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reidyoulikeabook · 4 years ago

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Invisible String

Ship: Fem! Reader x Spencer Reid

Warnings: None, this is just fluff.

Word count: 3.2k

Summary: You and Spencer Reid don’t know it, but you’ve almost met quite a few times. What happens when you do?

A/N: This is potentially a bit on the wrong side of the cheesy line, but I was listening to invisible string by Taylor Swift and couldn’t get this idea out of my head. Pls bare in mind I’m from the UK and my only understanding of the US college system is from Google searches, so pls be forgiving of any misunderstandings about that.

November 6th, 2007

Dr. Spencer Reid. As you sat, thumbing through the article he’d written about the formation of ionic compounds in a chemical whose name you could not for the life of you spell or pronounce, you couldn’t help but resent the man.

Sure, the paper was very well-written and as cohesive as possible given the complex subject matter. But Dr. Spencer Reid, whoever he was, was the current source of your resentment at selecting chemistry to make up your science credit. Highlighting the name of a substance you’d have to look up later, you sighed. It was getting late but you had to hand in a critical summary of the paper on Friday.

It didn’t help that Dr. Reid was: a) a triple doctorate holder by the age of 22, or b) that your chemistry lecturer was none other than his old chemistry lecturer from Caltech and practically glowed with pride whenever he got to bring him up.

You chew on the end of your pen, having now distracted yourself from the notes. Not that you were particularly focused anyway.

In another life, maybe you’d have been a budding chemist who could describe an ionic lattice off rote. In this one, however, you’d just have to settle for slogging through the list of chemical processes and hoping you understood it well enough to please Dr. Reid’s biggest fan.

***

April 16th, 2008

Spencer hated flaking on commitments. It caused him a great deal of anxiety, the feeling of disappointing someone. He didn’t have much choice in this circumstance though.

Diana had taken ill over the last weekend. Nothing serious, some stomach bug or other. She’d become severely dehydated though, and had been hospitalised as a precautionary measure. Truth be told, he might not have gone if she hadn’t caught him on the phone. He was already feeling guilty for not having visited since Christmas. He wrote her letters everyday, yet still felt like he was neglecting his duties as a son. Rubbing his hands over his face, he lets out a deep sigh. Then takes out his laptop, to send another email.

Dear. Dr Abraham

I sincerely apologise again for my last minute cancellation. Excluding any unforeseen circumstances, myself and SSA Hotchner will be available to present the lecture on May 12th.

Yours sincerely,

Dr. Spencer Reid.

***

May 12th, 2008

Considering this was your third year on campus, you sure were bad at finding your way around. In your defence, they were doing maintenance in one of the main buildings, meaning that lectures got shuffled around and relocated. You probably had a higher change of attending the right lecture by accident than on purpose.

It doesn’t help that you’re running a little late this morning. You rush into Room 203. A lot of the seats are taken, you have to meander your way past quite a few people until you end up sat almost directly in the middle. Only moments before the lecture starts.

“I’m SSA Hotchner, and this is SSA Reid. We’re members of the BAU which is based at FBI quarters in Quantico. Today, we’ll be talking to you about profiling.”

This is not your forensic linguistics lecture.

Panic hits you, hot in your gut. Scanning the room anxiously, you suddenly become conscious that you’re drawing attention to yourself when you feel the eyes of the man who is not SSA Hotchner on you. Fuck.

There’s no way for you to escape now, not without disturbing half the lecture hall.

So you sit back in your seat, resigning yourself to sit awkwardly in the lecture you’re not supposed to be in and hoping nobody notices.

But then, it’s really interesting, actually. The work that Dr. Reid does sounds similar to work you’ve done in forensic linguistics, analysing patterns of speech and minor phrase formations that can give things away about the perpetrator. By the end of the seminar, you’re sat leaning forward. Enraptured by almost every word coming out of their mouths.

It seems to be the general mood: everyone is enamoured. People are clammering to speak to them at the end. After a brief inner battle, myou decide that you should talk to them too.

What’s the harm?

You’ve decided that you’ll speak to Dr. Reid, since he seems to share more of a field focus. However, as you’re heading down, you spot him. Dr Adams, your chemistry lecturer from last year. Oh shit, it’s that Dr. Reid.

Speaking to SSA Hotchner will just have to do instead.

----

“I’ve been majoring in forensic linguistics and criminal psychology,” You tell him, “Do you think ... I mean, I know it’s a pretty exclusive team to get on to. But is that the kind of thing that could maybe get me there one day?”

Hotchner nods, “Forensic linguistics is something that comes in very useful in the investigative aspects of cases. The FBI is always looking for new angles and perspectives, those are both good subjects to study if you were thinking of signing up to the academy.”

"Thank you, Agent Hotchner,” You say, suddenly a little bashful as you notice the queue of people lingering behind you, “That was a really interesting lecture. It’s definitely something I’ll think about.”

“You should talk to Dr. Reid if you have a particular interest in the linguistic aspect of profiling. He’s more specialised in that area than I am. I’m sure he’d be more than happy to discuss any research you’re conducting at the moment and suggest materials that might be helpful in furthering your understanding of the area.”

“Thank you,” You smile, and he nods at you again.

Stepping away from Agent Hotchner, you look to your right. Dr. Reid is still engaged deeply in conversation with Dr. Adams. You glance at your watch. There was time before your next class, you supposed, so you could wait. It couldn’t hurt to find out more, could it? It wasn‘t like you were getting your hopes up or anything.

It’s then that you feel a pair of arms around your waist, a familiar scent of cologne.

“Hey!” You whip around to see your boyfriend, grinning widely.

“Hey,” You reply, “How’d you find me?”

“I was walking past when I saw you talking to that FBI agent. Seriously, FBI?” He asks, with a disapproving quirk of his eyebrow, “You want to grab a coffee before Psych?”

You want to say no. But he’s got his hand on the small of your back, leading you out of the room before you even get a chance to reply. You glance back over your shoulder, making eye contact with Dr. Reid for all of two seconds before you’re swept away.

“Seriously though babe, FBI?”

Unsurpisingly, you don’t mention your potential change in career path to him.

***

March 8th, 2009

“Come in,” Hotch calls. He looks up from the paperwork on his desk to see Spencer entering the room, clutching a report in his hand.

“That last case we were on. I was doing some more research, just for future reference about linguistic patterns. Have you read this?” He asks, sliding a copy of your paper across the desk.

Hotch gives it a cursary look over, nodding, “Yes. It’s interesting. She’s signed up as an NAT. I believe I actually spoke to her at one of our lectures last year.”

"Her work is really impressive for somebody whose only studied this at a master level.”

Hotch almost smiles, “Yes. That’s exactly why I’ve recommended to the bureau that she signs up for profiling classes. Her work shows a lot of promise. They’re sending over a copy of her completed thesis, if you’d like to read it.”

“Yeah, I’d like that, thank you,” Spencer says, struggling to conceal the smile playing on the corner of his lips.

“I’ll email it to you as soon as I receive it.”

Spencer nods, smiling properly to himself as he leaves the room. It wasn’t unusual, exactly, for him to share new research that was relevant to cases. It was important that they all kept themselves fresh and acquainted with new theories about the field. Hotch, however, didn’t miss the excited way Spencer had presented it to him. Talking about how impressive you were, as if to subtly hint. He thinks it’s quite typical, actually, that Spencer could take such an interest in someone he only knew via an essay.

Although Spencer’s response does get Hotch to send a follow-up email, inquiring about whether you’d agreed to the classes. If Spencer was this impressed with your work, it must be good.

***

June 1st, 2009

The Metro that morning is packed. It doesn’t help that you’ve not been living here long, and don’t exactly know the route from your flat to the station off by heart yet.

You'd also had to make a detour to the post office. Your, firmly ex, boyfriend had mailed over the last of your things. Really, it was good riddance. His hounding you about your choice in job had only worsened. The relationship had been hanging on by a thread long before you’d moved away last month. You were more than a little grateful that it was finally over, that you could draw a line under it all and focus on your career.

Unfortunately, that hadn’t stopped you having a little cry to yourself on the way over.

Rushing, you make it onto the Metro just as the doors are about to close, falling against the railing on the left side. You grip onto it for dear life.

On the other side of the carriage, Spencer notices someone hurrying for the train. He had been buried deep in the paper he's reading, but the bustle had pulled his attention. Your back is to him, and there’s a scarf at your feet. He wants to say something, to try and get your attention, but he can’t from where he is.

“Miss, I think you’ve dropped something,” The woman you’re standing in front of says, gesturing to the scarf pooled at your feet.

You meet her eyes, sniffling slightly, “Thank you.”

Spencer watches as you pick it up, back still to him. Crisis averted, he turns his attention back to what he's reading: the published copy of your thesis Hotch had emailed him last week.

***

September 2nd, 2009

"This is SSA ____, the newest member of our team. She’s recently graduated from the academy and has an excellent knowledge of linguistics that the bureau feels will be a great advantage to this team. She’s had her induction and now will be joining the team on a probationary basis. She’ll be spending a little time with each of you in between cases to make sure she forms well-rounded knowledge of all aspects of what we do.”

It’s a little overwhelming, having everybody’s eyes on you.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Emily is the first over, offering her hand for you to shake.

“You too, it’s really nice to meet all of you,” You say, shaking hands in turn with her, Morgan, Rossi, J.J, and Garcia.

“Hi,” Spencer calls from behind you.

You turn around to face him. You remember what Hotch had mentioned to you about him being a bit of a germaphobe, so you keep your hand by your side.

“Hi,” You say, “Dr. Reid, right?”

“You can call me Spencer,” He says, a little bashful, “I read your thesis, the study about you did about the construction of passive clauses as an indicator of guilt in adolescent offenders. It was fascinating.”

You feel yourself getting a little warm under his gaze, “Thank you. I'm surprised you’re even aware it existed.”

Hotch interrupts then, “Reid, do you want to sit with ____ while she goes over the case file? It’d be useful if you could go over how you’d go about constructing a linguistic profile.”

That’s how you end up spending much of your first day: with Spencer, huddled up over case files as he explains his profile-building process to you. Spencer’s an incredible teacher, you think. He explains his thought process without ever being condescending, leaving little gaps for you to answer.

You’re incredible, Spencer thinks. You seem to grasp exactly what he’s saying, filling in the gaps based on the clues that are actually in front of you, not letting yourself be guided too much by bias.

***

October 29th, 2009

Spencer loves everyone at the BAU. They’re all the family he never had, and he has relatively good friendships with all of them. Just, they aren’t quite the same as they are with you.

He struggles to put his finger on it, exactly. It’s a unique relationship. He shares very familial bonds with a lot of them: he and Morgan are brotherly, Rossi is fatherly, Garcia’s somewhat like an overexcited little sister.

The friendship he has with you is special. You always listen to him, even as he rambles on about inane things that anybody else would tell him to shut up about. In fact, sometimes about the exact things that they do tell him to shut up about. Just last week, he was rambling on about Star Trek when Morgan told him, not altogether unkindly, to “give it a rest, kid.”

“What was that you were saying?” You’d asked, sidling up to him, “I’ve never watched Star Trek but I thought the quote was beam me up Scotty.”

He’d looked at you, considering you for a moment, “You don’t have to-”

“I know. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to know Spence. You think I’d ask for a 15 minute lecture on Star Trek if I wasn’t interested in it?”

A warm feeling flooded his chest. The look on your face was so genuine, and you’d perched on the edge of his desk as he gesticulated, getting deep into the lore and how the misconception had come about. He still didn’t pinpoint exactly what it was, until he got to the end of his spiel. And then you asked him a question. You asked him a question to make sure you understood what he was talking about. You were listening the whole time, and you genuinely cared about the point he was making.

It's then that he realises, it was hard to pinpoint because it wasn’t friendship. He likes you. Shit.

***

November 2nd, 2009

You like everybody at the BAU. They’re all quite patient with you, really, happy to walk you through how they do things. Morgan’s taught you quite a bit about the tactical side of things already, and Rossi has been working with you on your interrogation techniques. Emily’s generally just a great mentor, always happy to listen and support however she can. She’s more experienced, but still relatively new to the team too, so you feel like there’s a certain understanding between you.

However, you’d definitely be lying if you said the person you hadn’t learnt the most from, or spent the most time with, was Spencer.

