tell a cute boy you like him, I don't know what is.

Martin: All right, that wraps up this bonus episode, and as the old saying goes, hiding from murderers in a cottage is more conducive to romance than suggesting you gouge out your eyes together.

Jon, cut off: Hey-!

[baubuttercup]

Mini Garcia pt1/ Spencer Reid

Summery: Y/N is the new Tech Analyst intern under her mentor Penelope Garcia and has just started her first day at the BAU. During a case Y/N get a few calls from a not so familiar boy genius who seeks her help...or does he seek more? 

Spencer Reid x Reader

Warning: Fluff/none 

A/N: This is the first of many stories i will be writing and i look forwarding to writing more. I haven’t fully edited it but hope you enjoy it :)

Please Interact for more Spencer Reid/ MGG fics!!

“you will be fine trust me, you are already a natural and thats coming from yours truly” you were so nervous because today was your first day working at the BAU as a Tech Analyst Intern. Penelope was the one who got you the job working along side her. She was your teacher, mentor, and even your close friend and you knew working with her would be nothing less than entertaining. “P what if they don’t like me or I don’t fit into their group, you told me that they were like family” you followed the women wearing a floral dress with glittery high heel through the halls of the FBI coming to a stop next to two glass doors. “Y/N before we go in you are going to take three deep breathes and snap the hell out of it, cause you my little prized protege, will fit in just fine, so stop over thinking and pull yourself together”. I inhale three breathes before she pulled the glass door opened guiding me into a large room which from memory i think she had called it the “Bullpen”.  As we walked in i noticed in the corner of my eyes a man and a women eyeing me up and down. The man was large and muscled, he was appealing to the eye, just not preferably my type “Babygirl who is this fine little thin-” Penelope put her hand out barricading me from the man “cool it hot cakes, she is pure” I chuckled under my breath at her immediate response “This Derek chocolate thunder Morgan is the new Intern, working beside me as i mentor her into become the next best Garcia, Y/n meet Derek Morgan” we both extend our hands to go in for a friendly handshake “Oh and this fine ass piece of women is Jennifer Jareau” I smile shaking the pretty blondes hand “JJ for short its lovely to meet you” she hesitated for a moment before continuing “You seem so young, if you don’t mind me asking how old you are” I nervously try not to stutter upon my words “Oh um-m yeah i’m 20, but I got into the early acceptance program for computer programming and coding at Georgetown and now i’m here” Derek and JJ both exchange stairs before Derek opens his mouth “you, princess should meet our resident genius, i’m sure you two would get along quite well” JJ chuckles before giving Derek a smirk “OH YES how could I have forgotten about boy genius, where is he by the way” A tall dark haired man and a slightly shorter Italian looking man appeared from behind us “Reid and Prentiss are at a conference they will be meeting us in San Francisco” He looked intently at the group surrounding me then turned to look at me “You must be Y/N L/N, i’m Aaron Hotchner but please call me Hotch, and this is David Rossi, we are happy to have you on board, Garcia has spoken very highly of you” both men shake my hand firmly “I’m glad to be on board sir and thank you for this amazing opportunity” Hotch goes to say something before he was cut off by a text message appearing on his phone. “Wheels us now, they need us down their asap, Garcia brief us on the plane” and with that they were all making their way to the elevator. “Come on little Einstein we have work to do”

--

Garcia had just finished briefing the team on the case they were assigned to. From what i could catch it was about a Zodiac killer who had been killing over a decade ago and has recently just started up again. I tried to listen in and take note on everything Garcia was doing because god knows this job is fast past and i don’t want to fall behind on my first day. I found myself continuously zoning out thinking back to what that Morgan guy said about a “resident genius”. Who was he and why was Morgan so sure we would get along. So many questions were crossing my mind, before i heard Garcia’s voice continuously saying “Earth to my little oracle, hello, Y/N come back down to earth little one” i snap back to reality seeing Garcia waving her hand in front of of me “oh sorry- P who was that resident genius Morgan spoke about earlier” she spun in her chair making eye contact with me smirking “Oh my god yes Reid, how could i forget again. So you didn’t meet Emily Prentiss she is a total kick ass babe who is super cool and Spencer Reid who is a total genius with an eidetic memory and a whopping I.Q of 187″ i began to open my mouth to say something when Garcia interrupted “you guys would totally be so cute together, i need to set you two up, it would be a match made in heaven” I blush, a little taken back by the abrupt comments made by Garcia who is now really cheery “P calm down i haven’t event met the guy and i think you are a little in over your head” she looks at me still smirking “you are already intrigued by him aren’t you” just as i was about to stop her, the computer phone began to ring and the caller I.D was most clearly someone i didn’t even know yet but for some reason already was under affect by “ANSWER IT” Garcia motioned to the headset on my head “no i don’t even know what to say” she pointed at me with her fluffy unicorn pen “answer the phone i trained you for this” I reluctantly answered and within seconds i was met with a masculine yet soft voice on the other line “Hey Garcia I need you to track the ISP of the user who entered the spam comment to an internet cafe” I immediately got butterflies in my stomach, no stop Y/N you have never met this person and Garcia is just getting in your head, you continue to remind yourself. “U-mm i’m sorry I-I’m not Garcia i’m Y/N L/N the new Tech Analyst intern” I began to fidget with my figures staring between the plasma computer screens and Garcia “Oh Hi, I’m Reid, I mean I’m Spencer, let me start over I’m Dr Spencer Reid but you can call me Spencer or Reid, nice to meet you” my nerves begin to calm at the sound of his voice and the fact that he sounded just as nervous as me. I look to Garcia as she was smiling and motioning her hands to continue the conversation “Oh um-m sorry, you needed me to track the ISP of the user who entered the spam comment to an internet cafe...right?”I patiently await his response, which seemed like forever “Yeah, if you can do that, that would be great, thanks” I look to Garcia once again as she gives me a reassuring smile of encouragement before i turn to the monitors and type away, I remember everything Garcia taught me about the bureau system and was surprising easier to manoeuvre once actually assigned to a task “Hey um Reid, you still there?” thinking maybe he hung up “still here buttercup...um i mean Y/N” Garcia nudged me overhearing what Reid had just said and was cheering in the air, I quickly regained focus “so yeah unfortunately the unsub used a prepaid credit card, so I don’t have an I.D, i’m sorry” i felt my nerves regain their position in my stomach as i thought i didn’t do a good job “Thats okay, thanks for your help L/N and am excited to meet you in person, hopefully soon” I blush quickly at his comment, this going unnoticed by Garcia who is in her own world of happiness at the moment. “Yeah same goes for you, take care and if you need anything else you know where to find us” I end the call not wanting to make anymore of a fool of myself than i already have “BUTTERCUP, HE CALLED YOU BUTTERCUP” I groan at Garcia’s response already embarrassed by the ordeal “Y/N i know Reid and i have know him for many years, never in my time of being in boy geniuses presence have i ever heard him call someone BUTTERCUP” a million things swoop through my mind in that moment, why did he call me that, was it a fluke, was he just trying to be friendly, what am i saying i have literally never met this guys before its for sure nothing. I turn my head to Garcia giving her a please stop looking at me face, before she puts her hands up in defence” Okay okay i’ll stop, but you guys would make cute babies” she whispered the last part just loud enough for me to catch it. 

--

As time goes on I observe everything Garcia continues to do in order to find the details of the unsub. This job although seeming like fun is very high pressure and i made sure i noted down everything that Garcia done so i didn’t seem like the biggest failure in front of the team, or one team member in particular. The phone rang once again causing Garcia to answer it “He who seeks the queen of all knowledge, speak and be recognised” I chuckle under my breath at the witty response before i felt a tap on my shoulder “Pretty boy wants to speak with you” I give her a confused look “Boy genius, girly” I straighten up and answer my headset “Hello L/N speaking” i try to analyse why on earth he would want to speak with me and before he got a chance to answer a million conclusions were rushing through my mind “Hey L/N, long time no speak” there was a pause in the background before i heard a male chuckle and whisper “thats one way to get the girl Reid” he cleared his throat before continuing on “So i just thought i’d give you more training so can you run something for me” I physically prepare myself for what he is about to ask, ensuring i don’t screw this up “I need you to compile a list of people with I.Qs of 160 and above in the region” I type away trying to speed up so i don’t slow the team down “I’m checking with the bay area mensa society which is kind of slumming cause folks can get in with a measly I.Q of 130″ Reid chuckled at my statement making me feel more comfortable about what i was doing “try and check old school records, we’re looking for someone who is in his 20′s or 30′s” as I am intensely try my best to recover these names it appears in front of me “BINGO, Caleb Rossmore and Harvey Morell, they both have I.Qs over 160 and get this they both use to write about the Zodiac in their junior high school newspaper” I smile at myself, kinda proud at what i just accomplished on my own “thats amazing, thanks Y/N and tell Garcia she has the best intern” I smile to myself satisfied that i done something right and that Reid thought so too. “Yes that’s my little Einstein, ah you are moulding into a beautiful little Garcia, how proud i am right now

--

The team had just got back from catching both Caleb Rossmore and Harvey Morell and Garcia had gone to greet Morgan at the elevators. I had stayed behind packing my belonging as i was ready to head home to my fluffy dog Milo and sleep for hours. A knock on the door startled me. I abruptly turn around and was met with a tall figure who had beautiful brown eyes and shaggy hair. “Hi, I’m so sorry to have startled you, I’m Spencer Reid the one that kept annoying you on the phone” I feel my cheeks heat up from the sight of how pretty this boy was “um yes, i mean no you weren't annoying at all if anything you gave me the training i need, so i should be thanking you, and I’m Y/N L/N” Reid stuck out his hand which took me by surprise because according to Garcia he was not a handshaker and refused to shake hands with anyone, stating that even kissing was more sanitary “Well, in that case i’m glad to be of assistance and its nice to officially meet you Y/N” we stared in each others eyes for a few moments before we were met by Penelope and Morgan “Hey guys you have met, yay, okay now can we go this princess is getting bags under her eyes and those aren’t the kind of bags i want” we all laugh at Garcia’s remark as we start to head towards the elevator. “So I heard you went to Georgetown” i look up at the brunette boy who was gazing down at me “yeah, I actually graduated this year, which i’m kind of sad” “oh why’s that” I look straight into his eyes “I like educating myself, and expanding my field of study is something that i genuinely enjoy, so i’m kind of sad its over, but i’m looking at going for my PHD in Computer engineering” Reid looked me deeper in my eyes without saying anything, just then i heard a murmur “they will make such cute babies and i’m going to be the best godmother” and with that the elevator doors open and we all began to file in. 

I may have just met Spencer Reid but i have a feeling we are definitely going to be getting along. 

[eideticmemory]

TWO GHOSTS | MATTHEW G. GUBLER

It’s been 15 years. 15 years has to be long enough . . . right?

Set 15 years after the end of Ever Since New York, so give that a read first!

Word Count: 3.1k.

Warning: Usual angst, porn, and poor communication amongst characters.

SOUNDTRACK:

Maps - Yeah Yeah Yeahs

Stop the World, I Wanna . . . - Artic Monkeys

Space Song - Beach House

May 16, 2002.

New York City, New York.

“[y/n] . . .” Claire whispered. “Honey, c’mon . . . just, try to sit up.”

You couldn’t. You just, couldn’t. It was as if your entire body was filled to the brink with sand — coarse, wet, heavy sand — and it was weighing you down, keeping you anchored to Claire’s bed. Your head rested in her lap, and your fist gripped, tightly, onto the fabric of her jeans — which were stained with your tears. Her hand ran along your spine, and her arm wrapped around you, protectively. She wanted to shield you, she wanted to keep you safe, happy. She wanted to distract you from your luggage laid out on the floor.

But, the pressure of her body, coddling you, God, it just hurt. Everything hurt, and you couldn’t get it to stop, and you couldn’t stop sobbing, ugly sobbing, snot running down your lips.

“Cl—Claire . . .” you whined. “I . . . I . . .” your hand flew to your mouth, muffling a loud and painful sob that echoed throughout the room.

“I know, I know . . .” she cooed, kissed the top of your head, and ran her hand over your hair. “It’s okay, don’t try to talk, just rest.”

Claire held you, all day and all night on May 16, 2002. She held you until you lost your voice, until you cried yourself to sleep, and after that, she still held you.

Because it was May 16, 2002.

And May 16, 2002 was day one without Matthew Gubler.

After crying yourself to sleep that morning, you awoke alone in Claire’s bedroom that night. You rubbed your tired and sore eyes, and sat up, surprised to see the sun had gone down. Your mouth felt dry, and your throat was sore. Claire had left you a bottle of water, and you chugged it in one gulp. You stood from the bed, slowly and groggily, stumbling your way through the boxes of clothes, and decorations that Claire hadn’t even put up yet.

You wandered aimlessly into the bathroom, and switched on the light. You didn’t recognize yourself in the mirror. Only a faint resemblance of what you looked like that morning, before the airport, before the tears.

You had dressed up. Did your makeup. And now, your clothes were wrinkled, and your face was smeared with mascara. You looked miserable, you felt miserable, you were miserable.

Claire walked in just as another tear rolled down your cheek. You looked at her reflection, and saw she was eyeing you, sadly.

“Hey,” she attempted to smile. She stepped over to you and held onto your shoulders, catching you as you fell back, dramatically, into her arms.

“Hey, hey, look at me,” she whispered. You hiccuped as you looked in the mirror, making eye contact with her. “It’s just day one . . .” she said. “It’s just . . . day one.”

And it’s true, what everyone says: one day turns into one month, and one month turns into one year.

And one year turns into one decade.

October 13, 2017.

New York City, New York.

Today, is Friday the thirteenth.

Day 5,629 without Matthew Gubler.

And somehow, someway, you feel just as stuck, and frozen, and scared shitless as you did on day one.

You haven’t felt this way in a very long time, though. And of all the days, of all the nights, to feel like this, to be stuck and frozen and scared . . . tonight is not the night.

A knock rings at the dressing room door, startling you from your thoughts. You cleared your throat, and found yourself, once again, focused on your reflection.

You know this person. You’ve spent 5,629 days growing into this person. And y’know what? She’s fucking hot.

“[y/n]!” Another knock follows.

“I’m coming!”

“When?”

“Ramona, I will fire you, and trust me, I really need an assistant!” You shout, fixing your dress in the mirror once again.

“Oh, yeah, right. Then who would make your coffee and make sure you’re on time?” she replied. “. . . You’re late!”

“Okay!” You stumbled to the door in your heels, flung it open, putting your hand on your hip.

“Wow . . .” Ramona said, nearly speechless. “You look . . . hot.”

“That is not how you speak to your boss, dude,” you laughed. “You really think I look hot?”

“Marshmallows on an open fire, smoking, kind of hot.” She winks.

You chuckle, “Thanks, I needed that. Walk with me.”

“Okay, um,” she starts, walking beside you as you strut down the hall. “Hair and makeup are gonna take care of you in no less than thirty minutes, that gives you, approximately, two minutes to get into the studio.”

“Two minutes?” You stop in your tracks. “That’s it?”

She can’t help but grin, just a little, “Told you you were late.”

You scoffed, “Okay, so are we shooting when I step into the studio?”

“Yep!”

“Great . . .” you sigh, walking over to the cosmetic chair.

“But, hey, you’re the big boss, they can’t film without you.”

“Yeah, except big boss told everyone we’re filming at seven sharp, and big boss probably won’t even be ready at seven sharp!” You ramble.

“Okay . . .” Ramona nods, slowly. “Are ever gonna tell me why you’re so nervous about tonight, or . . ?”

“Uh, why am I nervous about a major, televised, celebrity event that I not only put together myself, but choreographed?” You rambled. “I don’t know, pick a reason!”

“Wow . . .” She says. “As valid as all those reasons are, I think something else is going on and I will find out, so you might as well spill.”

“Can’t talk!” You pip. “Getting my makeup done! Tell them I’ll be in at seven.”

You exhaled deeply the minute Ramona stepped away, closing your eyes. Not opening them until your hair was done perfectly, and the makeup artist added her final touches.

You, once again, came face to face with your reflection.

“[y/n]!”

But you didn’t have time to process it.

“[y/n], cameras are rolling, thirty seconds to seven.”

Of all the days, of all the nights, you tell yourself, looking into the mirror, to feel like this, to be stuck and frozen and scared . . . tonight is not the night.

“[y/n]!”

Because you are the big boss now.

Your purple dress — perfectly matched to the NYU logo — hugs your body tightly as you walk across the floor, the hem splayed over feet, which are covered in tall, silver heels. The clack of your shoes silences everyone as you walk by. Everyone, except for Ramona, who steps in before you can enter the studio.

She clips an NYU pin to your dress, “For good luck,” she smiles.

“3, 2, 1 . . . rolling.”

You enter the studio, and the room fills with a flood of “oooooh!” from each and every one of your students. The camera pans over their faces as you walk across the hardwood floor, smiling at them, laughing at their expressions. Their jaws are dropped, hands clutched over their chests.

“[y/n]! Holy shit!”

“Hey!” You laugh. “Language! We’re rolling!”

“You look great!”

“Thank you, how are you all?” You ask.

“Nervous, thanks for asking.” They all laugh.

“You guys will be fine, I’m an excellent teacher,” you giggle.

“Damn right, but are you sure you can’t hold our hands while we’re on stage? Just for a little bit?”

“Big babies!” You shake your head. “You’re ready. Signals from off camera indicated a time crunch, and you quickly brought the group together for a big hug.

It’s been a long time coming. Tonight. Or, as printed on all invitations and promotional materials:

New York University’s 2017 Celebrity Alumni Event: In Support of the Ballet class of 2017.

Coordinated and Choreographed by [y/n] [y/l/n], executive producer and star of the hit reality show, New York Best and Ballet.

Big boss.

The camera follows you as you exit the studio, walk down the hall, “They’re gonna kill it,” you smile into the lense. “I know it.”

All you can think about is the blatant, gross hypocrisy. The way you’re completely, beyond a shadow of doubt, confident in your students and their ability to pull this off.

And you can’t even say the same thing about yourself.

With the cameras off of you, you put your hand against the wall, and steady yourself. Ramona walks up to you, walking along your side. “Got you a water, you should stay hydrated tonight.”

You give her an appreciative look, taking the bottle of water and standing up straight, “Is it too early to start drinking?”

“I guess not, guests are starting to arrive.”

“Holy shit, already?” You gasp.

“You did plan this thing, right?”

“Ugh,” you huff, dramatically rolling your eyes.

“You’re expected in the ballroom, a margarita will be waiting for you at the bar.” Ramona grins.

You continue down the hallway, as she watches you walk away, a crew of people following behind you.

“[y/n]!” Ramona calls.

