#gas stove popping noise

[frenchwillaume]

Why is my gas stove popping

Warning, If you air in the little spray cans, this is explosive. Turn off all flame. Easy to fix your problem flame, turn all flame off and polite off, Blow air in the little polite hole, next blow air in all the bricks be careful lots of dust will blow out, Next blow air right below the fire brick lots more dust will blow out. Then turn on and check stove. Last time I did this the owner called his wife to look at stove and said this is the best it has ran since new. Learn more about all things here, http://lovemeu.com

This will work on all kinds of stoves, Dust gets in polite light looks red and funny, or will not stay lite. Most all stoves get dust, needs a little simple cleaning, #gas stove popping #gas stove clicking #heat stove problems #kitchen stove problem

[wafflefries13]

A Wolf In Wolf's Clothing

Summary: A forced retreat to the woods leads to meeting a couple of new friends, one furry and one furious.

AN: Another fic I wrote a while back, another than got eaten by Tumblr. Still pretty proud of this one! Repost.

Warnings: Werewolf au, cannon typical violence, language

It was fine. This was fine. Staying in a small cabin in the middle of the woods, getting back to nature, away from the city, away from those yakuza who were tracking you down because your dad had skipped out on the massive amounts of gambiling debt he had, and seriously, Dad, you knew he had a problem, not that he would ever listen to you, but did he really have to go and play mahjong, freaking mahjong, with some super sketchy people and really think everything was just going to be fine that he was going to be okay when he already had a massive pile of debt from that pyramid scheme that you told him was a pyramid scheme or the loss from that horse race last month, and seriously, Dad, this is why mom left-!

But it was fine. You were fine. 

The cabin was small, a one room structure that gave you flashbacks to ‘Little House on the Prairie.’ Thankfully, the owners had attached the outhouse to the actual house a few years back, installing a slim standing shower. Electricity came from either solar power or a gas generator hook-up out back, but there was no way you would ever get an internet connection all the way out here.  But it had a fireplace! That was pretty cool, right? 

You weren’t exactly sure how long you’d be out here. The detective from vice told you to stay off the grid as much as possible, that they’d get in touch with you, not the other way around. The police officer had dropped you off about an hour ago after bumping over an unpaved road tangled by tree roots and overgrown underbrush. You would never have been able to find this place by yourself. But you supposed that that was the whole point. 

You’d spent your first few hours there getting the cabin to an actual livable condition. Vice had told you that this place wasn’t used a lot, and you could immediately see it. Every surface was coated in a thick layer of dust. The windows were covered in who knows how many years of grime. Cobwebs littered with tiny insect carcases huddled in every corner and crevice. You were lucky you hadn’t found a racoon nest in the chimney flue. 

Finally, as the sun set, your muscles aching from the work, you decided that your temporary home was livable enough. You summoned all your knowledge from watching ‘Man vs Wild’ and lit a fire. You heated up a can of chicken noodle soup on the gas stove. The cabin didn’t have a bed, so you stacked several thick quilts stored in a cupboard, rolling out your sleeping bag on top. 

You sat on your makeshift bed, back pressed against the wall, slurping your soup. Outside the window, you watched as the light slowly faded away. Wow, you didn’t realize how dark it could really get out here. You put way too much stock in the light you could get from the moon and stars, apparently. There was no accounting for the noise, though. It sounded like a million different insects were screaming from the woods outside. You thought cricket noises were supposed to be comforting, like listening to the ocean to try and fall asleep. But this just made you itch and wish for another can of bug spray.  Man, vice really sent you out here with nothing, didn’t they? 

Sitting back and contemplating your possible execution via yakuza boss in the near future, it took you a while before you recognized the change. Every noise outside your four walls had fallen silent. The popping of logs in the fireplace was tantamount to gun fire. 

Slowly, you set down your half-finished can of soup, dragging a wooden bat out that you had snagged before the vice police shoved you in the car to bring you here. Staying as low to the floor as possible, you crawled to the front window. You pressed your back against the wall, like you had seen spies do in movies, and slowly lifted one corner of the thick curtains. You tried to crane your head to look out, but it hurt more than you thought it would and your visibility was cut by way more than half. 

Why hadn’t vice at least given you a gun or something? 

Taking a deep breath, you stood, holding the bat in front of you like a sword. Before you could convince yourself that this was a bad idea (too late) you burst open the front door, ready to swing at whatever you saw first. 

Noise exploded back into existence as soon as you stepped into the small clearing around the cabin. Panting heavily and breaking out in a cold sweat from the adrenaline, you whipped your head back and forth to look for intruders. Left? Clear. Right? Clear. Front? Clear. Behind-?! Wait, that was the cabin, you were just there. 

You felt all the energy leave you at once. The bat suddenly felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. You slumped forward, bracing your head on the backs of your hands settled on the pommel of the bat. 

You heard something from the other side of the cabin. A low groan, the result of footsteps. Gulping hard, you raised the bat again, silently making your way to the corner of the house. You whipped around the corner. 

A giant furry shape was slumped in a pile in front of you. It let out a low whine. You could see the powerful muscles under its thick fur coat ripple and stretch as the thing tried to get comfortable. Sensing your presents, it reared its large head, pinning you down with ruby red eyes. 

A wolf. There was a wolf in front of you. You had always assumed wolves would sort of look like giant dogs, but this close you could see how different they really were. This thing was huge, first of all. Its head would come up to your shoulder when it stood. It also had long thin legs, built for fast running and careening over obstacles. The wolf snared at you, its lips pulling back as a deep growl emanate from its throat. You could almost swear it was glaring at you. 

Its threat was cut short, however, by a pained yip. As it tried to stand, it faltered and fell over, back into a furry heap. You could see a patch of mismatched fur coating its back leg up along its haunch. The fur was matted, dark with something wet. 

You dropped the bat, holding your hands in front of you in what you hoped was a non-threatening pose. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” You said softly. “I’m just gonna… I’ll be right back.” You ducked back around the corner, heading into the cabin. You threw open the cabinet doors, rummaging for a first aid kit you could have sworn you saw somewhere while cleaning. You found the small white box, hoping that whatever was inside was as suitable for giant wolves as it was for people. 

You headed back out. Going around the cabin, you saw the wolf trying to stand and limp away again. He didn’t make it two steps before collapsing. Instead of a pained noise, this time he just left out a frustrated humph. You giggled despite yourself. The wolf’s head reared back around, locking eyes with you again. It growled at you. 

“I don’t think you look as menacing as you think you do right now,” You said. You tried to talk calmly in a low voice. That’s what you were supposed to do with frightened and injured animals, right? Well, you also were supposed to leave them alone and call animal control or something, but you didn’t really have the option of doing that right now. And you didn’t think you could sleep, much less live with yourself, if you knowingly just let this wolf suffer right outside your door. 

You took another step closer. The wolf snapped his jaws at you but didn’t move from his heap. “Hey, easy, big guy. I just want to help.” You held up the first aid kit, as if that was supposed to mean anything to a wild animal. The wolf glared at you, but didn’t make any movement as you took another cautious step forward. As you knelt down beside his injured back leg, he huffed again, turning his head away and resting it on his massive paws, resigned to accept you unasked for help. This close up, you could see his fur was an unusual blond. It reminded you of wheat fields just before harvest (not that you had ever seen that, being such a city kid, but pictures and imagination counted for something, right?). 

You opened the kit and pulled on a pair of gloves. Parting his fur, you hissed in sympathy at his wound. There was a gash slicing through his entire haunch, more wide than it was deep, but still bleeding profusely. You could see smaller cuts and bite marks, punchers in his flesh, littering the rest of his leg and up his back. Some of these wounds had already half-healed, but had reopened again, oozing and clotted. 

You threaded a hand comfortingly through his fur, speaking softly as you dabbed an antiseptic wipe along the largest gash. The wolf winced and barked at you in annoyance at the sting, but after a glare (you didn’t even know wolves could glare with such intensity before this), he resigned himself and plopped his head back down. There were some butterfly sutures that you hoped would stick on with his fur. You pushed them down, pulling the edges so the flesh closed. You tried your best to clean the other injuries, but you didn’t have a lot of butterfly sutures, and bandaids certainly weren’t going to stay down. 

As you were contemplating this, a chorus of howls erupted from the woods around you. The blond wolf sprung into action immediately, jumping up and circling himself around you. You probably would have thought that was amazing or cute or something if a sense of panic hadn’t seized you. The wolf was still limping, trying to keep his back leg off the ground. His head jerked from side to side, ears constantly twitching. Whatever was out there, you could only imagine that it was closing in, and it was out for blood. 

“Oh, this is going to be a bad idea,” You said to yourself. The wolf cocked his head at you. “But, hey, I’m not making any good choices tonight, I guess. Come on.” You picked up your abandoned bat, standing to guard the wolf from the tree line. You started backing up, genteling nudging the wolf with your hip in the direction of the cabin door. He seemed to get your meaning, limping along, but trying to maintain his sense of canine bravado by making threatening growls and fangs bared. 

Backing your way into the cabin, you quickly locked and barred the door. You had no idea if conventional locks would keep out blood-thirsty wolves, but you figured it wouldn’t do much against determined yakuza members either, so maybe you should just cut your losses. 

You heard a loud slurping and turned around. The blond wolf had his muzzle buried in your reheated soup, lapping it up and spilling everything that didn’t immediately make it into his mouth. 

“Hey!” You chastised. You could have sworn he rolled his eyes at you. Could wolves do that? Like, physically? His long tongue licked his chops when he was done. He took a few stumbling steps then collapsed by the fire. 

“Alright,” You said to yourself. “I guess this is happening, huh?” You could have sworn the wolf made a sound of agreement. 

~~~

You woke up to the sound of bird song and a mouth full of fur. 

Sputtering, you pieced together the events of last night in your head. The wolf had you pinned against the wall of your makeshift bed, his back pressed against your stomach and chest. You had a fleeting thought that he was putting himself between you and any danger that might break in. You had heard stories of mother wolves protecting human babies, maybe this was something like that? Or were you thinking of The Jungle Book? The founding of Rome? Whatever. 

Either way, it made you smile a bit, petting his fur. Wow, you had no idea wolf fur was so thick! Your hand just seemed to drop forever through his soft coat. Your action was enough to rouse the wolf from his sleep just a bit. He cast a tired glance over his shoulder at you. You could have sworn you could read his expression. “Really? You’re waking me up for this?” 

“Hey there, sunshine,” You said. “I should probably take another look at that leg, huh?” 

The wolf huffed, rolling over. You thought for a second he was giving you room to get up, but when you started to move he rolled back over, landing heavily across you and pinning you down. “That’s, uh, that’s a no then, huh?” The wolf just shuffled to a more comfortable position (on top of you) and closed his eyes. 

You sighed, reaching up and rubbing the fur between his ears. “This is my life now, huh?” 

He blinked open his eyes, staring right into yours. They were a deep red, almost like uncut garnets. You had no idea animals could have eyes like that. Not just that, but something about them looked almost too… human to you. The proportion of iris to whites just sort of off from what you would expect from your average dog. Before you could put your finger on it, the wolf closed his eyes and rested his head again. 

His heat radiated through you like a miniature sun. You pet through his fur, deciding to narrate your thoughts out loud. You told him about how you came to be in these woods, in this cabin, your struggles with dealing with your father's gambeling addiction for so many years, the fall festival you had gone to last year, how you wanted to start hiking now that you were trapped out here, this song you couldn’t remember the words to, summarizing the plot from some book you had to read for English class. 

After the sun had already started to rise high in the sky, the wolf (you really needed a name for him, huh?) slinked off of you. You let out an exaggerated breath, thumbing your chest a few times. He flicked his tail at you. 

You opened up the cooler you brought with you. Take two slices for yourself, you handed the wolf the rest of the sliced turkey you had bought for sandwiches. He ate the entire pack in one massive bite, looking at you expectantly for more. Huffing in mock annoyance, you tossed him the other two slices. He caught them in the air, flicking his tongue to get the juice from his canine maw. 

He tested his weight on his back leg. You could tell it still hurt him, but he still tried to walk with his other three legs. He stretched out, arching his back. “Oooh, big stretch!” You said. There was that glare again. 

He limped over to the door, scratching it. You opened it for him, assuming he had to do his doggy business or something (wait, was he trained to go outside? That would explain some things). But when you tried to close the door again, he barked at you. He scratched the door frame until you followed him outside. He would walk several feet ahead then sit, looking over at you and barking. You went back inside and tugged on your hiking shoes, spraying yourself down with a healthy dose of bug spray. 

The wolf was still pretty unsteady on his feet. He would stumble occasionally, but when you would put out a hand to help him, he would snap back at you. Whatever the case, he at least seemed to know where he was going. Even in his injured state, he could keep a good distance ahead of you. 

You heard water rushing as the wolf dropped out of sight. Thinking he might have fallen, you rushed to where you last saw him. The trees broke away, revealing a rippling river with cool pools stretching through the forest. You took in the beautiful scenery, the ice blue water cascading down tiny waterfalls, when sudden movement caught your eye. You focused where you saw it and gasped. A salmon jumped from the water, swimming upstream. That one was joined by another, then two more, until the whole river seemed to burst with fish. 

You laughed in shock and amusement at the sight, but were cut off short by something cold and slimy hitting your face. You sputtered against it, swiping it away from you. Looking down, you saw your assailant was flopping on the sandy river bank. A giant salmon, mouth gapping and scales shimmering in the sunlight. 

You heard a huff that you could have sworn sounded amused. Looking up, you saw the wolf at the edge of the bank, dipping his paw in the water. He looked deeply into the river, still as a rock, before striking all at once and bringing his paw up. He batted another fish out of the water. You put your hands up, catching it in a slimy, uncertain grip. The fish thrashed around and you ended up dropping him on his friend. 

“You know all the best places, huh?” You said. The wolf shook water off of his fur and went back to focusing on the river. “I’m going to run back and get the cooler! We’ll be able to carry a lot more that way!” You weren’t sure why you were telling a wolf this, as if he could understand you, but it felt right somehow. 

You carefully followed your footsteps back to the cabin, breaking a twig or making a mark on a tree as you went to make a path. Back at the cabin, you quickly pulled the food you had brought with you out of the cooler, shoving it in the mini-fridge. You didn’t have an ice maker in the cabin, so you hoped the already half-thawed cold packs would work. Almost as an afterthought, you grabbed the first aid kit, tossing it in the cooler. Luging the cooler over your shoulder, you followed your improvised markers back to the river. 

You set the bulky cooler down heavily on the bank, looking up with a wide grin for your new companion. Scanning the banks and treeline, your face gradually fell as your search turned fruitless. Your new wolf buddy was nowhere to be seen. 

At first, you felt sad that he had just up and left, then scared for his injury. He was still having trouble walking. What if whatever was prowling around your cabin last night came back and tried to take a bite of him? 

“Wolf?” You called out, almost immediately feeling like an idiot for doing so. You knew you should have named him. Although, it wasn’t like he was trained to respond to your call. You had to remind yourself that this was a wild animal and not a trained dog from the pound, despite his reluctant friendliness. “Wolf? Where’d you go, big guy? Hello?” 

“If you keep yelling like that, a whole pack is going to come and tear you apart.” 

You nearly jumped out of your skin at the very human response. Bracing your hands on your knees, you looked down the drop away from the bank to the river. There was a tiny beach there. Leaving against the sandy drop was a boy, head tilted back and face bathed in the sunlight. Despite his relaxed body posture, one leg spread out in front of him, the other bent to his chest, arms loosely crossed, he had an annoyed if not pained expression across his face. His hair was the color of fresh cut wheat, but as spiky as a porcupine. Lolling his head in your direction, he opened his eyes under furrowed brows. You thought it was a trick of the light, but you could swear they were a deep red. ‘Like garnets…’ You thought, memory jumping back to your missing wolf friend. 

“Uh, sorry,” You said. “I was just looking for-” 

And then your heart stopped as you suddenly remembered why you were out in the middle of the woods. The whole reason you had come here, why the police had dragged you away from your everyday life for your own protection. 

You tripped over your own feet flinging yourself backwards. You landed heavy on your butt. Scrambling back, your head whipped from side to side looking for something to defend yourself with. Damn it! You should have grabbed your bat when you got the cooler! 

“Hey!” He yelled up at you. “You going to keep spazzing out or give me a hand here?” 

“Depends,” You said. “What are you doing out here? We’re in the middle of nowhere.” 

“The hell do you think I’m doing? I work out here.” You saw his hand come up and grip the edge of the bank. He pulled himself up, but winced in pain. Bracing his arms against the bank, he said, “I’m a forest ranger, kind of. Tag some of the animals, make sure no one’s starting forest fires, keep poachers away, that sort of thing. I kind of got banged up here, though, can’t put a lot of weight on my ankle.” He rolled his eyes, leaving the statement hanging in the air for your response. 

“Oh!” Of course, you thought to yourself, you had no real reason to trust what he was saying. He didn’t look like a ranger, dressed in a black muscle shirt and dark green cargo pants. But you could tell he was having trouble standing. But then, that could be an act too… 

“Sure,” You finally decided. “Hang on.” You looked through the brush until you found a fallen tree branch. You lugged it over, dropping half down the bank and keeping it ancored under your foot. You held out your hand to him. He grasped just beyond your wrist, pulling up and using the branch and a foothold to push himself up. Once he was up on the upper bank, he tried to take a step. You could immediately see his ankle give out, crumbling like wet paper. He fell to his knees with an annoyed sound, catching himself on his palms. 

“You okay?” You said, retrieving the branch and not so subtly holding it in front of you. 

“Yeah, fine. Whatever.” He tried to brush you off. You could see his entire calf was wrapped in bandages. It looked like some wound had reopened and was bleeding through. 

“What happened?” You ask, nodding to his leg. 

He looked down, growling at the red soaking through the bandages. “I have to get pretty close to some animals for my job. Checking tags or making sure they’re not hurting themselves. I thought I’d tranquilized a bear, but I guess he wasn’t all the way under.” 

“A bear?! You fought a bear?” 

He waved a hand at you. “I didn’t ‘fight a bear.’ I was just trying to get a blood sample and must have spooked him. He took a swipe at me. I’ll be fine.” 

“That sure doesn’t look fine.” You pointed to his bandage. 

He clicked his tongue. “Damn it.” 

You rung your hands around the branch. “I have a first aid kit. I’m pretty good at it. I could take a look if you want.” 

He practically snarled at you, trying to stand up again. “I don’t need some-” As he tried to put weight on his ankle, he let out a choked yelp, cutting into that tough guy persona he obviously was trying very hard to portray. He lost his balance, wheeling his arms. You dropped your branch, lunging forward just as he fell. You caught him under his arms, throwing your balance off. You both fell, you landing on your back. You groaned, rubbing the back of your head. Opening your eyes, you squeaked seeing his face so close to yours, bright red eyes locked on to yours. Your mouth suddenly went dry and your face went hot. He was practically pinning you down. 

His face burst into a blush as he threw himself off of you. He crossed his arms stubbornly.  Looking away, he said, “Yeah, fine. Maybe I need a new bandage.” 

“C-cool! Yeah! Great!” Well, at least you were pretty sure he wasn’t here to kill you. That would have been a pretty good opportunity. Unless he wanted to slay you with embarrassment, which seemed like a possibility. 

You silently checked out his ankle, spraying it out with antibacterial and put a fresh bandage on it. At this rate, you were going to run out of medical supplies before the week was over. 

“Hey,” You said in an effort to break the tension. You noticed the tips of his ears were still a blushed red. “I don’t suppose you know anything about the wolves around here?” 

His eyes snapped back to you, suddenly suspicious. “There haven’t been wild wolves in this area for over a hundred years.” 

You blinked. “Wait, no, that can’t be. There was a wolf at my cabin last night. It sounded like he was being attacked by another pack or something.” 

He looked at you hard. “There haven’t been wolves here in a long time. If you think you saw one, you didn’t.” 

You huffed. “I’m pretty sure I know what I saw, not to mention felt. He spent the night in my cabin.” 

“What kind of idiot lets a wolf spend the night in their cabin with them?” 

“Ha! So you admit it could have been a wolf!” 

“I didn’t say that!” 

You smiled, leaning back on your hands and looking out over the river. “It was fine though. He seemed trained or something. A little prickly, but he was hurt so I didn’t mind.” You heard him mutter something that sounded like “not prickly.” You continued, “He disappeared this morning, though. Around here. I’m kinda disappointed. It’s kind of lonely out here. But hey! I guess I have a new friend now!” You good naturally punched his shoulder. He winced and you just now noticed the fading bruise. “Oops. Sorry.” 

“Sure you are. And who said we were friends, anyway? You don’t even know my name.” 

Putting on your most welcoming smile (and trying not to grimace at his tone), you held out your hand. “(Y/N) (L/N), trapped out in the middle of nowhere for the foreseeable future for reasons I cannot currently disclose. Very nice to meet you.” 

He looked from your hand to your face a few times. He looked like he was turning something over in his head. Flexing his hand, he lifted it up and gripped yours strongly. You could feel the heat radiating from it, like he was a living space heater. “Bakugo. And that’s all you’re getting.” 

You fake pouted. “We will be friends, mark my words.” 

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “What were you doing out here anyway?” 

“I told you, I cannot currently discloses that information.” 

He huffed a laugh. “What, are you a spy or something? Lost princess?” 

If only, you thought. “Something like that.” 

“Hmm. You don’t have a fishing rod.” 

“Uh, yeah. I was kind of counting on my wolf friend to help me out. He did this thing where he just sort of whacked them out of the water.” You mimicked the motion in the air. 

“For the last time, there aren’t any wolves around here. Just drop it.” 

“Fine, fine. There wasn’t a wolf even though there definitely was. And I don’t know what I’ll do, exactly. I suppose I can survive on canned soup, saltines, and beans for however long I’m stuck out here.” 

“That’s disgusting.” He leaned back, crossing his arms behind his head and looking up at the clouds. “Alright, here’s what you do. You at least have a knife, right? Good. I’m going to teach you how to make a fish weir.” 

For the next hour, Bakugo talked you through cutting reeds and shaping them into a W-shaped trap in the river. According to Bakugo, the V-like entrance made it easy for fish to get in, while the indented center made it hard or impossible to get out. After some (a lot) of trial and error,  you successfully trapped a huge salmon. 

“I got one!” You yelled in excitement. “I got it!” 

“Good for you,” Bakugo said. “Now take your knife and stab it.” 

“Yeah, what?” 

“Right behind the gills.” 

“Uh, right, okay.” For a few blissful seconds there, you forgot you had to kill a fish to be able to eat it. Using another reed you cut for an unsuccessful weir, you pinned the fish to the side. Wincing, you stabbed the fish’s gills, trying to ignore how it flopped around the trap. Spearing it on your knife, you hoisted it out of the water, flicking it onto the bank. 

“Oh, gross, gross, gross, gross, gross!”  You flapped your hands. Bakugo laughed at your distress. You tried to ignore how much you liked the sound. “Oh, shut up. It’s my first time.” 

He smirked and raised an eyebrow. “Your first time, huh? Glad I could walk you through it.” 

You felt yourself flush. “Oh my god!” Without thinking too much about it, you speared another fish in the trap, using your knife to fling it. The half alive fish landed smack on his chest, flopping around in a mess of falling scales and fish slime. 

He sputtered, slapping it away. He snarled, “Hey!” 

You laughed, hands resting on your thighs. “What? Now we both have dinner.” 

Catching a few more and storing them in your cooler, Bakugo taught you how to make a box-like campfire. Creating a grill with your reeds, you roasted some of the fish over the fire, picking it off with your fingers. You both sat by the river and watched the sun set. 

Not wanting your time together to end, but becoming too aware of the late hour, you said, “I should probably get back to the cabin. Not sure I could find it in the dark.” 

Bakugo shrugged. He struggled to stand up, waving you off when you tried to help him. Taking a few separate steps, he gripped a low hanging branch from a tree. With a thunderous crack, he ripped the branch off. Pulling off a few twigs, he held it under his arm as a makeshift crutch. 

“Hey,” He said, not looking at you. It sounded like he was deliberating something. “If you ever need help, I’m usually at the fire watchtower. See? You can see the roof from here. It’s about two miles that way.” He pointed over the tree line. You could just make out the top of a brown corrugated roof. 

“Sure you don’t want to take any of these back?” You asked, motioning to the cooler of fish. 

“Naw. You need all the help you can get.” 

“Hey!” As he wandered off, you yelled to him, “Watch out for the wolves!”

“There aren’t any wolves!” 

“You’ll believe me eventually!” 