It hadn’t gone unnoticed by the rest of the team, either. You seemed to gravitate towards one another, forever sitting side-by-side on the plane. Sharing a line of thinking that usually led to devolved rambling, and scribbling, until you came up with something coherent.

It isn’t until November 2nd that you realise you have feelings for him.

You’re sitting at your desk, filling out a case report that Emily had promised to go over with you before she left for lunch.

“Hey,” Spencer’s familiar soothing voice comes, as he sidles up to you, “I got you something.”

Looking up, you notice the coffee cup in his right hand, “You are my caffeine lifesaver.”

He hands it to you, smiling a little nervously, “It’s actually not that.”

“Oh?”

His other hand is tucked behind his back, and he pulls it foward towards you, brandishing a red sweatshirt.

“I know you uh, left your red sweater behind at the hotel on the last case. And I know it was your favourite one, and I was shopping yesterday and I saw this and...” He trails off, embarassed, “It’s not the exact same, but it’s the same kind. I just thought you might like it.”

You swallow, hard, “Spencer that’s so sweet. C-Can I hug you?”

He nods. Standing up from your desk, you wrap your arms around his frame.

“That was so thoughtful.”

He squeezes you a little, really leaning into the hug, his face pressing against your shoulder. His tousled hair tickles your nose a little and you smile, clinging onto him, relishing in the feeling of safety and warmth.

It hits you then. When you realise you don’t want to let go. When you realise he makes you feel fuzzy. Loved. Cared for in a way you haven’t felt in a long time. Eventually, you have to let him go, and it’s in a daze that you return to your desk. You’re so concentrated on your overwhelming realisation, you don’t realise how reluctant he is to let you leave his embrace.

***

December 22nd, 2009

Driving Spencer home from the office was really just an excuse to get some time alone with him. You’d said something about the Metro being busy, one of the services being cancelled. He hadn’t factchecked you on that.

The BAU had tentative plans for boxing day, with the caveat being that no emergent cases arrived in the meantime. It was only really four days you wouldn’t see him, but that was longer than you’d ever gone without seeing him in all the time you’d known him. You worked together everyday, and it was unusual for you to go a full weekend without seeing each other. Recently, you’d got into the habit of going out for Sunday brunch together.

Pulling up outside his house, you hear him sigh.

“I know it’s only four days, but I’ll miss you.”

Smiling, you turn to him, “I’ll miss you too.”

Something in you changes then. He’s looking at you. You may be relatively new to profiling but you can see something behind his eyes, feel the charge of unsaid words electrifying the air.

“Can I hug you?” He asks.

“You can always hug me,” You reply, undoing your seatbelt and opening your arms for him.

He embraces you the way he always has: tightly. Like he doesn’t want to let go, couldn’t imagine ever letting you go. His face nuzzles to the crook of your neck, and then you feel his thumb brush your chin. Tilting your head down.

You exchange a look. His eyes flicker from your eyes, to your lips, and back. You nod your head, just slightly.

He kisses you then. Tender. You melt into one another, lips moving quickly as you drink one another in. Kissing each other breathless, your fingers intertwine in his hair and his hand comes up to cup your cheek. Nothing has ever felt so right.

***

June 10th, 2011

Neither of you have ever really believed in fate. It’s hard to - especially in your line of work - to want to interpret the workings of the universe as deliberate. Maybe you’d think a little differently though, if you knew about all the near-misses. All the times you could have met. But fate knew better. She waited until you were ready.

And as you exchange vows, promising each other your forever, you both know you couldn’t possibly deny that this was meant to be.

------

Taglists: @takeyourleap-of-faith @sassiest-politician

(let me know if you would like to be added to/removed from this list!)

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #imagine spencer reid #criminal minds x you #imagine criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagines #pls like this it took me so long

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asexualbuthorny · 4 years ago

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Sah dudes

I felt things today and I didn’t like them so once again I bestow upon you my dumbass opinions about fictional men. On todays menu we have once again twisted wonderland.

I feel a kind of affection towards this fandom so I can't say many negative things but if Im bitter anytime soon the slander will come.

These are my a/b/o headcanons for the characters. Enjoy!

I see Riddle as an alpha. I just think his personality fits the dynamic. Although he still has to unlearn some toxic shit about the dynamics. He's just misguided but would make a great alpha.

Trey is a beta no arguments. Just look at him. If that man doesn't scream beta to you I don't know what you're smoking.

Cater is an omega. I can see him as a beta too tho. But he's closer to an omega to me. He just has this vibe of a mischevious omega. Idk.

Ace is an omega I don't know what to tell you. He's one of them bratty ones that go soft during their heats. This might just be the sub!ace agenda talking but I just want to bully him. Imagine him talking shit and getting his ass handed to him by someone stronger. Im sorry I just want him on his knees.

Deuce is a very kind and nice alpha. He does his best to care for the other dynamics. His attempts are not always succsesful and may come off as patronizing but he means well.

Leona is an omega. Lol imagine the strong and independant lion a sweet little omega. With his attitude everyone keeps saying that he couldn’t find a mate but he doesn't care. (good for him. Stay single king). Plus the inferiority complex. It just goes with his character shtick.

Ruggie is a beta. I just can't see him as anything else. Like I mentioned in my other post I don't think much about him.

Jack is an alpha through and through. He tries so hard to pretend that he doesn't care but at the same time he's protecting everyone he considers his pack. Goodest boy.

Azul is a beta. Some may see him as an alpha but he has that beta vibe. I mean he has his whole serious competent buisiness man thing going on and the beta dynamic seems to fit him the best.

Both of the leech brothers are alphas. No argument there. Jade is just better at self control than floyd.

Kalim is a sunshiny omega. He just radiates that energy ya know. He's a little naive so some might try to take advantage but he has jamil to save him.

Jamil is a beta. He could be an alpha but his whole 'servant' thing just fits a beta better imo. He absolutely helps kalim through his heats not in that way ya nasties.

Vil is a beta. I think it helps with his whole 'cold beauty' thing. The neutrality of betas if know what I mean. I don't see him as anything else. Plus this is inferiority complex pt. 2. Cause neige(? That how you spell it) is an adorable little omega who everyone loves while vil is ureachable and unaffected.

Rook I think could be all. He has mixed vibes. I don't see a set dinamic for him.

Epel is a tiny alpha but an aplha nonetheless. You could make him an omega to add to the whole 'wanting to be manly' but being an alpha with a small build could also add to his goal of getting stronger and being a 'true alpha'.

Idia is either a beta or an omega. Beta more likely tho. He just looks like it too me. Plus his whole personality doesn't really fit the other two.

Ortho is a robot so none for him. Could have been a alpha in life tho.

Sebek is a very loud alpha. He was thaught to respect all dynamics so none of that bullshit here (still sees humans as weak tho). Uses his alpha status to try and reign other students in. He fails. And gets bonked on the head for trying to force his way. He's still young and learning.

Silver is a beta. Like look at that man. Sleepyheadass has no time for heats or ruts.

Lilia is a very old omega who's seen some shit and is done with alphas bullshit. Like say shit about omegas bein weak and he will beat you to death. Thaught all his kids to respec everyone regardless of dynamic. Good dad 10/10.

Malleus is a beta. I know some of y'all might say smth like 'he' s obviously an alpha just look at him' hahahahahahah no. I have a feeling that he'd get the alpha label purely because he's a dragon, a prince and a powerful wizard. But he resembles a beta the most to me. His whole demeanor just doesn't point to him being an alpha. I might be misunderstanding his character tho.

I'll include the staff this time.

Crowley seems like a very obnoxious alpha or a very stupid and irresponsible omega. Take your pick cause I don't like this man

Crewel I think is an omega. It just fits him imo. Plus he has all these chemicals to hide his scent and help with heats. He could be the schools dad/nurse for the omega students. His personality doesn't really fit an omega but imagining him as anything else makes me feel icky so I'll leave it at that.

Trein is eithe a beta or an alpha. He's so calm he could be a beta but he's also old which could mean thay he's just an alpha that's mellowed out over the years.

Ashton is as alpha as an alpha can get. If you google alpha you'll see this mans photo. He doesn't discriminate tho. Everyone can be strong if they put enough work into it.

Sam is a beta. He just seems like it idk. I don't know much about him sooo...

I think that mc/yuu would start out whithout a dynamic sine they're not from this world so 8n the meantime they'd get to be a beta. But later they would develop a dynamic to better fir their world (or stay as they are this depends onhow you would like the story to go).

Now this goes a little into the spicy side of things buut. In my uuhhh little daydreams that spawned this post yuu would develop into an alpha so they could have some upper ground. But that's jaust cause im always on that dom!mc/reader agenda.

But the possibility of them staying without dynamic is also interesting because they ARE a 'beta' but they don't sexactly act like one.

I'll go back to my daydreams now.

There’s probably a bunch of spelling mistakes in here so let's just ignore that.

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whump-a-la-mode · 4 years ago

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Magician’s Assistant - Trance

I heard you liked cliffhangers so here’s a cliffhanger for your cliffhanger. Much thanks to @nightfrostshadow for requesting another piece of this, you’re really a cheerleader for this series!

The rest of Magician’s Assistant can be found linked to in my info post, pinned at the top of my blog. I hope you enjoy!

CW//Some dehumanizing language, food

Villain was scared.

Of course, Friend had expected that. Anticipated it, almost taken a moment to imagine just how it would appear, nerves twisted upon such a feeble countenance. Civilian had warned them as such over the phone, warned them to be gentle, to go slow, to avoid any sudden movements-- as though they were talking about something dangerous, something feral.

In a way, they were.

But, now, as their new charge stood before them, there was something almost unbelievable about the sheer depths of their terror, and the way they presented it.

Villain was small, short in stature and so awfully thin that a stiff gust of wind could more than likely shatter their twig-like bones to shards. They looked upwards like a scared puppy dog, bag held in front of them with both hands like a shield, as though, if they simply kept it there, they would be safe, forever and ever.

And, hopefully, they would be. It was perhaps only a minute or so ago that Civilian had coaxed them through the door, shoving a handful of messily written instructions into Friend’s hands with a hurried ‘thank you.’ That meant that they had a week. A week to keep this- this thing calm, comfortable, and, more importantly than any of that, under control.

They could balance the most complex of equations, withdraw patients from near-death, turn caustic chemicals to life-saving medicines. But taking care of someone so anxious? And without...

No. They didn’t back down from a challenge.

“Hey, bud.” They tried to smile, trying so desperately not to terrify their charge. Not yet. They gestured with a hand to the bag they held, knuckles clenched so tightly as to turn a pale hue. “What’s in there?”

It felt stupid, but at the very least, their ward seemed to respond.

“Um...” Villain glanced downwards, to their burden. Their voice was almost inaudible, whimpering in form. “It’s- Spouse gave it to me. To help.”

To help.

“Can I see?”

They held it close to their chest, shivering turning to all-out shaking. Based upon the look in their eyes, if they ever lost their grip on the thing, they would simply perish.

“No.”

“Okay.” Friend sighed, biting their lower lip. There went that avenue of conversation. They supposed that making conversation with a failed attempt was somewhat of a lost cause in the first place. They needed to stay calm, not necessarily entertained. “Well... How about I show you to your room?”

“M-My room?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

Villain dipped their head. It was a display of respect, even as fear made them defy everything, up until the very concept of staying still. Gently, their caretaker reached forward, hand looping about their wrist with an ever so ghostly touch. They shivered, but abided.

“Let’s go then, okay?”

“Okay.”

They had set up the room quite some time ago, as soon as they had gotten Civilian’s call. As soon as they learned what they needed to do, to keep the world ticking over as it was supposed to be. The guidelines had been as simple as they were detailed, leaving nothing to chance, to whim.

Moving to the hall and creeping open the proper door, Friend found themself nodding to themself in satisfaction. They’d checked so many times, verified it all, but knowing that it was still arranged properly was an awfully grand relief.

Dim and cozy, Civilian had said. “They don’t like windows, be sure to cover them. They’re used to the kennel. Anything too big will scare them. Give them a bed, but know that they’re going to end up sleeping under it, assuming they don’t wind up in the corner. Other than the bed, the room should be empty. They can’t read, and they’re afraid of books. That includes any signage or decorations. Think of it like a kennel-- anything unnecessary is an unnecessary risk.”