You turn to her, stopping in your steps.

“Marshmallows on an open fire, smoking, kinda hot,” she smiles.

You laugh, out loud, and give her a nod. Then, you continue on your way downstairs.

More people had already arrived than you thought. The ballroom was packed, covered by a sea of people, tables, cameras and crew meandering through the crowd to catch every ounce of footage they could. You were filmed as you walked down the steps, passing the stage and stepping onto the floor with a grand smile.

“Pretty good turn out, huh?” You chuckled, beaming at the camera as you branch out to greet your guests.

This helps.

The smiles, the laughs, the presence of people that support you and your program enough to show up, pay a lot of money, and witness the magic of NYU ballet in all its glory. The light highlights the brightness of your smile, the glow around you in your element. Your chuckle echoing around the room, as you coasted from table to table, person to person, thanking them for coming.

Reconnections were made, stories were told, and retold, and thoughts of college had you blushing on the spot. You’re so lost in the whirlwind of energy, of being the proper hostess, and managing everything in sight, you didn’t notice that an hour had passed.

Until a crew member taps you on the shoulder, and tells you it’s five minutes to show time.

“Excuse me,” you nod, removing yourself from your current conversation and heading backstage.

You blow kisses to the band of nervous students, give them two thumbs up as cameras trailed behind you. “And . . . you’re on, [y/n].”

You stand up straight, hand your margarita off to a crew member, take in a deep breath. And walk. You march up to the podium, the bright lights beating down on you as you stand in front of the large crowd.

“Hello, everybody, welcome!” You announce, bringing the room to a gentle silence. “Thank you all so much for being here. I’m [y/n] [y/l/n], director and head of the ballet department here at New York University.”

You become flustered at the wave of applause, cheering the crowd and backstage. “Thank you, thank you so much. As a NYU alumni, there is truly nothing that makes me happier than to teach this extraordinary class of students. They’re focused, they’re determined, incredibly talented, and the best of the best. So, without further ado, I present to you the NYU ballet class of 2017, presenting a remastered rendition of their first performance in 2014.”

You exited the stage, the curtain behind you shielding the students that were already positioned in place. You stood backstage, watching them on screen, with your hands bound against your chest. The curtain was drawn, the music kicked up, and they went.

They move effortlessly, dare you say it . . . perfectly. In sync, and with a wide range of motion that rolled without a hitch. The crowd watched in awe, and you were right there along with them. Cameras focus on your face as you’re entranced by the class, and so immensely proud.

“They’re incredible,” you beam. “Aren’t they amazing?”

The full set took about half an hour, and when the curtain flies down, closing dramatically, you jump up and down, and run over to the group of kids who couldn’t wait to see you. The joy can be felt through the lense of every camera trained on you.

Their energy and excitement is putting you on cloud nine. Your own adrenaline is rushing, and pumping in your ears.

You let your guard down. You hand out kisses and hugs left and right, and step back in the crowd on a high, head empty, no thoughts. No feelings except for happiness and pride.

“That was incredible, [y/n], absolutely incredible.”

“Wonderful show!”

You were saying thank you faster than you could hear the accolades, caught in a rush of people passing you by.

You turn to see your students trailing behind you, shaking hands as they’re showered in praise. You grin at them, entirely consumed with elation by their looks of satisfaction, of relief, of relaxation and accomplishment.

You let your guard down.

You got comfortable.

“[y/n]!”

You let yourself slip.

“[y/n], [y/n]!” A hand is placed on your shoulder, causing you to turn around, a smile still plastered across your face.

“You know Matthew, right?” Your co-producer asked. “You guys graduated the same year?”

You nearly collide with him. You stop on the toe of your heels, and come to a screeching halt. Your eyes connect like magnets, the pull is strong and intense. Your breath catches in your throat, you smile fading along with your breath. You instantly begin to sweat under the light of the cameras, your skin heating up, your hands shaking.

“U—u—uh,” you stutter. “Yes! Hi!”

“Hi, [y/n]!” He exclaims, happily, opening his arms to give you a hug.

“Oh!” You gasp as he pulls you into his chest.

And he smells, so good. He’s grown, and it feels different holding his tall frame in your arms. But the embrace is quick, and brief, and he holds your shoulders in his palms as he speaks to you, “The show was amazing, blew me away!”

You’re expected to talk. You’re expected to breathe. But you’re left speechless by the scruff lining his jaw, the curl atop his head, the suit shaping his body, and topped off with a jet black bow tie.

“Thank you, thank you,” you ramble. “Thanks for coming, um, let’s catch up later,” you nod, to which he politely nods back, and clears a path for you to walk on by.

You let your guard down.

And now you can’t seem to catch your breath.

Your feet were killing you by the end of the night. You didn’t get to take a proper seat — without the cameras, and the crew, and the crowd, until nearly ten o’clock at night. As you were trying to regroup, Ramona found you hiding away in your dressing room, halfway asleep.

“[y/n]?” she taps your shoulder. You groggily lift your head, and look to her, “There’s a car waiting for you out back. It can take you home or to the hotel across the street. What do you think?”

“Mm,” you hum. “Hotel. Hotel is fine.”

The Lillian Hotel had been acquired specifically for tonight’s event. A cozy room, with an even cozier bed was waiting for you, calling your name. And after tonight, after day 5,629, it’s all you can think about.

You give Ramona a quick hug, and thank her for everything before you sneak out of the building. You take the back exit, avoiding an entanglement of people and paparazzi.

The atmosphere of the elegant hotel was much calmer. You were given the key to your room, and you turned on your heels to head to the elevators. Your shoes created an echo against the tile, and the sound suddenly silenced when you saw him. Waiting for the elevator.

“Matthew?” You call, timidly. The courage comes out of nowhere, flies out of your chest before you can catch it in your throat.

He stops in his tracks, and turns to you, holding the strap of his bag. “Hey!” he grins.

You give him a shy smile, as you let out a dry laugh and step closer to him.

His eyes darken, not noticeably, but just a little. He looks down at you, and you look up at him, and all you can say is . . .

“Matthew . . .” you clear your throat. “Thank you for coming tonight, and supporting the program, and for . . . being so professional about everything, I know it . . . couldn’t have been easy, I really appreciate it.”

His eyebrows furrow, only for a second, and his face almost goes blank. He looks down at his shoes, taps his foot as his mind swirls with words to say. But all he can is chuckle. Laugh.

“I knew you were gonna do this,” he says.

You tilt your head, “Do what?”

“This . . . think . . . think that what I did today had anything to do with you.”

“I—“ you stutter. “Okay . . .”

“I came tonight to see friends, to catch up, to visit New York. And I knew I would see you, and I knew . . . I knew you’d, I don’t know, expect me to fall to my knees the second I saw you. I can’t do that . . . I, personally, see no reason to do that. I acted professional, because I am professional, not to cushion your feelings.”

And although, he’s changed, he’s grown, he’s matured, and he’s a completely different person than when you saw him last, Matthew Gubler still knows how to make a dramatic exit.

He turns away from you and continues down the hall, boarding the elevator without looking back at you. You — who’s paralyzed, stuck, scared shitless. Standing in the foyer of the hotel lobby, wondering why you’re unable to move, to breathe, to keep your eyes from misting.

And back to day zero.

You knew for sure that you’d struggle to sleep. That Matthew’s word would eat at your gut and brain like a parasite, haunting you, rattling around your head. But, the second your head hits the pillow, you were out like a light.

And you dreamt of him instead.

The way he was 15 years ago.

The way he made you feel.

Bing, bing, bing!

“Huh!” You jolt awake, spasming out of your sleep violently. Suddenly, the sun had risen again, and it was burning your eyes through the windows.

Bing, bing, bing!

“What the—“ You sit up, rub your face, and anxiously search for your phone, wondering why you were being called so early in the morning.

Ramona’s name flashed upon the screen, and you swiped to accept her call. “Hello?”

“[y/n] . . .”

“Ramona . . .” you slur.

“Have you checked twitter this morning?”

“Tw — no? No, it’s . . . seven in the morning, of course I haven’t checked Twitter.”

“Check it.”

“Ra—“

“Check it!” She shouts.

You groan, and navigate to the Twitter app. “Oh . . . oh, I’m trending . . . that’s good, right?”

“Yeah, uh-huh, check who you’re trending with . . .”

“Okay . . .”

Clicking on your name, you instantly sat forward, your eyes going wide, “NO!”

TAGLIST:

@muffin-cup

@pinkdiamond1016

@ncsls0515

@spencersbed

@safertokiss

[kakyoinryoko]

i have a  very specific and very stupid vision in my head for how kakyoin being there for part 4 would go which i will probably never write so instead i will make a very long post about it right now

the plot is largely identical but the differences start out w joseph calling kakyoin and being like “well there is probably another stand user in japan right now just so you know. in morioh. just so you are aware. okay. goodbye” but he forgets to mention anything about his illegitimate son or that jotaro will be there or anything he only talks about the possible evil stand user. and kakyoin is like “keh this is not my business. i have had enough of seeking out stand users. -_- also i will now be taking a little spring vacation in morioh but this is not related and i do not want to see any other stand users.”

so he goes there and arrives on the same day as jotaro and they are staying in the same hotel but they don’t meet at all. jotaro’s first meeting with josuke goes the same way, but kakyoin meets josuke at the convenience store that evening while it’s being robbed. he sends hierophant down the uhh storm drain thing that aqua necklace escapes through but he gets away so hierophant just comes back right away. but josuke sees that and kakyoin also saw crazy diamond obviously so as soon as josuke is done getting harassed by the police for confronting a guy holding a woman hostage and whatnot they link up and exchange the information they have abt what just happened, which is pretty minimal

and at this point the story relies on the fact that josuke does a really awful job of describing jotaro and kakyoin to each other so its like. “oh uhh yeah i basically JUST found out what stands are from my nephew. like earlier today. and also that i have a nephew. it’s been a little crazy” “i see. well, what’s the deal with him, then? you’re young, so he must be a little kid.” “oh nah my family’s kinda messed up. my sister who i’ve never met is actually way older than me and my nephew is like 30 or something” “oh. what’s he like?” “umm... tall? really tall... he has a hat. seems mostly well-meaning but kind of serious. and he’s a stand user” and kakyoin (instantly suspicious) is like “right... so what’s his stand like?” and josuke is like “uh... big... pink and blue. strong. it has.. hair? i think he can use it to teleport or something.” and kakyoin is like well star platinum can’t teleport and he’s purple so it’s no issue :+) bc he doesn’t know about the world or that splatinum has had a change in appearance.

and then when they’re on the phone in the morning josuke mentions to jotaro that he found another guy who he asked for help and jotaro is like “you can’t just trust random stand users josuke :/ what was he like” and josuke is like “oh he seemed fine though.... well kind of weird. like i trust him but he also seemed strange i can’t put my finger on it.” and jotaro (extremely tired) is like “and you’re sure you can trust this guy.” and josuke is like “yeah well he said he’s fought a lot of evil stand users before... and also that he can possess people like aqua necklace did except his stand is like.... made of snakes or something” (he only saw hierophant unraveled) and jotaro is like “sure. whats this guy look like i wanna know what i should be looking for if we ever run into each other” bc hes like umm okay well that stand sounds like. um. and josuke is like “i don’t know he’s just like, a guy. he was wearing a jacket and his hair was brown” and jotaro’s like “that’s all?” and josuke is like “yeah i guess”

so after these interactions kakyoin leaves the conversation like “well plenty of people are tall and wear hats. that stand certainly didn’t sound like star platinum so i have nothing to worry about.” and similarly jotaro is like “well josuke didn’t mention his facial scars or that his eyes are purple or that he’s a wheelchair user or anything so it definitely can’t be kakyoin.”

but then the morning that josuke’s grandfather dies he’s told them both to meet him at his house and jotaro gets there first and is the one to open the door when kakyoin arrives and they make eye contact and they’re both completely fucking horrified and an abba song starts playing in jotaro’s head (waterloo) and another different abba song starts playing in kakyoin’s head (mamma mia) but kakyoin is still extremely severely lethally pissed off at jotaro for ghosting him for a decade so most of the rest of the part that involves the two of them being in the same room is just extremely tense and awkward and every time jotaro very weakly tries to get kakyoin to open up to him again and rekindle their friendship kakyoin is like “i would say you’re a stupid son of a bitch but i would never insult holly-san like that just because you’re such an utter disappointment of a man. you are the worst person i’ve ever met and if you died i would laugh and clap. i can’t wait for you to go to hell. fuck you.” but then jotaro does almost die that one time and kakyoin does not laugh or clap :/

and well i guess eventually after that there’s some sort of reconciliation. and also at some point kakyoin runs out of funds for renting his own hotel room because he’s not being funded by the speedwagon foundation to do so and hotels are expensive so he just moves into jotaro’s room and forces him to sleep on the couch. you get the picture

also there’s a scene where josuke and okuyasu and yukako are all hanging out (Without Koichi) chatting at the outdoor seating of that cafe or something maybe. and josuke is like “man what is it with kakyoin-san and jotaro-san? kakyoin-san really hates him and i can’t figure out why” because neither of them thought to mention to josuke that their meeting at his house was not the first time they ever met, like, as far as any of the kids know they do not know each other from anywhere else. and yukako is like “well jotaro is divorced. so obviously kakyoin is his ex husband.” and okuyasu is like “what? no way.... jotaro-san was never married...” and josuke is like “yeah come on yukako where did you hear that from :/” and yukako is like “he is. he told koichi. he has a kid and everything. and the tension between him and kakyoin is obviously beyond that of two strangers who don’t get along. you boys really should be more observant about these things.” and they’re like “but jotaro-san isn’t gay.... right??” (they also still think they themselves are straight at this point) and yukako’s like “are you fucking serious” and it takes a while but eventually she does have them fully convinced that kakyoin and jotaro used to be married and are now divorced even though they never even actually dated

that’s it

[oasis-for3v3r]

Cloud 9 <3

Prompt-reader is a famous singer and performs her first live performance with David Bowie, doing a duet of Under Pressure on Live Aid

David Bowie x Reader Platonic Pairing @laneofpennies​ @a-none-bee​ @angelofhell323​

Warnings: none unless you count descriptions of nervousness. And a lengthy fic

Okay, let’s do it.

Was the first thing you said to yourself. At eight am. On a Saturday. In the middle of July. You usually be sleeping until 2pm on weekends since you were usually so busy on the weekdays. Being Englands new up- and- coming musician is all. 

“Ow!” you said as your foot slipped on something and stubbed your toe on the edge of the dresser. You bit back a mirad of curses as you picked up the foul weapon.

Oh.

Sky Heavens- Head in the Clouds. Your first album. Of course. You were lucky enough to get one from the store. Nearly all of the record shops were sold out. You should be happy, I mean sales were doing great, and as for the royalties-

Oh my gosh how has it ben 25 minutes already?!. 

It was a very important day for you.. you were preforming for your first crowd ever. So of course you were excited. but more nervous because, it was your first time. And you had terrible stage fright. And you were doing a duet with David Bowie. Oh you almost forgot.

Your first performance was gonna be Live Aid.

As you tucked in your fancy bell-sleeved bloused you asked yourself a string of questions. For example:

How in the hell did you get into live aid?

What song were you gonna sing with David, er Mr.Bowie?

Were there gonna be high notes? Could you even hit them?

Am i dressing too casual?

Oh my gosh, were going after Queen.

Your final though was punctuated with a hailing of a cab. You felt dizzy after you entered the car so you focused on the horizon, which made your eyes get heavier and heavier until...

“Ma’am this is a cab not a daycare” the driver grunted.

Your head snapped up, wiping the drool off off your chin. You have got to stop making this a habit. You scolded to yourself.

Every time your legs hit the ground of Wembely Stadium, you could feel the muscles in your leg turn into jelly. Your heartbeat is playing the percussion. And your pretty sure that your haven’t taken a breath since coming out of the cab.

You finally taken a breather when you hear commotion coming from the nearest hallway. You saw so many stars you could’ve swore you were in space. You saw Elton John, Freddie Mercury, Roger Taylor, Brian May, (you couldn’t find John Deacon) Adam Ant was sitting on a couch reading a magazine. Next to him was Elvis Costello sticking straws down his hair, you were about to laugh when-

“Boo!”

“Jesus!”

 “No this is David.” joked a lanky man with blond hair, and a pastel blue suit, matching your all white outfit (with a pale blue headband) making you too look like the color of the sky.

“Mr.Bow- David, hi!” you exclaimed, trying to sound as cheery as possible. 

He hesitated for a moment looking in your eyes as if searching for something only for a moment. “Come into my trailer, i need to talk to you.” he says softly.

You followed him into what looked like a portal to the personification of serenity. There were books piled on top of a small table. A kettle burning on low. With not surprisingly, a pile of teacups littered on top of the counter.  You also noticed (on nosier inspection) small annotations scribbled in the corners.

“Y/N!!”

“YES” you exclaimed, jumping slightly. You have got to start paying more attention to your surroundings.

“Tell me whats on your mind, and be honest” his voice was filled with concern, but somehow still comforting.

You took a breath- seventh one today. And started:

“ I feel like everyone will be disappointed, when they see me. All I ever wanted to do was make music that someone will relate to and find comfort in. And now that I have that, which I am very grateful for, I have to handle the price of fame as well. People put celebrities on pedestals and if they make one mistake in the public eye the pedestal crumbles. And don’t even get me started on the media. And today one of the biggest days in history, and if I do bad, then i will not only disappoint myself but the families in Africa who are relying on me to succeed. And-”

“Y/N” David said sternly “Calm down, you will be fine.” He took a breather and said.” You remind me of myself when I was younger, a shy little Capricorn boy, I just wanted to make music, and the fame tagged along. Its what happens eventually. I just used theatrics to cover up the stage fright.” “Now I just focus on the crowd as if they were one person and give them ll the light I have.”

“As for you when singing Under Pressure with me- while singing Freddie’s part- I want you to take all of the audience’s energy, make it into light and give it towards the sky.” “Give everybody hope.”

Just then you heard.a knock at the trailer. it was time for you to get ready. 

You watched as Queen rocked the show. This was gonna be hard for you to follow up. You felt like this performance was gonna be talked about for decades. You felt pity for the future generations that wont get to see this. 

You watched with butterflies in your stomach, as you saw David perform TVC 15 which bleed into Rebel Rebel. You smiled with fondness, as the corners of your mouth twitched,(which happened often when you’re nervous). When you were turned around.

Moustace, Freddie Mercury.

“Hello, Darling. You’re going up next with Under Pressure, right?”