~~~ 

You methodically tapped your fingers against the mug you held, letting the heat of your hot chocolate seep into your fingers. You were sitting in a folding chair just outside the cabin, bat leaning against the chair’s arm. You were snuggled up in a heavy blanket, watching the fireflies dance through the heavy trees, trying to remember consolations. 

But really, if you were being honest with yourself, you were waiting for the wolf. 

It didn’t matter if Bakugo said he wasn’t real. You knew what you saw. Maybe he had escaped from some conservation area or zoo? And he seemed used to people, so maybe he was trained? But that didn’t explain the howls you heard as you tended to the wolf’s wounds. It definitely sounded like some rival pack was hunting him down. 

It broke your heart to think of him all alone and injured out there. 

As if called by your thoughts, a round of howling rose from the depths of the forest. You jumped to your feet. The hot chocolate sloshed from your mug, burning your hand. Frantically waving your hand to ease the burn, you didn’t notice the heavy foot falls until it was too late. You turned as the thumping was right behind you. 

It felt like you were hit by a train. Your breath left you with a ‘woomp.’ Falling hard, your arms came up to wrap around what had just barrelled into you, catching it like a football. You would like to say that you were more surprised than you actually were  when your fingers dug into thick fur and bursts of dog breath panted in your face. 

“Hey there, Golden Boy,” You said, rubbing between his ears. You had decided on his name, Golden Boy, while trying to convince Bakugo of his existence. It seemed apt given his brilliant coat.  Your wolf friend yipped at you. Scrambling off, he crouched down in an attack position, growling at the trees. “Come on, bud.” You juggled your folding chair, blanket, bat, and (now empty) mug, pushing open the cabin door with your hip. The wolf backed into the cabin, eyes never leaving the tree line, lips curled into a snarl, until you closed and locked the door again. 

You took out a bowl from the cabinets. Opening a bottle of water, you filled up the bowl, placing it near the tired wolf. Crawling over on his stomach, he didn’t even lift his head as he started to lap at the water. 

“Yikes,” You said. “Rough night, huh?” You ran a hand along his back. He managed a half-hearted glare at you before deciding it wasn’t worth it and going back to his water. 

“So, you’re a wolf, right?” He ignored you, which is what you expected. But you always had a habit of talking to animals like they could talk back. “Because I met a guy today, yeah, I’m not the only person stranded out here, can you imagine, and he said there aren’t any wolves in this area. I mean, I guess you could just be a really big dog. You ever seen an Irish wolfhound? Probably taller than me. Or a Caucasian shepherd dog? I hear they used to breed those in Russia to hunt bears.

“I guess it’s kind of nice to have someone else around. Not that you’re not great company.” Could wolves roll their eyes? “Just… It can get kind of scary out here, you know? Well, probably not, you live in the woods and all. No offence and all, but this isn’t really my idea of a vacation.” 

You leaned against the wall, sitting cross-legged on your bed pallet. Golden Boy shuffled to you, resting his massive head in your lap while you checked his wound and changed the dressing. It seemed to be healing rapidly, way faster than you would have expected. 

“The truth is,” You continued. “I’m actually in hiding. There are some people who, uh, I’m pretty sure they want me dead. Maybe not me specifically. My dad made some bad choices, hey, that can be the title of my autobiography, and now I’m paying for it.” 

You felt your throat tighten up as a wave of emotion snuck up and crashed over you. You hiccuped, pressing your lips together as you tried not to cry in front of your canine audience. He looked up at you, wide, deep red eyes. Your eyes burned as tears threatened to spill out. 

Without warning, Golden Boy jerked his head up, wiping his long, wet tongue across your cheek, ineffectively wiping away your tears. You sputtered at the dog drool, breaking out into a giggle fit as he kept licking your face. 

“Okay, okay, I get it, stop already! I have a big, strong protector here to take care of me, huh?” He buried his head in your lap again. You  rubbed his ear between your fingers. “And I’ll take care of you, too. You know that, right? We’re in this together.” 

~~~

“Bakugo! I’ve come to pester you!” 

The next day, you awoke to find your wolf friend missing. You weren’t exactly sure how he managed to get out of the cabin since all the doors and windows were still securely closed, but you’d seen videos of pets doing weirder things. Maybe you should have named him Houdini. After cleaning up the cabin a little and finding a more stable storage space for the salmon you caught yesterday, a deep loneliness started gnawing at you. Stowing a tin of shortbread cookies under your arm, you set out in the direction of the river to find the watchtower Bakugo had pointed out to you yesterday. 

You finally found it about midday, only being scared to death at the possibility of getting hopelessly lost twice. You climbed up the high stairs to the box structure on top. The sides were made up of mesh screens, covered from the inside by thick curtains, you guessed so that he could keep an eye out for possible forest fires. 

“Hello? I brought an offering!” 

You heard some grumbling and banging around from inside the box. You heard a heavy lock slide open as the door cracked open. Bakugo’s ruby eyes met yours and you felt a pang of worry for your Golden Boy. 

“An offering, huh?” Smiling, you held up the tin. “Fine. I guess that’s a good enough reason to bug me.” 

You practically skipped inside. Bakugo pulled at the curtains causing them to zip up and spin on their rollers. The room was cluttered, which you mostly expected from going over to your bachelor friend’s houses. What you didn’t expect was exactly how it was cluttered. It wasn’t like clothes had been dropped on the floor and forgotten, a pile of dirty dishes and overflowing trash. The reality was more chaotic, like someone had turned over the place robbing it. Papers about the geography, flora, and fauna of the forest were strewn on every flat surface. The cot bed was stripped bare, looking like it hadn’t been slept in in days. There was a tall stack of books stacked on a table next to a wooden folding chair half pushed under a desk. A cork board was above the desk, red string connecting bits of cut-out newspaper articles, Polaroid photos, sticky notes with chicken-scratch handwriting, and marked-up calandras. 

Bakugo half-heartedly picked up a shirt from the ground. “Wasn’t really expecting company.” 

You shrugged. “You a big reader?” 

You set the cookie tin down, picking up one of the books. Its pages were marked with various colored tabs. Flipping through the pages, you saw blocks of text that had been highlighted. The book fell open to reveal a copy of a wood-cut illustration of a large man with a wolf head. His snout was pointed to the sky, jaw open in mid-howl. In his meaty hands, tipped with razor sharp claws, he cradled a woman in some medieval German peasant dress. Her head was fallen back, eyes rolled back in her head, a blood stain spreading across her neck and chest. In the background, a mass of angry villagers marched forward, armed with the standard torches and pitchforks. A bone white full moon hung overhead. 

Bakugo snapped the book closed in your hands. “Didn’t your parents teach you not to snoop through people's stuff?” 

“I wasn’t snooping,” You said defensively. “And just so you know, no, they didn’t. My folks weren’t exactly the etiquette type.” 

“Clearly.” 

“Hey!” 

He smirked at you, prying open the cookie tin and munching on a piece of shortbread. You sat down in the folding chair, looking down dubiously when it creaked under you. 

“So, how does a guy get a gig hanging out in the middle of the woods, anyway?” 

“How do you?” 

You pressed your lips, trying not to let Bakugo feel the sudden drop in your mood. You blinded him with a smile. “Maybe I just really like bird-watching.” 

“Sure. Bird-watching.” 

You swallowed a lump in your throat. Standing, you turned away and looked out the messy windows, taking in the acres upon acres of unspoiled wilderness. “Wow, you can see for forever up here.” Squinting, you saw the dip in trees around your cabin, the red roof just barely visible. “Hey, that’s my place!” You looked over your shoulder at him and winked. “You’re not spying on me, are you?” 

He popped in another cookie, wolfing it down in one bite. “You wish.” 

You hummed, looking back out over the trees. “Can you..” You trailed off. “Can you see if people come into the woods?” 

He came over to stand next to you, hiding the tin in the crook of his arm. “I don’t get records of who comes in or out, if that’s what you mean. That’s for the rangers at the front gates. I see campfires, sometimes. Need to make sure they don’t get out of control.” 

“And if someone, or, like, a group, maybe, was trying to sneak in? Like, not going through the front gates so there was no record of them being here?” 

He paused mid-bite and looked at you sideways. “You’re hiding.” 

You mock-laughed. “What? No, no. Of course I’m not hiding. Why would I be hiding?” 

“(Y/N),” He cut you off. He moved his head so you were forced to look directly into his ruby-red eyes. 

You crossed your arms and looked away. “I’m not supposed to talk about it.” 

He leaned back. “That’s okay. But, hey, we can look out for each other, yeah?” He curled his biceps, flexing his muscles. “Besides, you got a big, strong protector here, don’t ya? You don’t have anything to worry about.” 

“Big, strong protector, huh?” You echoed. 

He leaned closer, eyes half lidded. His tongue darted out to wet his lips. “Yeah.” 

You suddenly became away of how close you two were standing, how you could smell the remnants of the sweet cookies on his breath, about how soft his hair looked and thinking about what it might be like to run your hand through it, about how his muscles looked when he flexed them. 

You blinked hard, jerking yourself out of this impromptu daydream. You felt the tips of your ears burn as your face flushed. 

“The wolf came back last night,” You blurted. 

His eyebrows furrowed, mouth falling from a sultry smirk to a frustrated frown. “He did, huh?” 

“Yup! I named him, even. Golden Boy. Cause his fur is this really pretty yellow, you know? Kind of like your hair, but less shaggy.” Before you could stop yourself, you reached up and messed his bed-head. Good god, it was just as soft as you thought. 

He pulled away, scrunching his nose and fixing his hair. “Th-that’s stupid. Why would I look like some dog?” 

“So you admit he’s real?” 

“I said dog, not wolf. His owner probably just dropped him off in the woods somewhere. It’s sad, but it happens. Sounds like he’s doing alright for himself.” 

“I wouldn’t say that exactly.” You leaned on your elbows. “Every night he’s come to my cabin he’s been pretty beat up. Could another animal be targeting him? A bear or another wolf - sorry, abandoned dog?” 

Bakugo looked away, scratching the back of his neck. “I mean, maybe. There’s a lot of dangerous creatures out in those woods.” His voice dropped low. “A lot of dangerous creatures.” 

You looked over at the stack of books, the one with the werewolf illustration placed haphazardly on the top. “Like werewolves?” You joked. 

He didn’t answer you. 

~~~

“Buckle up, Golden Boy, we are going on a field trip.” 

It was night again a few days later. You’d spent almost two weeks in the woods by this point. Your days were mostly spent hanging out with Bakugo in the fire watch tower or hiking through the forest with him. He’d given you a blank mole-skin notebook. You’d started sketching and labeling plants and animals you saw on your hikes with him. He’d ramble off information he’d learned from preparing for this job. While your drawing skills needed some improvement, you liked the calm, methodical motions and scratch of pen on paper, taking note of the tiny details that made one plant safe to eat and different from the poisonous one. 

Your nights were spent with Golden Boy. His wound had long since cleared up, surprisingly fast, but don’t look a gift horse in the mouth and all. You weren’t exactly sure why he kept coming to you at night. He obviously didn’t need any help finding food. Maybe he felt safer with you behind protective walls? A few times, you thought you saw reflective eyes in the depths of the trees, watching as you let Golden Boy inside the cabin as the moon rose. Or maybe he really did used to be someone’s pet and just felt lonely abandoned out here. He’d always be gone by the time you woke up, no matter how many times you’d fallen asleep leaning against him or curled under your arm. 

You’d also  kept arguing his existence to your hot-headed friend. Tonight, you finally decided to prove yourself right. You were going to bring your proof right to his front door. 

“Come on,” You said, clapping your hands at the wolf lounging by the fire. “You’re going to help me rub some sweet ‘I told you so’ in a cute guy’s face.” He raised his head at you, giving you a look you had come to read from his doggy face. “What? He is. Or maybe I’ve just been stranded in the woods for too long.” You shrugged. Golden Boy let out his ‘you’re ridiculous’ puff of air noise and flopped over so the fire could warm his belly. You took two quick steps forward and rubbed your hand over his belly, it sinking into the thick fur. He let out a surprised yip and curled up, nipping at your hand before licking it and resigning himself to your attention. 

You laughed, heading back to the door. “Come on! I haven’t gone hiking at night before. Think of all the cool nocturnal animals I can record in my journal. And I need my bodyguard, right? It’ll be fun-“ 

You cut yourself off. You opened the door, freezing as you came face-to-face with a fist, poised to knock. Looking past the fist, your throat went dry, heart dropping into your stomach, head going fuzzy. A man stood there in an expensive looking suit. He looked a little surprised, then flashed a wide used-car-salesman smile. One of his teeth was golden. You could see scars criss-crossing his knuckles and up one of his cheeks. His hair was practically a helmet with all the pomade in it. 

“Well, hello there!” He said, chipper. That somehow made it worse. “I don’t suppose you’re (Y/N) (L/N), are you?” 

The door blurred as you slammed it shut. Just before it closed, the man stopped it with his hands, which now seemed way too large and strong. You tried pushing it closed, but your muscles, even flooded with the adrenaline shooting through your veins, were no match for his. 

You stumbled backward as he threw the door open. You saw several more equally if not more menacing men behind him. One was rolling up his sleeves, one checking the knuckle-dusters shining on his hands, one methodically fiddling with the safety on a gun. 

You backed away, stopping when the back of your calves nudged into Golden Boy, who was now standing, a low growl emanating from his throat. 

“Hey there, pup,” The smiling man said. He leaned down, rubbing his fingers together to encourage Golden Boy to come forward. Your wolf just snapped his fangs. “Aw, well. You hate hurting animals, but sometimes it’s just a hazard of the job.” He drew out a long hunting knife from a sheath shoved in his belt loop. It glistened in the fire light. 

You were going to throw up. 

“I don’t know anything,” You said, hating the waver in your voice. How could you have become so comfortable, so careless? Where the hell was your bat? “I don’t know where my dad is, I don’t know where your money is. I don’t know anything, I promise.” Tears were blurring your vision, stinging the back of your eyes. 

“I’m sure you don’t, sweetheart,” He said. The other men crowded in through the door. The cabin suddenly felt ten times smaller. “But, you know, loose ends.” 

Yellow blurred in your vision. Golden Boy flashed in front of you, powerful jaws clamping down on the man’s knife hand. He yowled in pain and shock, the knife clattering to the floor. The other men were stunned for a moment before lunging forward. One hit Golden Boy hard on the back of his head, another grabbing his back legs and yanking hard. Golden Boy kept his death-grip, red oozing from his mouth. 