And, it was so that friend had designed their ward’s living space. A small thing, perhaps ten feet by fifteen, with grey-painted walls and a bed with beige comforter. The singular window was covered in its entirety with an off-white curtain, allowing only enough light to seep through as to allow the room to not be entirely dark. And, that was it. Just like a kennel.

“Do you want to hang out in here for a little while?”

The question seemed to bring Villain quite an extreme relief, as they nodded frantically. They crossed the threshold into the space, nearly disappearing within the dim shroud.

Friend almost left, before remembering a piece of their instruction that Civilian had insisted on being terribly vital: The cuffs.

“Do you want your mitts on, buddy?”

A nod. And so it was done.

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

“They’re pretty good about eating, nowadays. They can eat the same food as the rest of us. My partner says they like chili, and things that look more like what they’re used to eating. But, more or less, it’s fine, so long as they eat.”

Civilian’s instructions regarding their ward’s mealtimes had been far less specific than those for their habitat. Anything that normal people ate, but specifically chili. It was certainly an odd favorite food to have, given what their diet had once been, but it was something.

Thus, with a quick mix, Friend’s kitchen had quite quickly been filled with an overwhelming aroma-- beans and spices, seasoned meat and the mixings to go along with it. Villain was still scared, even a slightly above average monkey would have been able to see that.

The whole quest, the whole effort, was a farce. They knew that. But, at the very least, perhaps they could make their charge somewhat less frightened for the time which they had them. It would be better to see them smiling, after all, instead of screaming. They’d spent too much time, listening to Villain screaming. It really did get grating, after a while.

When the hot dish upon their oven as last appeared to be finished, they picked it up by the pot’s handle, swirling it around for a moment before reaching a point of satisfaction. A few moments of pouring, and two bowls were equally filled with heaping helpings of meat and beans.

Eating the same thing as a failed attempted. That was a thought.

Friend placed the dishes upon their dining table, on opposite ends, and finished the assortment with a small variety of other offerings-- baby carrots for vegetables, and dinner rolls to nibble upon. The kitchen filled with scents and steam, they turned.

Villain was still in their room, they assumed. Civilian had mentioned that they were quite reclusive, which made sense. They would have plenty to entertain themself.

With jostling steps, they made their way up the stairs, feeling as the aroma of herbs practically followed them up. The room in which their ward was housed was just at the top of the staircase.

The room that-

The room that’s door was opened.

With a raised brow, Friend peered inside. Certainly, Villain was absent, nowhere to be seen. Not in the corner, not upon the bed, nor under it-- they checked. Yet, the bag had been left behind, stim toys and plushies placed neatly and piled to categories.

Perhaps they had only been looking for the bathroom? With a more cautious air about them, they moved forward, along the hall. The corridor existed in an L shape, its shorter side at the top of the stairs, and its longer side around a sharp bend.

The bathroom stood at the end of the hallway’s shorter piece. The empty bathroom.

A bated breath.

Friend turned the corner.

Civilian certainly hadn’t warned them about this.

The longer end of the L-shape was definitively emptier than the other, edges lined not with doors, but with sparse decorations, bookshelves and meaningless paintings. It was all a vessel, a vehicle, for the door at the end.

The door before which Villain stood. There was an odd stiffness to their legs, their whole body. Not a muscle of them moved, not even their eyes, so it seemed as they stared. Stared at nothing.

A closed door, from which creeped the barest scent of antiseptic.

Villain most certainly was not allowed in Friend’s lab.

#villain whumpee #whump #whumpblr #whump community #hero villain whump #civilian caretaker

44 notes · View notes

jj-ktae · 4 years ago

Text

Note II - Aldehydes

Moodboard : Courtesy of the lovely Jacqueline @jaebeomsmullet ! Thank you for helping and hyping and just being here whenever I need it.

› Title : Fragrances › Genre : Angst, Fluff, Romance, Composer!Jungkook x Perfume Maker!Reader › Pairing : Jeon Jungkook x Female Reader › Warning : Mentions of Suicide, heavy subjects, depression (none of these are used with the idea of glamourising mental illness), strong language, smut in later chapters probably. Do not read if any of these trigger you.

› Author’s note : This is another version of the story I wrote a few years ago for GOT7. Some of the events will be different, others will not change just like some paragraphs will be the same and others won’t. Informations, definitions and words are taken from here and here.

› Summary : In the world of Perfume making, it is believed that everyone has their own natural fragrance. It is also believed that everyone has that one scent capable of making them feel a thousand things. You find yours in the form of a composer on the verge of breaking, right when you have to face one of the biggest challenge in your life.

Masterlist | Note I - Ionones |

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Note II: Aldehydes

An aroma chemical that contains a functional group consisting of a carbon, a hydrogen, and an oxygen atom. Aldehydes can be derived from natural or synthetic materials. There are different types of scents associated with this chemical function but the most commonly referred to when profiling a scent as “aldehydic” is a sharp, metallic, crisp, slightly fatty impression often associated with the smell of clean textile or hot iron. One of the first “aldehydic” fragrances is the famous N°5 created by Perfumer Ernest Beaux in 1920 and launched by Gabrielle Chanel in 1921.

Your second day is worse than the first one. Jimin is all over the place, mixing essences and sniffing everything he can. You’re glad though, it makes him go silent whenever he concentrates on something, and you have time for focus. It doesn’t help because you’re still frustrated if not more, but at least you can overburden yourself in peace.

The only light in all that shadow comes from the memory of Jungkook’s scent, precise yet unknown. You try to create something similar, but it’s everything and nothing at the same time and no matter the amount or variety of scent you use, you can’t even get close to it

His scent is a mystery.

It adds to your misery, like a voice mocking you for not being able to recognise a scent while another one forces you to crave for more. It feels like chasing a ghost.

The sound of your head against your office takes Jimin out of his momentum. “What’s happening?” He inquires. He gets up from his own working area to stand next to your powerless soul.

“When is the meeting?” You try because it is potentially the only hope for today. That powerful lady came in early to inform you about an upcoming meeting with the marketing team. The project seems big, because Jimin started to work as soon as she flew out of the laboratory. It’s been one day and he is so open about himself that you can already read his body language.

“3 p.m. I was thinking about a brainstorming. Let’s think about a concept.” He offers because this is going nowhere. You’re about to give up at any minute, and he needs you to be into it.

“What concept? I’m running in circles.”

“Sexy? Provocateur? Romantic? Angsty? Bucolic?”

“All of these have already been worked on so many times...I don’t think they want to go for something as...forthright. I’m quite sure they won’t be satisfied with a mere sexy perfume.” It’s what you understood - if your sudden creative freedom is anything to go by.

Jimin understands, his eyes now wide. He has no idea how to achieve that, but he still thinks you’re brilliant for thinking out of the box. He picks his notepad and starts writing everything you said, his brows furrowed.

“We want to be unique. The concept needs to be appealing to the greatest number without being too cliché. We are free to use what we want.” He notes things down and you find yourself peeking at the words, meaningful yet complex.

“So we need to mix a little bit of everything.” Jimin stops for a minute before a whine escapes his thick lips, “I’m lost, help me.”

“We can’t work this way.” You raise your head slowly, ruffling your wild locks in a nonchalant way. “We have to find a scent and put a concept over it. We can’t force the scent based on an imaginary idea.” This only works when a brand has specific goals but here you have nothing. You can’t possibly force an idea into your head.

Jimin looks pitiful as he puts the notepad away. “It’s going to be harder than I thought.”

And just like the day started, the meeting followed. You were not expecting much of it and you were right. The marketing project came and explained you were free to do anything you wanted. Their main objective was to follow you on whatever you wanted to create, and it’s infuriating.

How many times do you have to repeat that you can’t do it before they start to believe you?

Jimin, who was stressed before the meeting is now dejected and it almost breaks your heart because you feel responsible. You send him home earlier and decide to work on your own. Two hours later you leave the lab with Orchid oil all over your bag and the urge to cry.

There is only one way to make you feel better. You feel ashamed, like you’re addicted to something but you have to admit it.

Jeon Jungkook’s scent is the only thing worth smelling.

When you come back from work, there is no trace of him. His backpack is gone, the bed looks neat, and even the towel he probably didn’t use is dry. There’s still his smell, fresh in the air and it makes you run back outside to find the bridge where you had found him the night before.

He is not there.

You were exhausted, but you’re suddenly on fire. This situation is stressing you more than it should be when you don’t see him. It’s like you won’t ever see him again. You look around all the bridges you can find close to your place. Jungkook is nowhere to be seen.

You open the door of your apartment with a heavy heart. It’s like you lost something precious and it’s making you angry. What the hell is happening to you?

But you open the door and it hits again, like a whirlpool of long lost feelings and dried memories.

Jeon Jungkook is in your living-room, and his delectable scent pounds in the deepest zones of your brain. He is sitting on the floor by the small table, right hand dancing over bright white paper and guitar on his lap so you only see his back, but it’s the biggest relief you had in years.

He doesn’t turn around when you let your bag fall on the floor, he doesn’t move when you stop next to him. He looks absorbed, entranced. His knee is shaking to an unknown beat, mimicking his left hand which is drumming on the soft brown wood of the instrument he is holding.

“God. I thought- I’m so stupid.” You don’t want to share your worries with him, but the thought of him throwing himself off a bridge is still fresh. It stings more than it should, more than the pain you’re supposed to feel when confronted with a stranger’s despair.

“Hmm?” Jungkook doesn’t move toward you at first, but eventually his hand stops, and he glances up at your pallid features and tensed body “What’s wrong?”

“I came back home and you were not here. I thought...I thought you did something stupid.” You let your body fall on the couch. It’s like blood is circulating again into your veins, your skin going back its initial colour.

Jungkook is puzzled, like he doesn’t understand why it would be so dramatic for you. “I went around town after I grabbed some stuff from my place.” It’s crazy but he feels sorry for you. “I’m sorry for worrying you” he trails off, scanning your face some more. He has no idea how to react to a stranger panicking over his disappearance. His own family doesn’t panic when he doesn’t show up. He is lost as to why you would be so affected by anything related to him when no one else barely does.

You snort, not mad at him. You’re high on his smell and it’s all that counts. “It’s okay.” Your eyes find his, and his tilted head looks like it’s searching for any sign of discomfort. He only stares back, with eyes way too shiny for someone as dark as him. He looks candid, like he has everything to discover and it’s a mystery how he turned out thinking about the worst. You have no idea what he might be thinking - excepted that you’re probably out of your mind for reacting like this but he doesn’t question your intentions, for whatever reasons. You finally notice the papers and decide to move on before it gets too disturbing to deal with. “What are you doing?” you nod toward the torn pieces of paper and point a finger at the pile stacking up next to his crossed legs.

He swiftly puts it under his leg. “Nothing. Did you just come back from work?” He tries to change the subject. His voice gets higher and you instantly decipher his anxiety. He isn’t good with facing his own problems and it’s way too early to go into deep talks about lyrics and melodies. He might have agreed to a crazy proposition, but that doesn’t mean he is going to open to you. At least not now.

“I looked for you all over the place.” You admit because it’s a normal thing to do when somebody is in distress. Jungkook is dumbfounded.

“Why would you do this?” The situation in itself is already crazy enough as it is. He doesn’t mind you being friendly with him, even though he is pretty sure he doesn’t need it, but to the point of being dead worried for him?

“You were about to throw yourself off a bridge. I don’t know what kind of life you’ve been living but it’s pretty normal to freak out when something like that happens.” Your outburst shocks him. He doesn’t understand the impact of his actions over his surroundings. He has always thought he was just a detail in everyone else’s lives.

It has always been this way. He writes in the shadow for people to shine. Him not being here shouldn’t matter to anyone.

“It’s my business. I’m staying here because I have nothing left and it’s easier than staying in my empty apartment and facing my failures. It doesn’t mean we have to care about each other.” Jungkook doesn’t want to sound mean but he has to make it clear to you. His distress is by no mean a way to ask for anyone’s pity. He refused to add anyone into that mess, let alone a stranger.

It’s obvious, in a way. You know it’s stupid but this scent, it’s making you go wild. You can’t let it pass until you know what it is.

So you agree, taking the same tone and hoping your voice isn’t wavering. “I’m not here for you, I’m worried about another human being wanting to end his life. If it gives you the illusion that I care, I’m sorry about that.” You get up and you sound mad, something Jungkook notices as soon as you close the door a bit too violently.