“Y-Yes ” you were shaking

“ Well don’t fuck it up darling. And make everyone proud.” He said with a smile (that was also in his eyes)

You nodded, and he turned you back around. Just in time for you to be handed a microphone and introduced by David.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome to the stage-for the first time ever- Sky Heavens!!!”

You heard more applause than you expected. But then again it was your very first time ;)

You heard the beginning of the song, and you knew you had no time to be nervous as you started:

Mmm num ba de Dum bum ba be Doo buh dum ba beh beh

Then together-

Pressure pushing down on me Pressing down on you, no man ask for Under pressure that burns a building down Splits a family in two Puts people on streets

Um ba ba be Um ba ba be De day da Ee day da- that's okay

So far you have just been looking at the horizon, seeing the sun begin its descent, little by little. 

It's the terror of knowing what this world is about Watching some good friends screaming, "Let me out!" Pray tomorrow gets me higher Pressure on people, people on streets

This is for peace and hope in Africa.

Chipping around, kick my brains around the floor These are the days it never rains but it pours Ee do ba be Ee da ba ba ba Um bo bo People on streets Ee da de da de People on streets

This is for anyone who has felt stress for being themselves

It's the terror of knowing what this world is about Watching some good friends screaming, 'Let me out' Pray tomorrow gets me higher, high Pressure on people, people on streets

The sun was setting now, making the crowd look like angels and your outfit dipped in the sun. David was looking at you with the biggest grin on his face as if seeing his child gain confidence. The high note was coming, and you were ready.

Take all the Audiences Energy

Turned away from it all like a blind man

Make it into light

Sat on a fence but it don't work

Give it towards the sky

Keep coming up with love but it's so slashed and torn 

Give everybody hope

Why, why, whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!!!!

That was the highest note you had ever hit. The energy that the crowd was giving you was electric. You felt unstoppable.

Insanity laughs under pressure we're breaking

David was practically yelling into the mic, as he felt unstoppable with you too.

Can't we give ourselves one more chance? Why can't we give love that one more chance? Why can't we give love, give love, give love, give love Give love, give love, give love, give love, give love?

Because love's such an old-fashioned word And love dares you to care for The people on the (People on streets) edge of the night And love (People on streets) dares you to change our way of Caring about ourselves This is our last dance This is our last dance This is ourselves under pressure Under pressure Under pressure Pressure

On the final word you hugged David, he shouted in your ear so you hear him over the roaring crowd. “YOU DID IT LOVE!!! IM SO PROUD OF YOU111″

You look over his shoulder to see Freddie Mercury.

Clapping.

For You.

You felt as if there was the sun poured inside of you. As if you were weightless. You found your new home; on Cloud 9.

[wesimpforxiao]

Inception: Chapter 1

Author’s Note:  Welcome everyone to my Childe x Reader fanfiction! Decided to post the first (and only so far) chapter since I’m happy with it.  Hope you enjoy this sneak peek!!!

Now where did Mr. Zhongli run off to?  Wherever you'd end up, you'd miss the man by a hair.  Running errands for Hu Tao was practically the equivalent to a wild goose chase.  "Wait a second!"  A sudden realization stopped you in your tracks, and a few customers that were buying kites held startled expressions from your yelp.  "She's pranking me again, isn't she?!"

Zhongli was inspecting noticulous jade samples behind you when he heard a female voice yell to no one in particular.  He turned to see you, completely deflated for reasons unknown to him.  Shouldn't you be at the parlor overseeing your duties in the presence of Hu Tao?  What were you doing out here?  "What seems to be the matter, Reed?"

"ZHONGLI!"  Another yelp, and this time the customers nearby became more annoyed.  You spun on your heel and meet your coworker's gaze.  "I've been looking everywhere for you! Um, Hu Tao wanted me to give you these," you promptly handed a small stack of slightly crumpled documents to him.  "She said they were really important...?"

"Let me see..." Golden eyes turned their attention to the script with the utmost focus before he heaved a tiresome sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Is...something the matter?"  You could've sworn everything was in order...maybe it was possible that in your rush to find him, you had lost a paper or two without noticing?

"What is it exactly that Hu Tao instructed you to do?"  His voice held a tinge of exhaustion, but it went unnoticed by you.

"She just told me to find you and give you the documents, and that you'd know what to do with them.  And she also told me not to look at them.  Why?"

Another sigh, and the documents were handed back to you.  "I apologize, but it appears that you've fallen victim to her...childish antics yet again."  

He was right.  The documents were nothing more than a bunch of gibberish and what looked like to be a horrible attempt to draw Zhongli on one of the papers next to one scribble that was labelled 'doodoo.'  "You've got to be joking."  The scowl on your face was enough to get Zhongli to clear his throat in an effort to dissuade you from your anger.  You were an incredibly nice and patient person, but Zhongli's seen you angry once before.  It was not something he'd like to see again, and with every passing prank, you got closer and closer to snapping at your boss.

"My apologies," he sympathized.  He couldn't exactly keep up with the parlor director's childish ways either, after all.

That was three hours of my day.  You crumpled the papers in your hands before tossing them in the trash.  "Sorry to bother you Zhongli, I'll be heading back to the parlor now."

You took the long way back to the funeral parlor, making a point to walk across the docs that shouldered the sea.  It was well-deserved, you thought, since Hu Tao was constantly testing your patience and you had yet to snap.  If she really needed you today, she wouldn't have sent you on a needless hunt to deliver unnecessary documents.  So what if you showed up a little late now? It was her doing!

The docks were quiet with the occasional pigeons and seagulls cooing as they searched for their next meal--or their next pooping target.  A few pigeons scattered into the wind once you reached a railing that overlooked one of the merchant ships.  

It had been quite some time since your mother brought you across the sea to escape the influences of the Fatui in Snezhnaya--it had to be at least a decade by now, actually.  The Fatui that were stationed near your hometown were a reckless, malicious bunch, and weren't even kind to their own people despite their cohort existing to serve the people.

'To serve the people' was more like 'to serve the Tsaritsa.'  Neglect against her own people soon became a mutual feeling in your town.  She let her Fatui rats run about with no punishment for falling out of line...the audacity! A god is supposed to protect and nurture their people, not toss them aside or save them to be used.

The glimmering of the ocean below the deck only briefly dragged out out of your memories before you fell into them much like a wave washes over the beach.

You still remembered the day when your best friend went missing, and when he finally turned up ragged and dirty a few days later.  He never spoke of what happened, but it wouldn't surprise you if it had anything to do with the agents in your town.  He changed from a hesitant boy to a rambunctious, feisty kid--and the arrogance was insanely annoying.  But just as you tried to get closer to him, your mom decided his mysterious circumstances were what she needed to get herself and you out of Snezhnaya.

"I don't know what happened to you, Ajax, but I hope you're okay."

...........................................

Today's such a beautiful day!  You stretched your arms with content to get the aches of walking all morning out of your shoulders.  Slouching was a horrible habit of yours.  But no matter, it was time to celebrate! Hu Tao finally cut you loose from her list of unfortunate victims of her shenanigans, instead setting her sights on some exorcist that went by the name 'Chongyun.'  Since he wasn't related to the parlor's services--at least, not that you were aware--you didn't know him personally.

That poor soul has no idea what's coming to him, you think as you absently scan the papers in your hands that the parlor director had given you to give to Zhongli before the day's end--you had learned your lesson from last time, and inspected each stack she'd give you.  But as bad as I feel for him, I can't complain since I'm finally scot-free of her.

You made your way toward Liuli Pavilion, where Zhongli had informed you earlier this morning that he'd be conducting a meeting with one of the parlor's biggest funders.  There he is now! And...sitting alone?

"Mr. Zhongli?"  Your quiet interruption shifted his attention from the vivid storytelling of the storyteller to you.  "Did you have your meeting yet?"

"No, he should be arriving shortly," the consultant answered and placed his teacup down.  "What did you need me for?"

"Hu Tao sent me on another errand, er, a valid one this time.  I guess one of our customers was wondering what recommendations you had regarding these?"  A quick hand-off of the documents pertaining the names of precious stones, and Zhongli shut out the story of the ventures of Rex Lapis and his former companion, Azhdaha.

Your eyes left Zhongli for a moment and watched the storyteller's movements.  I've heard this one before.  Azhdaha was reprimanded for turning against humanity, wasn't he?  I wonder what that was like for our god.  To be betrayed by a close friend-

"I see.  Noticulous jade would be the best option considering it's vibrant purple tones, but the beauty of cor lapis when significantly refined to its utmost potential is a valid approach for the ceremony as well.  Why don't we purchase both?  You and I can inspect the nearby stores tomorrow morning."

Honestly, I don't know why I bother asking if his answer is always 'We'll take them all,' your lips twitched from restraining a laugh and you returned your sights on the consultant.  "Alright, let's do that."

"Mr. Zhongli! It's great to see you," an unfamiliar man approached the table with a friendly smile.  "I hope I didn't keep you waiting long."  The confidence that radiated from his stride was enough to make you shrivel up on yourself.  That, and the afternoon light that bounced off of his bright gray clothes half-blinded you.

"Not at all.  Please take a seat.  Reed, why don't you join us?"  Zhongli was aware of your intense opinions of the Fatui, but then again, who in Liyue didn't have a problem with the organization at the moment? Especially after their most recent incident with Osial...and the issue himself was sitting right across the table.  Perhaps meeting such a dangerous individual would dissuade you from pursuing that nighttime hobby of yours...

"Oh, I don't want to intrude.  Isn't this a private meeting?"

"I don't mind," said the red-headed stranger.

Zhongli gestured toward the third chair at the table, and you hesitantly obeyed.  A few minutes couldn't hurt.  You used the moment to get you situated and check out the guy to your left.  He didn't seem familiar, but he had this air about him that was...distinct, if that made any sense.  Familiar yet unfamiliar.  For someone being labelled as one of the most prominent sponsors of the funeral parlor, he didn't button his jacket properly, and a portion of his abdomen was visible while a hydro vision sat comfortably attached to his beltloop.  Or perhaps that was the way the jacket was designed?

Why am I even contemplating this? You peeled your eyes away from his torso in a hurry, and they settled on your hands in your lap.  Way to make a first impression.

"Reed, I would like to introduce you to Ma-"

"Ajax!"  Childe's voice overtook Zhongli's introduction.  "I go by Ajax, it's nice to meet you."  He held out a gloved hand for you to shake.  He didn't think it would be possible to ever see you again, not after your mom took you across the sea, so he spat out a lie without thinking.  Then again, even as a child you hated the Fatui--rightfully so-- so it wouldn't have been a good idea to introduce himself as the very harbinger that almost drowned Liyue.  Childe thought he had recognized you by your hair and the way you walked, but it was so long ago, and the memory of you had long since faded into a blurry image.  But 'Reed'...It couldn't be some coincidence that he met you here.

And by your reaction, he could say his intuition served him right.  "A-Ajax?"  You sat up taller than before, not quite comprehending the situation at first.  The name, the face, those blue eyes--it had to be him.  "Ajax from Snezhnaya?"

"I would hope I'm the only Ajax you know."  Childe shot you a friendly smile, but some smidge of jealousy lie in the depths of his otherwise vacant gaze. Perhaps it could even be considered threatening, or possessive.  He was the only Ajax you knew, right?

"Oh thank the archons you're alright," you released the breath you didn't know you were holding in.  It was all you managed to get out before remembering that a certain party was sitting to your right.  "O-Oh! Zhongli! We knew each other before I emigrated to Liyue-"

"Childhood friends," the harbinger grinned slightly as he met the consultant's confused yet stern gaze.  Something deadly flashed in his eyes, daring Zhongli to speak up and correct his own introduction.

Zhongli wasn't anywhere near afraid or intimidated by Childe, but despite this he did not reveal Childe's true identity.  Perhaps there was a reason the harbinger was posing as his younger self, like he was protecting the image of the perfect older brother for you just as he did with Teucer.

That, and Zhongli had vowed not to meddle in these types of matters just as he neglected to tell Childe he was the geo archon.  It was not his business if Childe chose to deceive you just as he deceived Childe, but if the harbinger posed a threat to you or anyone in Liyue again...Let's just say the passive Zhongli would put his foot down.

"I see," said Zhongli with a thoughtful gaze as he picked up his half-full cup of tea.  "May I inquire as how you two met?"

"Well," you leaned back in your seat and stared at one of the passing clouds as you attempted to recollect old memories.  "I don't remember exactly, but we ran into each other at one of the local markets that stood between our hometowns.  You should've seen him back then Zhongli, he was a nervous reck!"

Childe visibly grimaced at your bluntness, but Zhongli let out a low chuckle.  "Is that so?"  This earned a glare from the harbinger.

"Yes!  He was always second-guessing himself.  I was always the one wearing the pants in the friendship whenever we got to see each other!  And then..."  Your expression darkened as you remembered his disappearance, and his concerning change of attitude when he returned.  But just as quickly as the distasteful memory showed on your face, it was tossed away with a shake of the head.  "You know, there was one time where he had gotten in trouble with one of the local fisherman because he--"

"Now, now!"  Childe interrupted with a slightly aggressive--no, embarrassed--tone.  "I don't think Mr. Zhongli would be interested in--"

"On the contrary, I would be more than delighted to hear of Ajax's childhood stories," Zhongli sipped away at his tea, making a point to emphasize the new name while staring straight Childe.

"Aw, you embarrassed?"  Childe wanted to wipe that smug grin off your face for noticing.  He thought he was great at hiding his emotions, but with your surprise appearance, he was a bit more than caught off guard.  You covered your mouth and leaned toward Zhongli while whispering, "I'll tell you later, promise!"

Childe let out something of a strangled chuckle that made the corner of Zhongli's lips twitch upward.  "So, what have you been up to all this time?"

"Well, I've been working at the funeral parlor with Zhongli for the past year or so," you leaned back with a thoughtful gaze.  "I live by myself now; mom died a few years ago.  Oh, I've been training since I got here, too.  You can't trust the Fatui anywhere in Teyvat.  That, and anyone that roams around late at night.  Better safe than sorry."

"So you fight?"  Childe's eyes lit up like a fire was lit, and you smile turned into a frown.

"Don't tell me you're still..."  But with his slightly oblivious tilt of the head, you couldn't bring yourself to bring up that portion of your history.  Not yet.  "If need be, yes."  The best option was to change the subject, especially to spare Zhongli of what could possibly turn into an argument.  "How did you find yourself in Liyue?"

"I..."  A glance was sent briefly in Zhongli's direction, but he purposely ignored it.  "I'm a toy seller these days."

"Augh--"  A sputtered cough came from Zhongli, and he dabbed at his lips with a handkerchief.  "Ahem...Apologies, it appears I choked on a bit of tea."

After an awkward laugh escaped Childe, you turned back to him.  "A toy seller?  You?"  Was it relief you felt, or a feeling of on-edge?  Perhaps it'd be better if he turned out nice enough to become a toy seller, but with the way you two left things in Snezhnaya, you'd thought it be more likely that he'd end up arrested.  Or join the Fatui.  Or just anything involving violence.  Not sure of what to make of his words, you snapped to Zhongli.  "Wait, I thought you had a meeting with one of the benefactors of the funeral parlor?  Why would a toy seller be involved with us?"

"Yes, I've wondered that myself," Zhongli set his empty teacup aside and faced Childe directly to bait him.  "You've never told me the story.  How did you find yourself involved with the parlor, Ajax?"

The hint of a smirk on the consultant's lips made the harbinger's blood boil even though he managed to keep his façade of a smile plastered on his face.  "Well, I wouldn't want to bore you with the details, it's an uninteresting story!"

"Tell me," you begged, eyes sparkling in anticipation.  "It might not be boring to us!"

"Yes, do tell," Zhongli encouraged.

You're enjoying this too much, Mr. Zhongli.  Childe did his best to hide his annoyance under his signature grin.

........................................

The sigh that escaped the harbinger once you left to finish your duties at the parlor prompted Zhongli to raise a brow at him.  "Shut up," Childe muttered without sparing a glance his way.  He knew you were hateful of the Fatui; that's most likely why he lied without a second thought, but as to why he'd bother doing so since you weren't close anymore was unknown.

At least, to Childe it was.  Zhongli had already figured it out by the lengthy conversation of Childe's extensive toy seller lie.  "You two were more than 'close' back in Snezhnaya, were you not?"  

"Don't overthink it Zhongli, we were only friends."

"And yet you wear your Harbinger status proudly on your sleeve."

"What're you implying?"  Childe, growing impatient and bored of the conversation, shifted in his seat.  You had left as their meals were served, so to his utmost horror, he now realized he was given chopsticks to use for his dish.  

"You also don't like deceiving others unlike your fellow harbingers."

A disgusted scoff left his lips as he lifted his chopsticks.  "...You think I, Tartaglia, am in love with a childhood friend?  My my my, Mr. Zhongli, it seems you've finally lost your marbles after living six thousand years. Perhaps living among humans has taken a toll on your wisdom."

"There are several reasons for which a person would lie."  Zhongli lowered his voice as the storyteller finished his monologue.  "The only one that would make sense after observing you for so long would be infatuation."

Childe had tuned him out by now, concentrating with furrowed brows on holding his dumplings correctly in-between his chopsticks.  But they were too heavy, what with his hand shaking the utensils, and they fell back on the plate with a wet plop.  Curse these stupid-  Childe nearly threw them at the building to his left, but restrained himself before he could lose to his frustrations.  Instead he used one chopstick to stab the dumpling and in an exasperated huff, shoved it into his mouth.

"So, what is the real reason you're back in Liyue?"  Zhongli set his third cup of tea aside after watching the pitiful struggle before him.  "It had sounded like you'd be in Snezhnaya for quite some time before returning, yet here you are only months after Osial."

"Oh," Childe sat up, only now remembering that what he had told you earlier was a drastic lie.  "I've been meaning to ask you about the matters I'm dealing with.  The Fatui here are fed-up with some...vigilante that interferes with their work here.  Whoever's at fault is clearly an amateur, but my subordinates here are apparently too incompetent to catch them.  They're stealing important documents from the Northland Bank, setting traps on the roadsides, and even breaking into our apartments to steal the agents' uniforms."

Zhongli cradled his chin in his hand while in deep thought.  He's heard of such a person; they often came to the parlor in the early morning hours to avoid getting caught since their living quarters were on the opposite side of town--he caught them more than once, out of breath, and dressed in black.

"--Basically the men are agitated at this point and threatening to leave their posts, and everyone's on edge because of another matter that may be related.  A few of our agents have gone missing with no trace, so I am here to locate them.  Whoever this vigilante is might know something; both occurrences started approximately three months ago."  Childe grabbed his last dumpling and ate it before leaning back in his seat.  "So, given that you are the wisest man in Liyue, I decided to come to you for advice.  Would you happen to know of anyone or anything involved?"