You scrambled backward, head whipping around to look for your bat. It now felt woefully useless. There, cast off in a corner. You’d been using it to dry dish towels. 

It felt like 100 pounds in your hands. 

You heard an unsettling thump followed by a yelp. Whipping around, you saw the man had managed to dislodge Golden Boy, throwing him against the wall. You cried a broken noise. You felt a hand grab the scruff of your neck. You jammed the bat behind you, connecting with the soft bulge of the man’s stomach. He “oof”ed and his grip loosened. You flung yourself forward, landing hard on your knees, and scrambled up. The door was wide open, the men temporarily distracted. You didn’t think twice. 

You shot up, sliding like a baseball player going to home plate in front of Golden Boy. You held your bat in front of you like Excalibur itself. 

“Don’t you fucking touch my dog!” You’d never said anything with such venom in your voice, but you still didn’t feel like it was enough to appropriately express your rage. Golden Boy shook his head, getting back to his feet. He stood by your side, head lowered between his shoulders, baring his teeth stained with blood. 

The smiling man, who was now scowling in disgust, wrapped his bleeding hand with a way too expensive handkerchief. “God, typical. I hate dogs. Let’s hurry up and finish this.” 

The one with the gun raised it, pointing it right between your eyes. You stood fast, gripping the bat so hard your hands were turning white. 

You wanted to see Bakugo. It hit you like lightening that that was who was coming to your mind. You wanted to say something to him, an explanation of why you wouldn’t wake him up tomorrow morning. You wanted to make him promise he would take care of Golden Boy, after making him admit that you were right about the wolves. You wanted to hug him, to go on a walk someplace other than the woods, you wanted to cook a real meal in a real kitchen with him, you wanted to wake up in the morning with him at your side, Golden Boy at your feet. 

You wanted so many things you knew you wouldn’t be getting. So you had to focus on what you could get. You wanted Golden Boy to get out of here, to be safe. And by hell or high water, you were going to do that. 

You swung the bat back, aiming for the gunman’s wrist. You would knock the gun out of his hand, grab Golden Boy, kick him if you had to, get him out the door to get a head start. You’d probably get shot in the back doing it, but maybe the loud noise would startle him into running away. As long as he was safe, what else mattered? 

One second you were staring down the barrel of a loaded gun, making peace with yourself. The next, the gun was gone, and so was the man. Blinking, you looked around to see where he had disappeared to. The other men, equally baffled, didn’t have time to react as they were tackled to the ground along with their firearm friend. 

Golden Boy was in front of you, pushing you back by leaning his weight against your legs. You watched as your tiny cabin filled with giant wolves, gray, red, black, brown, all with flashing fangs and claws. One man with a knife reared up, pulling his arm back to throw the knife at you. Materializing out of thin air, a new man, one you hadn’t seen before, appeared behind him, catching the first in a headlock and pulling him down until he went limp in a choked-out sleep. 

The new man snarled, whipping his head around to stare right into your soul. And he was naked. How did you not notice that? The man looked like he threw full grown trees around for fun, and cut them down for work. Every inch of skin, and there was a lot of skin, had some scar tissue or mark indicating a life of hard-scraps. 

His eyes snapped down to Golden Boy, still setting himself firmly between you and the raucous crowd. The man jerked his head to the open door. ��Wait outside,” He said, voice unbelievably gruff and low. “We’ll take care of this.” 

“Okay?” You said, voice loose. You felt like you were going to faint. You grounded yourself with a tug on your sleeve. Looking down, you saw Golden Boy, his teeth gently closed around your sleeve. He somehow managed to avoid looking at you, pulling you on unsteady feet out in the cool night air. He kicked the door shut with his hide leg as soon as you were out. 

All of your energy left you at once. You slumped against a tree, forehead leaning on your knees and blood rushing back into your hands as you dropped your bat. You sat there, still save for the involuntary tremors that racked your body, for who knows how long. 

You heard a quiet whimper. Peeking your eyes through your fingers, you saw Golden Boy. He was pacing, eyes downcast and tail tucked between his legs. He was limping a little, his old wound bothered in no small part due to being bodily thrown against the wall. 

“Hey,” You said softly. He jerked to a stop and looked up at you, bringing his eyes back down in a guilty expression. “It’s okay. Come here.” You held your hands out, palms up and fingers splayed. He trotted over to you, resting his enormous head in your hands and laying down, his chest pressing on your legs. You buried your face in the thick fur on the back of his neck. “It’s okay. We’re okay.” 

When the cabin door creaked open, panic seized your adrenaline abandoned muscles. Your hand shot to the bat, its strange weight now frighteningly familiar. Golden Boy barely stirred in your lap, only lazily opening his eyes and shifting closer to you as if hiding from some sort of punishment. 

The burly man stepped out first, still naked, you (unfortunately) noticed. He had two yakuza members with him, one slung over each shoulder, limp and unmoving. Next came three huge wolves, one of them walking backward while pulling along another gang member by the cuff of his pants. A woman came out with him, also naked, with the longest hair you had ever seen, similarly scuffed and scraped as the first man. She was followed by two more wolves. The strange group dumped the bodies of your attackers in a haphazard pile near the tree line. Were they dead? You couldn’t tell. God, which option was better? 

The man stretched, thick cords of muscle rippling under his skin. He sighed, like a tired parent, and turned to you. You cut your gaze away quickly, making sure to keep your eyes above a certain level. 

“Are you badly hurt?” His voice was the same low rumble of an earthquake. 

“Um, no. I-I think we’re okay. Thank you.” 

He hummed, rolling his shoulders. “No thanks necessary. We stand for our own, no matter the pack.” 

“I’m sorry, pack?” You asked, voice squeaking. Your brain was working overtime to process everything. 

“Hmph.” The man looked disappointed but not surprised. He nudged Golden Boy with his foot. The wolf whined again, turning his head away. “You still can’t shift on command? How are you meant to lead your pack when you can’t do the most basic things?” Golden Boy whined and grumbled. 

“I-what? What does any of this have to do with my dog?” You wrapped your arms protectively around him. 

The man quirked an eyebrow. “A wolf without a pack is a dangerous thing. A lone creature who can’t even control his own body needs to be culled. Now that he has found a pack, he has a greater responsibility. He’s part of a whole, not only himself.” 

“Hang on-” You tried to stand up only for Golden Boy to shove his weight down on you harder. “Were you the ones hurting Golden Boy? What’s the matter with you? Why would you hurt an animal? And, sorry, but why are you naked? I tried not to say anything but it’s kind of bothering me a lot.” 

The man stared you down, looking back to your wolf. “You didn’t tell her anything?” Golden Boy whined. The man sighed. “This will be more difficult than I thought. Our pack must move. We’ve completed our duty.We’ll deal with this… refuse.” He looked at the unconscious yakuza. He nudged Golden Boy again. “Take care of this one. He has a lot to learn.” 

The man turned, a yell building in your throat. In front of your eyes, he shifted, skin sprouting silver gray hair. You heard the pop of bones as the man seemed to fall over, but you quickly realized his entire body structure had changed. Where a person had once stood, a wolf walked. The woman from before was also gone, now just the group of wolves. The gray wolf looked back at you, nodding once, before raising up a howl with the rest of his pack. 

When you finally managed to feel your heartbeat slow to a non-life-threatening level, you looked down. “Alright, we have a lot to talk about, because apparently you can do that?” Golden Boy turned away from you. “Yeah, alright, nap first. Nap sounds good.” 