No matter how mesmerising his scent is, he is apparently not that friendly. You’re not hurt by his words, because you don’t care enough personally to be affected. You’re being selfish, only thinking about your own benefit and what his scent could bring into your life. Jeon Jungkook himself doesn’t pull you in at all. He is someone you barely know anyways.

He doesn’t move from his spot in the living-room until later that night. He suddenly has too many things to write and too little time on his hands. He decides to stop when his wrist starts to hurt and his body hits the mattress of his new bedroom like a bag of sand hits the ground.

He feels at ease in the small room. Wood is covering the floor, and it is the same colour as the tiny office by the window. The view is peaceful, with buildings popping up from the floor like mushrooms and lights festooning the city in tiny dots. The bed is large and thick with soft bedding. The scent of the washing powder turns Jungkook into a nostalgic boy when he rolls into the bed, stretching his sore limbs. He feels even more stupid for feeling comfort in a seemingly empty room.

He falls asleep right away, exactly 10 seconds after you do. You’re both too exhausted to care about each other, but you both know you’re no strangers to your own common serenity.

And just like you understand the importance of his presence for your brain to function, he notices he needs your place to exist in his creative yet tortured mind. As stupid and as hard to believe as it is.

When you get up the day after, you see him by the kitchen’s table. He is sipping on orange juice that is not yours, and munching on toasts you definitely didn’t buy.

You go to the coffee machine, your head too cloudy to deal with his strong presence.

He speaks first “Want some juice?”. He is trying to make it up to you for his cold behaviour. He just isn’t used to being around you yet. He isn’t used being around anyone yet.

Also, he is the worst when he composes. He needs absolute concentration.

You sip on the hot liquid and nod his way. He hands you a glass with an unreadable face.

“Have a nice day.” He doesn’t know why he says it. He tries to be nice, because there’s nothing much to say to someone you met two days ago. Maybe his pride spoke for him yesterday, or maybe he decided to accept the hand of a stranger, because it’s less burdening than accepting his failures to his entourage.

You drink the fresh juice fast and walk away. “Thank you.” It is too hard to be rational right now, because the smell seems even stronger now. You probably come off as rude when you don’t reciprocate his words but you don’t dwell on it; that boy isn’t going to accept any sort of compassion anyways.

You enter the bathroom and get hit by the scent of his shower gel. Not that scent either.

You get ready at the same time as you build your resolve. Motivation is the key so maybe if you believe in you and your assistant, things might work out. Jimin is already here when you arrive, his citrus smell filling you from the first floor to the lab. He is joyful, like he found something awesome.

“Boss! Have a sit, come come!” His thin hand adds a tiny pressure to your back, leading you to your office.

“What’s happening?” You barely have the time to comprehend; he is already putting a sample in front of your noise.

You freeze.

“Wh-where did you find t- t- this ?” You utter, immediately thrown off by the odour.

“I was looking through essences this morning, and I thought we could start with a base, just to see what we could make of it. It’s...”

“Winter fir and Balsam*.” You conclude. Everything in this base is satisfying but the most important detail is that you remember this base. You smelled it this morning when you entered the kitchen.

You smell the very distinct feelings of comfort, warmth and softness which invades you whenever you’re close to Jungkook.

Jimin added a little twist to it, tho. “You added Cottage Herb Garden**”. The latter grins at you, visibly proud of himself for coming up with such a smart idea. He too gives off that feeling of freshness that is found in that herb. It is serene and woody and gives off feelings of sweetness and sensuality. Cottage Herb Garden fragrances are made using Aldehydes synthetic scents.

“I didn’t add much, but I thought it would go well because they both make great seasonal fragrances. I only put 8% though, how did you find out?” he looks shocked but not surprised, like he was half-expecting you to guess it yet still thought it would go unnoticed.

“The herb comes last. The earthy smell that lingers in your nose, it’s this one. Smell it again.” You tell him and he takes his time filling his nose. He closes his eyes and thinks for a moment before opening them again.

“This is Cottage Herb Garden.” You confirm and his mouth is now wide opened. He can’t believe he is working with such a talented person.

“So, do you think we could try? I feel like we’re using a lot of Aldehydes but at the same time it feels like a soft base note…” Jimin trails off, his fingers playing with the bottles.

You acquiesce, mind already elsewhere. It feels like the first step to Jungkook’s identity and it is energising. You take a sharp breath, startling Jimin who laughs at you because it’s like you found life again.

“You sound satisfied.” He offers the sample along with a genuine smile and for the first time, you smile back at him, thankful.

“You did great. I wonder why they hired me when you’re doing great on your own.” It’s true. Jimin came up with extremely complex scents and came up with a base note you would have never found on your own.

Jimin rolls his eyes and decides not to answer. If only he could have a quarter of your talent. He opens his notebook and starts writing, his eyes now shiny with glee

Base notes: Aldehydes (Synthetic) = Winter Fir / Cottage Herb Garden.

You put the sample in front of you and stare at it. So that was it. You smile to yourself, in a way, it’s like you can almost smell Jungkook.

You spent the rest of your day looking for another element to add to your base and when nothing comes to your mind you feel frustrated, but it’s the best you can do for now. Jimin is exhausted and snoring in a corner of the lab, his petite body squeezed between two cabinets. You shake him to wake his sleepy body and tell him to go home when you give up for the day.

It’s been so long since the last time Jungkook felt this satisfied. He didn’t go out, too engrossed into his lyrics to care about the light of the sun peeking through the opened blinds. It’s leaking off his pen, like he can’t stop the flood of ideas and he feels like a mad scientist, crazy and ecstatic. He takes a break around dinner time and when his stomach starts creating its own music.

He takes out noodles from the food he bought the day before. Living with you meant sharing a flat, but he wanted to provide his own necessities. Participating in daily life matters is only natural, after all.

His phone rings, and the caller ID makes him sigh. He is too hungry to face what is about to come, and his spent brain is screaming for rest.

He coughs, keeping his voice steady “Yes.” His tone is disillusioned. Jungkook barely gets any call nowadays, and except from work, he only knows one person who can annoy the hell out of him so much.

“You remember me? I thought depression AND amnesia hit you at once.” He wants to hang up when he hears the throaty voice. It’s heavy with judgement but then again, when is it not?

“And you wonder why I don’t call you, Yoongi-hyung.” Jungkook finishes the sentence in a sigh. Yoongi is awesome at being a nagging mother.

“You’re too busy being away I guess. Artists are such a handful.” He hears steps and after a while, Yoongi speaks again. “Where are you? I’ve been waiting in front of your flat.”

“I moved out.” Jungkook looks fine with the revelation. It’s like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“What? Where? Why didn’t you tell me?” he hears Yoongi’s car and supposes the latter is already going back to his place.

“It’s been two days. I’m living with a girl.” He blows hair on the steaming bowl of noodles, ignoring his friend’s deep shriek.

Yoongi doesn’t know what’s happening anymore. Jungkook leaving on an inspiration crusade is common, it’s something he does whenever he gets overwhelmed by his feelings. Never once did he actually move out to live with someone else, let alone a girl.

He doesn’t even remember when was the last time Jungkook even dated someone. “Living together as in...romantically?” he tries, suddenly wary because he expected a lot of answers, but not this one.

“I couldn’t write anymore. I’m renting a room in her apartment.” He swallows the food like he has been starving for days. There is not the slightest hint of discomfort in his voice.

Yoongi laughs after a while “You’re living with your landlord. God, Jungkook, I know you people need some sort of inspiration to exist, but to the point of living with some old lady for the sake of music...”

“She’s not old.” Jungkook has no idea why it’s the only part of the sentence he reacted to, but all of a sudden he doesn’t want anyone to make fun of the person who took him in, not when he wrote ten songs in the span of two days. Not when he feels like no one can hurt him in your quiet kitchen.

“Anyways. Lunch with me tomorrow, how does that sound? Shall I check on that woman you’re living with ? How much is she charging you ? Aren’t you being scammed?”

“I can’t.” Jungkook sighs, ignoring the numerous questions because this is so typical of Yoongi to make sure no one is messing with him. “I have to eat with my parents, don’t tell them that I moved out.”

“You have always been doing everything you wanted anyways, what would it change if he was to know?”

Because he is going to crush me down like fine dust.

It has always been the same, and no matter how successful he was at some point, his father was never satisfied. Not when music is not a certain source of income, not when reputation comes before everything else.

“I’m hanging up.” He announces once panic overtakes him and hears his friend objects, telling him he will meet with him no matter what.

It’s not like he doesn’t want to see him. It’s just complicated. Jungkook has always been different from others. He was raised with Yoongi and they had the same nanny when they were young. The age difference rapidly made Yoongi turn into the older brother as time passed, and while he was the one introducing Jungkook to music making, he quickly stopped to take over his family’s business. He never explained to him how he drifted from music, but he is now all about business. Their respective parents were and still are too busy to deal with education, and while Yoongi grew up like the sharks his father works with, he took after a quieter side, the one that tells him to do what he wants instead of chasing money.

Yoongi often tells him he is a fool, that he doesn’t need anything else if he can have a bright future with his father’s company. He often answers that he doesn’t want to work without a purpose, and Yoongi always tells him to stop being a hypocrite and rely on his father’s money if he was to spit on it.

It’s true, Jungkook doesn’t know struggling. He was born in a rich family with a lot of possibilities. He was able to become a lyricist after a lot of failures, and his parents never gave up on him financially. This is probably why he is so affected when he can’t write. He doesn’t know how to deal with difficulties, he who lived with all the good things of the world.

He hears the door opening and your sore body appears before him, surprised to see him home. It’s like you were expecting him to run away, again. You don’t speak when you see him, mouth full of noodles and wearing the same clothes you left him in this morning. The silence is thick, oxygen heavy with uneasiness. Jungkook blinks, slurping on the noodles before wiping his mouth hastily.

“Want some noodles?” It’s hard to catch on the words, but he moves the bowl in front of him, and you understand.

You nod.

No matter how strong the smell of seafood is, his scent always wins over everything else. You decide to stay close because you’re slowly deciphering his smell, and you need more time to know where you’re going.

He goes to the cupboard like he has been living here for years and fills another bowl before sitting back. You’re surprised by his sudden gentleness but brush the worries off. You’re supposed to feel weirded by the fact that an unknown man is now living with you, but none of you are freaked out.

Jungkook is too happy to be productive again. You’re too drawn into your memories to stop everything.

You sit in front of him and after a couple of minutes, he speaks. It takes you out of the now soggy food.

“What’s your job?” Jungkook sounds interested, but you know he is only trying to ease the mood.

“I’m a perfume composer.” You decide not to dig further into the matter. It’s a peculiar world, something that only a few people can relate to. Most people think you mix synthetic molecules into expensive glass bottles, wrapped in glitters and hidden into luxury boxes with frills and furbelows.

And you get offended, knowing fully well that it’s exactly what you think you’re doing.

Jungkook doesn’t sound impressed, you’re not surprised by that.

“Sounds complex.” It is. It truly is, and even more when he is entering your every pore. You don’t know if you’ll ever get used to it.

“It’s not.” you lie, “How about you?” His face lits subtly, and he seems shy all of a sudden. You don’t know this side of him yet, and you wonder where his emo behaviour went.

He coughs, putting the bowl down. “I’m a lyricist. I write lyrics and sometimes I compose, but I mostly write.”

“That sounds complex.” You muse. Jungkook is a tormented artist, then. It explains why he keeps on dreaming on bridges like he is filming a music video.

“Sometimes it’s complex, sometimes it’s a matter of course. I’ve been having a blackout recently.” It’s a confession, and he doesn’t know why he is sharing such a deep problem with you, a stranger.

You forget about the food “That’s why you were surrounded by torn papers.”

He chuckles. “Exactly. I’m getting there, though.”

It feels different to deal with such an open Jungkook. He chats like you’re close, smiles sometimes, he is almost glowing.

That evening you learn that he uses a pen name to write lyrics. He doesn’t want to tell you, but you know too little about the music industry and he finally spills the beans.

JK.

It sounds like some mysterious pen name used by thriller writers but you don’t tell him that. Instead, you decide to go to bed. No matter how comfortable you both seem, you’re not ready to share the part about you being addicted to his scent. He goes to his spot near the small table in your living-room and his hand goes back to a wild dance, covering the blank paper with ink. He is inspired.