"Yes," Zhongli hummed, eyes downcast and settled on his folded hands.  "It's possible I hold information valuable to your search."

Childe's pupils lit up in delight.  "Oh?  Do enlighten me."

"But first, the vigilante is not related to your missing men," he took another sip of tea, lost in thought.  "And they are more or less an amateur seeking to disrupt Fatui operations, but they don't usually harm your agents--"

"That's inaccurate to say, Zhongli.  Last week three of my guys came back with broken noses or fractured arms."

--that I know of."  A pointed glare just made the harbinger lean forward against the table.

"You know who I'm searching for."

"Perhaps."

"Then spill."

"Am I really obligated to tell you based on your earlier behavior?"

"Mr. Zhongli, this person poses a serious threat to the health of my men, and potentially their lives.  Do you not care that human lives are at stake because of this...this...killer?"

Says the man who tried to drown my country.  "As usual, you are making brash assumptions.  They are not a killer, and they are not dangerous unless backed into a corner."

Childe was growing sick of beating around the bush, so he deadpanned.  "Zhongli."

The former archon let out a low sigh before meeting his gaze.  "As long as you remember what I just said, then I suppose I'll let you know.  The person you're searching for is the same person you lied to at this table."

[whump-a-la-mode]

Villainsicle | Part 12

At long last... comfort. Villain deserves it and I am so sorry to them and to every reader of this story.

Sorry that this took so long. I got sick (not COVID) and work kicked my ass, but at long last, it is here!

Counselor tries to help Villain take a bath, but ends up forcing them to confront a buried fear. Comfort ensues.

Taglist:

@whatwhumpcomments

@sola-whumping

@professional-idiocy

@trappedgoose-in-a-writblr-room

@literally-just-kirby​

@teachunks

@daydreamed-snippets-2nd-blog

@sunflower1000

@lightdrinker-blog

CW//Superhero whump, villain whumpee, non-sexual nudity, non-sexual stripping, bathing, restraints, flashbacks

Villain struggled.

Well, perhaps it was less of a struggle. Struggling had a purpose, a clear drive and direction. Villain’s erratic movements had neither-- they could be perhaps described more succinctly as twitching. Erratic twitching, their hands balling and unballing to fists, their muscles tightening for reason unknown. Not all at once, but periodically.

It wasn’t a nightmare, Counselor was certain of that. Nightmares were fast, coming on all at once in a wave of panic. There was no panic in Villain’s movements, just stress. Muscles and nerves wound as taut as they could be.

They considered waking them. Trying to comfort them. But there would be little point in that. Not when they would simply be waking up to a cold hospital room, experiencing just as much stress in wakefulness as they had in sleep.

So, Counselor waited. They prepared, all while watching Villain, ensuring that they stayed steady. That they were okay.

In the end, getting the bath ready took almost an hour. Inherently, it didn’t have to. By all logic, they could have simply turned on the water and awoken Villain. They would have been cleaned all the same. But that wasn’t what this was about, not entirely.

So, they prepared. The base had only one bathtub in it, and, more than luckily, it was far better than they ever could have asked for. It had originally been acquired for use by Engineer-- Leader’s spouse-- who, as a wheelchair user, found getting into a tub far more convenient than configuring a shower chair.

Of course, Engineer never went for the bare minimum. If there was something they could tinker with, they wouldn’t hesitate for a moment. Thus, the tub now possessed as many handles and supports as could possibly fit, not to mention the filtration system designed to keep the water temperature consistent practically indefinitely. It was the latter that allowed Counselor as much time as they needed.

In the end, once the tub was filled with sufficiently warm water, the bathroom had become littered with towels, rags, and as many combs as were in storage. Not to mention enough soap to clean a warehouse.

It was only when all that was gathered, when the water temperature was perfect, when everything was ready, that Counselor awoke Villain.

They opened the door to their hospital room, doing so as slowly and carefully as they could manage. They walked across the tile to their patient’s bedside in the same manner, taking care not to disturb them.

Villain’s hands clenched into fists as they fought against the fabric restraints holding them down. It wasn’t a conscious movement, but it was nerve wracking nonetheless.

They reached forward, flinching back for a moment as Villain twitched again, before placing their hand on their shoulder. Gently, they shook their shoulder, speaking:

“Hey, hey. Hey, can you get up for me?”

After a moment, Villain’s eyelids fluttered, before finally opening. Their eyes stared out, unfocused, before coming together to gaze up at Counselor. The latter put on the kindest smile they could manage.

“Good morning.” They chirped. Villain blinked a few more times, their eyelids seeming awfully heavy. Counselor felt bad about waking them, but they hadn’t exactly been having a restful sleep.

Again, the patient blinked. At last, their eyes focused.

The bedframe was struck with such force that Counselor could practically feel it, just from proximity. They leapt back, only to hear the sound again as Villain yanked once more at their wrist restraint. A thousand images flashed back in their mind-- images of buildings collapsing, of server rooms exploding into shrapnel and smoke. Images of what Villain used to represent in their mind. Aggression and destruction.

Their heart skipped a beat, before its beating increased considerably in speed.

Villain was a villain. At least, they were at some point.

Counselor took a moment, fighting to steady their breathing, before returning to the bedside. Though loath to admit it, the restraints on Villain’s wrists made them feel far better.

“Hey, hey, Villain.” They did their best to return their smile to their face. Villain had stopped struggling, but their fists remained balled. “It’s okay. Hey, you’re okay.”

A pair of nervous eyes turned to them. At least, they thought that expression to be nervousness.

“Are you okay?” They spoke, slightly louder this time-- perhaps Villain simply couldn’t hear.

In an instant, Villain shrunk back onto the bed, their gaze darting away.

“I’m sorry for waking you up. Are you feeling okay?”

After a brief pause, Villain nodded, though they didn’t seem all too convinced. Counselor supposed that that was all they were going to get.

“Okay. Medic is busy today, so I’m going to be taking care of you today. I ran a bath for you. Do you want to take a bath?”

They almost opened their mouth, before going back, firmly pressing their lips together.

“It’s okay. You can talk. Do you want to talk a bath?”

“Okay.”

It wasn’t a very committal response, but they needed a bath. The dirt and tears streaked on their face were certainly only the beginning of it-- the rest simply covered by their hospital gown.

“Do you think you can walk?”

“Yes.”

Counselor hated just how much they hesitated as they reached for the restraints. Still, nervous or not, they were doing this. They undid the straps, letting them dangle from the bedframe. They placed an arm around Villain’s back, expecting to having to help them up, but they turned out to need minimal aid to do so. They did, on the other hand, need some help to get to their feet.

They could help but furrow their brow. When they’d arrived, Villain had been sick, sure, but at least had some strength. How had they gotten worse?

“Okay, the bath is just a few doors down. You can lean on me if you need.”

They just nodded. The two moved to the door, yet when Counselor reached for the handle, Villain froze. Even as the door opened, they refused to take another step, or so much as budge.

Counselor frowned, holding the frightened person closer to themself, practically whispering:

“It’s okay. Medic is all the way on the other side of the building. They’re asleep.”

That seemed to do the trick. Villain moved forward. The bath was only a few doors outside of the medical wing, and as they entered the room, the sheer warmth in the air was palpable. Counselor closed the door behind them, before helping Villain over to a wall and releasing their hold on them. They didn’t seem to need to lean on the wall at the moment, but they figured that it couldn’t hurt.

“I have some clean clothes for you when we’re done. Um, I don’t have to look, if you don’t want.”

“It’s fine.” Villain muttered-- the first real complete thought they had spoken so far.

“Okay. Take your time.”

They nodded. At some point, they had changed from their normal clothes to a hospital gown of sorts. It wasn’t exactly a complicated garment, but taking it off took a moment-- on account of Villain’s nervous, shaking hands. Still, they managed, hanging the gown over a towel rack.

“The bath is all ready, then. Whenever you’re ready.”

Villain nodded again, seeming intent on doing little more than agreeing. They approached the side of the bathtub, stared at the water, and broke.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

The washing room was cold.

That was what Villain had always thought of the room as, anyways. The washing room. A structure with concrete walls and a metal floor that dipped every few feet to allow for a drain to be embedded in it. Whatever else it was used for, they didn’t know.

But, to them, it was the washing room.

They kept their head low, staring down at their wrists pressed firmly against the floor, just ahead of their folded knees. At some point, days or perhaps decades ago, their wrists would be secured to the flooring for their baths. Now, they knew better. They knew it was easier not to struggle.

By all accounts, they should have gotten used to it. Regardless of Trainer’s other... behaviors, they were dedicated to keeping their Assets well taken care of. That meant a bath, every day of every week of every month of every year of every millennia.

Their head swam.

They wished they could get used to it. To the cold metal floor, and the chill in the air. But they couldn’t.

For a split second, they heard a valve unlatch and water flow through a hose. Next thing they knew, the ice struck them, biting at every inch of exposed skin, tearing and breaking.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

With an almost robotic suddenness, Villain’s arms jerked upwards, wrapping around their torso. A horrible shiver ran up their spine, spreading to the rest of them as well. Their teeth clenched together, their jaw quivering, their eyes gazing somewhere else, somewhere that wasn’t in the room.

“Villain? Hey, hey. It’s okay. You’re okay, you can take as much time as you need, you-”

None of the words reached them. They had left the bathroom as soon as they had looked into the water.

Again, they shivered.

For a moment, Counselor looked at them, mind spinning but running on empty. In this state, touching them probably wouldn’t do much good. They looked so cold...

Counselor’s gaze moved to the bathtub.

From one of their piles of rags, they clutched a piece of fabric, saturating it with the warm water filling the tub. As gently as they could manage, they draped the warm thing over the back of Villain’s neck, letting water droplets dribble down their exposed back.

Villain blinked, their eyes once again fixating on something real.

“Are you alright?”

They nodded.

“Are you sure?”

Another nod.

“The water is warm. It’s okay. I promise. Do you want to get in?”

“Yes.”

“Do you need any help?”

Villain shook their head as the rest of their body experienced one last shiver. They stepped into the water first, one foot after the other. The nonslip pad firmly secured to the bottom of the tub ensured that they had no issues sitting down. For a second, they seemed almost instinctively to kneel, before they moved to a sort of sitting position instead. They held their knees to their chest, as if trying to conserve warmth.

That hardness, that tension in their muscles, only seemed to stay for a moment. Then, like dye dissolving in water, it seemed to slowly dissipate. Not gone, but lessened.

It was working.

“I’m just going to try to get some dirt off of you, okay? If you ever want me to stop, just say so. Is that okay?”

“Yeah.”

Their voice, too, seemed to have relaxed, just ever so slightly, as if their vocal cords themselves had been tense beforehand.

Counselor began.

Had this been a regular bath, simple soap and water would have easily sufficed. This, however, was not a normal bath.

Sweat and tears and general filth had managed to accumulate over their skin, carving dark marks throughout. Blooming from their chest, as well, a half-healed scar was surrounded by dried blood that had been there for far too long.

With a small pitcher, they took water from the tub, pouring it over Villain’s body and rubbing with a washcloth. Their movements were gentle, as much as they could make them, and it seemed that wherever their washcloth moved, tension would dissolve like snow under sunlight.

It was in that manner that they cleaned the dirt, the tears and the sweat, the blood and the muck. The bathwater threatened at points to turn brown, but such attempts were quickly thwarted by the filter that continued to run with its subtle background flicking sound.

After several minutes of this (or, probably, more like half an hour), Counselor felt that enough tension had dissipated that, just maybe, Villain would be able to talk back. And they certainly had a lot to talk about. Without stopping their cleaning, they spoke, their voice blending in with the subtle movement of the water:

“How are you feeling, Villain?”

“The water is warm.” It was almost slurred.

““Does it feel nice?”

“Yeah.”

Counselor took a new washcloth, wetted it, and moved it to Villain’s cheek, carving a patch of cleanliness through a lifetime of dirt. They leaned into the touch.

“Were you scared, earlier?”

“I... I think so.”

“Do you want to talk about why you were scared.”

“I- Um, I don’t... I don’t like baths.”

“Do you know why that is?”

Some of that tension returned, in their neck.

“I don’t know.”

“That’s okay.” Counselor smiled. “Do you like this bath?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m glad.”

Villain hummed something, but if it was meant to be words, the message didn’t get across.

“Villain?”

“Mhm?”

“How have you been feeling, recently?”

“Um... I’ve been feeling fine.”

“You don’t have to be formal with me.” Taking care to avoid their eye, Counselor drew the washcloth between the bridge of Villain’s nose and the corner of their eyelid. They couldn’t help but feel that the marks, here, were mostly from tears. “You can tell me how you’re really feeling. I want to help.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve been feeling... sick.”

“Yeah. I think that’s why they moved you to the medical wing.”

“I don’t want to be there.”

“I know.” Counselor gave a sympathetic frown. “The sooner you get better, though, the sooner you can get out of there.” They put down their washcloth, picking the pitcher up once more. With one hand, they pushed the Villain’s bangs back, protecting their face at the same time. With the other, they poured a steady stream of water onto their hair. “What has the sickness been like? Is it like a cold?”

“No. It’s not a cold.”

“What is it like?”

“Like... Like I’m tired. And cold.”

“All the time?”

“Yeah.”

“When did you start feeling like that?”

Villain looked to Counselor, for the first time making direct, sustained eye contact. Counselor took a handful of shampoo, beginning to lather it into their hair. Again, they leaned into the touch as if it was their lifeline.

“Counselor?”

“Yeah?”

“Medic is making me sick.”

They finished their lathering, pouring another pitcher of water of their hair, washing the soap out into the tub below.

“Medic is making you sick?”

“Mhm.”

“How... How are they making you sick?”

“The food. They’re putting something in the food.”

Counselor felt like freezing, but knew that doing so would send Villain back to hiding in their proverbial corner. With their hair clean, they moved to rubbing soap over the rest of the skin, which had now been marginally cleaned off.

“Villain.” They frowned, again. “Do you have any special dietary requirements? Or do you need any medications?”

“No.”

Counselor pursed their lips into a thin line as they rubbed a thin film of white soap onto Villain’s shoulder blades.

“Medic told me that you needed special food. That it was the kind of thing that needed a doctor’s care.”

Villain nodded, a single hand balling into a fist.

“They’re making me sick.”

They finished rubbing the soap along their back, and briefly washed their hands on a cloth before picking the pitcher back up to finish rinsing.

“I believe you.”

“Y- You do?”

Warm water ran down their front.

“I do. And when we’re done here, we’re going to get you some real food. Then I’m going to give Medic a piece of my fucking mind.”

[sineala]

Captain America: The Great Gold Steal

I wrote this up last week because I did not have access to my usual comics files but I figured I could review something that was just a book. So here is a review of the 1968 Captain America novel Captain America: The Great Gold Steal by Ted White, with an introduction by Stan Lee. I really liked it, actually! It was surprisingly good!

This novel features: Cover art of Captain America holding his shield in one hand and a very large gun in the other! A scene where the villains dramatically unmask Captain America and have absolutely no idea who he is! Captain America being extremely, extremely depressed about being in the future! Captain America dropping acid!

(I'm not kidding about the last part. In this novel there is a lot of LSD use. By Captain America. Talk about something the Comics Code wouldn't ever let you put in a comic book. Thank you, 1968.)

Faithful readers may remember that some time ago I posted reviews of Marvel prose novels from the 1970s. There was a line of prose novels featuring everyone's favorite Marvel superheroes, published by Pocket Books in the late 70s; I have reviews of the Iron Man, Captain America, and Avengers entries in the series; I liked the Iron Man one best, and I also have a Doctor Strange one I have not yet read. They're all short and action-packed paperback reads, of varying quality; the only one by anyone you might have heard of is the Avengers one, which was written by David Michelinie, who was actually writing the Avengers run at the time. That one was, um. An experience. 

(Yes, it's "prose novel" because otherwise the assumption is "graphic novel.")

Marvel still publishes prose novels now, of course, also of varying quality; some are new plots and some are straight-up novelizations of comics arcs, which I guess is useful if you want to, say, read Civil War and not look at pictures at the same time. I also have a bunch of those that I could probably review if anyone wants. But, anyway, I personally am particularly intrigued by the older Marvel prose novels, both because the stories are all original and not retellings, and also because I often prefer the characterization found in older comics. And the older prose novels of course use the then-current characterization. So reading a Marvel prose novel from 1979 is like getting to read a brand-new comic from 1979, and that's a whole lot of fun for a nerd like me. Also do you know what's not subject to the Comics Code? Prose novels. So things can happen in these that definitely could not happen in comics of the same era.

This brings me to my current prose novel, which is something else entirely. I mean, okay, not really, it's still a Marvel prose novel. But it's not part of the same line. It's actually a lot older.

Bantam Books actually published Marvel prose novels in the late 60s. Yep, a full decade earlier. They published exactly two, so I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that they were probably not bestsellers. The first one, which I do not own and now sort of want to track down, was an Avengers novel in 1967, The Avengers Battle the Earth-Wrecker. And then in 1968 they published the novel I am currently holding in my hands, Captain America: The Great Gold Steal by Ted White.

(I am still not sure why no one involved in titling this book thought of the word "theft.")

Judging by the back copy, it appears to be about Captain America foiling the villains' dastardly plan to steal gold from the Federal Reserve. Oh boy. Fun.

So this book is from 1968. The modern Marvel universe had kicked off just a few short years ago! Captain America was just getting his own solo book after the end of Tales of Suspense! And here's a novel about him, back when certain elements of his characterization were perhaps a little more flexible than they are today, by which I mean that the cover art -- which the internet informs me was painted by Mitchell Hooks -- is a striking full-body portrait of Captain America, head held high, shield in one hand... and a very large gun in the other. Hell, yeah. Not gonna see that in today's Cap comics, are you? It's amazing and I love it.

(Okay, you might see that in Ults. I'm pretty sure I have seen that in Ults, actually. But this is still cool.)

So the cover art is a definite plus, and apparently it's one of the few reasons anyone has ever heard of this novel. The other reason -- and the reason this is more expensive than the later novels, I assume -- is that Stan Lee's name is slapped on the cover, because he wrote an introduction. (I think I paid about $30 for this. The others were definitely under $20.)

All right. Here we go.

The first page is actually a brief summary of Steve's origin story, but not a version I was familiar with. Steve was born July 9, 1917 (yes, I was surprised too), was orphaned at a young age, and was a student at Columbia University (!) before Rebirth, which in this version is a gradual process that is also extremely body-horror. Steel tubing was inserted into the marrows of his bones. He was fed "high-protein compounds." Then they gave him a chemical that "gave him complete control over every nerve, muscle, and cell in his now-magnificent body." Sweet. Where can I get some of that?