You passed out. 

~~~ 

You woke up with a headache knocking at your temples. Your mouth felt thick with cotton. You felt warm, gradually taking note of the blanket that had been carefully draped over you. Blearily opening your eyes, you watched dust motes float through shafts of light that filtered through the curtains on your cabin windows. You must have forgotten to dose the fire before you went to bed. It was still crackling in the fireplace. 

“Golden Boy?” You said, voice craggy. Why were you still wearing your day clothes? “Yout there, bud?” 

A knuckle rapped gently on your forehead. “Exactly how hard did you hit your head?” 

You shot up, immediately regretting it as pain flared up your spine to bloom in your skull. “Whoa, hey, take it easy.” A pair of hands steadied your shoulders, helping you sit up. 

You blinked hard, looking up into now familiar red eyes. “Bakugo?” 

He looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. “You can call me Katsuki now, you know. I think we’re close enough, after everything.” 

“Everything-? Oh. Oh! Oh my god!” You tried to jump up, knees giving out underneath you. Your limbs felt like they were encased in lead. 

“I told you to take it easy, dumbass,” Bakugo, Katsuki, said. He caught you before you fell, helping you sit back down. He stood up, going to the stove and sliding a pancake on top of a stack, still steaming. Pulling half onto a separate plate, he came back, handing one to you.

Numbly, you took it, tearing a piece off and shoving it in your mouth. “You have pecans in here.” 

“We didn’t have any syrup, so I thought this would be a good substitute. Having pancakes on their own is kind of boring.” 

“Sure. Yeah. So.” You let it hang there, watching him avoid your eyes and much on pancakes. 

He swallowed. “So.” He ate half of another one before continuing. “I’m a werewolf.” 

You blinked. “Okay.” 

He scowled. ‘There it is,’ You thought. “‘Okay’? That’s all you have to say?” 

You shrugged. “I mean, what else am I supposed to say? I’m pretty sure a group of werewolves saved my life last night. I literally saw a guy turn into a wolf, so that checks out. I might still be in shock a little bit, to be honest. So, uh, werewolf, huh?” He scoffed, rolling his eyes and shoving another pancake in his mouth. You cracked a smile and joked, “Well, you sure eat like a dog.” He punched your shoulder. You both laughed anyway. 

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” He said eventually. “I don’t think anyone does. I got bit by a rogue wolf. Turned pretty soon after. I’m not going to lie, I did some pretty bad stuff. I was freaked out, half out of my mind, those wolf instincts kicking in. It’s not an excuse, but… I got a job out here, thought I could isolate myself, research to see if I could find a cure or something. The pack found me almost immediately. I mean, I practically waltzed right in to their territory, so I can’t blame them. That rule they have, it’s true. A lone werewolf, someone without a pack, they’re dangerous. Unpredictable. They tried to… put me down. I usually managed to get away, but one night I made a stupid mistake. I should have died.” He looked up at you. “And then I ran in to you.” 

“And then you ran in to me.” You reached out, petting your hand through his hair. It was still soft, whether as a golden wolf or a human. “So, I’m your pack now? That’s what that guy said, the other werewolf. What does that mean, exactly?” 

He blushed, pulling apart his remaining pancakes. “A pack is like a family. They look out for each other, stand with each other. I didn’t tell them we were a pack or anything. I guess they just sort of inferred. Since, like, we’ve been spending a lot of time together, no matter what form.” 

You grinned. “They think you’re my boyfriend?”  He punched you again, with less malice this time. “Hey, I didn’t say I minded.” 

“It’s a lot,” Katsuki continued quickly, the words all rushing out as if he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to say it all. “I still don’t know a lot about all this. I always shift at night. I’m trying to get better at controlling it, but it’s hard. And it’s hard to go through all the history and stuff and pull out fact from fiction. I feel like I can’t control anything and I’m so fucking useless and I-“ 

You pressed your lips against his. Finally. His lips were chapped, and your teeth clacked together at first, but the warmth that spread through your chest made it all worth it. A plate clattered against the floor as he shifted closer to you. His hand came up to cradle the back of your head, bringing you closer. Your fingers clenched the fabric of his shirt, pulling. 

He pulled back, your breath mixing together. 

“I think I like the woods, now,” You said, softly. “It’s nice out here. Good company.” He chuckled, lowley. “And I like you. A lot. And I love dogs.”

He laughed loudly, once, before pulling you back in for another kiss.

[verdemoun]

how the flip does arthur cope with no dutch?? for the first time in so so so long there is no dutch??

oh ouch thank you for reminding me what a question. this is high honor helped john escape arthur. an arthur who died alone because dutch walked away but he died holding onto the relief that dutch didn't go with micah. maybe dutch had a chance, maybe dutch could save himself

hosea and bessie silently agree they need to protect him from that knowledge for as long as possible and for just barely long enough arthur isn't curious. they've gotten pretty decent at helping people adjust to the timewarp! you don't start with btw we're in the future we know about everything that happens to the gang and it's awful.

they focus on the happy things like hey we're okay, we're all together and we're here. things are really different there's a lot of noises and smells and things to get used to like cars are mainstream. going outside means the constant noise of engines instead of horses. sometimes you can hear electricity humming and that is a really weird noise but look how easy it is to make toast! so many foods that were like insanely difficult/risky to get like milk are just parts of life. you can put milk in coffee without it instantly coagulating it's okay that the milk been in the fridge for four days it tastes the same as when we opened it

arthur jumps like a cat for at least 2 weeks every time the toaster pops but if there's one routine he picks up insanely fast it's the simple joy of waking up and having warm toast with coffee in the morning. arthur morgan figuring out what he likes on toast. the first weekend where bessie is home and he wakes up to the smell of bacon and eggs and pancakes (not because bessie is a homemaker but because the gang are yet to prove themselves capable of using a gas stove (hosea will take over one day and be too passionate about the perfect fried egg)) i'm so sorry i'm getting off topic but the sheer joy he would get out of the smallest simple modern pleasures

arthur wanted to get out of the gang, in the end. he wanted to rest and it literally took him dying to get it because he was so loyal to dutch. it's a relief to rest even if he isn't physically drained and sore because of tb anymore but that mental fatigue is still there. he went through so much and now he gets to rest knowing that the people he had to mourn are there. he gets to sleep in a bed every night instead of it being something he pays for the luxury of. it's comforting dutch isn't there because it means dutch is still alive somewhere

but it's innevitable. hosea, bessie, annabelle, even lenny and sean, waiting in dreadful anticipation for the day arthur connects the dots that they aren't in an alternate universe they are in the gang's future and they know what happens to them. and dutch-

hosea has to be the one to tell him. knowing arthur tried, remembering the relief in arthur's face literally days after processing his own death as arthur explains at least dutch didn't go with micah because arthur tried and he thought dutch had a chance of becoming himself again. it's the worst conversation in his life - explaining to his unruly son that dutch did change but he went back to micah. he got the blackwater money. he started a new gang that were almost a parody of the o'driscolls and killed innocents like muriel scranton just for a chance to escape. that eagle flies's death meant so little to dutch that he went out of his way to continue exploiting the anger of displaced young native americans to make up his new gang. that a professor that worked with john wrote about the night dutch van der linde jovially told john that he was going to kill him for 'i don't know, sport, i guess?' and dutch died in 1911 reportedly killed by john himself (according to the bureau's reports)

god fellas would it be enough to make arthur cry? christ i still don't think he would be able to let himself cry in front of hosea and tries to be dismissive like well we all saw what he was becoming after blackwater. reminds me of something rains fall said about people not changing, just becoming more of who they always were. guess we (john and I) were right in the end, maybe we hadn't really known dutch at all and we were never who we thought we were (who dutch told us we were, we were never idealists, we were killers from the damned start)

but he does cry. alone. in the bedroom that sometimes felt so comfortably private but suddenly feels like more of a box than his wagon back at camp. the fact he still thinks of back at camp, like it's something he can go back to. he still misses dutch. old dutch. he misses camp before blackwater and they made a goddamn mess of everything and he cries because he misses it. he still can't doesn't want to believe that dutch, old dutch who still cared and believed in things before he started making bad choices and plans went wrong, was the same dutch that went back to micah after arthur tried so hard to convince him. his last words were still pleading for dutch to realize he changed and to change back into the infallable, god-like man he admired. finding out he wasted his breath.

[saphiccarma]

Title: Warmth

Ship: Maria Hill x Natasha Romanoff

Warnings: None?

{I saw a post one time that was like, "it's funny when someone is so hard to love without believing you have an ulterior motive so you have to wrap it up in a practical reason like a pill in peanut butter lmao" I don't remember it exactly but that inspired this.}

Harsh winds danced with the snow in Alaska. The sun was no where to be seen and the cold seemed to be set in permanently. Natasha resisted the urge to shiver and wrapped her arms around herself, hugging her torso tight. She could hear Maria's chattering teeth from next to her and pitied the woman.

Natasha was cold no, she was not cold. Cold was getting dragged out of your bed and stripped, then tossed into a blizzard. Cold was getting thrown into the winds in nothing more than a thing rag around your body and your wits. Cold was standing shoulder deep in the snow as you shivered in nothing more than your boots. Cold was standing over a child's body, with red staining the snow, and feeling nothing.

This was not cold. She was dressed in a black parka and snow trousers. This was not cold, despite the winds that scratched against her cheeks and left them a bright rosy red. Maria's hand reached for her's in the cold, and she took it, clinging to the woman. Not for comfort, but because it was practical. With the winds picking up and the snow fogging their goggles, it would be easy to loose each other.

"Just a little farther!" she shouted over the winds, "It should just be up ahead!"

Maria squeezed her hand as a sign she had heard her. The two continued to trek through the harsh winds and the poudning snow. Wind echoed in her ears and soon that became the only thing encompassing her thoughts. It was hard to think through the noise. It pressed against her ears and seemed to force it's way into her brain.

Her feet tripped over something, perhaps a chunk of snow or ice, and she stumbled. Maria caught her, holding her close and wrapping her in a bear hug. Natasha decided to attribute the heat in her cheeks to the icy winds.

They eventually reached the safehouse, and the door opened with surprisingly minimal effort. The two stumbled into the house, dragging snow in after them. Natasha shut the door tight and latched it shut. It was barely warmer inside than it was outside and she could see Maria already starting a fire. With that taken care of she moved towards what looked to be a kitchen.

It was a measly excuse for a kitchen, a sink with a broken facet that she doubted would even work in weather, and a small propane gas tank and portable stove. She searched through the small cabinet next to the broken sink, and came up with nothing but canned spam and a few protein bars. It would have to do.

The red-head started the small propane gas tank up (It took some effort, and she almost had to go searching for a match), and she dropped the spam on the portable stove. It sizzled at first before settling out. She watched it cook, diligently flipping it and attempting to distract herself from the cold. Natasha hoped Maria was having better luck starting a fire.

"Hey Natasha," Maria called, "I got the fire started."

Perfect timing. She scooped up the cooked spam into a couple of bowls she found and brought the less than appeasing meal towards the fire. Maria sat as close as she to the fire without burning herself. A blanket, which looked actually rather nice compared to the other stuff in the cabin, was wrapped around her shoulders and pulled over her head. There was a pile of plain colored blankets next to her, and pillows lined behind her. Natasha sat next to her and passed her a bowl.

The brunette took it silently and scooped a piece of spam out with her fingers, popping it in her mouth with a small grin.

"Y'know we used to eat these in the army," she mumbled around a mouthful of food, "I got sick of it after a while, but now it's almost nostalgic."

Natasha teasingly raised a brow, "Maria Hill, the icy Deputy Director, is nostalgic? Who would've thought?"

Maria laughed, the sound a pleasant contrast to the howling winds outside, "Coming from the former assassin."

For most the words would have struck a nerve, but Natasha found she didn't really mind. She found she didn't mind a lot of things Maria did, for some odd reason. She didn't mind the way the woman would grind her teeth, even though that often bothered her. She didn't mind the way Maria would chew gum nearly everywhere at work, despite it being one of her peeves to hear the sound of gum smacking.

Natasha most certainly didn't mind the way Maria had slowly inched closer to her, close enough to lay her head on Natasha's shoulder. The red-head still stiffened, despite her like for the closeness, it was not something she was used to.

"What are you doing?" she asked, nervously peering down at Maria.

The firelight cast a certain shade of light, an almost dim light illuminating her face. It highlighted her sharp cheekbones, almost making them appear soft. Her blue eyes sparkled as they drooped shut and her eyelashes fluttered together. The woman sniffled, an near adorable sound, her red nose scrunching up and her perfect eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly.

"Conserving warmth," Maria said.

"Oh."

"C'mere," the woman dragged Natasha down with her, despite the redhead's protests, and forced them to lay on the pillows.

Maria reached over and grabbed a blanket, two actually, from the pile of blankets and draped it over them before spooning Natasha, effectively trapping her. Hesitantly, the Deputy Director threw her arm over Natasha's waist, resting it there lightly. The ex-widow squirmed for a moment, trying to comfy, before eventually settling after Maria let out an annoyed huff. While she didn't mind the position, it was certainly new to Maria. She had never been physically affectionate with anyone, that had been beaten out of her at a young age. Yet, Maria seemed to do it with ease. At work she seemed cold and hard, and while technically being on the job, Maria seemed to have no problem snuggling up with Natasha, even while claiming it was to converse warmth.

Natasha could feel Maria's warmth breath on her neck and her cold feet pressing up slightly on Natasha's leg. She shivered slightly before burrowing further down in the blankets. Behind her Maria's breath evened out, and she could feel her chest rising in steady movements.

The red-head resigned herself to her fate and settled down for a long, cold, night.

>>>>

Natasha wasn't sure she caught a wink of sleep. All night, Maria had stayed snuggled up with her, arm over waist now heavy, and breathing even on her neck. Eyes fixed on a spot on the wall all night, the ex-widow had listened to the crackling of the fire, once wiggling away from Maria just enough to feed it before snuggling back.

The blizzard raged on all night, not once relenting, and the winds howled like restless wolves - waiting for someone to fall victim to their trap. The windows had frosted over entirely by this point and Natasha wasn't sure they were going to be able to leave, the door might be frozen shut.

Maria woke up eventually, her arm lifting off of Natasha's waist and the older woman yawning loudly after pulling away.

"Sleep well?" she asked.

"Great," Natasha lied through her teeth with a smile.

"I'm going to go check out outside," Maria stood, raising her arms above her head in a stretch, and raising her shirt to slightly reveal her toned abdomen.

The older woman shuffled away, her socked feet sliding against the floor. Natasha herself remained on the floor and tended to the fire, making sure it didn't die completely. When Maria eventually returned she plopped down next to Natasha with a sigh.

"The door is frozen shut," she reported, "looks like we're stuck here."

"Hm." Natasha hummed and poked at the fire with a stick.

She missed Maria's small adoring smile, and hopeful glint in her eyes.

[the-letterbox-archives]

۶ tag game: questionnaire ৎ

thank you @willtheweaver for the tag!! this one's an oc questionnaire, and i've picked faye, daphne, and ven to answer!

q1. “what is your favourite kind of music?”

faye

“Ooh, I like punk and pop rock stuff! Songs that’ve got really angry lyrics but the music is still nice to listen to. And not to brag, but I write some stuff, too.”

daphne

“I don’t stick to genres, really. Um, I do like indie music, though. Whenever I talk about songs I like I can’t find other people who’ve heard of the artists. Faye usually knows, though!”

ven

“I’ve never really listened to music… but I remember this noise while I was asleep, I think you’d call it a song. It was soft and comforting, it kind of felt like air, only… kinder. More gentle. I liked that song.”

q2. “can you cook? If so, what do you like to make?”

faye

“The last time I tried to cook, I forgot I turned the gas stove on and nearly killed me and my mum. Long story short, I’m banned from the kitchen.”

daphne

“Oh, I cook all the time! Usually only for myself, but sometimes for Faye too, if her parents are away or too tired to cook for her. In terms of what I make, I’m good at pasta dishes. My favourite thing to make is probably dolmades, with lots of oregano!”

ven

“Come to think of it… I don’t think I’ve ever eaten before. I don’t remember eating. But I think I’d like to learn how to cook.”

q3. “what is the one thing you would not wish on your greatest adversary?”

faye

“I wouldn’t want anyone to have my reputation. It makes me feel so alone. Yeah, I know it’s deserved, a little bit… but it still hurts.”

daphne

“Probably being alone. Or– not alone– lonely. That’s just the worst, I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. That’s not to say I have any adversaries, though! At least I don’t think I do.”

ven

“Sissy. She’s a menace.”

here are your questions!

"what's your relationship with your family like?"

"do you have any hobbies? if so, what ones?"

"do you dream often? what about?"

tagging @ominous-feychild, @rkmoon, @fenmere, @moltenwrites, @leitereads,

@introchasingstars, @bloodmoonloveletter, @honeybewrites, @glassfrogforest, @ghostlyboysstories,

and @autism-purgatory, + open tag!

[poojakumari987]

Gas Stove Service Near Me: Your Ultimate Guide to Reliable and Affordable Solutions

Gas stoves are a vital part of many households, providing an efficient and cost-effective way to cook. Whether you're preparing a family meal or entertaining guests, having a fully functional gas stove is essential. However, like any appliance, gas stoves require regular maintenance and occasional repairs to function optimally. If you're searching for "gas stove service near me," this blog will guide you through everything you need to know about finding the best services in your area, the benefits of professional maintenance, common issues, and what to expect from expert technicians.

Why You Need Gas Stove Service

Gas stoves, while durable, can experience wear and tear over time. Regular use can lead to minor or major issues, which, if left unchecked, may compromise the safety and efficiency of your stove. Here are a few reasons why routine service and maintenance are crucial:

Safety: Gas leaks and malfunctions are serious safety hazards. A professional service can identify and fix potential problems before they escalate.

Efficiency: A well-maintained stove ensures optimal gas usage, preventing wastage and saving you money on energy bills.

Longevity: Regular service prolongs the life of your gas stove, ensuring it remains a reliable part of your kitchen for years to come.

Performance: Maintenance helps ensure your stove operates at its best, reducing cooking time and improving the overall cooking experience.

Common Gas Stove Problems

Before diving into how to find the best "gas stove service near me," let's first explore some common issues you might face with a gas stove. Identifying these problems early can help you know when it's time to call a professional.

Ignition Problems

If your stove isn’t igniting or it takes too long to light, it could be due to a faulty ignition switch or clogged burners. This is a common issue that requires professional attention to fix.

Uneven Flame or No Flame

Gas stoves rely on a consistent flame to cook food evenly. If the flame is too weak or nonexistent, it may be due to clogged burners or an issue with the gas supply.

Gas Leaks

If you notice a sulfur-like smell (often described as a "rotten egg" odor), you may have a gas leak. This is a serious issue that requires immediate professional intervention.

Burners Not Heating Properly

Burners that don’t heat up as they should can make cooking frustrating and time-consuming. This could be due to a buildup of grease or a faulty burner.

Strange Noises

Unusual noises like popping, clicking, or hissing while your stove is operating could indicate an underlying issue. Professional gas stove technicians can quickly identify the source and repair it.

Pilot Light Issues

If the pilot light keeps going out, it might indicate problems with the thermocouple or gas supply line. A technician can troubleshoot and resolve the issue to ensure proper functioning.

How to Find the Best "Gas Stove Service Near Me"

When you're looking for "gas stove service near me," it’s important to find a reliable and trustworthy company. Here’s a step-by-step guide on how to ensure you choose the best gas stove service in your area.

1. Research Local Companies

The first step in finding the right service is researching companies in your area. Look for businesses that specialize in gas stove repairs and have certified technicians. A quick search for "gas stove service near me" will yield several results, but it’s important to take your time to review each option.

2. Read Online Reviews

Customer reviews are a great way to gauge the quality of a service. Platforms like Google, Yelp, and the Better Business Bureau (BBB) provide insights into other customers' experiences with local service providers. Look for consistent positive feedback, especially related to professionalism, timely service, and repair quality.

3. Verify Certification and Experience

Gas stove repair is not something that should be handled by just anyone. Ensure the technicians are certified to handle gas appliances. Certification ensures they are knowledgeable about safety protocols and the latest repair techniques.

4. Ask About Pricing and Guarantees

Price transparency is important when choosing a service provider. Be sure to ask about their pricing structure and whether they offer upfront estimates. Additionally, inquire if they provide any guarantees on their work. A good service company will stand behind their repairs and offer warranties.

5. Emergency Services Availability

Gas stove problems can occur unexpectedly, often requiring immediate attention. When choosing a gas stove service near you, check if they offer emergency or same-day services. Companies that provide quick responses in urgent situations are invaluable.

6. Word of Mouth Recommendations

Sometimes, the best way to find a reliable gas stove service is by asking friends, family, or neighbors for recommendations. They may have had good experiences with local services and can point you in the right direction.

Benefits of Professional Gas Stove Service

Once you find a reputable "gas stove service near me," you’ll want to understand why it’s worth hiring a professional rather than attempting DIY fixes. Here are some benefits of choosing professional gas stove service:

1. Safety

Gas stoves, if improperly handled, can be dangerous. Professionals have the expertise to identify and fix potential hazards, ensuring your home remains safe. They’ll check for leaks, inspect the gas line, and repair faulty parts that could cause issues down the line.

2. Cost-Effective

While it may seem cheaper to try and fix your gas stove on your own, DIY repairs can often lead to more expensive issues in the long run. Professional technicians can identify the root cause of a problem and fix it correctly the first time, saving you money on future repairs.

3. Time-Saving

Professional services save you time by quickly diagnosing and repairing issues. This is especially helpful if you have a busy schedule and can’t afford to be without a working stove for long.

4. Expertise and Knowledge