He goes to bed right when you get up the day after and wakes up late for his lunch with his parents.

It’s not like he is eager to meet with them.

Plants. Plants plants plants. You look through the samples with haste. You know it has something to do with nature. The base note has to be about something else.

“What are you doing?” You smell Jimin the minute he opens the door, but you don’t let yourself be interrupted. You know you sound like a stalker, but you might or might not have smelled Jungkook’s jacket this morning, and you are sure of a thing: there is only one element left to create a frank base.

You don’t know when you switched from creating a perfume to reproduce his scent, but it doesn’t matter.

“All the samples are here, right?” The organ is huge and cabinets full, but it’s not enough for you. Jimin throws his vest on one of the chairs and approaches you, stifling a yawn.

“Yes. I think that’s quite a lot, actually.” He peeks from behind your shoulder, and sees your hands going through the numerous bottles, unsatisfied.

“No. No. These are generic scents. You don’t have any rare roots names, you forgot a lot of exotic fruits and most importantly, you don’t have anything uncommon.”

Jimin makes a face. He is not lost, he is adrift. “I’m afraid I don’t understand...”

“Tobacco abs, myrrh, resinoid, Balkans...” You talk but it sounds like a whole new language even for your assistant.

“Well, we have listed a lot of names. Most of them were used by previous composers, but we added more. I didn’t think it needed that much to be completed.” He knows about perfumes, he has a lot of knowledge, but you’re suddenly on a whole new level and can’t be reached.

You’re suddenly talking about tobacco odours and it freaks him out.

“I have a lot of these at home.” This could seriously help you. You barely use these, and most of them were sent by your father and collected on the internet. It’s the first time you can actually put them to good use because you know they could help, but you can’t bring them here.

Also, you think about how much easier it would be to just move work to an environment bathed by that scent which makes you crazy. How stimulating would it be ?

Jimin is expectant, but you don’t say more. He finally waves a worried hand in front of your face and you snap to meet his blinking eyelids.

“Let’s work from my place. This is what I often did.” Your offer makes him take a step back. He is not used to you being so devoted to this project.

“Are you sure? I don’t think the boss would object. We’ve had a few composers with weird demands before.” He doesn’t know what’s on your mind, but you’re a genius to his eyes and the mere idea of him seeing the place where you created such amazing products is electrifying. He can’t wait to know more about your ways.

“Good.” You glance around the room, “I don’t like this atmosphere.” You don’t mind if Jimin sees your place. At some point, you’re pretty much sure you could go with anything as long as you find the missing pieces of this conundrum.

You’re aware that you’re turning into an obsessional mess, but it feels pleasant to have a goal. This goes beyond everything you experienced, it gives you a fuel you didn’t know you could have.

You take the day to gather some samples and ask Jimin to let the boss know about your change of plans. At the end of the day, he helps you carry the numerous samples home. You’re a happy mind, torn between apprehension and excitement.

You open the door and Jungkook sees two huge boxes enter the living-room. He is rubbing a towel against his wet hair but he catches your box before you can let it crash to the ground. Jimin lets his own fall with a soft thud and you’re startled when you hear a dismayed squeal, along with Jimin’s shocked face, his finger pointing at a puzzled Jungkook.

“JK?!”

-------

* Winter Fir and Balsam : This redolent mixture of refreshing natural pine mingled with a sweet, peppery, delicately refined and soft base note of balsam has a soothing and warm character. It evokes particular feelings of warmth and comfort. The mind’s eye (and nose) recalls Christmas trees and sleigh rides and happy times by a fireside or even in a small apartment among special friends or family.

** Cottage Herb Garden : Sparkling blue waters, gentle summer winds and cozy brick cottages nestled in the lush, serene English countryside characterised this green floral scent. Enticing notes of sweet, earthy, star anise, fresh basil, grassy parsley, aromatic wild flowers, fresh garden greens and a woodsy, sensual musk base note comprise this complex aroma.

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rayh280124 · 4 years ago

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Natural Home Remedies For Hair Loss

Kabita beauty, Natural Home Remedies For Hair Loss, The hair on the front of the head is getting bald, the hair is not as thick as before, the hair is falling out and the head is empty! ” - We often hear about these common problems, don't we? Many of us are concerned about the problem of access to hair fall.

Worried About hair loss today beauty and health daily give you Natural Home Remedies For Hair Loss? Here's The Hair Loss Problem Solution Get Rid Of This Problem Now!

. To prevent the problem of lack of hair, I try all the hair fruit shampoos and homemade packs, but even that doesn't seem to be solving the problem. First, we need to understand why hair fall land falling our hair, how to cure hair fall problem and take care of it, hair fall will be at a normal level, how important it is to select the right hair care product and what are the ways to take care of hair according to age. Instead of worrying about lack of hair focus on why you are getting extra hair and what is the procedure to take care of it properly.

Possible causes of hair loss (Natural Home Remedies For Hair Loss)

Natural home remedies for hair loss, Problem is a common thing ( beauty and health daily) now but we can get rid of this problem now that it is normal for everyone to hair fall 100-150 hairs daily. But whenever extra hair fall and hair fall out, the hair follicles become thinner, baldness begins to appear in front of the head - that's when our tone shifts. I have heard from many people that I am smoking my hair every day, applying conditioner, massaging with oil, but my hair is falling out! Even after doing basic care for hair, lack of hair can be a problem, find out first what factors are responsible for it.

1) Natural home remedies for hair loss, Tension starts to hair fall when hair starts to fall out, and it causes more hair fall to fall out. Stress, unhealthy lifestyle, waking up at night, not eating nutritious food - these are some of the reasons for access to hair fruit.

2) Androgenic Alopecia - Hair fall is a common problem due to hormonal imbalance. It is largely responsible for the problem of baldness in men and women.

3) Many times the side-effects of the drug are horrible hair fall. Long-term hair fall can be a problem if you take birth control pills, cholesterol-lowering medicines, medicines used in the treatment of acne, anti-depressant drugs, etc. for a long time.

4) If you do not have enough protein in your diet you can see hair fall daily and if you have a vitamin deficiency in your body, you will lose more hair than usual.

5) If sweat accumulates in the hair follicles you can see hair fall too if the head is kept unclean, if you use inferior products or do not suit any product, access hair can be a problem.

These can cause excess hair to fall out. You must first understand why you are having problems with hair loss, take action accordingly, and start taking proper hair care. So now we will know how to do hair care to prevent hair fall.

Natural home remedies for hair loss, Teenage hair is naturally beautiful. But due to lack of proper care, the hair often breaks, the ends may break, the hair follicles become weak and the hair may fall out. Excess hair may fall out at this time due to malnutrition. Again, many people face this problem during puberty due to hormonal reasons (beauty and health daily).

What are Natural home remedies for hair loss?

Kabita beauty, Natural home remedies for hair loss, We will now learn what is the natural home remedies for hair loss and how to take care of your hair fall problem in a teenage child's hair or how to take care of your hair if you are a teenager yourself.

1. Green Tea Rinse Yep, some Green Tea that gets you up each day can likewise bring back life to your limp, stops. Here's the way Green Tea can make for a magnificent hair regrowth home treatment. Steep a few tea bags in two cups of boiling water. Presently pour this cooled invention over your hair and scalp while delicately rubbing at the roots, prior to washing off with water. Ain't got no time? The Body Shop Fuji Green Tea Refreshingly Purifying Shampoo functions admirably.

2. Green Tea Rinse Yep, some Green Tea that gets you up each day can likewise bring back life to your limp, stops. Here are the natural home remedies for hair loss treatment, Green Tea can make for a magnificent hair regrowth home treatment. Steep a few tea bags in two cups of boiling water. Presently pour this cooled invention over your hair and scalp while delicately rubbing at the roots, prior to washing off with water. Ain't got no time? The Body Shop Fuji Green Tea Refreshingly Purifying Shampoo functions admirably.

3. Natural Home Remedies For Hair Loss, all problem solution Clean the hair well with shampoo 3 days a week. Use sulfate-free, paraben-free i.e. mild shampoo with harmful chemical-free, herbal ingredients. Do not rub too much on the scalp, it can damage the hair follicles if you manage this kind of thing you can definitely see the improvements in your hair fall problem.

4. Onion Juice Was Keep your goggles helpful for this one. Onion juice, separated from its strips, is profoundly nutritious as it contains huge portions of Sulfur and Vitamins E, C, and B complex. Onion juice natural home remedy for hair loss, not just assists your hair with becoming thicker and more, however, keeps them gleaming and sound. Basically, crush an onion and press out its juice. Drench a cotton cushion in the onion squeeze and spot your whole scalp with it. When covered, knead your scalp for the juice to leak in and wash. In the event that you need to save yourself from virtuous sobbing while at the same time stripping onions, go for WOW Skin Science Onion Black Seed Hair Oil.

5. Wet hair cannot be tied. Avoid hit styling tools as much as possible at this age. If you use this your hair fall problem not gonna be solved.

6. Natural Home Remedies For Hair Loss, Problem Solution cure it now Massages the oil at least twice a week with a mixture of castor oil, vitamin-E capsules, pure coconut oil. Castor oil, which is rich in minerals, proteins, essential fatty acids, and antioxidants, accelerates new hair growth and nourishes vitamin E hair follicles. Coconut oil nourishes the hair and also cures your hair fall problem by maintaining the immunity of the hair.

7. Coconut Hair Spa (natural home remedies for hair loss) Did you realize that the proteins present in Coconut Milk quickly advance hair development? Presumably, a standout amongst other characteristic solutions for hair fall, all you gotta do to leave hair diminishing speechless is apply new Coconut Milk to your scalp, preferably with the assistance of a hairbrush. Keep your head shrouded in a towel for 20 minutes and afterward wash it off with water. Don't wanna take a course that long? Occupied spirits can depend on the Palmer's Coconut Oil Formula Deep Conditioning Protein Pack

8. Natural home remedies for hair loss Egg Hair Mask We realize how extreme bearing that scent can be nevertheless once your noses become acclimated to it, the remainder of your way to thicker locks is quite smooth. Wealthy in sulfur, phosphorous, and protein, eggs make for an astounding hair fall treatment at home. Blend one egg white with a teaspoon of Olive Oil and Honey and apply the glue from root to tips. Flush following 20 minutes with a gentle cleanser. A simpler method to give egg-essential supplements to your mane is adhering to the Eyova Hair Nutrient With Egg Oil

9. Homemade natural home remedies for hair loss Pack works great to deal with excess hair fall. Mix Tokai, egg, and pack 1 day a week and apply on hair for 30 minutes. Shikakai, amla, henna, hibiscus powder in it is incomparable in hair care. Teenagers can use this pack without fear.

10. Fenugreek Hair Mask is one of the best masks for fair growth Most likely the best answer for going bald, you also can reproduce the enchantment of Fenugreek at home. Absorb them water, for the time being, crush them to nice paste the following morning, and apply it to your hair and scalp. Appears to be an errand excessively hefty? You can also use fenugreek oil too

Why does hair fall at a young age?

Boys and girls studying in college or university often cannot take care of their hair due to busy schedules that's why hair fall is common at this kind of age. Dust and dirt accumulate in the hair follicles, weakening the hair follicles and making the hair look lifeless. Excessive hair loss can occur if there is not enough iron and protein in the food list. In addition to the stress of regular life, less sleep, external pollution are also responsible for your access to hair.

What is the solution to the hair fall problem?

Natural Home Remedies For Hair Loss, Find out how to reduce excessive hair fall at this time.

1) Hair fall, The scalp should be kept clean so that dirt and dandruff do not accumulate. Use shampoo and conditioner as a rule. Make sure that the conditioner does not stick to the hair follicles.

2) When applying oil, massage the nails gently with your fingers so that they do not touch the scalp. Mix olive oil with coconut oil and massage into hair follicles 2-3 days a week you can see your hair loss beauty and health daily revels you all secrets naturally and ayurvedic tips, problem solve day by day. This will increase blood circulation in the hair follicles, hair growth will be better, hair falls will be reduced.

You can also try aromatherapy for your hair

Natural Home Remedies For Hair Loss Problem Solution get rid of this now, Our progenitors didn't have the advantage of the present experimentally explored drugs, yet they regularly discovered normal cures that worked similarly also. Natural cures our problems have been utilized for quite a long time to get everything from premenstrual disorder to hypertension. Men encountering the primary indications of hair sparseness regularly looked too normal fixes also, and a portion of the natural cures have astounding outcomes.