The blurb also confirms his control over his own metabolism as well as his healing factor ("wounds would heal in half the normal time"), which is nice, because sometimes I wonder if canon even remembers the healing factor.

(I don't know why Marvel has this kink for filling people's bones with metal, though. It's not actually empty in there, guys! You need your bone marrow! How else do you want people to make new blood cells?)

The book is dedicated to "Jack Kirby and Stan Lee, without whom there would be no Captain America." Hey, Marvel, Joe Simon would like a word with you. I'm just saying.

The Stan Lee introduction is three paragraphs written in Stan Lee's, um, inimitable, distinctive and extremely florid narrative style -- if you've read any of his work, you know what I mean -- and making the point that Captain America is incredible and you will like him. If you are just discovering him for the first time, you will definitely like him. Okay. Thanks. I guess.

Oddly, the writing style here is substantially different than any of the other Marvel prose novels I've read; it doesn't immediately front-load you with exposition and a cast of colorful superheroes. It opens with a sort of James Bond spy-novel feel, running through a series of unnamed villains and bystanders, and a man who wants nothing more than to talk to Captain America but is killed before he can. Steve comes in halfway through the chapter, and he seems to be written for a reader who doesn't necessarily know who he is, and he isn't introduced as Captain America with his shield flying ahead of him to smite evildoers, or anything like that. He's just a tall, handsome blond guy who is reading a bunch of novels and is unsatisfied by all of them because all he can think of is the past. It's definitely an attitude I would expect from Steve in this era -- he is very much a Man Out Of Time here -- but it's also not how I expected the book to introduce him. You wouldn't even know he was Captain America by the end of the opening chapter, which then ends with a digression about the history of NYC subway tunnels. It's like it wants to appeal to someone who has watched a bunch of Man from UNCLE and just wants to read a cool thriller. Which is not at all what I was expecting.

By the beginning of the second chapter, of course, we discover that Steve is Captain America, as he changes into his uniform. The narration refers to him as Rogers when it's in his POV, if anyone is curious. He apparently keeps the cowl off in the mansion, because the cowl annoys him.

It was not so much that he needed to conceal his identity these days, because for all intents and purposes he had no other identity. Steve Rogers was officially dead, and had been for almost twenty years. Captain America *was* his identity. It was only when he donned the tight-fitting blue uniform with its shield chest-emblem, the red snug-fitting leather boots, and the heavy, yet pressure-sensitive red-leather gauntlets, that he began to feel real -- a complete human being.

Steve? Buddy, are you okay there? You're really not okay, are you, huh?

You see what I mean? They're really hitting the early-canon angst. Hard.

(Also it sounds like his uniform is a few sizes too small.)

We then get an expanded version of the backstory from the beginning excerpt. In this version of canon, Steve actually has an older brother, Alan, who is handsome and athletic and basically amazing, and when they are orphaned they are raised by their aunt and uncle. Steve gets TB twice as a kid, nearly dies from it, and when the stock market crashes, ends up separated from his brother and in an orphanage after his uncle loses everything.

(Honestly if I were writing this book, his brother would be the secret villain. Chekhov's Gun!)

Steve has glasses, gets bullied, is a nerd and an honor student, and studies law at Columbia because he wants to help stop fraudulent business practices and also fight organized crime. Legally, I mean. In a manner relating to law. I guess he's sort of like Daredevil. The lawyer part of Daredevil.

And then he joins Rebirth, and this is the part where I had to put the book down for several minutes, because Erskine's secret chemical, the key to making super-soldiers... is LSD.

Oh my God. You should see my face right now. My expression is, I am sure, indescribable. I'm trying not to wake the dog up laughing.

I just. Holy shit. This book is from 1968 in a way I definitely was not expecting. What the fuck, Marvel?

This project was headed by the brilliant biochemist, Dr. Erskine. His work with the endocrine system, and chemical body control, was well beyond that of his contemporaries. Only he, of all his colleagues, had fathomed the secrets of the Swiss Dr. Hoffman's 1938 discovery -- the mind-controlling LSD-25.

Let's just pause here for a few minutes and contemplate this.

I will point out that Albert Hofmann (yes, the book spelled his name wrong) didn't actually discover that LSD was a hallucinogen until 1943 when he accidentally tried it, but I am positive that 1968 here was a time when Some People were convinced LSD was a wonder drug. I'm still laughing. As far as I can tell, legal manufacturing of it stopped in 1965 so I am pretty sure that the author did not just decide to name a drug that had an ostensible legal therapeutic use, because it wouldn't have still had one by '68.

Anyway, in this version of events, Rebirth is a month-long process that involves a lot of vitamins, physical conditioning and training, and, yes, putting metal in his bones like he's the next Wolverine. They're filling his bones with stainless steel rods to make him stronger. That doesn't seem like a great idea to me, but I am also not sure about dropping acid to gain superpowers. Clearly I am not a genius scientist. Also Erskine knows what DNA is, apparently, because he's just that great. Anyway. Other than the metal, those all seem like relatively normal interventions. So far.

Now Steve has become fairly big and strong (and I guess he still has metal in his bones? this concerns me!) but they need to make him superhuman, so, yes, really, it's time to drop acid. Several pages of this book are devoted to describing Steve's acid trip. His acid trip is amazing and he discovers that he has conscious control of his entire body down to the cellular level. He can control the adrenaline in his bloodstream! He can tighten his muscle fibers! And when he's done tripping he still remembers how to do this, if not exactly on a conscious level, but he can still access the abilities. And that is how you make a super-soldier. It's LSD. Remember, kids, drugs are awesome! Do drugs!

Let's maybe take a few more minutes to think about this.

I just. I have no words. How did anyone at Marvel agree to print this?

I think for the most part superhero origin stories tend not to involve real drugs because people are generally aware that drugs they've heard of won't make you into a superhero. I guess this is what it looks like when you invoke the names of real drugs. They probably wanted something that sounded more realistic but somehow I don't think this was the best way to go. (Radiation, of course, will definitely make you into a superhero but I feel like most people have accepted that as one of the conventions of the genre.)

Anyway, after that Erskine gets killed by Nazis, of course, and Steve goes to war, and for some reason this book contains footnotes by Stan Lee himself listing the comics you can read all of this in. Just like the actual comics do!

We are introduced to Bucky, who for some reason is also from the LES in this version, although not anyone Steve knew before the war, and there is of course a description of Bucky's tragic death and Steve's subsequent icing.

They are really, really stressing the Man Out Of Time thing here:

No other man could have survived so fantastic a voyage through time. And no other man could feel so displaced by time.

He was a man twenty years in his own future. By rights, he should be nearly fifty years old -- nearly twice the age of his fellow Avengers. Yet his mind and his body were not yet thirty.

When the Avengers had brought him back to New York with them and insisted that, as an honored hero of the past, he join them, he felt a sort of melancholy homesickness for his own time and world.

We then get a few paragraphs with the usual being sad that he let Bucky down and got him killed, and also that he misses his family, and that Steve Rogers doesn't exist anymore, and that nobody is alive who remembers him, and that war is hell.

Hey, Steve, maybe the drugs you should do are antidepressants. Just a thought.

Also, this book is 118 pages and we're not out of the origin story flashback until page 34. I think there are some pacing issues here.

Actually, I lied, the flashback keeps going, but now we're up to the Avengers finding him, and I have to say that the list of things Steve finds strange about the future is kind of charming when the future is 1968. Men have long hair! Women have shorter skirts! Everyone is kind of blasé about rocket launches because there have been so many space missions now. (Oh, come on, you haven't even landed on the moon yet, 1968! You're not that blasé.) Color TV! And, excitingly, LPs! You can now listen to 36 minutes of consecutive music. (I actually don't know what previous standard he's describing that is a ten-inch record that holds six minutes a side because I don't think 45s are that big. Yeah, no, I just checked and 45s are seven inches in diameter. Hmm. Oh, never mind. He means 78 rpm, doesn't he? In my defense, the record player my family had when I was a kid didn't play those.)

The description of Steve coming into New York for the first time is definitely written by someone who knows New York, which is fun. There is generally a lot of local flavor to the setting of this book. That’s one of the best parts.

There is a brief summary of Steve's feelings about all the Avengers -- he is most impressed by Thor, which, I mean, fair, he's an actual god -- and Hank telling him all about how he can live in Tony's mansion. With Jarvis. Who Hank says is actually from Flatbush. Apparently Steve spent a lot of time at the NYPL branch at 5th and 42nd trying to catch up on history. And then of course the Avengers ditched him and gave him the Kooky Quartet, and for some reason they're not here right now either so it's just Steve being sad and alone and dealing with this mysterious dead guy. I think probably the book is also done explaining fiat currency now. This is definitely the weirdest Marvel novel I've read.

Anyway, we have now returned to what is ostensibly the actual plot. Steve shows up at the New York Federal Reserve Bank (I guess the theft is happening here and not, like, at Fort Knox) with the gold bullion that the dead guy from the beginning of the book had on him -- I think I got distracted by the LSD bit and forgot to mention that part, but the dead guy was carrying some US government gold -- because the actual plot is that villains are trying to tunnel into the bank vault and steal gold. Steve discovers this after he gets the bank manager to give him a tour. The bank manager tries to refuse, citing security concerns -- Captain America could be anyone under that mask, after all! Steve just smiles and says, "If I removed my mask, would you have any better idea of who I am?" and I guess that's a flawless argument because he gets his tour.

(I'm sorry, all I can think of is that one gif from the JLA cartoon where Lex Luthor bodyswaps with the Flash, announces that now that he's in the Flash's body he's going to discover the Flash's secret identity, then pulls off his own mask, stares at himself in the mirror, and says, "I have no idea who this is.")

Given that the theme of Steve's interior life in this novel is "Steve Rogers died twenty years ago" it seems even more sad that Steve is just walking around basically saying, yeah, well, I'm nobody. And apparently that is being reaffirmed for him by the narrative.

So Steve goes down the tunnels, takes out some of the bad guys, and gets himself knocked out and buried in a collapsing tunnel. Don't worry, he's gonna be fine.

A lot of this book, by the way, is from the POV of random people, like this bank guard who went with Steve into the tunnels:

He had wondered, briefly, if a man like Captain America ever knew the pinch of too many bills, had ever felt desperate over the arrival of yet another mouth to feed. But, of course, Captain America had no family, and would hardly concern himself with such matters. It didn't occur to Thompson to wonder if this in itself might not be something for which to pity Captain America.

Rude. I mean, come on, do we really need random characters telling us Steve is a sad sack whom nobody loves? Steve's already got that covered!  (Also, how does this guy know Captain America has no family?)

Anyway, thanks to the power of LSD, Steve is going into a trance, amping up his metabolism (he loses "several pounds" in a few minutes), and making himself super-strong so he can dig himself out. Hooray. This is definitely how human bodies work. Also LSD. This is definitely how LSD works. Yes.

Steve then finds out that a couple of the guards who were with him in the tunnels died down there and he goes home and eats dinner while stewing in miserable guilt because he was responsible for their deaths. He's really not okay. I'm not sure the book actually understands how not okay they have made him. Then someone from SHIELD is on the phone for him and he is briefly cheered up by the thought that it might be Sharon although I think we should also note that the narrative makes it clear that at this point in canon Steve still doesn't know her name. Remember when that was a thing?

Alas, it is not Sharon; it's just a random SHIELD agent who happens to have information about the plot and asks to meet. Then, as Steve leaves to go to the meeting, we get two pages of exhaustive description about the mansion layout and how it's built relative to the surrounding buildings. It feels like this book was written by a frustrated city planner. But anyway, the meeting is a setup and the villains capture Steve.

They knock Steve out, drug him, take him to their hideout, and tie him to a chair. Except, once again thanks to the power of LSD, the tranquilizer they're using wears off way sooner than they expected and so Steve feigns unconsciousness and listens to them discuss their evil plans.

And then the villains unmask him and I swear it's exactly like that JLA gif:

Rogers heard footsteps scuffing across a thick carpet, and then Sparrow's voice again, almost directly over him. His ears still buzzed, but he fought to catch the elusive familiarity of the man's tone. He wished he dared open his eyes.

"This is a moment which I, personally, have long awaited," Sparrow said, his voice rising in triumph. "*The unmasking of Captain America!*"

Then, his nails scraping along Rogers' face, Sparrow dug his fingers under his cowl, and ripped it back. Rogers felt air strike his exposed cheeks and forehead. Then fingers clutched his blond hair and pulled his head back. "Behold!" Sparrow said.

Raven was first to speak. "Well, I dunno about you, Sparrow, but it rings no bells with me. I never seen him before."

Starling agreed. "His face means nothing to me."

"He could be anybody," said Robin. "What good does this do?"

Sparrow let Rogers' head fall back to his chest, and his voice when he spoke was defeated. "I don't know. Nothing, I guess. I always wondered. I felt, if these guys -- these costumed heroes -- wore masks, it must mean something."

"Captain America was missing for twenty years," Starling said. "That could mean the first one died, and this one took his place. He looks awfully young."

"Perhaps. It doesn't really matter. Let's get going."

(Yes, the villains all have bird-themed codenames. I have no idea why.)

This scene just makes my day. I love dramatic unmaskings. I bet they'd have been a lot happier unmasking Iron Man.

The villains then leave Steve and go to a power plant, where we switch POVs to one of the plant employees and get two entirely unnecessary paragraphs about his racist and anti-Semitic thoughts about his coworkers before the villains murder him. Great. Thanks.

Anyway, the villains cause a blackout, while meanwhile they've left Steve alone with the girl villain, and Steve is busy trying to persuade her that crime doesn't pay. He's moved from the "do you know what they'll do to you in prison?" theme onto "how exactly are you going to spend a billion dollars in gold bullion when it's illegal for civilians to possess? who are you going to do business with?" and then points out that gold is heavy and hard to transport, which is when she gets out a a knife.

The bad guys are off to steal the gold, and Steve has now successfully turned the girl they left him with, because she frees him. Of course, the first thing he does is put the cowl back on.

"Why do you wear that?" she asked.

"The mask?" He smiled. "It gives people something external to concentrate upon."

"But..."

"Without it, I'm just another ordinary-looking man. With it, I become a symbol. For some people it creates awe; for others, fear. Look at me. I'm different now, aren't I? With the mask on."

"Yes," she nodded. "You look -- bigger, somehow. Stronger. Fierce, implacable. You look a little scary."

"Exactly. You no longer see me as a person, but as a thing -- an Avenger. It can be a potent psychological weapon."

"They were so disappointed, when they took your mask off. As though underneath they'd find a famous person."

"Maybe that goes on TV -- handsome playboys, and all that. But I've been anonymous all my life. Even my real name would be meaningless to you, to them. No, the mask is part of the uniform, a psychological device. That's the whole story.

Now: let's get out of here. You have a good deal more to tell me yet, and we can't waste more time."

Bwahaha. In a few years, Steve's going to be pretty surprised about who superheroes are, I think.

STEVE, now: Superheroes definitely aren't secretly handsome playboys! That would be silly! STEVE, after Molecule Man: fuck fuck fuck FUCK FUCK I'm such an idiot

I'm definitely looking forward to that.

Also, not that the issue of Steve's psyche actually recurs after this, but he's once again having the narrative vindicate his belief that Steve Rogers is dead and whoever he is under the cowl doesn't matter. Steve, I don't think this is very healthy.

Steve then tracks down the villains stealing the gold, has some geopolitical thoughts about where the gold could be going (he thinks either South Africa or Russia for the best laundering potential) and then hides himself in the villains' trunk while they drive to Staten Island, which is where they're taking the gold out of the country from.

During the final confrontation, Steve finally gets to see the villains, and he discovers that the one in charge is in fact the director of the Federal Reserve Bank who Steve met at the beginning of this book. Gasp. But that's not all! He's also... the Red Skull!

Honestly, I was kind of surprised; I didn't think this was the kind of book where we'd get any known comic villains, but I guess it's always gotta be the Red Skull. I think he's the only one of Steve's big villains who likes to disguise himself; Zemo has obvious disguise issues and I imagine it's also hard to cover up Zola's Teletubby-esque television body.

Steve shoots one of the villains, because I guess that's what he does in this era of canon.

So the plot wraps up in, like, two pages, because for some reason all these early Marvel novels wrap up very fast. Red Skull, of course, attempts to escape and then disappears and his body is never found. The end.

Well.

That was definitely a book. That I read. Believe it or not, I actually think it was the best of these early Marvel prose novels that I've read so far, even if it was also the absolute weirdest; I thought the thriller-style plot was entertaining, I liked Steve and his Extremely Sad characterization, I obviously enjoy all the identity themes, I liked how very detailed the New York setting was, and I do like how they tried to treat it all seriously. I mean, sure, this did lead to LSD in the super-soldier serum in presumably the name of realism, but I felt like the book was trying to present superheroes in a way that didn't feel silly and also didn't really take for granted that the reader would automatically accept superheroes.

It felt like a book that was written hoping that people who weren't superhero fans would read it, if that makes any sense. And I thought that was interesting, because most modern superhero work that I can think of assumes they've got complete audience buy-in and everyone is willing to suspend their disbelief and we all know the genre conventions and are expecting people running around in brightly-colored spandex. Whereas this is more like a James Bond novel if for some reason James Bond were called upon to defend his decision to wear brightly-colored spandex instead of bespoke suits. But I assume no one read it, because Bantam never published a Marvel book after this one.

If you can actually find a copy of this one for a price you're willing to pay. I recommend it. It was delightful and way more solid than I thought it was going to be.

Also, come on, you know you want to read about Captain America's acid trip.

[gyucore]

in the orb

pairing: trapped soul! beomgyu x reader

tags: fluff, angst if you squint, reincarnation au, supernatural au

word count: 1.8k+

warnings: implications of death, light swearing

— you were cleaning your grandmother's attic when you stumble upon an old glass orb that just happened to talk on its own

A cloud of dust scatters around the room after you drop the glass orb on a particularly dusty couch. You've lost it. You've definitely lost it. You're quick to cover your face with your sleeve, fighting back the urge to sneeze. The orb sits still on the couch as it should, a sheet of gray still masking its surface.

This was supposed to be an average weekend. Your grandmother had invited you to her house for some quality time together during your break, and you thought you'd offer to help her clean her mess of an attic, to which she was more than happy to accept. And right now, the sweet old lady was tending to her garden downstairs while you were up here, freaking out.

It's said that people often imagined hearing strange noises when frightened and alone. And you were in a dark and creepy attic at an old person's house. This could just be another case of the common I'm-so-lonely-I'm-starting-to-hear-voices scenario. It's simply wasn't possible for a dusty old orb to start talking when you pick it up. It's just not.