Certified technicians have years of experience working with different gas stove models. Their expertise allows them to handle even the most complex issues with ease. Whether you have an older model or a modern, high-tech stove, they’ll know exactly how to fix it.

5. Long-Term Peace of Mind

Regular maintenance from a professional service not only keeps your stove running smoothly but also gives you peace of mind. You can cook with confidence, knowing your appliance is in top condition.

What to Expect During a Gas Stove Service

If you're scheduling your first service, you might be wondering what to expect. Here’s a breakdown of what typically happens during a professional gas stove service:

1. Initial Inspection

The technician will start by thoroughly inspecting your stove. This includes checking the burners, gas lines, igniters, and other components to assess the overall condition of the appliance.

2. Diagnosing the Problem

If you're experiencing specific issues, the technician will perform tests to diagnose the problem. For example, they may check for gas leaks, blockages in the burners, or faulty wiring in the ignition system.

3. Cleaning

During the service, the technician may also clean your stove. Grease and food particles can accumulate in the burners and vents, causing the stove to function poorly. A deep cleaning ensures better performance and prevents future issues.

4. Repairs and Part Replacement

If any parts are worn out or broken, the technician will recommend replacing them. Common parts that need replacing include igniters, burners, gas valves, and thermocouples. They’ll have most parts on hand, so repairs can often be done on the spot.

5. Testing

After repairs or maintenance, the technician will test the stove to ensure everything is working properly. This includes checking the flame size, burner functionality, and ensuring there are no gas leaks.

6. Safety Checks

Finally, the technician will perform a series of safety checks. This includes inspecting the gas line for leaks, checking the ventilation system, and making sure all connections are secure.

Maintaining Your Gas Stove Between Services

While professional gas stove service is essential, there are steps you can take to maintain your stove between appointments:

Clean Burners Regularly: Grease and food particles can block the burners, leading to uneven heating or weak flames. Clean them regularly to prevent buildup.

Check for Gas Leaks: Periodically inspect your gas stove for any unusual smells or signs of a leak. If you suspect a leak, turn off the gas and call a professional immediately.

Use the Stove Properly: Avoid overheating the burners or using the stove for purposes it wasn’t designed for, such as heating your home.

Schedule Regular Maintenance: Even if your stove seems to be working fine, schedule routine maintenance at least once a year to ensure all components are functioning optimally.

Conclusion

Searching for "gas stove service near me" is the first step toward ensuring your stove remains in excellent condition. By finding a reliable service provider, you can avoid common problems, enhance your stove’s performance, and enjoy peace of mind knowing your appliance is safe to use.

Remember to research local services, read reviews, verify certifications, and ask about pricing and guarantees before making your decision. Professional gas stove service offers numerous benefits, including safety, cost savings, and long-term reliability. With regular maintenance and timely repairs, your gas stove will continue to serve you well for years to come.

So, if you notice any issues with your gas stove or it's been a while since your last service, don't hesitate to contact a trusted "gas stove service near me." Your stove—and your kitchen—will thank you!

Get Free Call +91-9548855012

[doorrobloxstuff]

An intruder finds the kitchen, goes to take some food and almost accidentally eats Seek who's in the tub!

I liked this prompt so much I decided to write it. But instead of intruder that's its partner now you cant stop me!!

Also ADHD! Y/N because there's no fucking way they would not notice that. There is NO neurotypical explanation for that. also also also suggestive joke. If you find that yucky run away. -------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bumbling around in the dark, Y/N somehow made their way to the kitchen. The sun had just begun to clamber its way into the sky, the scent of early morning dew was welcoming.

They yawned and turned on a nearby wood stove, opened up the fridge grabbed a carton of eggs. Maybe this morning they can make some pancakes. The hotel's denizens after all LOVED sweet things so, they'd adore their chocolate chip nutmeg pancakes.

They turned on the stove's gas switch and opened a nearby cabinet to grab some matches. That's when they noticed a tupperware container full of some sugary cereal resting precariously on an upper shelf.

'Well..Maybe I could have just a little morning time snack..'

They smirked mirthfully, reached over and pulled the Tupperware container off the shelf. They opened it and popped a few into their mouth before plucking the box of matches and lit the stove.

They sat near the stove for a few minutes, waiting for it to warm up. Still feeling hunger scratch at the edges of their stomach they reached up once more for the Tupperware.

Huh, did it feel heavier then usual? Must've been their imagination.

They opened it back up, curiously they didn't even seem to REMEMBER closing it...

They shrugged, scooped up a handful of something sticky. Halting just before they could put whatever unknown substance they had just scooped into their hand into their mouth. They slowly brought their hand up to their face to see whatever had covered it only to find a glob of sticky liquid dripping from their fingers and a singular eye that looked coyly at them.

"Now Y/N, If you wanted to put me in your mouth, you could've asked ni-"

"NO." They screeched before covering their mouth to muffle the noise "How..How did you even-..?" They peered over to the countertop only to find they had grabbed the WRONG tupperware.

"Goddamn it. I'm- I'm sorry- that's..that's on me."

The entity empathetically bubbled before reaching over and climbing up their partner's shoulder before snuggling up against their neck. "Don't be hard on yourself dear. You simply didn't notice me, that's all.." "Yea.." The pair remained silent for a brief moment, the two enjoying privacy that was rarely afforded to them in the usually chaotic hotel. After that, Seek peered over It's partner's shoulder to look at the now smoking stove.

"Dear, What are you making..?"

"Pancakes, why???" "Sounds delicious. Also, the stove is on fire." "OH SHIT-" --

I'M ALIVE. I HAVE HORRIBLE WRITERS BLOCK BUT FUCK IT WE BALL.

[wafflebloggies]

10. a heap of broken images

back - next “So, Mark, this is Jared…”

Mark, it had to be said, did not look as if a large, near-invisible shadow-creature looming up out of the darkness and regarding him with a trio of eyes like the functional parts of a red-hot gas stove was a welcome addition to the list of concepts he was already struggling to grasp. He stared up at Jared in speechless silence, and when Jared’s eyes gave a friendly tilt, dropped several feet and whipped towards him, he sucked in a breath so sharp that Antonio was concerned he might have inhaled his own tongue.

“Look who it is! Double-M-hockey-sticks! It’s cool, we go waaaay back.”

“Uh?” managed Mark.

“Oh, yeah-yeah-yeah, I’ve been watching you for what, like, a year now?”

Mark made a noise.

“Gotta say, you’re taller IRL,” said Jared, happily. “Probably a perspective thing, right? Also way better res, which, like, no joke, literally every single cam in your house is ANCIENT at this point. Stone age. I kept bugging ya boy to replace them- no hate, ‘Tone- I was like, hey, I’m just your eye in the sky here, it’s not like I can just snap my fingers and your actual hardware gets upgraded with the power of heart or whatever. But he was always like... oh, hey, you good?”

This last, because Mark had just sat down suddenly with a thump, his knees having apparently decided they were even less keen on the way this conversation was going than the rest of him.

“It’s okay, Mark,” said Antonio, coaxingly. “Jared monitors all the hosts, twenty-four-seven. It wasn’t just you.”

When Mark finally found his voice, it was quite a lot shriller than usual. “That’s supposed to make me feel better?”

Antonio thought about it, reaching for Mark’s backpack, which had fallen off his shoulder as they’d scrambled inside the door. “I mean, yeah, it was, but I guess I can see why it doesn’t. Jared, hey, uh… I know this is kind of a big ask, but…”

Popping the inner zip, he upended the backpack over the nearest free desk. With a slithering scuffle of plastic wrappers, a small landslide of bright packages and baggies slid and tumbled over each other into a rough pile on the dusty melamine surface.

“We need a way out.”

Jared’s eyes gleamed. A long slender thing, like a steely finger with far too many joints, snickered indistinctly past Mark’s ear and pinned one of the little packets (a crowded graphic-design abomination, featuring sugegasa-wearing cows somersaulting cheerfully through flames), whipping it up into the shadows.

“Buddy, just call me Healthy Community, because I have got you COVERED.”

–-

Where there was a will- and an entire bodega rack’s worth of premium dried beef products- it turned out there was a way.

Jared called them dead zones. The cameras covered almost everywhere within the HR Department, Jared’s endless ranks of shiny black eyes, in corners, in ceilings, down blind alleys and empty rooms and well-trodden corridors, but with care and a little assistance to even out the odds, a path could be walked between them. The places between were cramped and confusing and nearly as difficult to travel as they would have been to find without Jared’s help. They were not the safest places, even within this hungry, malignant landscape, and they certainly weren’t the easiest to explain.

Here was a well of dank air, some fifty feet across, stirred in a slow, endless spiral by the movement of some enormous fan or turbine, deep enough below that it was far out of sight of any travellers along the narrow path that spanned it, a clanking catwalk of green steel. Condensation dripped from the pale heights, made the metal slimy underfoot.

Mark managed a couple of wobbly steps out over the void, then slid to his knees against the spindly safety rail, a sad arrangement of metal rods and chickenwire which overall came off as less of a barrier than a polite suggestion. Antonio, following with a surer step, resisted the urge to hook a fistful of the back of his sweater, just in case. He didn’t think Mark was likely to actually pitch himself over the railing, but he did appreciate that the last twenty or so minutes had been quite a lot for any human to handle.

“Hang in there, Mark,” he said, brightly. His voice echoed, a thin distant relay pattering back to them through the slow whirlpool of air. “Not much further.”

Mark forced his hands wordlessly through his hair, found a squashed fragment of delicate orange wing stuck somewhere over his ear, and flicked it away from him in disgust.

“Uh, yeah, sorry about the butterflies,” said Antonio. “Honestly, they’re usually pretty chill, I’ve never seen them just go for the eyes like that.”

Words weren’t evading Mark, but the ability to put more than two of them next to each other in a coherent sentence seemed to be. “That- the- why-” A struggle. “Why a horse??”

“It’s just a horse, Mark,” said Antonio, testing the railing before leaning his elbows on it, like a casual sightseer above Niagara Falls.

Mark clearly felt this wasn’t enough information. He made another struggle with his hands, shaping a sort of invisible sculpture on the theme of horror, bewilderment, and indignation, a shape that cut off sharply in the middle, and then squeezed both palms into his eyesockets, speaking indistinctly through his fingers.

“Just a- just- where’s the rest of it??”

“Do you think that’s really an important question right now?” asked Antonio. He meant it as a reasonable, honest query, but Mark only fixed him with a baleful eye through the gap in his hands, and said nothing.

They moved on. Through the empty hallways, through Jared’s dead zones, through a scorched and blackened sector where quite a mess had been made and the cameras still hung obliterated from the walls, Mark stayed silent. To Antonio, there was something puzzling- increasingly worrying- about this measured silence, and he didn’t think it was just the influence of his own quietly screaming nerves. He was good at reading Mark, even when he was at his most impenetrable, and he recognised this feeling of grim, plodding pertinacity that was coming off him in waves. This was Mark doing something he didn’t want to do- something he knew had no good object, no good ending- something he knew had to be done, regardless. He might as well have been making a video reading hate-comments, or cutting up raw liver, or any other uncongenial, unrewarding task demanded of him by the Muse. He looked as sullen and morose as ever, trailing along after Antonio as they travelled slowly through the safer zones of the HR Department. The nearest he got to an energetic reaction to anything on their long walk was a slight flinch and glance back as they heard the dogs pass distantly down a blind turning, the heavy patter of claws, the hungry, cheated howls.

Finally, the Long Egress. Jared had explained, in the vague way in which Jared tended to explain anything, that this seemingly endless grey concrete tunnel had been put in place as a sort of evacuation line, a last-ditch way back to the outside world. Walking it, Antonio wondered if the original architect might have planned on using it themselves, since it was quite clear that nobody else ever had. Whoever had designed the vast building that housed HR, if they had been human, it was a fairly safe assumption to make that they hadn’t done it entirely of their own free will.

It’s best to avoid asking questions or looking at things you aren’t authorised to see.

The bulkhead lights set into the walls every hundred yards or so created pale dim pools of light like so many oases, leading them from one to the next, all the way down the long last straight. Down here, even the lights were caged.

It’s all in my head, and I shouldn’t worry about it.

Antonio felt that they had been walking for years by the time they reached the end. His shoes had run out of moisture and left no prints on the scratchy poured concrete. Every step he took felt leaden, a further pull away from something dragging gently at him, something hooked into his heart-roots, difficult to ignore. They had been walking in silence, the only sounds the scrape and echo of their steps, the thick electric hum of the lights, a quieter low static buzz that seemed to live in the walls, and Mark’s difficult breathing and occasional hitching cough. Antonio didn’t mind these noises, as it made it easy for him to know that Mark was still behind him.

No ceremony, no fanfare, just a flat final wall that grew slowly from a pale dot to a short grey oblong as they walked towards it, a last pool of light, the long hallway terminating in a single pale grey door. Someone with a sense of humour had screwed a sign to it, an ordinary industrial yellow-and-black safety sign that read DANGER – KEEP OUT. Someone else had scrawled underneath; IT’S SCARY OUT THERE.

Antonio put a hand on the door, which had a thick push-bar, wreathed in old cobwebs and cranky with disuse. He looked back, and saw that Mark had stopped a little way back along the hallway and was just standing there in the last-but-one pool of light, looking at him.

“Mark? This is it, buddy, come on.”

Mark coughed, wiped his mouth on his sleeve, and didn’t move.

“Mark?” Antonio stepped away from the door. As he moved towards Mark, Mark stepped back, mirroring him. He put a hand to the strap of his backpack, gripping it like a rosary, and suddenly Antonio felt a cold and eerie twinge of deja vu, of a week ago, of standing in the soft-lit hallway with Be Joyful Always, Pray Continually over his head as Mark begged him in a quiet, frantic monotone, pleaded, promised anything for his freedom.

I've done everything you've asked. You can have my channel, my house... just let me go.

Just now, it looked as if nothing could have been further from Mark’s mind.

“You must think I’m pretty fucking stupid,” he said.

Antonio stopped. The bug in his middle, which had been quiet for a time, stirred restlessly as he looked across the distance between them into Mark’s sharp, careworn face.

“So what is it?” Mark put out a hand and rested it against the concrete wall, either to take some of his weight or to reassure himself it was there. The flat light cast stark double-shadows, Antonio’s own falling across the door at his back and stretching down the hallway towards Mark, Mark’s slanting away as if it was shrinking from his. “What’s the trick? Because this whole ‘super secret escape’ thing is getting really old now. Maybe I’d have fallen for it when I was five but if you think I believe you’re just going to let me walk out of here, that sludge in your head must be way past expiry.”

“Mark, you have to trust me,” said Antonio. “I’m- I’m just trying to help you.”

Mark blinked a couple of times, grinned at him, in the same way skulls grinned, nothing behind it but a vacant stretch of teeth. Whether Antonio had struck a nerve, or Mark had just reached some internal breaking point, he dropped his hand from the wall and started walking forwards.

“Trust you. Trust you? You, and that- that thing in my basement- my muse-”

The sheer amount of pure spitting venom he managed to inject into one syllable was astonishing.

“-you’re the same. You’re the same thing, you’re just a- a part of that fucking blob that can walk around and look like a person. I knew that as soon as you first showed up- you think I’m going to trust you now?” He stopped, almost face to face with Antonio, his fear and aversion and bitter anger struggling with each other in his face, his hands curled around his backpack in front of him as if it was a shield.

“Mark, I- I’ve felt- I’ve been-”

Now it was Antonio’s turn to struggle. His chest was crawling, the heat in his face and hands rising, the difficulty squirming under his skin pushing him not to shut Mark up or stop him being a problem but to explain, to try to dispel the terrible disdain in Mark’s eyes. He stumbled on, aware his voice sounded choked and strange, terribly afraid to keep going but far, far more afraid to stop.

“When you were gone, I… I started to feel... different. I’ve been feeling... really weird. Mark, I have… thoughts that don’t make sense- sometimes I don’t want things to happen even though I know I should, I don’t want to do things I know I have to do- I think there’s something wrong with me. No, I- I know there is.” He held out his hands, open, pleading. “I don’t know what happened, but I- I know somehow, it started because of you.”

He swallowed.

“I’m different, I’m different to how I was, because of you. And I want to- I want to be a good friend, Mark. I’m doing this because I… I want to help you.”

“Bullshit,” said Mark.

Oh, it felt cold, it felt freezing cold in his guts and it hurt, and maybe this was how come humans could hurt each other so easily, that Mark could take every honest, vulnerable word he’d pulled painstakingly out of the core of him, these fragile little things ripped out of their shell new and raw and utterly defenceless, and hurl them so easily right back in his face. Antonio felt them start to shrivel and die in the chasm between them, but he kept quiet and just looked at Mark, who was knotting his fists in the fabric of his backpack, his jaw set hard, mouth slightly open, eyes hot and full of contempt.

“Mark,” he tried, “please, you have to-“

“No, I don’t. I actually fucking don’t, I don’t have to do anything. I don’t have to believe a single word you say. I listened to you for a year. I let you manipulate me, I danced like your fucking puppet, I did everything you wanted, for a year. I let-” He bit the word off.

“Mark, I haven’t even known you for a y-“

“Shut up,” said Mark, his voice deadly and as flat as the lights. “You can’t hurt me anymore. Not with my- my mom, not with-” He stopped himself again, his mouth working. “There’s nothing left, the only thing you have on me is this- this shit inside of me, this-” He let the pack dangle to the bruised fold of his elbow and held out his arms, wordless, the flat bulkhead light ghastly on his darkened veins, the black splatters of the dog’s blood and his own still staining the front of his ruined sweater. “This- this infection, this mold, I- I can feel it, I hear it in my head-” He shuddered, furiously, helplessly. “If- if you wanted to help me you’d get rid of it but you won’t, you won’t because the only thing you want is to keep me, keep stringing me along for whatever sick fucking plan-”

“Okay, but I’d need to touch you.”

“-shut up- whatever sick- whatever-” Mark seemed to hit a kind of a glitch, sticking like a scratched-up record and stopping in place. He blinked a little volley of dazed blinks, a rapid-fire Morse code message of utter confusion. “What?”

“Here,” said Antonio, holding out his hands. “I think I can do it, at least I can try. It’s just, you told me not to touch you.”

Mark stared at him in disbelief, his hands falling to his sides. He looked poleaxed. The backpack slipped gently down his arm, dropping to the ground at his feet, but he made no sign he even noticed.

“And you listened??”

For the first time, Antonio saw with stark clarity the shape of himself as he must have appeared to Mark through the past almost-year. A looming shadow, a threatening, suffocating, hounding, malicious, grinning thing that never rested and never relented, if the deal Mark had made with his Muse was a poisoned spring, Antonio had been the hand forcing him under the rank surface, forcing him to drink until he drowned.

Months too late, without words to even form the idea, he was desperately sorry. The thing in his chest- bug, alien, sickness or mistake- it was his, his guilt, his to fight and deny or accept, and for once, the choice was his own.

“I know I don’t have any right to ask you to trust me.” He kept holding out his hands, palms up, looking into Mark’s face where incredulity was fighting a pitched battle with something else, something Antonio wasn’t sure he’d ever seen there before.

“Please, Mark,” he said, quietly. “Just let me try.”

The lights hummed, the walls buzzed. Mark stood still in silence for so long that Antonio started to wonder if he’d frozen again, but at last he started to move. There was no great change in his expression, no lessening of the fear in his eyes or the clear mistrust in the thin downwards line of his mouth. As he moved, it seemed to be in spite of himself than out of any thinking, reasoning decision.

Slowly, without looking away from Antonio’s face, Mark lifted his hand and reached out.

[curiositydooropened]

WIP Wednesday - Teaser - Snowed In

Synopsis: When a girl's trip to a secluded cabin is ruined by a snow storm and Robin's friend, Steve, you wonder if you could make the best out of a cozy situation.

A/N: This is fluff and cute. It's got it all. Power outage, only one bed? We love to see such light positivity from me. Let's get real, I'll probably make it super freaking dark somehow. xo

---

The drifts had nearly washed out the highway below, and your back-end squealed and swished up the hill, but the promise of a Hot Toddy and much-awaited girl time spurred you onwards. You employed the tactics your father screamed into you at sixteen: low gear, take the foot off the gas to gain traction, slow and steady, and if you start to skid, steer into it. You’d come too far to turn back now. The hand carved sign denoting the ski hill was miles ago, it’s base packed with graveled snow, and you’d already made a final turn into a row of pristine chalets. 

The small lane looked like double rows of gingerbread houses, Bavarian yet modern, dark wood with icicles growing on sloped roofs. Of all of them, one had a car set out front, a maroon BMW that looked out of place among the evergreens. You knew Robin didn’t drive, but you suspected the friends’ she mentioned had parents with money.

Gloved fingers firm on ten and two, you pumped the brakes to avoid locking up, and slid gracefully into the hillside beyond the driveway. You cursed as your front bumper knocked the snow from a mailbox, but when no damage appeared visible from your angle beneath the windshield, you turned off the engine and shouldered out of your little car. 

The road was deceptively icy, ruts dipping beneath the freshly fallen snow, and you had to hang on tight to your driver’s side door as you exited, the balls of your sneakered feet slipping comically beneath you. Gaining your bearings, you patted the roof of your car in gratitude and shuffled around the back end to pop open the hatchback to gather your bags.

The wind whipped at your cheeks, bitter and sharp, blurring everything in white and ice and cold. Each side of the little walkway was piled with snow to your thighs, apparently shoveled in the last few hours. You clambered your way up, sneakers squeaking on a dry door mat, face pinched and teeth chattering as your gloved knuckles fought to make noise against a wooden front door. 

The answer took too long, required the beat of your toes against the wood for more volume, and you hunkered tighter into the collar of your puffer jacket, vowing to smack Robin once she let you inside. You could smell wood burning through frozen nostrils, and you closed your eyes to imagine the warmth that lay just beyond. Your friend from work, and her friends from home, gathered around a stove in flannel pajamas, pouring alcohol into steaming mugs and offering salutations to a new year without the pressures of a deadline or a fundraiser or, in your case, a new year without Men. 

You’d been looking forward to this girl’s weekend since Robin brought it up months ago, always down for an adventure and a getaway, but especially now after Christmas rejection from the Hometown Hero that had stolen (and crushed) your heart. You couldn’t board the flight from home fast enough.