A gathering of dermatologists in Scotland tried a homegrown cure with a lack of hair extraordinary achievement, helping over 40% of their patients with a combination of fundamental oils containing cedarwood, lavender, rosemary, and thyme. In this twofold visually impaired examination, the gathering utilizing the fundamental oils demonstrated improvement in the hair fall in 40% of the subjects, while just 15% of the benchmark group noticed an improvement.

Anyway, would you be keen on evaluating fragrance-based treatment as a balding arrangement? On the off chance that you'd prefer to explore different avenues regarding this, the Natural Home Remedies For Hair Loss you have to need blend three drops of every one of lavender and rosemary oil with two drops of every one of cedarwood and thyme oils. Add this blend to 4 teaspoons of grapeseed oil and one-quarter teaspoon of jojoba oil. Rub the combination into your scalp for two minutes daily, at that point utilize a warm towel to wrap your head and cure your hair fall problem solve.

In case you're not encountering sparseness yet, yet your hair doesn't look solid, you might need to attempt a combination of lavender and sound fundamental oils to animate the bloodstream to the scalp and help flow to the region. Around six drops of each oil ought to be added.

Conclusion

Natural Home Remedies For Hair Loss problem is the common problem for each man or woman too but if you follow our remedies you can control your hair fall problem very easily.

#kabitabeauty #Naturalhomeremediesforhairloss

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thefatalmarksman · 4 years ago

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Here it is......

The FFVII AU Luxu Slimy Boi Anatomy / Biology Info Dump.

Y’all gonna regret encouraging me. 👏

This is INCREDIBLY long and detailed, as I’ve covered the majority of his bodily systems and functions, so if those kinds of descriptions gross you out, proceed with caution. Also please keep in mind that while I did my best with my research, there may be some inaccuracies due to me... not exactly being a Scientist. :| So just bear with me and keep in mind this is STILL a Fantasy World at the end of the day.

These headcanons are subject to alterations if necessary.

— In simplest terms, Luxu is a “parasitic, predatory shapeshifter.” His “true” form is what appears to be an “eye” (though it’s more like the primary nerve center than anything else) that is capable of producing tentacle-like appendages that latch onto a host body and basically “infect” its insides with a virus that causes genetic mutation on a cellular level, slightly altering organ structures and reducing internal tissues into even larger invertebrate, tentacle-like appendages that serve as incredibly preternaturally strong muscles and secrete a semi-acidic mucous. The acid level lessens in pH deeper into its core, which allows digestion of organic compounds (including bone tissue), and even some metallic and synthetic materials. In the meantime, the outer epidermal layer becomes slightly harder, becoming a mutable, semi-cartilaginous “shell,” almost with a latex-like texture and accompanied by a mucous secretion, that can be mentally manipulated through various chemical reactions.

— In terms of being “similar” to animals we are familiar with, he’s... honestly a lot like a mollusk, particularly a land snail. He’s basically just a slimy, sentient mass of tentacles with a few organs shoved in there and sheltered within a sexy exoskeleton (a “sexoskeleton,” if you will).

— Luxu also has some traits similar to plants, in that “cuttings” of its form retain cells that can individually survive separate from the host entity. However, they cannot operate individually as sentient creatures without the accompaniment of the “eye,” and can only alter genetic material via viral infection in an already autonomous being, which can then prepare the host for assimilation.

— ...Or, adversely, it just ends up killing the potential host if it cannot adapt the the genetic alteration. :|

— Given the consistent amount of energy that is burned due to his cellular complexities, Luxu constantly requires an intake of high-protein sustenance—aka, MEAT 👏—with humans serving as his meal of choice. This constant burning of energy also causes his body to run at extremely high temperatures, at what would be considered fever levels in humans.

— On the subject of digestion, Luxu also has an organ within the “throat” region capable of secreting a toxungenous ejection of an acidic saliva, which aids in breaking down various digestible compounds for consumption.

— So much of the nutrients that are consumed are absorbed into the body that waste is often expelled as a liquid buuut I will spare y’all by not expounding further.

— In his human disguise his teeth are only slightly more sharp than the average human’s, but in his full form, they are razor sharp for the mastication of tough materials, and shark-like in their positioning with multiple rows.

— He’s also capable of unhinging his jaw to allow for consumption of large quantities of sustenance. The muscular structuring in the “throat” area is also highly developed for swallowing large amounts to prevent choking. His tongue is also astonishingly prehensile, and aids in pulling food into his digestive tract.

— Underneath the flexible cartilaginous membrane of his skin, there is also the presence of an endoskeleton-like structure, though these “bones,” much like his epidermal, latex-like layer, are made of tissues susceptible to chemical alterations that allow his extreme “shapeshifting” abilities.

— While in human form, his left, unconcealed eye has vision on par with human perception, but in full monster mode, with his right eye exposed, he sees in infrared heat signatures. He also had a series of “eyes” on his upper chest cavity which serve as ultraviolet photoreceptors.

— Luxu’s olfactory senses are highly acute. Though he is capable of smelling with the two slits that serve as nostrils, positioned in the center of his “face” and can be extended to mimic a nose, he can also smell through small pores located in the outer membrane of his exoskeleton (which is one of the reasons he often prefers to stay mostly clothed). He is also able to detect the scent produced by shifts in pheromones, allowing him to “sense” people’s various emotional changes.

—His olfactory senses play a large role in his sense of taste as well, as the taste buds themselves are poorly developed. Given certain scents are affected by diet, Luxu has developed a preference for folks who eat richer or spicy foods, as that increases body odor, thus magnifying their flavor. He also has a taste for straight alcohol given the strength of its aroma, but metabolizes the alcohol itself fairly quickly.

— Much of his audial sensory organs are based on the detection of vibrations, and are highly sensitive, so loud noises are... not that enjoyable for him, and can even prove debilitating if loud enough.

— The nerve ends that produce the sensation of touch are also sensitive, which means that pain receptors are heightened. However, the introduction of pain causes the main nerve center quickly introduce a chemical that inhibits pain response, and dampens its effects.

— Due to the oxygen-based environment, Luxu’s respiratory system is adapted to organic oxygenation. (It is possible he has existed in other types of environments, but that’s a thought for another post.) This system is more similar to a plant’s than anything else, respiration occurring on a cellular level rather than through traditional “lungs.” His blood contains hemerythrin, which directly binds oxygen to his cells (hence another reason for his high protein intake). However, in his human form, his internal structure mimics a tracheal pipe which allows him to take in oxygen to “breathe.” In his full form, he does not require this active intake, and absorbs oxygen through pores in the outer membrane.

— The hemerythrin in Luxu’s blood produces a violet-pink tint when oxygenated, and is practically colorless when deoxygenated. There is a heart-like organ within the “chest” cavity that circulates his blood, but there are no vessels that carry blood, and oxygen is stored directly in tissue.

— Bodily tissues are regenerative—however, only the host body will regenerate, and whatever portion has been separate will not grow any further, and will exist only until its energies are exhausted.

— When separated from a vessel that allows autonomy, Luxu is very vulnerable, thus will engage in a near-death-like, suspended hibernation process, which lasts until its “sixth sense” detects the presence of organic life nearby that can be used as host vessels.

— ...I really have no fancy scientific explanation for his hair turning into tentacles. They just... shapeshift, okay, through... chemicals. :|

— Within the “eye” is a bundle of extrasensory nerves that provide Luxu with a “sixth sense.” It gives him a heightened perception of his surroundings—for example, allowing him to sense presences he cannot readily see, which would allow him to seek out prey in hiding, or offer a boost in reflexes in the case of possible opposition.

— Of course, like all shapeshifting monstrous entities from space, the only way to really kill him for good is to set him on fire until there is nothing left of the “eye,” thus destroying all internal cellular activity.

~ SPICY SECTION B) ~

— On the subject of genitalia and reproduction, other than Jenova who “asexually” reproduces through the use of viral infection in order to create a hive-like entity, Luxu is capable of sexual reproduction. Unfortunately, he’s never encountered another of his kind, so much of this is a mystery to him. (Can y’all say “virgin alien” huhuhuuuuhh???) However, he is capable of manipulating his exoskeleton to mimic human male genitalia, and is capable of orgasm... but really, it’s just an erogenous tentacle in disguise.

— In the instance of a sexual encounter in his natural state, during arousal, the sex organ erupts from a genital slit located within the “hip” area of the exoskeleton. The nerve endings of the various tentacles that make up his body also become excited, and secrete a mucous for smooth copulation. The pliable and relaxed slit can also be accessed for further stimulation.

— The sex organ is really just another tentacle, but one that is capable of more intense rigidity, and has a tube leading from an internal seminal sac to an opening that ejects the seminal fluid. This opening is otherwise invisible unless it is in use.

— In addition, similar to snails (yeah, get ready for this one, it’s WILD), during the course of mounting arousal but before the climax of the ejection of seminal fluid, an organic, harpoon-like “love dart” erects itself from the mass of tentacles within his lower abdominal cavity, which pierces his mating partner (yeah, basically just stabs them) and (this bit is unlike snails) injects an enzyme that serves as a lowkey stimulant, aiding in increasing his partner’s arousal. (Though he is aware of the existence of this “organ,” he is currently unaware of this biological trait, seeing as... he really doesn’t go to Pound Town in his “monster” form, and so the process is not accessed while the shell is in place.) This love dart is approximately a foot in length; quite sharp like a fleshy, organic spear with a slightly hooked stinger at the end; and is retractable for multiple uses.

#au: it came from outer space (and is kind of a jerk)#headcanons #i did....... a lot of research on this and it's super long pls read :'|#also once you get to the 'spicy section' if you don't wanna read about reproductive systems #just stop there

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stragglewort · 4 years ago

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Ghoul Parade -- “6.) Hollow Oaks, 515″

Picture by StreetWill, “Aucstp” - January 3rd, 2013

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The car seemed to whine as they both stepped out, James himself shivered as some sort of magical connection severed with the closed door.

They found that complexes like Hollow Oaks were big enough to warrant an old, multi-buttoned buzzer to call for any number of residents (though without being nice enough to have a doorman to direct would-be visitors on who lived where). James fiddled with the marker in his pocket, mulling over exactly how he was going to go about finding someone he’d never met. But Jo? He’d started wandering a bit – something smelled off, smelled different. It wasn’t quite familiar, but it rose a strange feeling of… not panic, but uneasiness in his chest that seemed to climb into his throat.

“Where do you think you’re going?” James called out from farther away than Jo had expected him to be. It wasn’t until then he realized he was halfway through the double doors and leaving his friend completely behind.

“I… I don’t know?” He shook his head. “Something’s off.”

“An accountant, a monster, and a master detective - what a lucky one.” James smiled, wide but a bit wavered. He sprinted over to the other man and motioned towards the door. “You’re leading, I guess.” He hummed, a bit amused. “Either we’re going to find what we’re looking for, or we’re getting arrested. I don’t know about you? But I’m willing to gamble it.”

Jo laughed a little, though it came out a bit strangled. In about three hours he’d realized the existence of magic, of monsters. He was almost afraid that if he were to slow down the absurdity of it all would catch up to him.

What struck him over the melding of smells and odd, reverberating feeling that echoed off the concrete was that same pounding heart. It sounded so close and he realized, without a doubt, it had to be James’. Only thing was that it was frantic, scared even. His friend’s face didn’t exactly match the drumming, leading beat of a panicking man. Maybe he was simply good at hiding it. They pushed into the dim complex, the smell of tobacco smoke and industrial cleaner stinging the inside of their nostrils as they passed the threshold. It made Joshua cringe.

They wove together through the grid of vending machines, staircases, and numbered doors. They couldn’t bother with the elevator even if they wanted to, it was dusty with a note taped onto the seam –

“Out of order – please use the stairs”

The first few floors didn’t seem to hold much interest. Jo could smell everything, and if he really focused he could hear it all, too. There was a woman scolding what sounded like a dog –

The sharp inhale of a cigarette,

Someone coughing,

Someone laughing under their breath –

Hearts thumping in a soft, droning, barely audible echo.