“Hello?” You call out, immediately finding yourself silly for even attempting to communicate with an inanimate object.

The dust in the room eventually settles, and yet still no response. “See, Y/N? You were just hearing things.” That conclusion seemed convincing enough. You felt the need to give yourself a good pat on the shoulder for going along with the sane route.

With that dilemma out of the way, your attention couldn't help but wander back to the large piles of junk occupying nearly every space in the vicinity. One could only hope for your grandmother to clean regularly. “Right, now back to work.”

“What work?”

“Oh, you know. Cleaning.” You answer its question from earlier.

You freeze, eyes wide, a chill running down your spine. There it was again. You weren't sure if you heard it right this time or was just hallucinating, but there was one way to find out.

Silence. You almost called it a day after considering that you were probably just tired and needed some rest.

Half a step outside the door and the voice spoke once more. “Are you still there?”

You pause, brows raised, and back still turned. Somehow, you didn't know if it was safe to face the big ball of dust just yet. “What do you mean? Of course I'm still here. This is my Grandma's house.”

Thank the heavens for modern technology and the invention of smartphones. Speaking of which, you fish for yours in the depths of your pants’ pockets. The voice recorder app should come in handy during times like this. You know, to confirm you're not crazy. With the app on, all you needed to do was have the orb talk again.

“Grandma? Oh! Then you're her grandchild?!”

“Uh, yeah?” The orb apparently knew your grandmother. Strangely enough, that was the least odd tidbit of information you obtained today.

“Her grandchild.. Wow, to think I'm finally meeting you! Or at least your voice?” The orb lets out a giggle and the more you heard it talk, the more human it sounded.

“Sorry, can you excuse me for a minute?”

Never in your life had you thought the day would come where you'd be excusing yourself from a conversation with some sort of decorative object but life has its ways. You were never a stranger to off days anyway.

“Oh, sure, uh, go ahead? I can wait.” The orb swiftly replies. For a second, you could swear something was moving from inside the orb after the light outside the window had hit a clear spot in the crystal.

Heavy footsteps echoed in the room as you dash downstairs, taking your phone out and bringing it closer to your ear, replaying the recording. Sure enough, the voice was caught in the audio loud and clear.

“Holy shit. I'm not crazy.” An exasperated sigh leaves you as you slump back on the wall in disbelief. For a moment, you considered running away and warning your grandma about the cursed object, but part of you was curious enough to disregard the warning signs, and possibly risk your life by going back up there and approaching the thing. You decided to go with the latter.

“Are you back?” The orb asks once you've gotten close enough for it to hear your footsteps.

“Yeah. Just had to do something real quick.”

“I see.”

You wait for the orb to continue but it doesn't. It continues to lie on the couch lifelessly as if it hadn't been speaking to you in the past few minutes.

“Um..” You clear your throat, hoping to get another response

“Oh!" The voice from the orb seemed startled after hearing you talk. “How are you're still there?”

You frown. “Why wouldn't I be?”

“Well for starters, a talking glass orb isn't quite the public friendly concept you'd think it'd be.” It answers. Only now have you noticed that the orb had a particularly low masculine voice. “People don't usually stick around long enough to find out why I can talk in the first place.”

You blink. “Fair point. Though, I don't see the need for you to ask over and over again when I already said I was back.”

The orb chuckles. “You'd be surprised how many times people have reassured me of their presence only to leave halfway. Plus, I can't really see you right now to actually know you're there.”

“You can't see me?”

“The dust.”

“OH.” Not knowing what came over you, you immediately lunged forward and started wiping the orb with one of the dust rags you had lying around. It didn't take long for the thing to clear up and look like its old glorious self again. “How about now?” You ask, inspecting the orb as you hold it up.

“Better.”

It takes everything in you to resist dropping the orb on the floor when a glowing face of a man appears from the inside, smiling brightly at you. “I think I'm gonna pass out.”

The man visibly panics, pressing his face closer to the glass. “Wait no! If you pass out now, I won't have anyone to talk to! I haven't spoken to a single person in decades!”

“But you mentioned my grandma earlier, I thought you—”

“She could never hear me, but I could see and hear her.” The man explains, his voice a little quieter than before.

You bring the orb down, still cupping it in your hands. “How is this possible? Are you a ghost or something? How did you get in there?”

“Wouldn't you like to find out?” He winks, resting his head on his hand. “Take a seat and place me down somewhere soft.”

This seemed ridiculous by all means, but you oblige. The couch should be soft enough, and so you place him down gently while you take a seat on the floor, making yourself comfortable. “You were saying?”

“I—” The man accidentally bumps his head onto the glass as he leans forward, chuckling as he rubs his head gently. “Ow. Sorry. I'm just so happy to finally have someone to talk to. You can't imagine how long it's been. How the world survived without a single soul hearing my heavenly voice for all those years is beyond me.” He cracks a joke and you couldn't help but laugh.

“It's okay.” You say, shifting in your spot. “Go ahead.”

The man nods, the smile slowly fading from his face. “My name is Choi Beomgyu. You can call me whatever you like. I had a friend once, and she was a witch. Oh— not the kind that you hear from stories, no. She was really nice and cared a lot about nature, her friends, and her family. That type of person, you know?”

You nod along, assuring him that you were listening, and he smiles again.

There's just something about his smile that just seemed so happy and endearing. Perhaps it had truly been so long.

“She was this ball of sunshine. And back then I was a pretty different guy. Our personalities might've clashed and we butted heads a few times but somehow we ended up becoming close friends.” A faint smile graces his lips before disappearing as quickly as it came. “But then I got involved with the wrong crowd.”

The statement piques your interest and you draw closer. Beomgyu notices this and tries to talk louder.

“Remember how I said she was a witch unlike the ones in the fairy tales? Well, there were also people who were exactly like those witches. The ones that used their knowledge and abilities for their own nefarious purposes.” Beomgyu continues, his hair slightly covering his face as he looked down. “Let's just say that I got myself in a situation where they ended up hunting me down for my soul.”

“What?”

He frowns. “My friend saw me being chased down the streets one night and helped. We both knew that even when together, we were too weak to go against all of them. They had us cornered in her home, and that's when we knew it was the end for us.”

Beomgyu's voice started to waver as he spoke and you were about to ask him if he was alright, and tell him that it was okay if he didn't continue but the look on his face when your eyes met was enough to tell you that he needed to do this. He must've wanted to talk about this matter for so long, you think.

“She.. pushed me towards her workroom, telling me that she'll keep me safe no matter what. I didn't know what she meant until she cast a spell on me and I passed out. The last thing I heard were her screams. I never found out what happened to her after that, and I can only assume the worst.” He shakes his head, trying to getting himself together in front of his new friend. “Next thing I knew, I was inside her old glass orb. I've been trapped in this thing for years with no escape. No one to talk to— forever regretting how I didn't stop her that time, and regretting getting in the way of those witches in the first place.”

His story nearly brings you to tears, and before you knew it, your hands were reaching out for the orb. “Beomgyu, I..”

“It's alright.” Beomgyu smiles. “In the end, the orb ended up in her younger sister's possessions.”

Your eyes widen. “You mean.. Grandma?”

“That's right.” Beomgyu chuckles. “Though she had never able to see or hear me, unlike you.”

“Oh. That's uh, too bad.” You smile awkwardly, releasing the orb. The two of you sit in silence for a while, both needing a little mental break after that.

Shortly, your attention was brought forth back onto the orb when you hear Beomgyu laugh. You find yourself chuckling along. “Entertained are we, Gyu?”

The laughter stops and his eyes shoot up at you. You hear him mumbling something incoherent before hesitating to speak. “No, no.” Beomgyu shakes his head. “It's just.. It's kinda funny. I'm trapped here repenting for my whole life because of what I've done to her, or thinking about what I could've done.. but you know what? To be completely honest, I was starting to forget what she even looked like. But looking at you now, and hearing your voice..”

The idea popped up in your head and you weren't sure if it was even possible to begin with. But then again, you were talking to a soul inside an orb.

“You were easily granted access to the true nature of the orb, and are the first person to have ever done that without running away.” He kids. “Could it be?”

“I wouldn't count on it.” You tell it to him straight, getting up from your spot on the floor and dusting off your jeans. You knew what he was implying and there was no way that you were even considering yourself to be your great aunt's reincarnation no matter how ridiculous the situation already was. “I'll get back to cleaning. Feel free to talk while I do that.” You tell him before rushing to the other side of the attic, avoiding his gaze as much as possible. You'll figure out what to do with him later.

Beomgyu watches you fondly. You had told him to not even count on the thought of you being the one he's been hoping for all these years but it was too late for that now. 

“Entertained are we, Gyu?” Her voice rings in his mind, and he shakes it off.

“How do you always manage to do such amazing things? I'd appreciate it if you'd stop stirring my heart.” Beomgyu's gaze rests upon your busy silhouette, and he smiles in content.

“It's nice meeting you again, Y/N.”

[spacesnail3000]

Let It Snow Chapter 2/4: But The Fire Is So Delightful

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader (no use of Y/N)

Summary: She was his Omega, and Steve had a plan. She would love him. He knew she would.

Word Count: 5,485

Warnings: Dark!Steve Rogers, stalking, ABO dynamics, mating cycles/heat, nonconsensual somnophilia, masturbation, me taking extreme liberties with how ABO biology works, come eating (kind of), comeplay, and lots and lots of tension (18+ ONLY)

A/N: The much-anticipated second chapter is up! Sorry for the wait, it has been so busy lately. Thank you so much to my beta reader @jessieray98​!! She's AMAZING!! Enjoy!!

Series Masterlist  Main Masterlist

X

They did a walkthrough of the house, and she appraised the workmanship of the construction; the carvings on the crown molding, the carefully placed light fixtures, the backsplash in the kitchen, and the coordinating brickwork and woodwork on the fireplace. As if she hadn’t already seen the house during its construction dozens of times, made all the design choices, picked out the type of tiles, the wood, the color of the walls.

She made suggestions for furniture and cracked a smile at the few pieces Steve had moved here the last time he visited. A small rickety table in the kitchen with two mismatched chairs, a small end table in the living room, and of course, the air mattress inflated in the master bedroom.

“That can’t be very comfortable.”

“It wasn’t, but it’s better than the ground.”

“How do you feel about a big canopy bed in here?” she asked, gesturing to the center of the bedroom. “And a storage bench at the end. Maybe an antique armoire over here. This room has great natural light. What do you think?”

“That sounds nice,” he nodded. “Whatever you think is best.” She gave him a soft smile that made his heart skip. “But, I do want it to be cozy.”

The sound of her light giggle sent his heart fluttering towards her, a hummingbird flying to warmer places for the winter. 

“Oh, I can do cozy. West Elm has these huge fluffy pillows that are great for nesting, and—” She faltered at the mention of nesting, at the dark look that came over his face as he approached her. “Not that you’ll necessarily be—uh—nesting—or—have a-an Omega—who—who’s—"

“It’s okay.” He gave her an easy smile and placed a large hand on her upper arm, almost engulfing the whole thing in his palm. “I like that idea. Tell me more.”

Her smile returned, shy this time, and she continued. “Well, um, yeah, and we can get these huge fluffy blankets and really soft comforters that are really easy to clean.”

Steve hummed. “Is that what you do for your nest?” Her face heated up and she looked embarrassed, but he held her gaze, willing an answer out of her. She nodded and he smirked. “I’m sure your nest is very cozy, Omega.” As she became more flustered, he changed the subject, giving her bicep another squeeze before letting go. “I was thinking curtains here,” he gestured to the window, “What do you think?”

They made their way through the rest of the cabin, talking about furniture and décor and color schemes. She grew more flustered with each of Steve’s touches, each token of praise he gave her, and once they reached the last bedroom on the top floor, Steve noticed she seemed to be having pre-heat symptoms again—labored breathing, trembling fingers.

He knew it would only be a matter of time before she needed him to do something about it.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, placing a hand on her back. He used the touch to get closer to her, discreetly scenting her warm aroma. Alcohol hadn’t been able to affect him since he received the serum but when he breathed her in, he felt drunk for the first time in decades. 

“Y-yeah,” she nodded, putting some distance between them. “Let’s just finish up. The landscaping next—right?”

They reached the back door and Steve opened it, only to invite a force of cold air and snow inside the house. Neither had noticed how bad it had gotten outside, but Steve suspected the blizzard was picking up now.

He closed the door hastily and looked to the woman beside him, her face strained with concern. “It’s snowing way too hard out there for us to look at the yard.”

She frowned. “But we need to get back to the city before too long.”

“Let’s just sit down for a while and relax. I’ll make some tea and we can wait for the weather to calm down.”

Sensing the anxiety coming off her, Steve purposefully exuded calming pheromones to help ease her mind. Guiding her with a hand on her lower back towards the kitchen, he sat her down at the table and then got to work boiling some water.

He was prepared. At first, he had been worried about being too prepared, that he would draw suspicion. However, she was too wrapped up in her thoughts to pay him any mind, even as he brewed a cup of earl grey tea—her favorite—and made it how she liked, a splash of milk and two sugars.

“Here you go.” She took the steaming mug and looked up at him with wide eyes.

“S-Steve…?”

He kneeled in front of her, hands on her knees. Her eyes fluttered closed at his touch. “Yes, honey?”

She hesitated a moment before speaking. “What if we can’t make it back tonight?”

“Well…” he sighed, looking up at her earnestly. “There’s a blizzard coming. It’s already pretty heavy in the city—it’s only gonna get worse from here.”

“Oh my God…” Her hands were shaking again, almost spilling her tea on her white dress. He carefully took the mug from her and set it on the table.

“We’ll just see what happens. If we do need to stay overnight, you can have the air mattress.”

Her expression seemed to crack before his eyes, anxiety and panic taking her over. Mouth open in distress, she laughed humorlessly, hands covering her face again as she bent over to her knees. Once she straightened up, avoiding Steve’s gaze, she glanced out of the kitchen window, at the snow piled up halfway the windowsill.

“Oh God, oh God… We’re not gonna make it back home!” She shook her head, still laughing. “There’s no way. I knew we shouldn’t have come out here. A blizzard—oh my God—” she moaned, rubbing her face with her hands. “We’re trapped here!”

“Hey, honey, relax.” He placed gentle hands on her upper arms, rubbing softly. “It’s gonna be okay. I’ve got enough supplies to tide us over a few days. There’s plenty of wood in the shed. You’re gonna be okay.”

She shook her head rapidly, almost violent with it. Tears gathered in her eyes, making them shine in the dim light of the kitchen. “No, no, no, no, no—Steve—you don’t understand!”

He took her hands and held them on her lap. “Then tell me.”

Lips thinned into a straight line, she looked down at their hands. “My heat is soon… I’m sure you’ve been able to smell it on me…”

Steve was always prepared. He had practiced his reaction to this in the mirror so many times.

Letting out a deep breath, he said, “Your heat?” She nodded. “When is it due?”

“…Today…”

“Today?”

“I didn’t expect it so soon!” she said quickly. “I thought it would come later this evening but now—now—well, I’m in my pre-heat and I’m—” Tearing her hands away from Steve’s to cover her eyes from his furrowed eyebrows and concerned frown, her words cut off, a muffled sob coming out instead.

Now that she had broken, he could come in and comfort her, protect her, provide for her, be the Alpha she needed.

“Oh, honey,” he cooed, wrapping her in his arms, letting her cry against his shoulder as he stroked her back. “It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay. I’ll take care of you.”

She pulled back, looking at him like he was crazy. “What?”

“I’ll take care of you,” he repeated. “I’ve got food. Blankets. Whatever you need.”

“You’re not mad?”

He chuckled and cupped her face. Big thumbs wiped away her tears. “No, sweetheart. You can’t control this.”

“But—but—”

“Shhh, sweetheart. It’s okay—I promise, it is.”

Her lip trembled again, and she said in a small voice, “But what will you do? During it?”

“Whatever you need me to do. It’s all up to you.” He knew that eventually she’d be begging for him, but he didn’t mention that. When the time came, he wanted her to think it was her idea—that is, if he could hold himself off.

Shy, she frowned and looked down. “I’ve never… never… I’ve never spent a heat with anyone else…”

A deep satisfaction swept through his chest, and his possessive Alpha howled at the thought of being her first mate during a heat. Her only mate. “That’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll be here for whatever you need,” he repeated, forcing himself to relax before he did something to put her off. 

She pulled further away, trying to distance their bodies. He allowed it for now, not wanting to distress her further by suffocating her. Steve needed her to come to him, seek out his affection and attention—and he knew she would eventually.

“I don’t expect anything of you,” she said quickly, looking away from him, embarrassed. “I can handle it myself, so you don’t have to—you know—”

His smirk went unnoticed by her. Of course she was going to be a little reluctant at first to accept him as a heat mate—she was a modest, proper woman, after all—but she would come around eventually. He was what she needed, and she belonged to him. Tonight, he would have her, and there was no way around that.

“Whatever you want, honey,” he repeated, “I’m here for you either way.” Rising to his feet, he smoothed his hand over her hair, his Alpha purring when she leaned into his touch. “Drink up. I’ll make us lunch in a little bit. You’re gonna need energy for once your heat hits.”

“Okay…”

“I’m gonna unload the car.”

It didn’t take long to get all of the boxes from the bed of his truck. Luckily he had covered them with a tarp, so they weren’t soaked through with snow, but the blankets would be freezing cold.

There were plenty of linens and pillows, along with some clothes for him (which she could wear too, if she was inclined, but he wouldn’t complain if she stayed naked the entire time). The boxes also contained food, cooking supplies, emergency supplies, and toiletries.

Once he got everything inside, his first objective was to light the fireplace. His Omega wouldn’t want to nest with cold blankets, and he knew that even if she felt warm due to her impending heat, the temperature in the house was frigid. However, the cabin wasn’t too primitive. It had central heating, so he set the temperature to the mid-70’s. After that, he unpacked the food into the new refrigerator before pulling out some ingredients for something simple, calorie-dense, and high in protein.

“I don’t have much… How about some toast?”

She nodded absently. “Okay…”

He cooked up a few pieces of toast and slathered them in peanut butter. On the side, he placed some dried fruit, dried meat, and hard cheese that he had on hand. He had brought plenty of meat, but it had to be defrosted first; he also had dried grains, beans, and legumes, but they would take longer to cook. This meal was quick, and the peanut butter, meat, and cheese had plenty of protein. She could pick at the small bite-sized pieces until she was full.

“Here you go, honey.” He set the plate in front of her at the table. “Once you finish, I have some linens for you if you want to make a nest upstairs. You might want to take a nap, too, before it really hits.”