The door swung open in a burst of heat, and you sighed at the feeling, eyes squeezed shut, breathing in the rush of cedar and… was that a pot of hot coffee? You salivated with a smile. “Thank God you opened, I thought I was going to die of hypothermia out here.” You blinked your eyes open to be face-to-face with a man. 

His pink lips were cocked in confusion, eyebrows puckered, hair a swoop of golden brown atop his head. He had broad shoulders, and from this proximity, you could make out the smattering of freckles on his face, and the way his forest green cable knit sweater brought out the caramel of his eyes, and for half a second, your decree of No-Men-New-Year had flown south for winter.

“Sorry, I almost didn’t hear you.” He glanced to the door, and your eyes flit to the snow kicked by the toe of your boot, the same incriminating freeze that layered the door mat beneath you. 

You blinked again, remembered your place, and hunkered frigid cheeks into your collar. “No, I’m sorry. I think I have the wrong house.” You offered a sheepish smile, and a wave, but the little brass 4 under a lantern indicated otherwise. 

“Oh, shit, you must be Robin’s friend from work,” the boy supplied, side-stepping to gesture for you to hurry inside.

A level of frustration settled over you then, like you’d driven all this way for Robin to have betrayed you in this way, without her even knowing about the utter heartbreak that had wracked your holiday. You almost contemplating turning around, sledding your way back down the hill on snow-packed tires, but a particularly strong gust of wind sent you tumbling in after the mystery man. 

“Here, can I take anything?” He offered once the door was safely closed and the warmth settled to your features, too-hot too-fast. 

You fumbled for what to say, but he was quicker, already removing your grocery bags from your hands.

“Kitchen?” He asked, gesturing past the entry way. 

You nodded, grasping for something to say, to explain yourself. 

“Go ahead and kick your shoes off. Coat closet’s there,” he nodded to a little door directly adjacent. And then he was off, the rustle of bags and socked feet against hard wood. 

You harrumphed in distress to no one, and packed your own squeaking to hear for conversation. When none was heard, dread came over you. You were early. You were early, and Robin wasn’t here, and a strange man was in her place. Or, you stopped mid-un-zip, a man had come and murdered Robin and her friends and now waited for you to finish the job. 

“They aren’t here yet,” he appeared back in the doorway, startling you. He leaned against the trim, crossed arms over his broad chest, and patiently waited for you to remove your gear. 

It was murderer or the cold, and you figured you didn’t really have a choice. With a polite smile, you shrugged out of your jacket, your gloves, toed out of ice block shoes and soaked your socks against the hardwood. You placed everything in the closet, and waited for this stranger to push himself from the doorway and lead you elsewhere.

[karthik-kitchen-gass]

The Complete Guide to Reliable Gas Stove Service Kollam

Gas stoves are a staple in many homes, offering a convenient and efficient way to cook. However, like any other appliance, they require regular maintenance and occasional repairs to keep them functioning optimally. If you live in Kollam and are looking for reliable Gas stove service Kollam, this guide will help you understand the importance of maintenance, the common problems gas stoves face, and how to choose a service provider that meets your needs.

Importance of Regular Gas Stove Maintenance

A gas stove is an essential part of daily cooking, and ensuring it operates safely and efficiently should be a priority. Regular maintenance of your gas stove not only prolongs its lifespan but also ensures the safety of your home and family. Gas leaks or faulty burners can pose significant risks, including fires or gas poisoning.

By scheduling regular check-ups, you can address minor issues before they escalate into major problems. Proper maintenance also ensures that your stove works efficiently, reducing your overall gas consumption and saving you money in the long run.

Choose the best Gas line service company Kollam for affordable Gas stove repair Kollam.

Common Gas Stove Issues

Even with regular use, gas stoves can develop problems over time. Here are some of the most common issues that homeowners in Kollam may face:

1. Burner Not Igniting

One of the most common problems is when the burner won’t ignite. This can happen due to various reasons, such as food debris blocking the gas flow, a faulty igniter, or gas supply issues. Regular cleaning and inspection can often prevent this issue.

2. Weak Flame

If you notice a weak or uneven flame, it may indicate a problem with the gas pressure or blockages in the burner. It could also be due to wear and tear of the burner itself. A professional gas stove service can diagnose and fix this issue effectively.

3. Gas Odor

A gas smell in your kitchen is a serious issue that should never be ignored. This can indicate a gas leak, which poses a major safety risk. If you smell gas, turn off the stove and gas supply immediately and contact a professional technician to inspect and repair the leak.

4. Noisy Burners

Sometimes, gas stoves produce a hissing or popping sound while in use. This can be caused by improper gas-to-air ratio or dirt in the burner ports. While these noises might seem harmless, they indicate underlying issues that need attention.

5. Faulty Ignition System

If the ignition system is faulty, your stove may struggle to light or not ignite at all. This can be frustrating and time-consuming. Replacing the igniter or repairing the system can resolve the issue and make the stove function smoothly again.

Benefits of Hiring Professional Gas Stove Service

Hiring a professional for gas stove service Kollam offers numerous benefits. Here are a few reasons why you should consider a professional service:

1. Expertise and Experience

Professionals have the skills and experience required to diagnose and fix a wide range of gas stove issues. They can quickly identify the root cause of a problem and provide an effective solution, saving you time and effort.

2. Safety

Gas-related issues can be hazardous if not handled properly. Professional technicians are trained to deal with gas appliances safely, ensuring that any repairs or maintenance are carried out in compliance with safety standards.

3. Use of Genuine Spare Parts

When repairs are needed, professionals use genuine spare parts that are compatible with your gas stove. This ensures better performance and longevity for your appliance.

4. Cost-Effective Solutions

While some homeowners may attempt DIY fixes, this can lead to further damage and increased costs in the long run. Hiring a professional gas stove service ensures that the issue is fixed correctly the first time, saving you from unnecessary expenses.

5. Extended Appliance Lifespan

Regular professional maintenance helps extend the life of your gas stove. Technicians can spot potential problems early, allowing you to address them before they cause permanent damage to the appliance.

How to Choose the Right Gas Stove Service Kollam

With numerous service providers in Kollam, selecting the right one can be challenging. Here are a few tips to help you make an informed decision:

1. Check Reviews and Testimonials

Before choosing a gas stove service, check customer reviews and testimonials online. This will give you an idea of the quality of their work and their level of customer satisfaction. Positive reviews are a good indicator of reliable service.

2. Ask for Referrals

Word of mouth is a great way to find a trustworthy service provider. Ask your friends, family, or neighbors in Kollam for recommendations. A personal referral can give you confidence that the technician will do a good job.

3. Ensure Proper Certification

Make sure that the gas stove service provider is certified and licensed to handle gas appliances. This ensures that they have the necessary skills and training to carry out repairs and maintenance safely.

4. Inquire About Service Costs

While cost shouldn’t be the only factor, it’s essential to understand the service fees before hiring a technician. Ask for a detailed estimate, and ensure that there are no hidden charges. Some service providers in Kollam offer affordable packages for routine maintenance, which can be a cost-effective solution for homeowners.

5. Look for Prompt Service

Gas stove issues can disrupt your daily routine, so it’s important to choose a service provider who offers prompt response times. Many companies in Kollam offer same-day or next-day services for emergencies, which can be crucial if you encounter serious problems like a gas leak.

Conclusion

Gas stoves are a vital part of every kitchen, and keeping them in good condition ensures safety and convenience. Regular maintenance and timely repairs can help you avoid major issues and ensure your stove operates efficiently. When looking for gas stove service Kollam, choose a professional who has the expertise, experience, and proper certification to handle gas appliances. By following the tips in this guide, you’ll be able to select a reliable service provider who meets your needs and keeps your gas stove functioning smoothly.

[easyfixllc]

EasyFix - Appliance Repair Service

Call us anytime you need trustworthy and reasonably priced appliance repair in the Victoria or Portland areas.

Appliance Repair

Big or small appliance repairs are no problem for our company.

Serving this sector for almost ten years, we are happy to answer any questions or resolve any problems you may have. You may be confident that our very knowledgeable technicians can repair any broken kitchen appliance. Repairing Appliances Under this group of home appliances are ovens, stoves, dishwashers, and refrigerators. You may be sure that you may easily review our payment records. You may be confident that we will get right to work on the project.

Help is always accessible from me:

Action Right Now

Call our repair service whenever it is convenient for you. Making everyone around safe is our first responsibility.

Our company specializes on reliable and reasonably priced appliance repair. Washington's Portland and Vancouver are part of our service area.

Ensuring consumer satisfaction should always come first, no matter how excellent your items are. We have made great effort to guarantee that your business possesses the required bonds, insurance, and permits.

Raise the Standard for Common Household Appliances

It's not working, this refrigerator, as I had expected. For help keeping perishables fresher longer, rely on our trustworthy Refrigerator Repair service. If we move quickly, we can find an inexpensive answer. We welcome your contact with us anytime you need help, whether it's to make an appointment, obtain information, or both.

Finding Fair Market Values for Products: Resources

The repaired problems are all listed below:

No amount of freezing or refrigerating would make it possible. I understand at last. One hears a clicking. Ice in the refrigerator has no bearing on the temperature.You initially became aware that these commonplace things were hurting you when?

The saying "wash your hands" has proliferated around the world as it is straightforward and relevant to all. Apart from that, this equipment appears to be quite outdated. To be very honest, I never would have thought to ask! Does it really important if your dishwasher is fixed by a trustworthy service? Thanks very much for your quick reply. Amazing bargain! Your risk is minimal. You start to wonder if your original strategy was really wise as you thoroughly examine each dish. Once the kitchen is finished, everyone will think you spent a million dollars.

Always keeping a keen ear out for any unexpected noises or the sound of air leaving

Dishwashers that aren't drying dishes, won't spin, or drain water are probably broken.

Make the Most of Your Gas Range for Continually Delicious Meals

Last time your oven behaved strangely? Our staff of Oven Repair experts is available to assist at any time of day. Having our service is dependable, quick, and reasonably priced, you can relax. Give up on worrying about toasting, roasting, and baking. Don't wait for anything less than the best; get ready now.

It lists every service we offer in detail. Some of these things can be making your oven heat up unevenly: When cooking with gas, the three possible ignition sources are food, an open door, and the pilot light.

Fixing Appliances A serviceman fixes appliances.

So you want to replace your stovetop? When health declines, it becomes even more important to follow a regular food plan. Should you hear popping or sizzling noises coming from your stove, please do not hesitate to get in touch with our team of knowledgeable experts. As we consistently deliver quick, affordable results, our service is dependable. You have our word. Project confidence and preparedness.

Among the many issues we deal with on our routine house calls are door jams, damaged heater parts, incandescent lightbulbs, and washers with flashing lights.

Appliance Fix

Should your washing machine malfunction, contact EasyFix-Appliance Repair right away. Ice-maker Fix We specialize on fast washer repairs. The next time you find yourself sucked into doing laundry out of boredom, picture the result. Contacting us to arrange a meeting is always welcome.

Every corrected issue is listed below:

Important for not overflowing, collecting water, and ending the cycle.

Please, help me! The washing only started acting up quite lately.

Your attempts to stop the apparently never-ending domino effect that started in your past have depleted your mental and physical energies. Using our dryer repair service will enable you to resume your usual laundry schedule immediately. The simplicity of use and reasonably priced of this service make you feel confident. Make sure everything is dry before leaving so you may enjoy your vacation without worrying about getting wet.

Should you run across issues with your dryer, such an unusual smell, extended drying periods, or loud noises, we welcome you to get in touch with us at any time.

Operating Instructions for Your Ice Maker

The ice maker on my refrigerator doesn't seem to cooperate no matter what I do. Carbonated soft drinks had a great decade in the 2000s. Since we repair ice makers, your beverages will be supplied perfectly cold in a flash. Not at all a problem. Go for the stars as well!

We are able to fix any size of issue. This covers problems like no ice, constant flow, and poor production.

Company Advice Pay attention: we promise that a wide variety of well-known appliance brands can be fixed by our qualified personnel. This extensive list shows every company that has ever collaborated with us. Should we have made a fleeting reference to your brand without giving it enough attention, do let us know.

[easyfixllc7654]

EasyFix - Appliance Repair Service

Do not hesitate to get in touch with us if you are a resident of the Portland or Victoria area and are looking for trustworthy, reasonably priced appliance repair.  

Our organization can take care of any appliance repair task, no matter how big or small.  

With nearly a decade of experience under our belts, we are more than pleased to address any inquiries or problems you may have. Rest assured, our highly trained specialists are here to fix any broken kitchen item Refrigerator Repair Everything from stoves and ovens to dishwashers and refrigerators falls under this category of home appliances. Rest assured, our payment records are readily available for you to review. I can assure you that we will immediately begin working on the assignment.  

Available whenever you require my assistance:  

Immediate Reaction  

Reach out to our repair service whenever it suits you most. It is our solemn duty to prevent accidents.  

Appliance repair is our specialty, and we do it affordably. Our service area includes the cities of Portland and Vancouver in the state of Washington.  

No matter how excellent your products are, you should never compromise on the importance of making sure your customers are happy. Extensive steps have been made to confirm that your company has all necessary licenses, insurance, and bonds.  

Raising the Bar for Commonplace Home Appliances  

This refrigerator won't turn on, as I had anticipated. Our reliable Refrigerator Repair service is available to assist you in extending the shelf life of items that are susceptible to spoilage. If we move swiftly, we can discover an affordable solution. Contact us whenever you need anything, whether it's more information, answers to your questions, or assistance with making an appointment.  

Methods Provided for Efficiently Determining Prices   

The following are all the problems that have been fixed:  

There was no way to lower the temperature to a comfortable level using the refrigerator or freezer. At long last, I understand. A clicking noise is audible. The temperature will remain constant regardless of how much ice you put in the refrigerator.When did these everyday household things initially begin to bother you?  

The adage "wash your hands" has spread over the world in part because it is both common and useful. Additionally, it seems like this gear is a tad outdated. I would never even consider asking! Is it important to locate a trustworthy company to fix your dishwasher? Your prompt response is really appreciated. How inexpensive! The danger is low for you. Looking at the dishes from beginning to end makes you question the wisdom of your original plan. After you complete remodeling the kitchen, people will assume you spent a million dollars.  

 Keenly listening for the escape of air or any other noises  

Symptoms of a malfunctioning dishwasher include an inability to run, dry dishes, and drain water.  

Use Your Gas Range to Its Full Potential for Consistently Delicious Meals  

When was the last time your oven displayed unusual behavior? Whenever you need us Fridge Fix our Oven Repair team is here 24/7 to assist you. Your worries about baking, roasting, or toasting will be a thing of the past with our reliable, fast, and affordable service. Get yourself prepared right away to avoid settling for second best.  

It describes every one of our services: There are a few possible causes if your oven heats up unevenly: As an example, while utilizing gas in the kitchen, there are three potential sources of ignition: food, an open door, and the pilot light.  

Appliance Repair Service fixes appliances.  

Looking to upgrade your stovetop? The importance of sticking to a regular meal schedule increases when health deteriorates. Do not hesitate to contact our team of skilled professionals in the event that you hear popping or sizzling noises emanating from your stove. You may trust that our service will always provide fast, reliable, and reasonably priced outcomes. Exhibit assurance and readiness.  

We solve common home problems including jammed doors, broken heater parts, incandescent light bulbs, and washers with constantly flashing light indicators when we come to your house for routine maintenance.  

Get in touch with EasyFix-Appliance Repair immediately in the event that your washing machine stops working. We are experts at fixing washers quickly. When you're stuck doing laundry and starting to get bored, imagine an alternative outcome. Contact us right away if you would like to set up a meeting.  

The following are all the problems that have been fixed:  

Crucial for finishing the cycle, preventing overflow, and collecting water.  

Assist me, please! It is only very recently that the washer started acting up.  

As you've worked to put an end to the apparently never-ending chain reaction that began in your past, you've been accompanied by physical and mental fatigue. You will be able to resume your regular laundry routine quickly by utilizing our dryer repair service. This service is dependable because of its inexpensive rates and ease of use. In order to fully appreciate your trip without being concerned about getting wet, it is recommended that you dry everything before you leave.  

In the event that your dryer overheats, emits an odd odor, fails to dry garments quickly enough, or produces an excessive amount of noise, please contact us.  

Instructions for Properly Maintaining Your Ice Maker  

The ice maker in my fridge refuses to cooperate regardless of my efforts. In the 2000s, carbonated soft drinks were all the rage. We fix ice makers, so your drinks will be perfectly chilled in no time. Definitely not a problem. Also, shoot for the stars!  

It doesn't matter if it's a minor mistake, continuous flow, missing ice, or inadequate output; we can resolve it.  

Business Guidance Believe us when we say that our expert crew can fix many different brands of popular appliances. All of the companies that have ever worked with us are listed here. If we referenced your brand but didn't feature it, please let us know.  

[eijiroukiriot]

Bakugo can’t actually tell when there’s a bomb in a building bc he can’t smell nitroglycerin

ohhhh a horrible and ironic fate!!

[little-cereal-draws]

Doggy Bag

Five days to the full moon.

Jack sat in his car, thumbs tapping out an anxious rhythm against the steering wheel. He was stuck in traffic, and he wanted to get home. Really this wasn't any different than his normal commute, but he could not deal with this today.

Every honk or angry yell made him jump and he had to take a deep breath and remind himself he had done nothing wrong. He turned up his music to try and drown them out by they were loud, so loud. Everything was loud. The tires on the road, the ticking of the meters on his dashboard, the rumble of the engine. He would be so happy to get home.

And maybe he would make it to the toilet before he puked. The smell of gas and exhaust was making his head spin and stomach churn. He grimaced and tried not to imagine adding the smell of throw up to the mix. He wanted to roll down the window and take a big breath of fresh air, but he knew from experience that opening the window would only let in more exhaust. Then he really would throw up in his lap. He tapped his right pocket and felt a familiar lump protruding from it. A wave of comfort fell over him and his hand hovered over his pocket.

"...No. Not yet." He turned the AC on instead and tried to focus on the white noise and clean breeze. It was a stressful twenty minutes, but he made it home.

--

Three days to the full moon.

Jack sat down hard in his kitchen chair, holding the sides of his head with his fingertips. No, no, no. This was his own house; why was it so much?

He had a pot of soup on the stove that bubbled and steamed but he couldn't even look at it right now. Everything was so overwhelming.

He could hear the hiss of each soup bubble popping and the rush of air in the vents and his own heart pounding, and everything was just so loud. Listening to himself panic only made him panic more and he tried to center himself. He felt like it worked better when Ted was there to guide him through it, but he was more than capable of doing it himself.

Five things he could see. Table, floor, his legs, socks, and elbows.

Skipping four things he could hear. It was too much.

Three things he could smell. Oh god. Another whirlwind pulled him down. He could smell everything. The soup, the cleaner he put on the counter last week, every single thing he had ever put in the microwave, the soap on his hands, the shampoo in his hair.

Normally, his house was where he came to get away from all the smells of the world because it just smelled... like him. Everything smelled familiar and comfortable but, most importantly, the same. Now though... it had turned into a minefield.

He got up from the chair and stumbled across the room to his nightstand. He was swaying back and forth, and his hands were shaking like leaves, but he opened the drawer and pulled out a little cloth drawstring bag. He pressed it up against his lips and stood there for a minute, feeling the familiar texture of the bag and pulling on the string.

Eventually, his heart slowed and his breathing returned to normal. He lowered the bag and considered putting it back in the drawer but decided against it, putting it in his pocket.

A loud steady sizzling noise shook him back to reality. He turned to see his soup boiling over, falling into the fire.

"Oh, shit!" He ran and turned the burner down. Dinner saved.

--

One day to the full moon.

He was such an idiot; how could he have forgotten? Jack stood in the doorway of the grocery store, the blast of AC chilling him to the bone. His hands shook as he reached for a basket, partly from the cold and partly from the nerves.

He did not want to be in the grocery store; he usually tried to spend the 24 hours before the full moon in his house, mentally preparing. Going out in public and seeing people was the last thing he wanted to do. But his fridge was empty, somehow it had slipped his mind to stock up, and he knew he would hate it even more if he had to go after. He would just have to tough through it now and be grateful about it later.

He was going to make this quick and efficient and only get the essentials. Chicken, cereal, eggs, bread, milk, butter. Chicken, cereal, eggs, bread, milk, butter. Chicken, cereal, eggs, bread, milk, butter. He repeated it over and over in his head as he set out on his checklist.

He needed to leave as soon as possible so he just threw the first item of each category in his basket, not checking the quality or brand. The chicken smelled like blood, blood, blood. It squished when he touched it. There was a little kid in the cereal aisle babbling and singing and it made his ears ring. He ran out of there as fast as he could. An old lady who smelled like she had drowned herself in perfume was arguing on the phone with her husband very loudly next to the bread. She made him feel like he was going to fall over where he stood. The whole place was so overwhelming, the smell of each individual item on the shelf, the beep of the scanners and squeak of broken carts, each person leaving a scent trail behind them. Just the dairy left and then he could go curl up in his bed.