Smells, sounds, and the dusty dark all seemed to melt into each other as if Jo were looking at it all through a single hyperactive sense. It felt the same as when he caught James in the library cellar but, now that he had an idea of what he was trying to find, it was sharper. Clearer. He churned his way around structure poles and boxes, chasing the tail of some invisible goal.

“Hey –!“ James called out halfheartedly.

Again, Jo seemed to have lost himself. It wasn’t until he heard his friend’s voice that he realized he’d been sprinting and, coming back to, swung to halting stop. “…I – where am I going?” He muttered, the words fumbling out of his mouth like an unfinished thought.

“I was about to ask the same thing.” James laughed, finally catching up. “I was not ready to sprint up five floors today – enchanting your car and tracking vampires? Sure! But I did not sign up for cardio.”

“…Sorry.” He scratched the back of his neck, awkwardly. The fifth floor didn’t reek of tobacco as much as it did other things - something floral, something chemical, something bitter and a bit sweaty – “What?” He mumbled, involuntary. He wasn’t sure if panic smelled bitter, but that was the first word to come to mind. Another whiff and there, like blood in the water, he could smell something else, feel something that wasn’t quite right. For lack of a better word, it wasn’t quite human.

“What’s up?” James tried to peer through the dim hallway but wasn’t catching much from the half-obscured daylight seeping in from a far window. Jo didn’t answer. He just hushed and listened, trying to cut through the muddled static of human life that filled every inch of the building. He vied to focus on that one anomaly, the single pang of hesitant abnormality that floated through the hall like a pin in a wave of fabric. He could hear heartbeats, and he’d cope with the insanity of that later, but at that moment it felt useful. He could almost place the heart to the person, even. Every audible shift to an echoing rhythm. And somewhere in that hallway, hiding in one of the apartments there seemed to be someone with no heart.

Five-fifteen. Somewhere in apartment five-fifteen there was something dead, and it was struggling.

The worst part was that it didn’t take him much longer to figure out that it was exactly where he wanted to be. Boxes, shipments, and groceries from some personal buyer or online shopping list were stacked up in droves against the door. The small postbox stacked with bills – each one of them labeled with the same name –

“Ms. Lorena Em”

He’d almost forgotten that was her actual name. Lorena. He’d forgotten that Lottie was just some shortened nickname her mom gave her that stuck in the mouths of her friends better than the legal one. Confusion and fear are two vastly different emotions. They can stick together or be as far apart as they so please but somehow, staring at those boxes, hearing the movement behind the door that shouldn’t have been alive, he couldn’t tell the difference.

“Lottie?” He asked, a crack threatening to break his words in half. His arm raised to the door to knock, but James caught him.

“Wait – give it a second.” He whispered. His hearing wasn’t exactly supernatural, but even he couldn’t miss the haggard shuffling of whoever was on the other side.

When his voice reached through the door the figure quieted. They stopped moving, stopped breathing.

“Lottie? It’s Joshua – are you home?” He didn’t knock, but he leaned against the frame, trying to catch a better hint. A sound. A word. Anything at all. Being so close he realized something odd. Even the doorway had a specific scent, a smell that reminded him of her, and whatever was inside wasn’t matching it. “Something’s wrong.” He gasped, and near instantly shot for the handle. It was locked, to no one’s surprise.

“Great, we’re getting arrested then.” James said, watching his friend struggle with the doorknob. A quick glance around and he was relieved to find there weren’t any cameras, though he couldn’t say the same for neighbors.

Jo kept at the door, but it was more pounding than knocking – pulling than turning – as he threatened the well-being of the poor thing’s hinges. “Lottie, open the door – okay? We need to talk. We really need to talk.” It was impossible to tell if his tone was frantic, angry, or desperate. He couldn’t figure it out himself. Something about whoever was inside that room struck a chord in him that turned him fervent.

“P-please go away!” A voice hushed from the other side. It was a man, high and tinny with panic, but undoubtedly masculine. “I’m… not interested!”

“That’s not – God – open this door!” Joshua nearly yelled, pitched and worried, but bit the words back behind newly sharpened teeth.

The voice on the other side whined in a short, harsh whisper that was barely audible, even for him. “I really – ah, really don’t want to do that.”

Joshua reeled back and before he realized what he was doing found himself smashing his shoulder against the wood, bending it. A reverberating thud shook though the walls. He wasn’t sure how strong vampirism was supposed to make him, considering he wasn’t exactly a bodybuilder in first place, but at that moment he didn’t exactly care. He was about to try again, but when he ran forward to break the door down he was met with nothing as it swung open before he could hit it, letting him tumble face first into the apartment.

Nose to the ground he could hear frantic, whispered apologies and James somewhere behind him, laughing.

“Oh no, oh no. Are… are you okay?” Looking up he saw a thinly gaunt, pale faced, and red-haired main staring down at him. When their eyes met, the stranger’s got wider – somehow, considering they were already quite large – and he staggered back, tripping over something and falling, leaving them both on the ground. “Oh, you’re a – “

“Where’s… where’s Lottie?” Joshua picked himself up and, now standing, towered over the stranger. He wasn’t an imposing person by any stretch of the imagination (the sweater vest saw to that) but it didn’t take much to look scarier than the wry man starting back at him.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know who that –“

“Wait, who are you?” Something angry, inhuman, and boiling clawed at the pit of his stomach. He’d never felt so conflicted, so absolutely frustrated in his life. “What are you doing here?”

“Jo, you’re scaring him.” James stepped between the two, hands held up trying to wave his friend backwards.

Looking between them – James with a slyly sympathetic kind of face and the stranger who looked absolutely pitiful still frozen on the ground – he tried to breathe and bring himself back down to earth. Down to some semblance of calm. It was strange, he’d never had a temper before. He pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long, drawn breath. “…Alright, alright – who are you?”

“I’m, ah… Martin. Martin Finley?” The stranger sputtered as if he wasn’t quite sure himself.

“Alright Martin, what are you doing in my secretary’s apartment?”

“You won’t like the answer.”

“I don’t like any of this. Now you’re going to tell me or – by God – I’m calling the police.”

That seemed to get a rise out of the man as he scrambled. “Wait! I’m – Ah…” He hesitated, a tremor running through his whole body that seemed nearly constant. “I’m looking for, well, I don’t think it was supposed to be you? But someone like you? Someone who’s…”

James’ eyebrows raised as he watched the scene unfold, coming to a quiet realization before anyone else could.

“Who’s what?” Jo had a thought but didn’t want to accept it.

“…Dead?” Martin hushed, fingers curling into the carpet. “Y-you know, like you?”

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wordywarriorwrites · 5 years ago

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Chapter 20: Evermore

Masterlist: The Boss of Brooklyn A03 Story Link Author: @wordywarriorwrites Summary: When it comes to being The Boss, James Buchanan “JB” Barnes rules with an iron fist. For him, there’s no room for sentiment, and certainly no time for distraction, even if it is in the form of an old flame. Steve Rogers had bowed out of the life a long time ago, but a twist of fate brings him right back into the fold, and face-to-face with a man he once loved. When a game of cat and mouse turns into a matter of life and death, both will be forced to decide whether they’ll be loyal to the business, or faithful to each other. A/N: Bucky Barnes Mob Boss AU. Stucky. For: @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan Star’s Multi-Fandom Follower Celebration with the prompt, “Why did you do it?” & @sherrybaby14 Sherry’s Fall Into You Challenge with the prompt, “Show me. Prove that you can handle me.” Warnings: Language, violence, drug use, alcohol, smoking, explicit sexual content, illegal activities. *Re-blogs are welcome. Plagiarism isn’t. *

One Month Later…

The Tuileries and Carousel Gardens, adjacent to the Louvre, between the museum and the Place de la Concorde – that’s where Mason tried to convince Steve to meet him for the final time.

It was a very public and neutral spot, but there was nothing impersonal about the situation they’d found themselves in. Mason had explained the photographs and made recompense to Bucky, and for the sake of his own sanity, Steve accepted it, and felt the subject was closed. Mason, on the other hand, believed they had unfinished business to discuss, and wanted to talk about it in person.

As Steve stared out at the view of the Eiffel Tower, Mason went on speaking, and pointed out the facts as he saw them. He believed they were good together, the attraction was mutual, and in the short time they’d been in each other’s company, they’d been happy. To him, it was as simple as that, and he couldn’t understand why Steve would choose to give it up so precipitously.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Steve told him. “And you won’t change my mind.”

The hedged response hung in the air for some time before Mason called out the proverbial elephant in the room. He asked if he was going back to Brooklyn to be with Bucky, and since Steve still respected him enough to be honest, he didn’t lie. Mason was a tenacious man, but he wasn’t ignorant, and he didn’t press for further explanation.

“Tu retournes chercher ton cœur,” he bemoaned. “I cannot be angry at you for that.”

The conversation ended as amicably as he could’ve ever hoped for, and when Steve hung up the phone, he was suddenly hit with a mixture of relief and apprehension. He wasn’t just leaving France and what might’ve been; he was returning home to the unknown, and the uncertainty of it all was overwhelming.

He and Bucky and been in a bubble. Two weeks of in-patient observation, two weeks of out-patient recovery, and a final post-op physical to determine whether or not he was well enough to travel. A month of nothing more than one-on-one talking, listening, and getting used to each other all over again.

Steve had nearly forgotten what it was like to be so in tune with someone, and there were moments when he would look at Bucky and feel as if there had been no time, distance, or animosity between them. They had never been nor would they ever be strangers, and their shared experiences had bonded them in profound, inexplicable ways, but they weren’t delusional about the effort they’d have to put into making it work. They’d hurt each other severely, and neither of them could erase that pain or rebuild several years’ worth of trust overnight, but the true test of their mettle would be when they got back to Brooklyn…

A soft knock on the adjoining door brought Steve back to himself. He called out that it was open, and a moment later, the subject of his thoughts stepped out on the balcony.

Bucky excitedly declared the doctors gave him a clean bill of health. Steve nodded at the good news, which was followed up by Bucky stating they could leave as soon as that very evening. He must’ve made a noncommittal sound, because the following morning was also deemed acceptable.

“Or we could stay forever,” he offered nonchalantly. “I could become a Moulin Rouge dancer, and you can, I don’t know – paint nude portraits of Frenchmen with their poodles.”

Steve turned to him and furrowed his brow, “I’m sorry - what?”

Bucky laughed and shook his head, “You worried about going home?”

“Honestly? Yeah, I am.”

The Families and the West Indies were still very sore subjects, but they hadn’t tip-toed around them. Bucky knew Steve didn’t want to fall back into old habits and Steve knew Bucky had to get back to running the business that had been sorely neglected in his absence. Playtime was well and truly over, and pretty soon, choices would need to be made that would impact them both.

“We don’t have to figure it all out right away.”

“You know that’s not true. They’re going to expect--”

“The decision isn’t theirs to make,” Bucky interjected bluntly. “And the seat will remain vacant until you say you want it back or you tell me to fill it.”

“And you think they’ll just accept that?” Steve countered.

“They’ll do what I fucking tell them to do.”

An unwavering declaration and an absolute unwillingness to bend – a terse retort that was both the long and the short of it. Bucky had essentially issued a blank check with no void date, and in the event of a battle, he’d be colonel, cavalry, and cannon fodder. A Boss always shouldered the brunt of the weight, and until Steve decided he wanted to carry a share of it, a debate was pointless.

He let Bucky know that he preferred to return to New York the following day, and once the itinerary was finalized, Bucky declared he reeked of hospital chemicals, and wanted to take a shower. After so many weeks of being a de-facto caretaker, Steve followed on reflex. He entered Bucky’s bedroom on autopilot, headed straight for the bathroom, gathered towels, turned on the water, and put down the bathmat.

Like an old-school English valet, Steve undressed Bucky with impartiality that had been easy to maintain because of the discomfort it caused and the need to be mindful of the wounds. Shoes, socks, jacket, tie, belt, pants, and shirt – practice had made the process efficient, but when Bucky dropped his boxers without warning, and invited him to join him in the shower, the detachment Steve had sensibly developed nearly evaporated.

“Please,” Bucky insisted.

Steve could’ve ignored the entreaty had he not met Bucky’s eyes and saw it wasn’t sex he was after this time. A blatant, vulnerable expression had bled across his features, and the emotion was too real and raw to put words to. Steve knew just by the set of Bucky’s jaw and the way he held his breath that he didn’t want to be coddled or nursed anymore.