She followed his instructions, wonderfully submissive for him, eating everything on her plate while Steve prepared a winter vegetable and lentil soup. He chopped up some turnips, leeks, shallots, carrots, kale, acorn squash, and fennel and started boiling some stock with lentils. Once he dumped all of the ingredients in, he left it to simmer and it would be ready later for dinner.

After she was finished eating, she wandered into the living room. He had left the blankets and pillows folded in front of the fire to warm up. From there in the kitchen, with the open floor plan that she designed, he had the perfect vantage point to watch her.

“Steve?” she said, turning to look at him, frowning when she saw him already watching her.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

She paused and then said, “I think I’m ready to nest.”

“I’ll help you take the blankets upstairs.”

“Yeah, it’s best if I stay up there for my heat. That way my heat scent won’t stink up the house.”

Approaching her, his chuckle echoed against the bare wood floors of the living room, sounding all too hollow in the empty house. “Your scent doesn’t stink, sweetheart, let me make that clear.”

Embarrassed, she looked away from him. “Steve…”

“Why don’t you get those pillows.” He pointed to a couple of pillows off to the side and bent down to grab most of the linens, easily bringing them upstairs. “I’ll grab the rest.”

When he turned to go back downstairs, he found her walking slowly into the bedroom, arms piled so high with blankets and pillows that her whole face was obscured. He chuckled low in his throat at the sight of his sweet little Omega before taking the blankets from her and depositing them near the mattress.

“I told you just to get the pillows, honey.”

She looked up at him, pouty lips and wide doe eyes. “I wanted to help more…” she murmured. He couldn’t contain his wide smile, the warmth in his heart for his wonderful Omega.

“I’m going to get some wood to light this fireplace for you. Make yourself at home.”

“Thank you…”

“Of course,” he replied. “Anything for you, Omega.”

And with that, he went back downstairs. He collected firewood and supplies and went back up to make the fire for her. He kept on eye on her while he did, observing as she made her nest.

Every move from her was so thoughtful, careful. Steve had already fitted the mattress with a thick memory foam mattress pad, a thermal insulating cover, and a waterproof liner, and she added sheets and pushed the air mattress into the corner of the room nearest the fireplace. She felt each linen between her fingertips and sniffed each blanket, and then started layering them on the thick air mattress. After lining the walls with pillows, she layered a few quilts atop the mattress before loosely piling together the fluffy faux fur blankets, shifting them around and fluffing them up until she seemed to be satisfied.

Once she was done, she settled on the edge of the air mattress and yawned.

Steve stood, the fire lit, and he couldn’t help but praise her. “That looks like a lovely little nest, Omega.” Squirming at the praise, she avoided his eyes and rubbed her thighs together, thanking him with a small voice. “Do you want to take a nap? I can wake you up for dinner if you want.”

He noticed the shift of her thighs as she made herself comfortable. “That would be nice.”

“Okay. I’ll be in the kitchen. I’ll keep the noise down for you.” She hesitated and he said, “Why don’t you take off your shoes and jacket? Get comfortable.”

His Omega obeyed him once more and handed her jacket to him, toeing off her shoes, leaving her in thin tights and her white dress. Then she climbed underneath the blankets and disappeared amongst the fluff and fabric.

“Sweet dreams,” Steve said, hesitating to observe his Omega, comfy and cozy in her nest, before turning to leave.

X

 She slept for a few hours, well into the evening, while Steve kept an eye on her. Watching over his sleeping Omega was familiar to him—something he had done plenty of times sneaking into her brownstone.

Sometimes he would be content to watch, committing the sight to memory of his Omega, sleepy, relaxed, at peace. Other times he would sketch her as she slept, trying to get all of the details right—the slope of her nose, the texture of her hair, the serene look on her face while she dreamed.

Occasionally, he had touched himself—only when he was really frustrated, really needed relief from his sweet Omega. And there were a few times that he had he touched her, too. It was the first time that started it—he simply couldn’t help himself, the temptation had been too alluring.

His cock was hard immediately after entering her room, overcome by the smell of her consuming him. He started by cupping himself through his pants, soft at first, then more firm as he neared her sleeping form.

Carefully, he displaced the blankets, pulling them back from her body. Usually she wore comfy pajama sets, occasionally a silky negligee, like she was dressing up just for him. But tonight—oh, tonight—she wore nothing underneath the blanket, her skin bared to him, glowing in the moonlight coming in through the window.

An invitation if he had ever seen one.

One hand groped his cock through the fabric of his trousers while the other started on her skin. First her face, trailing soft fingers down her cheekbone, her neck, brushing over her sensitive scent glands. Nipples hardened from the sensation and the cool air, and he couldn’t resist taking one in his hand and squeezing lightly, grazing his knuckles over one areola, then the other, until goosebumps rose all across her smooth skin.

Without making a sound, he took his dick out, letting his balls hang heavy above the waistband of his pants, his shaft pointing up and twitching as he took it in his hand.

It was meant to be quick, just like every other time—it wasn’t Steve’s intention to draw it out. He didn’t want to risk waking her, and so he worked himself to a quick completion, his orgasm easily approaching with how worked up he already was. But after he came over his fist, he stayed hard, the sight of her naked body making his blood boil.

He didn’t know how much longer he could wait for her to fall for him.

He wanted more.

Needed more.

His hand moved from her breast, down her beautiful smooth stomach, to the trimmed pubic hair on her mound, and down between her legs, where the folds of her cunt awaited. Soft, warm, velveteen.

She wasn’t wet, but he could change that.

He brought his hand to the tip of his cock and swiped up a big dollop of cum that was close to running down his shaft. Bringing it to her face, he smeared a little beneath her nose, a little on her lips, then went back to collect more from his knuckles. By the time he brought his hand back to her face, her Omega senses picked up the scent of strong Alpha pheromones.

Her mouth was opened just the smallest amount, and it allowed him to stick his finger in and rub his seed along her tongue, her gums, the insides of her cheeks, until her mouth was coated liberally, the corners of her lips glossy and glistening, everything slippery as he pushed his finger in and out of her mouth. Instinctually, she started sucking on his finger in her sleep, the taste and scent of his semen penetrating her dreams, her hindbrain telling her what to do to please her Alpha.

It was a risk, and his heart hammered inside his chest, but she didn’t wake, luckily. After she had sucked all of his seed away, her mouth went slack once more. A breath of relief escaped him, but he couldn’t stop now.

He collected more come and brought his fingers to her pussy this time. He could already smell her arousal within, the primitive nature of her body creating slick at the smell and taste of his come. Still, he rubbed his fingers around and inside her entrance, which would stimulate her Omega biology to produce more in anticipation of mating.

It wasn’t long until he saw her glinting up at him, inviting his fingers deep inside her pussy to draw as much of her cream out as he could. Every now and then she squirmed in her sleep, or let out the smallest whimpers or moans, but she remained unconscious despite Steve’s manipulation of her body.

He brought his hand to his mouth, tasting their combined juices, breathing her heady sweet scent in, and he let out a low growl, the noise rumbling in his chest. After dipping his fingers back inside her, collecting as much of her wetness as he could, he took his cock and worked it up and down, sticky and filthy wet, slick sounds reaching his ears, coating his cock in her beautiful scent as if he had just fucked her deep, full of his come—

A groan escaped his lips as he allowed himself to come, knowing the longer he stayed, the more of a chance there was that she’d wake up.

Spurts of come shot over his hand and in the air, some landing on her stomach and thighs. Mouth open, he continued to work his cock with his eyes on her limp body, her splayed legs, her swollen cunt, and the streak of cum on her outer labia, taunting him with what would one day be. He bit his lip once his cock got too sensitive to touch, and his hips jerked once, twice, a third time, as his body pulsed from his orgasm.

After he recovered, he took out a handkerchief and cleaned his hands. He left his cock sticky with her juices, hoping to preserve the scent of her on his body for as long as possible. As much as he wanted to leave his come on her belly, even rub it in, mark her in his scent, mark her as his—he knew he couldn’t, so he wiped the streaks away, doing his best to clean her up.

One day, he would come all over her, use his seed as a signature of ownership over her life, evidence of his love to his Omega. But not today.

Before he covered her back up, he leaned down, face right near her dripping cunt. He breathed in deeply, taking in her scent. Nudging his nose against her clit, he leaned forward, licking up the length of her cunt, tasting her sweet cream straight from the source.

He managed to stop himself after a few more tastes, committing the sweet, earthy, salty flavor to memory, and left her pussy soaking wet with her own juices before he slipped out of the house.

X 

In the aftermath, he had been afraid of her finding out it was him, waking up disgusted and confused. However, she was none the wiser to his midnight excursions. She treated him the same as ever, greeting him with her lovely smiles, making conversation with him after their planning meetings were done, giving him baked goods for him to try whenever she made something she knew he liked. Never had she realized the depraved way he lusted after her or how he had manipulated her body as she dreamt.

Nor did she realize now, as she napped in preparation for her heat, that Steve watched her. In between unpacking the supplies he brought and preparing meals for the next few days, he came back into the bedroom to tend to the fire and watch her, leaning against the doorway and scenting the room as her aroma grew stronger. Then he would leave again, trying to keep himself busy so he wouldn’t feel tempted to take her while she slept.

He unpacked everything for the bathroom—towels and toiletries and anything she might need. All of the emergency supplies were put away in the hall closet, within easy access if either of them needed anything. He sorted through a box of books, choosing an old Agatha Christie book to read for whenever he had downtime—if he had downtime, what with the onset of her heat. Once all of the boxes were unpacked, he moved back to the kitchen.

It was necessary to have easy meals, things he could heat up quickly during the short times she would be sated in between their lovemaking. The soup would make plenty of leftovers for them; other than that, he cooked up some chicken breasts and marinated a few different cuts of meat. He prepared plenty of food for whatever she would want, depending on how her appetite was during and after her heat.

He was just finishing up preparing a meal for the next day when he heard her call for him.

“Steve?” Her voice sounded scared and a little wary. Immediately he ascended the stairs and reached her in no time. Trapped in the bedroom, her scent was much thicker, and she seemed to be sweating, her skin glistening in the glow of the fire. She was in the middle of pulling off her tights, and she lowered the skirt of her dress just as he entered, so he saw a glimpse of her navy colored panties.

“Hey, honey, how are you feeling?” His eyes tracked her movements as she pulled the tights off, following the line of her long legs.

She coughed, all too aware of his attention on her body. “Um… thirsty… can I have some water?”

“Of course.”

He was quick in getting her a glass of water, but when he left the kitchen, she was in the living room, looking around, stumbling steps and uncoordinated movements.

“What do you need, honey?” he asked, reaching her with two long strides. He took her arm to steady her when she almost tripped over her feet.

Her attention was diverted from whatever she had previously been doing by the glass of water in his hand. When she took it from him too quickly and wavered on her feet, her other hand came up to rest on his chest, allowing him to secure her with hands at her waist as she drank it down. A trail of water dripped down her chin and onto her neck, wetting the high neckline of her dress and darkening the white fabric.

When she was done, Steve couldn’t help but reach up and swipe away the droplets of water in the dip of her throat. Eyes wide and round, she looked up at him, licking her lips, chest heaving against his as she tried to catch her breath. Now her body was almost flush against him, drawn to his warmth and scent, eyes fluttering as she breathed him in.

“Steve…” she whispered, a little pitchy, almost a whine. He could feel her body heat radiating against him, her fingers grasping his shirt, trembling, sweet for him.

He had to use all of his restraint to not grab her and kiss her until she was begging for him. “What were you looking for, sweetie?” His tone was gentle, but deep, the rumbling of his voice through her body distracting her even more.

“W-what?” she asked, eyebrows furrowing, mouth parting with confusion, body pressing up against him the slightest bit more.

“Why did you come downstairs?”

That seemed to break the spell he had on her, and she pulled back, eyes a little clearer. “Oh… Oh, right. I was looking for my purse.”

 “You left it in the kitchen earlier. Let me grab it. You need to go back upstairs, honey. Your heat’s right about to hit.” He was so close to losing control, her body pressed up against him tempting him so.

“I know…” Separating herself from him, she nodded, and he let her go, already mourning the loss. 

After retrieving her purse and leaving her water glass in the kitchen, Steve led her upstairs with a hand against her lower back, which she leaned into, craving his touch now. It was there in the middle of the staircase that she fell off the precipice into her heat.

Suddenly, she cried out, one hand clutching the stair railing, the other clutching her stomach. She nearly stumbled down a few stairs before Steve caught her with his arms around her waist, purse forgotten and tumbling down the stairs, receipts and pens and lipsticks scattering across the floor.

“Sweetheart,” he breathed, turning her to face him as he held her against his strong chest. Her body shook violently in his arms and she whimpered. “Honey, you’re okay—I’ll take care of you.”

Hiding her face in her hands, she shook her head, her words contrasting her body’s reaction to his touch. “No, no, no, no, no—Steve—no, you can’t be—this isn’t—I can’t—”

With one hand, he took both of her wrists, pulling her hands away from her face and keeping her body pressed against his. A firm hold on her jaw tilted her face up towards him; he was sure he’d leave bruises, though he couldn’t bring himself to care anymore.

“Look at me,” he said in that commanding Captain’s tone, one he knew she wouldn’t be able to resist. He said her name, firm and deep, and repeated himself. “Look at me now.” Her eyes opened, red and watery, tears overflowing her bottom lid and making shiny trails down her cheeks. When he caught her gaze, pinning her attention to him with the intensity in his eyes, he continued, “Tell me what you need.”

She bit her lip and kept her eyes on his, enraptured. “I—I don’t… I don’t know,” she breathed. “I-I’ve never done this with another person…”

“Omega,” he rumbled, the vibrations against her chest making her whimper.

Her tone got higher, hysterical, as she continued. “I’ve never done this outside my house! My nest doesn’t even smell right! I’ve never done a heat without my toys—I don’t have anything to—to—” She was sobbing now, breaths choppy and stuttered, face wet, mascara smeared. He needed to comfort her before she got too worked up. Using his hips to pin her against the wall, he took her face in both hands and repeated her name softly. Gentle fingers brushed over her cheeks, her temples, her lips, until she stopped sobbing and was looking up at him, scared and confused, still so distraught—his poor little Omega.

“Sweetheart, it’s okay,” Steve whispered, trying to exude calming pheromones and a sense of security. “It’s okay. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this!” she bemoaned.

Of course Steve didn’t tell her that it was supposed to be exactly like this.

“Oh, sweetheart—"

“We have to go!” She gasped, wincing as another cramp hit her stomach. “Maybe I can make it back to my apartment if we go right now—” Her desperate speech morphed into a grunt at the end, her hand breaking from Steve’s grasp to clutch her stomach.

Steve brought one hand down to her stomach, placing it on top of hers. She pressed her body forward into his touch, mewling, her instincts once again aching for him even as her mind resisted. “It’s snowing too hard, darling. It’s too dangerous.”

“But I—”

“I’ve got you, Omega,” he breathed, and her eyes shot up to his. Hers sparkled, so full of fear and lust and confusion, and he got lost in it for a moment before he realized how close their faces were.

“No, Steve,” she shook her head, “You can’t—we can’t.”

“We can—”

“I don’t want—”

He had waited too long for this moment. Steve was sick of waiting, too impatient now at this pivotal point to listen to her. Not now, when her scent was taking over his mind, clouding his thoughts, and her body was begging for him to breed her. Although she was saying no, her scent was telling him how much she needed him.

His voice hardened as he cut her off. “You don’t have a choice, Omega.” She shivered at the command in his voice, at the menacing tone underneath it all. His eyes suddenly seemed steely, like they were taking her apart with just a glance, like he wanted to consume her, destroy her. “Your body wants this. I know it does. You want me, just admit it.”

“No,” she whimpered, blood pounding in her veins, fear mixing with her primal instincts. A burst of lust went through her as he pressed one palm against her pelvis and wound the other around the back of her neck, thumb pressed against her scent gland. She moaned and pressed herself against him, slick leaking onto her thighs, a little gasp of air rushing over his neck. “Alpha!”

The look of strife in her eyes showed him how her brain was warring with her body, her instincts working against her own will. But she needed him now, her body knew it, and that was enough for Steve.

He smiled and shook his head, condescending tone laced through his words as he spoke. “You need an Alpha, honey. Pretty little Omega… You need a knot. You need my knot. There’s only one way this is going to end.”

[callboxkat]

Just Your Average Ghost Hunt

Author’s note: I felt like writing a one-shot today, taking a break from my longer WIPs, and here’s the result! I hope you all enjoy.

Summary: Virgil has a YouTube channel where he talks about cryptids and conspiracy theories. Tonight, he sets out with his friend Roman on a ghost hunt. 

Warnings: ghosts, talk of death and murder, some crude humor, fear, Remus

Word Count: 1818

Writing Masterpost!

...

“You remembered the camera, right?”

“Wha—of course I remembered the camera! Come on, give me a little credit.”

“And it’s charged?”

Roman pouted at him, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

Virgil smirked, hopping out of the car. “Just checking.”

“It’s your camera, isn’t charging it your job?”

“Knowing you, you’d happily run down the battery before we even got here, with all those selfies you take.”

“That’s what my phone’s for,” Roman claimed, jutting out his chin. He slung the camera strap around his neck, double checking that it was secure.

“Oh, I see.”

“We’re not going to get in trouble for coming here, are we?” Roman asked, following after his friend and staring up the road.

“What, are you scared, Princey?”

“No, I just—”

“Because if you’re scared,” Virgil sighed dramatically, “we can go, I guess, but you have to be the one to tell Logan we still haven’t gotten his proof of ghosts. It’s your fault if he thinks we just couldn’t find it.”

Roman huffed. “What is it with you and proving to him that ghosts are real, anyway, Winnie the Boo? Isn’t talking about cryptids and conspiracies more your usual gig?”

Virgil raised an eyebrow. “Is that really the best nickname you can come up with? Wow, you really must be scared.”

“What, we’re on a ghost hunt, aren’t we? And don’t avoid the question!”

Virgil rolled his eyes, closing the car door. He took out a flashlight and switched it on, casting their surroundings in high relief. “I wasn’t, calm down. I just want to see the look on the dude’s face when we show him actual video of a ghost.”

The pair’s boots crunched on gravel, twigs, and assorted debris as they began the trek up the long-disused road towards their destination. “So,” Roman asked as they clambered over a fallen tree, “what are you going to do if we can’t find one?”

“I have Photoshop.”

“Well—then why are we even out here? Just photoshop yourself up a ghost and be done with it, Wail-E!”

“That nickname was even worse. And besides—” Virgil hopped down, reaching up to help Roman, whose jacket had gotten caught on a snapped branch— “this is way more fun.”

“Speak for yourself,” Roman grumbled, inspecting his coat for damage.