Tears instantly sprung to his eyes as he turned the corner to get the milk. He really was an idiot. At the end of the dairy aisle was the seafood. The milk was halfway down the aisle, the butter right next to it, but the eggs were right next to the fish. Raw, smelly fish sitting out on ice, stinking up everything.

A faint whimper escaped him as he stared at the fish; an undefeatable enemy stopping him from his simple goal. He was so close. So close. But he knew he couldn't make it. His legs wouldn't move, refusing to go a single step closer.

Tears started to pour down as he forced one foot up, feeling like he was walking through tar, towards the milk. That was his breaking point. He fell to the floor, breathing way too fast; each breath sucking in more of the rancid fish smell. He was dying. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't stop breathing. The fish smell was silver and sharp, sliding down his throat and into his lungs. He could taste it.

He needed the milk. He needed to get out. He needed help. He needed... he needed...

His hands had glued themselves to the sides of his head at some point, basket forgotten, but with incredible effort he forced one down to his pocket. Fingers fumbling and shaking, he pulled the little bag out. He brought it up to his face and spent what felt like an eternity trying to get it open.

As soon as the top was wide enough, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath in. Comfort came washing over him. Inside the bag was a bunch of little things Ted had grown for him. A flower, some mushrooms, a patch of moss, leaves, wet dirt, sticks. It smelled like outside, like wide open spaces, like the wilderness they roamed around in. It smelled like Ted. Like comfort, like laughing, like love and protection. His family.

He didn't know how long he sat there or how many strangers gave him sideways glances, he just closed his eyes and took one deep breath after the other, each breath feeling as healing as the first. Eventually he opened his eyes and found... he was ok. He was on the floor of the grocery store, in the dairy aisle, a few steps away from the milk.

Still keeping the bag under his nose, he lifted himself up and grabbed one. He got the butter and even the eggs too. His whole body shook slightly, and he felt like he had done a full body workout, but he dragged himself the checkout and heaved the basket onto the conveyer belt. He put the bag away and brushed the dirt off his nose while the cashier rung him up, ignoring the weird look they gave him.

The night air was such a relief as he stepped out and smiled, looking up at the stary sky. He did it. He got all his groceries. A giddy sort of happiness ran through him as he walked home.

He made a mental note to thank Ted again the next time he saw him and tell him how brave he was. It might be a bit silly, but he was proud of himself, and he knew Ted would be happy to hear about it too. He kept a hand in his pocket, fiddling with the string on the bag, in case he needed it again, but he knew he wouldn't.

[luvnami]

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - wahh it’s here! can’t believe my brainrot of osamu teaching a cooking class turned into this long fic lol... i hope you enjoy it!! it was fun crafting the story with my beta readers and i put a lot of effort into it!!! itadakimasu <3

𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 - @forgetou​ @amjustagirl​ (muacks 2x) + tq to everyone who helped me with the banner!!

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 - you’re suna’s younger sibling, food, heartbreak, angst but happy ending, mentions of stabbing (joke), kita dances to ‘ice cream’ by selena gomez and blackpink, mentions of alcohol, mentions of blood (brief), suna beats (redacted) up

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 - miya osamu x gn!reader

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 - you fall in love with miya osamu once more, but you’re afraid of getting hurt again.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 5535

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 | 𝐤𝐨-𝐟𝐢

1. Cook the rice according to your rice cooker, then transfer the cooked rice to a separate bowl to cool it down.

“What ya want t’do is scorch the soy sauce.”

The class presses themselves against Osamu’s workbench as they scribble down notes on their recipe printouts. Their lips purse to ooh and aah at his cooking skills, though you’re pretty sure that they’re more interested in how his biceps flex when he flips the wok with a trained flick of the wrist. 

You stand at the very edge of the group. It’s better than getting close with a group of hungry housewives, really. If grocery store and department mall sales have ever told you anything, it’s to never get in the way of what a seasoned housewife wants. Unfortunately for you, you haven’t learnt the way of being a homemaker just yet. 

You’re unemployed, right in the middle of a month and a half-ish long transfer between jobs. You currently stay at your brother Suna’s place — which is really just an apartment filled with dirty laundry overflowing from its seams.

Turns out Suna himself is a bit of a gossip.  He told Kita who told Atsumu who told Osamu that you’re stuck at his place 24/7 with no friends or entertainment in the lovely city of Nagano. It’s just mountains and trees as far as the eye can see all around — and there’s only so many hikes you can take each week. 

“Why don’t you take a cookin’ class?” 

“Cookin’?” Your face screwed up in confusion. “ What for?”

“So that you can actually pull your weight around the house and make me something to eat.”

You chucked a pillow at his head and began to list all the things you did while staying at his apartment. Laundry, cleaning the floor, doing grocery shopping (even if it was only instant noodles and snacks), finding his disgustingly sweaty socks under the sofa and many other important chores, thank you very much.

Besides, you weren’t as eager when you saw who was the one that would be holding the classes. With his picture plastered across the front of a pamphlet, your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach. Years of chasing his dreams and training in a kitchen had done Osamu wonders. 

You had half a mind to smack Suna in the head with the yellow, glossy paper, but instead you quietly tucked it into a corner of the guest room to look at later. You were sure Suna hadn’t forgotten your history with Osamu just yet — but perhaps he assumed that enough time had passed to heal your wounds.

Either way, there’s no going back now. That’s how you ended up at Osamu’s ‘Cooking class for homemakers — you can do it too!’, except you aren’t a homemaker. You shift your weight from one foot to the other as the sound of sizzling soy sauce fills the air. Osamu pauses for a while before beginning to mix the rice with the sauce, wielding his spatula and wok expertly like weapons.

“Miya-san, you’re amazing!” someone gushes.

He lets out a bashful laugh. “This is nothing. I’m sure everyone will be able to do this by the end of class today!”

You wonder if he’s ever considered being a teacher. The demonstration on how to make shrimp fried rice is soon over and everyone returns to their benches, eager to try out the recipe. You are no different. Scurrying to your bench at the very back of the classroom, you exchange glances between the printed recipe handout and your tray of ingredients.

“Need any help?” 

Osamu’s voice and looming presence makes you jump.

“Woah! Careful there,” he chuckles, his fingers gently prying a knife out of your hands.

Unconsciously, you had raised it in shock when Osamu snuck up on you. The knife now lays safely on the tabletop and you feel the eyes of the entire class boring into you.

“Sorry, Miya-san. I didn’t see you,” you apologise meekly.

“Don’t worry about it, I shouldn't have scared ya like that. And no need for the formalities! You’re my friend’s sister, afta’ all.”

Oh goodness. You half expect the class to pick up their pots and pans and run at you right this moment. You swallow back the half hearted ‘Osamu-san’ that rises in your throat. Your heart trembles in your chest and for a second, the silence that weighs heavily between the both of you turns awkward. 

“Miya-san! Could you help me with this please?” 

You’ve never been so glad to hear Tachibana’s sickly shrill voice before. Osamu is quick to wave goodbye to you before hurrying over to her bench, a smile still on his face. You breathe a sigh of relief. 

You make a mental note to tell Suna that Osamu should just stick to placating those housewives and leave you the hell alone. The last thing you want is to have blackmail spread around the neighbourhood by these gossipy housewives, or worse, have their daughters hunt you down and chop you up into pieces.

Whatever. You’re just here to learn how to make shrimp fried rice and then go home to your annoying older brother. Besides, it’s not like you’ll be here for long. Miya Osamu just happens to be the local heartthrob, the handsome and eligible bachelor chased by anyone single and ready to mingle. You have absolutely nothing to do with someone so popular and good-looking. And for goodness sake, he’s your brother’s high school friend and your… Well, you know. 

Your face burns and you pick up the knife again, grip tightening on its handle. You begin chopping at the onions with renewed determination.

(Later on, when you bring back a tupperware of fried rice for Suna, he looks you in the eye and asks “Shrimp fried this rice?”.

You shoot him a glare.

“I fried this rice.”)

2. Prepare all the fillings that you are going to use and set aside, such as pickled plums or tuna mayo. Prepare your seaweed sheets.

What you don’t expect is for Miya Osamu to show up at your doorstep the next day with boxes of food, cartons of drinks and a very noisy brother of his in tow. 

“Rin, where can I leave the drinks?” Osamu yells.

“Rin, can I play your PS5?” Atsumu shouts.

You think that they are very different, the Miya twins. Suna takes a minute to finish putting on some clothes (you had answered the door, thankfully. No one wants to see Suna Rintarou in Pikachu boxers) before bursting out of his room.

He’s quick to smack Atsumu’s ‘dirty little setter hands’ away from his precious Playstation, directing Osamu to what constitutes the apartment’s kitchen — a second-hand fridge and the building-installed gas stove that works only if you hit it hard enough. You’re surprised that neither you or Suna haven't died of a house fire or gas poisoning by now.

It doesn’t take long for the other Inarizaki alumni to arrive at Suna’s apartment in a series of doorbell rings. Kita even brings along a large bottle of sake, to which everyone cheers loudly. You don’t understand why they had chosen Suna’s place to have a reunion party. Seriously, wouldn't Onigiri Miya or some other izakaya have been a better choice?

However, there’s free flow of drinks and lots of yummy snacks, so you decide to let the noise wash over you and stand by the food table to pick at the trays of pizza, fried chicken and other finger food. Aran even offers you a drink, smiling sweetly before going off to wrangle Atsumu from trying to initiate a beer chugging competition. Some things just never change, you suppose.

“Having fun?”

You jump and nearly drop the plate of food that you hold.

“You have a horrible habit of scaring people, Miya- Osamu.”

His first name comes out awkward, tumbling off of your tongue as you use a pair of chopsticks to carefully pile back some mentaiko mayonnaise onto a slice of tamagoyaki. Osamu settles into the crook of the kitchen counter next to you with a playful grin on his face.

“Do I really?”

“Don’t forget that the first time you did that, someone nearly got stabbed.”

You pop the tamagoyaki into your mouth. It’s delicious — the egg’s sweetness balances out the salty sauce. You wonder if there’s enough left on the tray for seconds. 

“How’s the reunion going?” you ask nonchalantly, and shuffle a few centimetres away from him.

You hope Osamu doesn’t notice that. He does, however, but chooses not to comment on it. He brings up a hand to scratch at his neck, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. He’s close enough for you to get a whiff of whatever cologne he’s wearing. Your head spins for a second. 

“Oh, none of us have gotten drunk just yet. I’m pretty sure we’ll be playing beer pong or something later on.”

You steel yourself against the urge to look at what Osamu is wearing. Don’t look, don’t look, definitely don’t look. Miya Osamu is, has been, a dangerous man to fall in love with. You can’t afford to- 

Perhaps gouging your eyes out would have been a better choice in theory. Even a glance from where you stand beside him is enough to see that not only is he wearing a tight, black T-shirt, Osamu also has a pair of sweatpants on. Is it a sin to wear sweatpants? Probably so, especially with the way it makes your throat run dry. 

“Beer pong, huh?” You try your best to mumble somewhat nonchalantly. “Who won the last time?”

“Kita.”

“Kita?!” you gasp. 

Even that’s enough to make you forget about Osamu and his stupid (and very sexy) sweatpants. 

“Yeah, right? That was the first time he participated. All of us got left drunk in the street, so we decided to do it at someone’s place this year.”

You let out a soft laugh at the thought of a bunch of grown men piled over each other on the road. You don’t particularly like the thought of cleaning up after them tonight, though. 

The lack of words between you and Osamu descends into snorts of laughter that trickle in from the tiny living room. Aran throws his head back, drink nearly spilling out of his cup. Ginjima laughs so loud you see Omiomi cover his ears and Suna holds his phone up, filming every second of Atsumu’s defeat. 

Osamu opens his mouth as if to ask you something.

“C’mon! Yer killin’ me, Kita-san!” Atsumu yells, socked feet and waving arms trying to match the onscreen character’s movements.

Kita, on the other hand, is scoring perfect marks without as much effort wasted. You giggle to yourself as he moves his hips, shaking them here and there. A small smile quirks his lips upwards as he finishes with a flawless ending move on ‘Ice Cream’, the Just Dance characters fading into oblivion on the screen. Atsumu crumbles to the floor in defeat. 

Osamu’s lips form a straight line as he watches you laugh along, raising a hand to cover your mouth. He curses Atsumu’s birth and swallows back his embarrassment.

“Did ya see that, Osamu? Oh- Kita-san is so good at everything!” you gush.

“Atsumu just sucks.”

When you laugh, Osamu thinks something in his chest lurches. Regret makes his head go foggy and leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

3. Place cling wrap over a rice bowl. Place some of the cooked rice over the centre of the cling wrap and make a well.

“No way ya got a love letter!” Atsumu yelled.

“Ya get yer fair share. We share t’same face, why shouldn’t I get some?” Osamu retorted, rolling his eyes. 

Suna watched as the twins began to gripe and argue about who was the better looking sibling again. Nothing unusual, really, given how this occurred every odd day of the week.

“S’gotta be a prank. No way someone likes a loser like you,” Suna mused.

In retaliation, Osamu threw him a stink eye. “You two are just jealous,” he sniffed.

The letter had been written on pretty pink paper, all hearts and cute handwriting as his secret admirer asked him to meet them on the roof after school. Not that Osamu wasn’t affected by it, of course. It always rubbed his ego the right way to know that someone preferred him over Atsumu. Though, it wasn’t like he was interested in anyone then. It only took a second before Osamu ripped the letter in half.

“Woah woah woah! Yer crazy! Whatcha gonna do if some pretty girl gave that to ya?” 

Atsumu’s eyes widened in shock, almost reaching forward to grab the shreds of letter that Osamu had torn up. 

“Does it matter? S’not like I’m interested in datin’ right now,” he replied.

“Seriously? What if she’s like, super duper hot!”

Osamu’s face screwed up. “Are ya a horndog?”

Just as Atsumu was about to shout at his dear brother again, you opened the door to their classroom and hurried in. You had a bento box in hand and a cute pout on your face as you placed it on Suna’s table.

“Rin! You forgot your bento at home again!” 

“Oh.” Suna blinked. “Thanks.”

“Seriously, you gotta stop forgetting your things! I can’t be bringing them to you all the time-”

“Hey, Suna.” Atsumu perked up, referring to you. “Would ya go on a date with Samu or me? Me, right? Definitely me!”

Your face flushed with heat. “Huh? What are you talking about?”

“‘Samu got a love letter in his shoe locker this morning. Cliche, huh?” your brother said between bites of his lunch. 

“Mm, yeah. Cliche,” you mumbled. 

You looked around anxiously for any sign of the love letter. Was it in Osamu’s bag? 

“Can ya believe he tore it up?” Atsumu laughed.

“What?”

Your heart felt like a stone in your chest as you froze, your blood running cold. 

“Yeah! This dumbass doesn’t know how t’appreciate anythin’,” he replied, smacking Osamu on the back of his head.

His twin responded with a muffled growl as he continued to scarf down his absurdly large bento. You fiddled with the cuffs of your sleeves, staring down at your feet. You were quick to bid the third years goodbye as you fled their classroom as an inexplicable ache spread through your chest. 

You didn’t focus on your classes for the rest of the day. The fact that Osamu had torn your love letter, written with all your heart and soul as you crumpled draft after draft last night, tipped you over the edge of your fantasies and had you plummeting straight into reality. 

“Oi.”

You looked up from your feet, glancing up at Suna. The both of you were swapping your indoor shoes for outdoor ones, but you had absentmindedly stopped in the middle of slipping your right foot into a shoe. It was nearing the time where they closed the school gates, so there weren’t many students around save for the odd volleyball club member.

“What’re you doing? Put your shoes on properly,” he huffed.

“Sorry,” you said quietly, and slammed the locker door shut once you were done.

You walked a few feet ahead of Suna as you approached the school gate. Your head drooped with each step, tears beginning to mist your eyes. You willed yourself to hold it in till you got home, till you were in the safety of your bedroom to start sobbing your little heart out. Suna tugged on your wrist.

“Are you crying?” he questioned.  

You shook your head quickly, rubbing your eyes with the back of your sleeve.

“Oi. Answer me.”

This time, his voice was a little softer, yet held a mixture of irritation and anger behind a crumbling wall of apathy. Who had been the one to make you cry? 

“It’s nothin’,” you choked out. “Let’s just go home.”

You turned your face to the side as tears continued to roll down your cheeks, muffled cries turning into heartbroken sobs. Something inside of Suna’s head clicked. 

“It’s Miya Osamu, isn’t it?” 

You had to bite on your lower lip to stop it from trembling.

“That bastard tore up your letter, didn’t he?”

You gave Suna the tiniest of nods. He let go of your wrist and whipped around, eyebrows furrowed together. Not wanting to date was one thing, but treating your confession like dog shit was something else. Fortunately for him, the Miya twins were changing their shoes in the getabako.

“‘Samu!” Suna yelled.

The gray haired male looked up with a face of confusion.

“Suna? Whaddya want-” Osamu wasn’t able to say anything more as Suna’s fist collided with his face.

Atsumu jumped back with a yelp as the both of them crashed to the ground. Your hands flew to cover your mouth.

“Rin! Stop it!” you cried out.

You dashed over, tripping over your own feet as you tried to pull Suna away from Osamu as they traded blows. It took the work of you, Atsumu and Ginjima (who had been unlucky enough to pass by) to tear the two apart, and even then Osamu was still struggling in his brother’s arms to be let go.

“What t’hell, man!” he snarled. 

Suna wiped his nose, glancing briefly at the crimson that stained his school uniform. The adrenaline was beginning to run low and pain began to settle into his fists and ribs. His shoulders heaved with each breath, and your hands clutched his shirt.

“Rin. No more, please,” you begged, pressing your forehead against his back. “No more.”

Suna hated the way your voice trembled as you spoke. He didn’t think it was fair for you to bear the burden of pain while Osamu got to walk away unscathed, leaving you broken in pieces. His fist curled up again.

“It’s not worth it, Rin.”

Suna took in a shaky, deep breath.

You were right.

Miya Osamu wasn’t worth it. 

4. Put about 1tbsp of the filling of your choice on the centre of the rice and cover it with rice.

A week comes and goes after the annual Inarizaki reunion. You’re still finding sticky stains on the floor, as well as food wrappers tossed behind the sofa. Suna sends the group chat a video of you yelling at all of them while wielding a mop with so much fervour Aran asks if you broke it. Atsumu actually apologises and Osamu offers to come over and help clean up. The entire group chat flames him immediately.

As per last week, you walk into Osamu’s cooking class at 2p.m. on a Wednesday afternoon. It’s hot outside, droplets of perspiration rolling down your nape. The cool air-conditioning of the classroom is much appreciated and you don your apron behind the gaggle of housewives. You catch snippets of their conversation as they put their items in the cubbies provided. 

“Tanaka-san, did you see the mushrooms that were on sale this Monday?”

“My son is attending this cram school this summer. Here’s the address!”

“My father-in-law keeps complaining about the heat…”

“Good afternoon, everyone.”

“Miya-san!”

Everyone perks up when Osamu walks through the door. They’re quick to surround him, asking how his day had been. You look tired, take this ginseng drink! It really revitalises your spirits! Did you get a girlfriend yet, Miya-san? My daughter is single, you know! 

You watch as Osamu walks behind his bench, all smiles and “Is that so, Shigeru-san?”. Polite enough to please them, but not enough to make them think that he actually wants to go on a date with their 34 year-old daughter who’s a tired office worker looking out for potential husbands like a hawk. He lets out a heavy exhale, using his cap with the Onigiri Miya logo on it to fan himself.

“Hot today, isn’t it?” he chuckles.

You think that maybe he’s the one that’s making this summer so warm, especially with the way that his shirt clings to his figure and his flushed cheeks that make him look adorable. 

Wait.

You do a double take. Ah, adorable. You must have meant that heart-print apron that Tanaka is wearing today. It is pretty cute, and you wonder if you should ask her where she got it from later on. Definitely not Osamu with his perfect smile that would make anyone’s heart skip a beat, and definitely not when it’s directed at you.

“Gather around everyone! We’re going to be making gyoza today!”

The demonstration goes as usual — Osamu impresses the housewives, they gasp and someone even touches his forearm and asks “How did you get so strong, Miya-san?”. Not that you care, of course. You certainly don’t. What you’re more concerned about is how Osamu manages to make wrapping the fragile gyoza seem so easy. 

Your fingers pinch at the thick dough, eyebrows furrowed together. No matter what you do, your filling keeps spilling out of the wrapper and so you’ve opted to try out for a thicker piece this time. Not that it really matters — Suna will be the one suffering from food poisoning if it turns out bad, anyways.

“Ah, yer made it too thick,” Osamu says as he strolls over. 

You tense up as he leans over your shoulder, peeking at the chubby gyoza in your hands. You pretend not be affected by how close he is and continue pinching the wings of the dumpling shut.

“They keep bursting,” you sniff. 

“Maybe ya put t’much filling?” Osamu suggests. “Here, lemme show ya. Put tha’ one down and grab a new wrapper. Yeah, just like that.”

You stiffen as Osamu flours his hands and cradles your hands in his. 

“Here ya go. That’s t’much, scoop out some more. That’s it. Now gently…”

Blood rushes to your face as you feel the warmth of his skin seep into yours, his hands rough from years of training and cooking. Scars adorn the tips of his thick fingers and knuckles. You suddenly feel the urge to gently trace them with your thumb, to ask him how he got each one of them. 

Would he let you? Let you so close, that perhaps you would be the one to know every single thing about him?

“You did it!” Osamu says cheerfully. 

He suddenly pulls away, making you plummet back to reality. A perfectly made gyoza sits in your hands.

“I’m looking forward to tasting your gyoza later on. Now keep trying!” 

You’re left dumbfounded as Osamu walks away to help out the other housewives. They stammer and blush when they get too close, but he never holds their hands in his own, never smiles as gently as he does with you.

You place the gyoza on a pan and put the lid on with a little bit more force than what is necessary.

5. Wrap the cling wrap over the rice and squeeze and mould it into a triangle shape with your hands.

You try not to make contact with Osamu after that. Attending his cooking classes becomes a game of cat-and-mouse, where you try to tell him ‘I don’t need any help, Miya-san’ and watch him crawl away in defeat. In fact, you decide to skip the lesson on making hamburgs and instead spend the afternoon watching television.

After all, from what you’ve learnt in the past, Osamu is nothing more than trouble. You think it’s worth the sacrifice now to put some space between the both of you so that you don’t end up heartbroken a second time. 

Though, you do feel a little bad. Just a little bit. One day when Suna’s out at training, you hear the doorbell ring and Osamu’s voice ring through the genkan. You hear his feet shuffle by the door and a heavy thump outside before he leaves. You only open the door when you hear his car pull out of the apartment building’s carpark, and find a packed bento lunch for you in front.

You try to pretend that the bunny cut apples and sakura shaped carrot slices don’t mean anything.

“Ah, Suna-san! Where were you last week?” Tachibana titters as you step into class for the final lesson.

“I wasn’t feeling very well,” you lie. “I think I caught a summer cold.”

“Oh dear, that sounds terrible!” the ladies chorus together. 

You think they’re probably just glad that you didn’t get in the way of their beloved Miya-san. You tug your apron over your head, and ignore Osamu when he greets everyone. His eyes linger on you for a little too long during the demonstration — to the point that he actually burns the skin side of his salmon fillet.

Osamu skirts around your bench like a nervous puppy when the demonstration is over. You don’t seem particularly keen about talking to him, though the tips of your finger tremble when he finally plucks up the courage to stand next to you. It’s not close enough for your elbows to touch, but close enough that he can whisper to you without anyone else hearing him.

“Hey,” he begins, uncertain. His voice wavers slightly.

“Hey,” you reply, wary of what he might say. 

“Are you okay?”

You take a moment to think, tipping the sake bottle carefully to measure out an exact tablespoon of it. He wonders when your hands have seemed so delicate, so small. He aches to hold them in his own again. 

“I’m okay.”

“That’s good.”

It’s quiet, again. Just like that night in Suna’s apartment, with all the noise of the reunion going on around you, except this time it's the clanging of pans and utensils, paired with the chatter of many ladies. 

“I was thinking…” Osamu stares down at your hands, turning the measuring spoon over so that sake splashes onto the hot pan with a sizzle. “Maybe we could get a drink together after this?”

You cover the pan and watch its surface cloud up with condensation. You hide your shaking hands by digging them into the pockets of your apron. 

Osamu swallows. Perhaps he had been too direct with you; scared you off with how quickly he was advancing. Or did Suna tell you to be careful of him? That he didn’t want you falling in love with him a second time? There’s no lie about it, that Osamu had been a grade A asshole back in high school.

But he loves you now; has loved you since then. Would you be willing to give him a second chance?

“Osamu,” you breathe.

His shoulders relax slightly when you don’t call him by his last name. 

“I don’t know what to do.” 

Your voice comes out timid, scared. Osamu’s heart crumbles at the edges. He wonders if you would hate him if he reached out and took your hands in his once more. You’re both adults, perfectly capable of rational thinking if only your hearts hadn’t gotten in the way. Love hurts, they said. You want to agree. 

“We can start it out slow,” Osamu suggests.

“I’m supposed to start my new job next month. I won't be in Nagano for much longer.”

“I’m opening a branch in Tokyo.”

“I’ll be busy settling down. We might not get to see each other often enough.”

“A little is better than nothin’.”

“You’re my brother’s friend.”

“Now, yer just picking at nothing, babe. Didn’t you have a crush on me back in high school, too? That didn’t stop ya, did it?”

Your heart wrestles with your brain, insisting on comfort and that love will always come in the form of someone that isn’t Miya Osamu. You’ll find someone, but will they be better? Will they send food to your doorstep, or send you stupid photos of dogs he saw on the street? Will they chase after you relentlessly for years, will they be Osamu?

A lump forms in your throat and you wonder if this, has been, is love. You tear your heart out from within you and let it cling to your sleeve, as pathetic and scared it is. You don’t mind if it hurts. To never hurt is to never have lived, to never have loved. 

By this point, your eyes have misted up with tears and it hits you- You’re about to cry about your crush in the middle of a cooking class attended by middle-aged ladies. You’ve never been more embarrassed. 

“Really?” you whisper, looking up at Osamu with glittering eyes. 

He ignores the “Miya-san! I need your help!” that rings out in the background. He smiles gently.

“Yeah, really.”

A tear slips down your face. Osamu lets out a breathy chuckle as he swipes it away with his thumb, giving your shoulder a squeeze.

“We’ll talk properly after this, alright?” 

You nod numbly. You watch as he hurries off to Shigeru, gasping when he sees how she had completely butchered her fillet. He turns back to you, trying to hold in a snigger. 

You giggle.

Osamu thinks he wants to hear that laugh forever.

6. Remove the cling wrap and cover the bottom of the rice triangle with a nori sheet and set aside.

“One extra large bonito onigiri with spring onions!” you cry out from the counter.

Back in the kitchen, Osamu and another part-time worker scoop steaming rice out of large vats and use their hands to mould them into perfectly shaped triangles. A scoop of filling goes in and a strip of seaweed is wrapped hastily around the onigiri before it's sent to you to package. You place the onigiri carefully into a box and slip it into a paper bag with the shop’s logo on the front for a take-away order. 

The shop is filled with customers even on a Wednesday afternoon. The clock shows 2p.m., past lunch time, yet you can see a queue that snakes out of the shop and down the alleyway. 

Another long day ahead, you think to yourself. 

“It’s our turn!” a little girl squeals as she takes the bag from you, opening it up to peer at the huge onigiri inside. “Mama! ‘giri!” 

Her mother laughs and pats her head. “Don’t forget to say thank you, Haru.”

The girl turns to you, eyes sparkling. “‘Fank you, Miya-shan!” 

A cheery grin almost splits your face in half. Miya-san. Four years on and it still makes your stomach flip whenever you hear that Osamu’s last name has become yours. It was an easy decision for the both of you to get married, really. You had loved each other for years and all you wanted to do in the end was to spend the rest of your lives together.

You quit your office job just before you got married to help Osamu out with the new Onigiri Miya branches. It took some getting used to, but the familiar customers and bright smiles that you see just by serving onigiri each day makes it worth it. It’s tough work, no doubt. But doing what you enjoy with the man you love is more rewarding than it ever could be.

Though, it’s not like your relationship has always been smooth sailing. There are days when you bicker over something stupid (like how you always forget to close the lid of the rice cooker), or when Osamu insists that he isn’t overworking himself (although his eyebags tell otherwise). But love’s a recipe with a few secret ingredients, and you’ve come to master it over the years. 

“Come back soon!”

The shop is filled with the fragrant scent of freshly cooked rice and bonito flakes being stir-fried into furikake. Customers perch on tiny stools as they scarf down onigiri of different shapes and sizes, licking their fingers clean. A plush toy of Onigiri Miya’s mascot sits on the counter next to a potted plant that Atsumu bought (which is surprisingly still alive).

A photograph of the third Tokyo branch’s grand opening hangs on the wall. You and Osamu hold up a bouquet of flowers, smiling toothily at the camera, your wedding rings glinting in the sunlight. 

“One medium onigiri with tuna mayo, coming right up!”

You jump as Osamu shouts out the order suddenly and you nearly drop the onigiri that he hands to you.

“Woah, careful there,” he chuckles, a hand ghosting the small of your back.

“You have ‘ta stop scaring me, ‘Samu,” you huff and roll your eyes playfully.

Osamu grins at you and the edges of his eyes crinkle up. You place the onigiri safely into its packaging and place it on the counter for a customer to collect, before turning back to plant a kiss on his cheek. Osamu’s face flushes pink and he hurries away, mumbling something about bonito flakes.

Your heart soars in your chest.

Yeah, it has been, will be, worth it. 

7. Repeat the same steps as above to use the rest of the rice with other fillings that you prepared.

[blonde-in-charge]

Wildcard, Chapter One

** Hello everyone! My name is Kat, and this is the first imagine I have ever posted! I am still really new to the posting process so please stick with me. Anyways, I hope you enjoy **

Summary: Steve Rogers found you on the side of the road after a mission involving Hydra and convinced the Avengers to take you in. You have no name, no memories, and no idea of what you are capable of. All you know is that you are a super soldier with more hidden abilities than you care to admit. The first step to finding answers was to train you. Nobody, including you, knows what is up your sleeve. 

Characters: No Pairings(yet) Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Natasha Romanoff, Tony Stark, Sam Wilson

Warnings: Tiny bit of cursing, Loss of memory, Mentions of blood/violence, Scars

Words: 3.3k

Waking with a start, you groaned at the action of shifting your legs between the scratchy sheets. Your legs tightened and strained from the previous day, making you unable to move comfortably. Sitting up, you hiss as you strained to throw your legs ofthe side of the bed. It was quiet, for once, in the tower. On any other normal day, you would hear the group you lived with from down the hallway, chatting loudly over breakfast and laughing. You glared over at the angry red numbers projecting themselves into the air. 

4:45am

Shit.

Pulling your arms up over your head, you stretched your aching muscles until you heard the satisfying popping noise come from one of your elbows. You pushed yourself off of the bed and sighed as your legs took on the weight of your body. You ached like never before even just standing still. You felt up your nightstand in the dark, knocking over random half drunk water bottles in the attempt to find your glasses. Satisfied when your fingertips took hold of the lenses, uncaring of the fingerprints you knew would bother you later. The door automatically slid open as you walked towards it, slowly and not picking up your feet. One of the perks of living with Tony Stark was that you never had to open a door on your own, the downside was you had the misfortune of walking into non automatic doors on the rare occasion you left the tower.  

The halls were silent in the tower, making the shuffling of your feet seem louder than they should have been. As you walked past the doors of your colleagues you could hear soft snoring from one of the rooms and louder snoring from further down the hallway. You smiled to yourself, knowing your friends were getting what you couldn't, sleep. It wasn't like you tried to get less hours of sleep than everyone else, your mind and body have not let you rest since you have joined the team. 

-Eight Months Ago- 

You sobbed, curling yourself as tightly into a ball as you could, holding your hands to your chest as your hair whipped through the air. You had secluded yourself into the corner of an abandoned gas station in god knows where. You had no idea where you were, how you got there, what was happening, or even who you were. You had woken up on a cold metal table in a concrete room wearing nothing but a sports bra and tight training pants that stopped at your ankles. You don’t remember how but you broke the cuffs holding down your wrists and ankles, leaving bloody gashes in their wake. 

Your attention was drawn to the sound of heavy footsteps nearing you as you pushed yourself into the wall, begging to just disappear through it, “Please don’t take me back” you sobbed, hot tears rolling down your face, “I don’t know anything just let me go!”

Uncovering your face you looked up into a man's face. He looked relatively young with his blonde hair but the worry lines he was sporting upon looking at you aged him. 

He knelt down in front of you keeping his distance, “Shhh, I’m not here to hurt you, I’m here to help you. What's your name, kid?” He studied your face with kind blue eyes, his gaze felt instantly calming.

“I- I don’t- I don’t know,” you stared at him in disbelief, how could you not know your own name? The man looked at you and nodded before looking behind him and speaking so someone you could not see

“Guys, I found a girl about 10 miles out from the compound, she is in pretty rough shape. Have the quinjet meet at my coordinates ASAP,” He spoke softly around you but in a commanding tone until he nodded, apparently getting answers from the voices you could not hear. His eyes trailed back to your eyes, searching you. His eyes then trailed down to your hands clutched at your chest and they filled with worry. 

You looked down at your own hands stretching them in front of you, there were deep cuts on either one of your wrist running all the way around until they met in a circle, and they were bleeding profusely onto your exposed stomach. You looked back up at the man, suddenly extremely light headed and you watched his figure fade away into darkness as you passed out. 

-

The coffee maker trickled the dark liquid slowly into the pot, a sound that soothes your nerves every early morning. You wished you could go back to sleep but everyone would be getting up soon anyways, and coffee was calling your name. Whatever that was. The minutes ticked by as the coffee pot filled up and you realized you had stood there unmoving, staring at a whisk while trapped in your own mind. You reached up into the cabinet for your favorite mug and hissed as your muscles protested the sudden movement. You felt the presence of someone behind you as you poured the fragrant liquid into the mug. 

“Didn't we have that talk with you about announcing your presence in rooms when you entered, Buck?” You held the mug in both hands and turned around to lean against the countertop.

The brooding soldier stood before you with his resident scowl on his face and long brunette hair sticking up in every direction. Your eyes scanned over the man sporting black tee shirt and sweatpants, the circles under his eyes matching his outfit. He looked as if he slept as well as you did. He studied you for a second, his eyes questioning why you were awake.

You watched him carefully, “Bad dream,” was all you offered to him before he gave a knowing nod before looking away from you, his actions told you he was up for the same reason. He took a seat at the island in the middle of the vast kitchen and rubbed his hands up over his face as you made him a mug of coffee. Bucky took his coffee black, with one sugar, while your coffee had to be the color of your sheets with at least four sugars. Like the bad ass you were. He gripped the mug with his flesh hand, allowing himself to feel the heat of it before he sipped it. You two sat together in a comfortable silence that was familiar with the both of you. Your relationship with Bucky was the strongest of any relationships in the group (besides yours with Steve) despite your lack of communication. Both of you had seen the same hell and understood each other on the deepest level. Bucky never looked at you longer than necessary, even when speaking he kept his head down, he only ever looked at you when you weren't looking, to study you. Everyone in the tower treated him as a time bomb, except for you because you understood the trauma he has experienced. You had been in the tower long before Bucky had joined. The reason you were found was because they were looking for Bucky. 

A new set of footsteps caught your attention and pulled you out of your thoughts of the dark soldier. The familiar and heavy footsteps rounded the corner and met your face with a refreshed smile. You gave him a half smile, “Morning Capt.” 

Steve smiled at you over his shoulder as he opened the fridge, “Good morning, kid. Good morning, Buck,” He started pulling out different ingredients for the breakfast he was planning on making, but every morning you take over that process because Steve hasn't cooked ever in his life. As he pulled foods out, you pulled out pans and made your way over to the stove

You busied yourself with making scrambled eggs and bacon while letting your mind wander. Your relationship with Steve was strong, you had been inseparable since he brought you to the tower because of the sense of comfort he gave you. Steve had been extremely protective of you when it came to the other team members, he was always worried you would get over-stimulated or someone would cross a line with you. He was the best friend who let you sleep in his bed when you had nightmares but also would hold you down when your line of sanity breaks. That was another thing you and Bucky had in common, everyone was waiting for you to snap. If the power went out in the tower, your room and Bucky’s room would be the only two doors that lock and stay locked. You were also suspicious that Tony’s interface, Friday, sends Steve notifications of when you leave your room at night or if your heart rate elevates unexpectedly, because Steve always was there out of pure chance. 

“She's doing that thing again,” The voice snapped you out of your deep thought and you looked up into the face of Sam, “Mornin, Hot Stuff,” He grinned at you, the stupid grin that he did when he referred to you as one of your ever changing nicknames, “How did you sleep?” 

You finished plating the mountain of bacon you had made while distracted and ignored the question, “Would you like a cup of coffee, Sammy?” you asked as you turned around to face him and place the food on the island as the rest of the Avengers seemed to file in. 

You weren't surprised to see Bucky had already escaped the kitchen quietly, he never sat in one place for too long. Steve had watched you with concerned eyes, which made you realize he caught the part where you ignored Sam’s question. You shrugged to yourself, I can survive on two hours, I’ll be fine. Natasha came and touched your shoulder, “Gym in an hour, resuming our session from yesterday.”

You sighed, you were still so sore from yesterday's training. You could barely sit in a chair without your muscles locking up so how did she expect you to train again? Yesterday consisted of 100 weighted squats, but your weight was Steve Rogers. Nat really liked to make you work on the thing you struggle with the most, your strength. When you first came to the tower, you had broken the bathroom door, actually you didn't break it, when you tried opening it, you basically threw it across the room and broke a lamp. Your current favorite mug is the 12th favorite mug since you have been here and Sam refuses to give you a fist bump because you broke his hand the last time, you cringed at the memory. You made your way to your bedroom and pulled out a sports bra and leggings. Most of the clothes you owned were either Natasha's or free Avengers merchandise. You made your way to the bathroom and removed your glasses to put your contacts in, you wondered if you had always had trouble seeing distances, not that you could remember. You looked at yourself in the mirror, the (y/e/c) eyes staring back at you looked so tired and unfamiliar. You brushed down the wild mane that was your hair and pulled it into a tight braid. You opted to wear a long sleeve tee shirt to cover the nasty scars that littered your body from your rescue, you knew no one cared but you did not need a reminder. 

-

Natasha was ready before the hour was up and you knew it. You always met her early in hopes of ending the session early, but that never happened. The training room was located three floors down from you and it took up the entire floor. Nat was standing in the sparring ring in the center of the room with Tony and Steve.

“Do I have to squat both of you?” the whine was evident in your voice and Steve chuckled

“No, we are going to help you learn to control your powers,” He gave you a slight smile and you could sense the anxiety in his voice

“Which ones?” You raised an eyebrow at him and he looked at Tony

Tony cracked his neck, “The ones we know of, hopefully those are the only ones but you have been known to surprise us,” Tony sounded slightly annoyed, you knew he was not your biggest fan, “but I came prepared.” He slapped the fire extinguisher at his side like a new car 

Natasha looked at you sensing your discomfort at the situation, “where do you want to start?”

-Eight Months Ago-

You woke up with a start, one second you were in front of this man and the next in a bright room. You blinked rapidly to adjust your eyes to the light as you sat up to take in your surroundings. You were in a small room of glass that separated you from a larger room that looked like a medical office from the future. You felt your arms and looked down to see deep white set scars that circled both of your wrists. You looked up and made eye contact with the man that saved you before as he made his way to your room and stepped in. He had a soft smile on his face as he glanced at you, “Mind if I sit?” he asked, gesturing to the chair at your left you didn't even realize was there. You nodded at him silently and he took his seat while watching you examine your scars, “I hope you got some rest, you have been through a lot the last couple of hours.”

Your head shot up as you looked at him, you opened your mouth to speak and let out a barely audible, “Hours?” You remember the slices in your wrist, they were so deep, how could this heal in hours? You looked at the man for some sort of explanation but he offered none

“My name is Steve, I was the one that found you last night. Do you remember that?” You nodded your head once again, “That's good, do you remember how you got where you were when I found you?”  

You were a million miles away trying to remember anything. You remember the room you woke up in, the way you tore yourself off of the table, the blood, and then all you could remember was fire and the howling of the wind in your ears as you ran. As if he read your mind, Steve nodded at you and combed his fingers through his hair. He stood up and left the glass cubicle for a second to speak to a woman outside. The woman then followed him in and started to unhook you from the various monitors around you before she stepped out of the room. Steve looked at you questionably before offering his hand and asking, “Do you think you can walk?” You nodded and slid your legs over the side of the bed and pushed yourself up onto your feet, holding Steve's hand for balance. He watched you take a couple of steps before he was confident you would be okay, “Follow me.”

-

You huffed out a breath that made the hair hanging in front of your face jump. Your body was screaming at you to let it rest but Natasha’s training was resilient. Tony had resorted to putting on one of his iron suits to protect himself from you. You looked at Nat and she simply nodded, “Again.” You sighed loudly and used all of your might to focus on the suit in front of you. Fire suddenly engulfed your hands and reached up to your elbows as well as your feet up until your knees. Your eyes had turned into flames that flickered out of the socket as you made a fist and punched Tony’s suit in the center of the chest, where his power source was. The lights in the suit flickered out as well as the flames engulfing your body. You looked over at Nat expectantly and she nodded in approval. You huffed out a sigh of exhaustion and doubled over with your hands on your knees. Your vision was spotty from the amount of power you put into the set but Natasha and Tony were relentless. “Stand up, we are moving onto the next set.”

“I’m fucking tired,” You hissed as you stood up straight, “Give me a second.”

Natashas stone look reamined, “You won't have a second if Hydra comes after you again.”

You flinched at the name, Hydra. No one has spoken that word around you since you joined the tower and rightfully so, the name burned through you and you felt your body start to heat with anxiety before Tony cleared his throat, “Look power puff, lets just get the next set finished and you can go back to hating the world after, yeah?” He clapped his hands together and faced you while ignoring Nat’s glare from the corner. 

You pushed the hair back from your sweaty forehead, “Fine, which set?” You took your stance across from the suit with your hands out in front of you, ready to wield whatever he asked for. 

You could hear the smirk in his voice, “Surprise me.” You shut your eyes to concentrate, then you felt the power creep up your skin from a dark place within you, causing goosebumps to rise. Your eyes opened and locked with the target in front of you. You swirled your hands around watching as frost covered the floor, creeping its way towards Tony before it encapsulated the feet of the suit with thick blocks of ice. The suit itself did not completely freeze over on the outside, you were forcing your abilities inside the suit, trying to force the millionaire out. The suit cracked in some spots and opened as a safety precaution to a worried Tony Stark, who was shivering enough to shake the ring. You barely hear Natashas voice as you watch the ice creep slowly up Tony’s body, his wide eyes staring at you with fear. 

“y/n!”

Your name snapped you out of the trance you had been in and you focused on the situation. Tony was almost completely trapped in a frozen block and Natasha’s feet were frozen to the floor of the ring, both of them staring at you with wide eyes. You turned around to face Steve as he stared at you with concern written all over his face. Your words caught in your throat, “I didn't mean- I’m- “ You turned back towards Natasha and Tony and forced the ice to creep back from them. Tony fell out of the suit onto his knees with a gasp, holding his arms and shivering violently. 

“Tony, I am so sorry, I don't know what-” Tony held a shaking hand up to you and you looked down at your feet.

“S-save it, k-kid.” He looked at you and leaned back to sit on the ground, “This is what I get for helping train th-the new kid.” He sighed and closed his eyes before laying back against the ground, “No hard feelings, Frozone. Just give me a minute and take the day off.”  

You watched him with worried eyes and turned back to Steve, who was mirroring your expression but not for Tony. You shrugged your shoulders and walked over to him, hanging your head low. He reached out to touch your shoulder but you flinched at the sudden movement. Steve stopped his hand and then dropped it, letting it hang limply at his side while studying you. You gave him an apologetic look before walking away towards the elevator.