“Come on, it’s not that far now.” Virgil started forward, flashlight held high. Roman scrambled after, not about to be left behind.

“I don’t like this.” Roman peered around at the surrounding trees, whose shapes and shadows seemed to warp as they passed, reaching towards the pair like spindly arms ready to drag them into the dark.

“I didn’t ask you to come. I’ve done plenty of these without you.”

“You’ve done plenty of these with Janus,” Roman corrected. “In our friends’ houses. Not in the middle of nowhere.”

“I wasn’t going to put this off just because he’s got a stomach bug. It’s supposed to rain all next week.”

Roman swallowed. “And I wasn’t about to let you come to some old abandoned house alone.”

Virgil turned, putting a hand on his chest and grinning. “My hero. Now turn on the camera, I see the house up there.”

Roman squinted, and saw that, in fact, he could make out the shape of some kind of structure ahead. It looked like it was practically part of the forest now, trees grown around it and nearly obscuring the shape in the darkness.

“Welcome to Virgil and Roman’s final moments,” Roman said, turning on the camera slung around his neck, “documented for all those who want to see us torn apart by crazy woods people, or bears, or wolves, or, possibly, ghosts.”

“Very funny,” Virgil said.

“Well, aren’t you going to say anything?” Roman said. “I don’t know, set the scene.”

“Kind of hard to do that when you keep talking, isn’t it?”

Roman stuck his tongue out.

Virgil turned to face the camera. “My name is Virgil, and the lug behind the camera is my friend Roman. Tonight, we’ve got a treat. We’re visiting an abandoned house, deep in the woods.”

Roman silently shook his head, amused at the exaggeration. The nearest major road was only a ten minute walk away.

“Legend says it’s been abandoned since the 50’s—”

“Is Wikipedia where you heard this “legend”?”

“Shut up, Princey. And no, it’s not, actually. Will you let me continue?”

Roman held up his free hand in surrender.

“Legend says it’s been abandoned since the 50’s, but no one had been able to stay in the house for more than a few months at a time even before that. Apparently, there was a murder here decades earlier, and the ghost of that person has haunted the place ever since.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“Roman and I are here to get the first solid proof of this ghost, and share its existence with all of you.”

“I’m sure YouTube will love it.”

“I am so glad I can edit out all your dumb comments.”

“You know you love them, Count Woe-laf.”

“You’re going to make me wish I’d waited to come with J, I just know it. Just make sure you’re holding the camera steady.”

Roman smiled innocently, then turned the camera up to focus on the house.

“We’ve just arrived,” Virgil said, “And are about to head inside. Wish us luck.”

“Virge, you know this isn’t live, right?”

“Yes, Roman, I know that,” Virgil said. “Let me put in a little flair, okay?”

“I must be rubbing off on you.”

Virgil ignored this comment and approached the house, peering around the crumbling façade of the dilapidated structure. “It looks like the front door is padlocked, but this window is broken. We can put one of our jackets on the sill and climb in.”

“Wait—whose jacket, Virge?” Roman stepped back, clutching his own protectively.

“Oh, relax,” he said, rolling his eyes as he shrugged off his own jacket.. “Some of us thought better than to bring our favorite jacket on a ghost hunt.”

“If that roof collapses on us, I don’t want cheap plastic all that’s protecting me.”

“I’m pretty sure a jacket won’t save you if the roof collapses; but go off, I guess.”

“Thank you; I will.”

Virgil laid his jacket over the window sill and hopped inside. Roman climbed in after him, turning on his own smaller flashlight and looking around warily.

Dust motes hung in the air, which smelled of mildew. A few pieces of furniture remained in the house, each covered in a sheet that might have once been white. The space had not been spared from the elements. Weeds even grew between some of the rotting floor boards.

“I know this is where I’d want to live, if I were a ghost,” Roman commented dryly, eyeing a grimy puddle that had collected in a fold of one of the sheets.

“Ghosts are tied to places where they died, or to objects that were important to them. Or their body. Odds are, this ghost has no choice but to live here.”

Roman sighed. “Okay, anyway. How are we proving there’s a ghost here?”

Virgil slung off his backpack and pulled out a wooden board. “We’ll start with this. It’s a Ouija board.”

“A Ouija board?”

“Yeah. It channels spiritual energy and lets them talk to us.”

“I know what a Ouija board is,” Roman sighed. “I was just… I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you brought one.”

Virgil sat down on the floor, beginning to set up the board. “Set up the tripod, so it can see both of us and the board. You sit across from me.”

Roman did as Virgil asked, then sat across from him. Each perched his fingertips atop the small, triangular piece of wood with a hole in it, which Virgil said was called a planchette. They slowly brought the planchette around in a circle, with Virgil narrating what they were doing and why, probably for the less supernatural-versed Youtube fans. Then Virgil said some mumbo-jumbo words about positive energy and communication, whatever; and then they finally they got to the questions.

“Is there a spirit with us in this house?”

There was a long pause, long enough that Roman started to think that maybe Logan had the right idea, before the planchette slid over to Yes.

That was you, wasn’t it, Virgil?

Virgil was trying to hide a grin. “How many spirits are here with us?”

1.

“What’s your name?”

The planchette slid over to B.

“Brandon? Bethany? Bella? Benjamin?”

U.

“…Buford? Bucky?”

T.

Virgil frowned. “Butler?”

T.

Roman bit his lip to keep from laughing.

S.

“Roman, stop messing with the planchette,” Virgil snapped.

Roman made an indignant noise. “I didn’t!”

“Spirit, I apologize for my friend. What is your name?”

B-U-T-T-H-O-L-E.

“Maybe it doesn’t want to tell us,” Roman said, shrugging and trying not to laugh.

Virgil was starting to look exasperated.

“Maybe it’s a kid. How old are you?” he asked.

6.

“You’re six years old?” Virgil’s mouth opened. “That’s so y…”

The planchette moved again, interrupting him.

9.

“69,” Virgil repeated. “Okay, maybe not a kid.” He glanced at Roman, looking suspicious, as if wondering whether he’d changed the results again. Roman pouted at him in response.

“How did you die?”

“Wow, that’s pretty personal, isn’t it?” Roman asked. “Ask it how it’s doing, at least.”

Virgil sighed. “They don’t usually stick around for long, Roman.” Then seemingly deciding to humor him, he asked, “Spirit, how are you?”

Yes.

“Well, that’s… an answer,” Roman said. Maybe the Ouija board was broken or something.

“How did you die?” Virgil asked, repeating his earlier question.

The planchette hovered for a few seconds.

K-N-I-V-E-S.

Roman swallowed.

“Oh.” Virgil shifted. “What year did that happen?”

4-2-0.

“Roman, seriously, stop.”

“I swear, it’s not me.”

“Fine, then let’s try again. What year did you die?”

D-E-A-D.

“Yes, you died,” Virgil said. “Do you remember what year that happened?”

Y-O-U A-R-E D-E-A-D.

Roman’s eyes widened. Virgil wouldn’t have done that, would he? “Um, Virge? I think maybe we should leave.”

“Are… are you a good spirit?” Virgil asked, his voice uncertain.

No.

The lights above flared into life, far, far too bright, like small suns. They shouldn’t have worked, even if they were still connected to power, or had the bulbs replaced in the past decade. Wind rushed through the room from an invisible source, the temperature dropping.

POP!

The light above them burst, sending sparks falling around them. The rest of the lights followed in rapid succession. The tripod fell over as if pushed, crashing to the ground between the pair and sending up a cloud of dust.

Roman and Virgil screamed, scrambling for the exit, pushing each other through the window, back into the woods. They raced back towards the car, both the camera and Virgil’s jacket forgotten.

Hysterical, cackling laughter followed them through the trees.

[diazevan]

1. Let’s Hang Out Sometime “Shackled” 

Tony only has minutes to save Peter. 

AO3 Link

Tony could recall how chaotic his life had been, but not even taking on alien armies, with a team of elite superheroes, would mean as much to him, as his children did.

Morgan and Peter together, as sister and brother, deserved to be remembered, it was as beautiful as the Renaissance, because no photograph would ever capture Tony’s disbelief, whenever they darted into a room together.

Still, normal life carried on, whatever ‘normal’ meant.

Not many semiretired superheroes had adopted a self-sacrificing Spider-Kid, who managed to topple, head-first, into danger, without any real warning; Tony was sure he was the only one. He wouldn’t change anything though, even if the kid found a new way to almost give Tony a heart attack, every other week.

Tony was home alone, most weekdays, mindlessly doing paperwork for Pepper, or finishing household chores.

Selfishly, Peter was at school, Morgan was at Kindergarten, and everybody else was working.

Peter was in senior year, which meant, he was usually too busy to hang out with any of them, even after school. He’d even dropped a few patrol duties, to make sure he was concentrating on his upcoming tests. He didn’t stay over as regularly, as he used to, because more often than not, he was bunking over with Ned or MJ, desperately trying to ready themselves for the coming onslaught of standardized testing.

At night-time, Morgan started performing a bedroom ritual. She’d get out of bed, fifteen or so minutes after being read a story, sit on the floor outside her bedroom door, with her arms crossed. She’d pout, and sometimes even frown. Tony and Pepper would tell her to get back to bed, but their pleas would be ignored.

Morgan knew how to stand her ground.

Most nights they would ask her if she was thirsty, or if she wanted one of them to stay in her room until she was asleep. It never worked. Usually, she would fall asleep, waiting, and occasionally, she would stand down, when she got tired.

A silent protest, it seemed, but for what, they weren’t entirely sure. It wasn’t until Peter stopped over for a week when Morgan’s intentions become clear because she didn’t do when he was there.

She missed her brother.

‘Why didn’t you tell us that, Little Miss?’

‘Didn’t want you to worry.’

Oh, she was definitely her father’s daughter. He made sure to point out, that she could confide in him with anything, even if it was sad. He didn’t want her growing up, internalizing everything, he’d done that, and it sucked.

Morgan’s problem was a simple fix, they made sure Peter visited more often, on weekends, and every Wednesday afternoon, he collected her from Kindergarten; they’d go out for ice cream or waffles.

Tony was sprawled across his desk, with his face uncomfortably laid across a pile of paperwork that he was yet to get done, “Uhhh.” He groaned, “Fri, is it bedtime?”

“Bedtime is a social construct, Boss.”

“You—” He sat up, stretching his arms over his head, “You’ve been talking to Peter too much.”

A ringtone traveled around the office, and Tony’s computer screen lit up, Friday announced, “Incoming call from Morgan’s Kindergarten.”

Tony sat up straight, with narrowed eyes, he swiped his hand along, accepting the call, “Hello.”

“Mr. Stark—"

“Miss. Jenkins?” He raised an eyebrow, “Is everything okay?”

“I’m afraid not, sir.” She sighed, “Nobody has turned up to collect Morgan. I know these things can happen—”

Tony darted his eyes to the corner of his screen, to make sure he hadn’t skipped a day, but it was definitely Wednesday, “Peter is meant to collecting her today—” He interrupted, as his stomach dropped to his feet.

“Oh, of course.” Miss. Jenkins exclaimed, “Could something have come up and he forgot?”

Tony moved his hand across his screen and attempted to ring Peter’s phone, but it went straight to voicemail, “No, he’d never—”

The screen blinked, alerting him that he had another call waiting, from a blocked number.

“I—Something’s—” Tony rubbed the nape of his neck, “Uh, I’m gonna send somebody to pick Morgan up. Can you—” He stuttered, “Can you stay with her? Don’t let her out of your sight.”

“Of course, Mr. Stark.” Her tone turned frantic, as had his, “Is everything okay?”

“I hope so.” He answered, before hanging up, but it was too late, the blocked number, had stopped calling, “Shit.”

“Boss, I have determined that May was the closest to Morgan, and I have instructed her to collect her.” Friday said, “She wants updates on Peter’s whereabouts pronto.”

Tony clambered out his chair, pacing, “Yeah, um—”

The piercing ring came again, but without having to be asked, Friday patched them through.

Tony crossed his arms across his chest, “Hello.” He barked, into the silence.

A familiar obnoxious sneer followed, “Anthony…”

Justin Hammer.

Fifteen years ago, he gave Ivan Vanko the ammunition to destroy innocent lives.

One of the lives that could have been claimed, happened to a young and undeniably brave, Peter Parker.

Tony lowered his voice, to a whisper, “Where’s my kid, Hammer?”

“Hold on, hold on, hold on-“ Hammer sung, “Can we catch up first?”

“No.”

Hammer hummed, “It feels like only yesterday, when I told your wife, that I was gonna make a problem for you.”

“Yeah?” Tony clenched his fists, by his sides, “I’m pretty sure you told her we were gonna be seeing you ‘real soon,’ but it’s been…” He chuckled gravely, “…What? Fifteen years.”

“In my defence, I was gone for five of those.”

“You make that sound like ten years is ‘real soon.’” Tony mocked, “I know, for a fact, you’re inside Maximum Facility – so, if you’re wasting my time—”

“Wasting your time?” Hammer laughed, “Is…your intern missing, Anthony?”

Tony learned that trick from Natasha, it was easy to get a bad guy to admit to their wrongdoings when you pretend to think that they are not the ones behind it.

Friday had traced Hammer’s call, and fortunately, he was still in jail, he was obviously using a burner phone, “Did Peter Parker forget to pick up your precious little daughter?”

“Where—”

Hammer shushed him, “You’ve got to applaud my brilliance, for I have outsmarted the guards and even you. From inside these walls, I’ve managed to pull off a…” He paused, “Tony Stark Heist. Let’s call it that. You took everything from me, and now I’ve taken part of your everything, from you.”

“Look—” Tony snarled, “Hammer, my kids have nothing to do with this.”

“Oh, but they do.” Hammer exclaimed, “I’m not a monster, don’t confuse me with that – Peter is at my Headquarters.”

“What?”

“I’m helping you.” He pointed out, “Peter Parker, is trapped inside, my Headquarters. The one your little Russian friend tore apart.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I love getting the last laugh.”

With that confession, he hung up.

“Friday—Can you—” Tony blurted, “Just get everybody!”

“On it, Boss.”

Tony pressed his chest, activating the nanotech suit; he rushed out, almost tearing the front door off its hinges.

He took the skies, concealing himself amongst the clouds. This was a trap, he’d be dumb not to see it, but Peter’s life was in danger, so logic had to be thrown aside.

Hammer Industries had closed down, following his downfall, but the Headquarters, stood unchanged. One of the only buildings that remained abandoned.

Tony landed, in what used to be the entranceway.

It was eerie, somehow, in a little over a decade, the building had aged, attributed to the graffiti on top of graffiti and nature was beginning the claim it back too.

Tony tore off the metal boards off the main entranceway, that had been put up to stop trespassers from entering, “Scan for life, Fri—” He found the door handle and made his way inside.

“One heat signature located.”

Blood rushed in his ears, he didn’t understand Hammer’s plan, but he knew it couldn’t be good, “Okay.”

He followed the schematics, towards the located heat signature.

It led him to a door, he rushed over, pulling it open, swiftly.

Peter’s voice screamed out, “Stop!”

Tony looked up, startled, “Kid—”  

Peter sat, in the center of the room, shackled to chair, by his ankles and arms. His face was a gallery of superficial cuts and bruises, “Don’t move.”

“Okay, okay—”

Tony eyeballed the chains that were holding Peter, they’d didn’t seem particularly sturdy, they looked old. If he needed to, Peter could potentially escape them, but the kid was dangerously still.

“Pete?”

Tony’s stomach lunged forward, he fought against the bile rising in his throat.

There was a bomb, strapped to the side of the chair. How original.

Peter slowly bend down, he shrieked, tears welling in his eyes, “The timer—it’s –it’s going—"

“Boss, I believe you tripped the system.”

“I know.” Tony retracted his mask, “I’m sorry, kiddo.” He rushed over, kneeling in front of him, “It must be rigged, with the door.”

They had 3 minutes and 45 seconds – nowhere near enough time for Tony to unscrew it all and cut out the correct wires.

Tony used the lasers, in his gauntlet to cut through the chains holding Peter down.

Peter breathed rheumatically, “I can’t move—” He cried, “It will—”

“I know—” Tony cupped Peter’s cheek, “Fri, what’s the blast radius?”

“3.7 miles. There are currently 2456 civilians, in immediate danger.”

Of course, Hammer made sure there was collateral, putting Peter in harm’s way wasn’t enough.

Tony planned, on the spot, “Roll out the Iron Legion and inform the local authorities.”

“On it.”

Peter leaned into Tony’s palm, he choked out a sob, “You need to go.”

Tony snapped his head up,  “Kid—"

“There’s no time, you’ve gotta get out—” Peter’s chest rose and fell with rapid breaths, “You know you can’t save me, this time, Mr. Stark.” He ducked his head, “There’s no point in throwing away your life…”

“Oh, kid…” He brushed tears off Peter’s cheek, with his thumb, “My Peter—”

Peter swallowed the lump, in his throat, “It’s okay.”

Tony leaned up, pressing a kiss on Peter’s forehead, “I’m sorry.”

“I understand.”

Tony muttered, “You really don’t.” He quickly looped his hands under Peter’s arms, swiftly pulling him off the seat, he turned around, taking his place.

Peter yelped, swaying on his feet, trying to get used to the solid ground, “Tony!”

Tony managed a small smile.

Peter cried, with wide eyes, “You tricked me?”

Tony nodded, “Get ready to run, kiddo–” He cautioned, “—On my signal.”

Peter threw his hands out, “What signal?!”

“Friday.” Tony cleared his throat, “Initiate the ‘comfort blanket’ protocol.”

The front of the suit opened, and Tony clambered out of the chair.

“Now!” He grabbed Peter’s hand and dragged him, out of the door.

Peter was limping, with a cry.

Tony locked an arm around him, lifting him off his feet.

As soon as they made it to the entrance, Tony leaped to the ground, shielding Peter in his arms.

The noise was deafening, but the blast wasn’t much.

“Wow.” Tony sighed, leaning his head on the concrete below, “I can’t believe that actually worked.”

Peter groaned, “Uh.”

“Hey there, kiddo.” He carefully helped Peter into a sitting position, “Never tell me that I can’t save you.” He bopped his nose, with his finger.

Peter bent forward, leaning his head on Tony’s arm, “What—” His voice cracked, “What is the comfort blanket protocol?”

Tony brushed his hands over the side of his undersuit, trying to get rid of a layer of grit, “Basically, the nanotech smothered the bomb and absorbed the blast.”

“That’s cool.”

Tony wrapped his arm around the kid, “And it worked.”

Peter laughed, “It’s you, of course, it did.”

“Ha.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Hm, I guess, maybe.” Tony pressed a kiss against Peter’s temple, “Justin Hammer’s got nothing on me.”