Getting undressed and beneath the spray had been the easy part. The dimness of the heat lamp; the steam within the glass enclosure; the complexity of intimacy; and the simplicity of a familiar and welcomed touch – it was a different kind of nakedness and it exposed them both.

French, triple-milled soap rinsed down the drain and the Egyptian cotton bath sheets were forgotten on the floor at the foot of the bed. They settled into the double king-sized mattress, beneath a down comforter, and atop of too many damn pillows. Bucky rested on his side, back pressed to his chest, and Steve couldn’t stop himself from placing a protective hand over the still-healing injuries.

Bucky’s contented sigh was what Steve fell asleep to, and when he woke several hours later, darkness had fallen, but the room was subtly glowing. The glimmering light from the Eiffel Tower had created sparkled patterns over the ceiling, walls, and bed, but the splendor wasn’t what held his attention.

Blankets kicked off, flat on his stomach, and face buried in a pillow – a repose that was wholly innocent and utterly tempting. The rich scent of Bucky’s soft skin, the warmth of his body, and the reassuring sound of his every inhale and exhale -- he was painfully stunning and completely captivating, and even without asking, Steve could sense he’d also been wakened by the light show.

“Does this happen every night?” Bucky muttered.

Steve made a noise in the affirmative and Bucky let out a huff of annoyance. Bare skin cradled by golden light flexed and moved across the sheets, and he listened and observed as Bucky stretched and groaned beside him. Dark, unkempt hair gave way to a furrowed brow and sleepy eyes, but Steve’s amorous perusal was brought to an end when he abruptly rolled away, grabbed the blanket, and covered himself from shoulders to toes.

Though they were mere inches apart, Bucky’s actions had put a discernable, unspoken distance between them. He’d hidden both his expression and his body, and when the lights of the Tower finally stopped glittering, the room dimmed considerably, and the tension turned palpable.

“I want you,” Steve rasped into the darkness.

“Do you?”

There was no trace of brashness in his voice; if anything, he brooded, as if he were unsure whether or not the passion Steve had for him had somehow lessened. Their journey had left them both shaken and broken, but the one thing Steve knew for sure was that his desire for Bucky had never been lost along the way. He responded to the question not with words, but with deliberate action, and started by pushing the covers down and out of the way.

Steve roved his palms and tongue purposefully and hungrily from the crook of Bucky’s neck to the base of his spine. When Steve rolled him onto his back, he repeated the process, and reclaimed Bucky’s body. Steve buried his teeth into his abs, coaxed bruises from the flesh of his hipbones, and used his hands and mouth until he beckoned gut-wrenched pleas of mercy that prompted Steve to release him long enough to issue a guttural demand.

“Come for me, Buck,” he ordered lowly. “Come for me right now.”

Bucky’s surrender and his orgasm hadn’t just been a physical release; it seemed to free him from whatever doubts he may have had and revived his confidence. He basked in the afterglow for a few minutes before he got up, rushed to the bathroom, and returned with a bottle of lube and a handful of condoms.

Both were tossed down in the middle of the mattress, and Steve’s heart raced when Bucky crawled back into bed, and kissed him until his brain shorted out. The force and intensity of it sent him falling back against the pillows, and he couldn’t help but moan as Bucky sucked hard on his tongue and stroked his erection from base to tip.

“Nobody else is allowed to have you,” Bucky panted as he issued a sharp bite to his lower lip. “And I will kill anyone who tries to hurt you or take you from me.”

The possessive assertion was punctuated with a particularly tight squeeze, and the highhandedness continued with hot, open-mouthed licks and nips that blazed a path down his chin, to the base of his throat, and across his chest.

Steve was completely lost in the officious tenor of Bucky’s voice and caress, and by the time he opened the lube and really started working him over, Steve was painfully hard, and hanging on by a thread. Bucky continued to take his time, used his fingers with pitiless and relentless accuracy, and didn’t roll on a condom until he was wrecked and had all but blathered and begged for it.

Situated on his knees, Bucky nudged his thighs wide apart, and guided himself inside until he was seated deep. Bucky intertwined their hands and pinned Steve’s arms above his head. Chest-to-chest; eyes locked and focused; an unhurried rock and roll of hips; heady, potent kisses that left them both breathless and a little dizzy. Steve hovered with Bucky over the precipice -- desperate, unafraid, and more than ready and willing to fall -- and when he did, Bucky fell right along with him.

“I love you,” Bucky whispered against the shell of his ear.

Steve closed his eyes and let out a ragged breath, “I love you, too.”

Translations: Tu retournes chercher ton cœur – You’re going back for your heart.

Epilogue: The Bosses

Everything: @jennmurawski13 @nerdy-bookworm-1998

Steve Rogers: @patzammit @hearttoearth The Boss of Brooklyn: @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety @captain-rogers-beard @lilliannaansalla

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joshslater · 6 years ago

Text

The Cupbearer

This is a relay, doing a continuation of tamed-jock’s continuation of jd07201990′s story. Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

Infection+2:25

Let's write a captains log, like Tyler and I used to do, only this time I have actual observations and events to record. It is now approximately 2 hours and 25 minutes since he placed the cup on me. I immediately went home, and have done some preliminary studies of the object.

My most immediate concern is the attachment mechanism. I can really only think of three, suction, adhesion or some sort of mechanical attachment to my... thing. Observations are a bit limited as the object responds to stimulii. In the first instance when I grabbed it in the rest room there wasn't much of a response. The feeling was similar to that of a vacuum pull in the whole area, but I'm not feeling a constant force as I would expect from vacuum. Also, when the cup was applied it felt like it was filled with, or quickly filled up with a gel of some sort.

Wanting to rule out vacuum, or in best case break the vacuum and remove the object, I attempted to insert a narrow tube from my model steam engine in between the skin and the object. That did provoke a response. It felt like the contents of the cup was rapidly replaced or infused with icy-hot gel. This entry has been delayed by approximately 40 minutes, as I have been lying on my bed and desperately trying to avoid touching it. Every time I fail I get like a pulse of renewed icy-hot in the cup.

Infection+2:50

I've decided to avoid further experiments and focus on observation and external research. The cup itself appears to be mix of carbon fiber, titanium and some other fairly high tech materials. This points to high tech origin, but beside the logotype I find no other markings like brand, manufacturer, patents, serial number etc. My first attempts to Google this kind of product or stories from someone with similar experience come up short. I took a picture of the logo, cleaned it up and sent it through USPTO image search to see if anyone has a trademark on it, but came up empty as well.

It sure smells bad. I need to come up with an excuse for mum.

Infection+6:00

I told mum that I'm having my scent-month, as if every teenage boy has one. I said Tyler just had his, so if she checks with his parents they will confirm it. Why does it smell so bad though? It is clearly the cup that emits it, since the smell came on pretty strong only seconds after Tyler attached it. Is it distraction? Is it to mask something else? Is it to make the wearer body conscious or odor conscious and avoid contact with other people? Is it to acclimate the wearer to the smell? I don't see how I can answer any of these questions purely from observation though. Something to sleep on perhaps. How do you pee with this thing?

Infection+6:15

So the pee just kind of filters out in the lower part of the cup. If you want to use a toilet you have to basically sit on it reverse, do you thing, and then wait a few minutes for it all to drain out. A big drawback is that you have to step out of pants and boxers to even sit reverse on a toilet.

Infection+10:20

I think the damn thing just woke me up. Or I'm just have a restless night because of all that is happening, and more importantly what will happen. Fuck you Tyler!

Infection+12:05

It's definitely the cup that woke me. Just as I was waking up I could feel some sort of vibration down there. What other crazy shit have they packed into the device. My bedroom smells like a locker room. Thanks Tyler!

Infection+13:55

Fuck it, I'm getting up. I'll pee in the shower.

Infection+14:20

So that didn't work as well as I hoped. I could pee fine, but when I turned on the shower it was like pouring water in a gym shoe. If it smelled bad before, it absolutely reeks now. I think I'm gonna steal one of mum’s pads and tape it to the front, since it is still leaking God knows what and then wrap it in plastic and hope that contains the worst of it.

Infection+17:30

I didn't think of mobility enough. Jeans are clearly out of the question, so I went to school in chinos. It's bad enough that the cup is rigid, over sized and fully attached. Add to that some extra padding and cram it in chinos that aren't exactly lose to begin with, and you have something that looks funny stationary and awkward/hilarious when moving.

If I walk slowly I think I might come up with a gait that might be described as exaggerated jock sway, which would be step up from whatever ludicrous I'm doing now. Damn, I should have practiced yesterday.

I need to find some better pants, because these are too tight and restrictive.

Infection+21:30

My efforts to contain the smell isn’t fooling anyone, but I hope it just smells like I have a bad hygiene day. My crotch is a sauna though. The plastic wrap needs to go. Tyler kept his distance. I wonder if he is ashamed, or if he doesn't give a shit. Perhaps they have some sort of protocol he adheres to.

Day 2, 4:40 pm

Let's stop fucking around with the childish infection timer. This is serious. I found something sobering when doing some online patent search.

I was just blindly trying to find patents for any of the different things this cup does, and managed to find a description on "bio-polymer adhesion complex and application for individualized restriction control". I don't understand more than a fraction of what is written, but in the schematics there is a drawing of EXACTLY the cup I'm wearing. The list of example uses in the description includes prison inmates and persons under house arrest. This is a retrofitted fucking ankle bracelet.

It's originally designed to never come the fuck off through tampering. Fuck.

Day 2, 6:30 pm

Mum gave me some Vichy Laboratories excessive odor control deo roll on she bought at the pharmacy. Roll on to what, exactly? Well, she can only solve problems she knows about I guess. Should I tell her? Would she mind having a sports jock son? She would probably tell me to do whatever makes me happy. Would I be happy? Tyler certainly looks pretty fucking pleased.

Day 2, 8:20 pm

I've not spent that much time on wanking before. Like once or twice a month. But now that I can't my mind kind of wanders to it all the time. I've done some, let's call it research, that you can orgasm pretty well by putting something in your ass. Not doing that.

Day 2, 9:46 pm

Got some weird hot flashes in the cup while taking a shower. Smells as bad post shower as the last time. I don't know if it is the smell or I'm tired, but I went to bed early. I'm too hot and sweaty to fall asleep though.

Day 3, 2:12 am

Can I go to the police? This is clearly some sort of assault. Tyler would be the first one under the bus. Perhaps the coach. Probably not further than that. This is backed by serious money after all, so they will just protect themselves and their IP. Does it really matter though? By the time they've forced any action I've had this thing on me for a month, I've grown a donkey dick and gone completely mad. Much good some cash compensation will do then. And do I want to punish Tyler? Fuck yeah I want, but not like that. He's a victim too.

Go directly to a hospital then? If I can't figure out what this thing is or does, how would hospital staff be any better. They'll probably start cutting around it, and there is no telling how it will respond. It was designed to never come off, at least not without a fight. Probably horribly so, to set an example.

Day 3, 2:28 am

I'll try to sleep in the garden. It's cooler outside and doesn't stink.

Day 3, 4:51 am

Dozed off a bit I think.

I've been thinking about the construction of the cup. There are a some design details that has been nagging me. For something that small it appears to be almost magical in abilities and power storage. But then it hit me, it's not crammed packed with batteries, electronics, vials of chemicals and all other stuff you might need to build something like this.

It's biological. Perhaps not in the "alive" sense of an organism, but "alive" in the sense a virus is alive. It's a biochemical robot following instructions encoded in DNA, or something like it. If you consider it a manufactured parasite it all makes sense. It has access to the resources of a full human body and can leech heat energy and pee chemicals off the body indefinitely. The "bio-polymer" attach to the skin, and perhaps even have direct access to nerve impulses. There is really thin membranes in the dick, so it can probably send stuff directly into the blood stream as well.

Fuck.

Day 3, 9:36 am

I just realized I can't remember a thing that has been said so far in school today. I need to cum!

Day 3, 11:23 am

Becky spent her presentation on "Manspreading". She probably started working on the talk already last week, knowing her, but she clearly directed a lot of the points directly at me. Looked directly my way for most of the talk. No, Becky, I'm not subconsciously asserting dominance.

I CAN'T PHYSICALLY CLOSE MY LEGS, BECKY!

I found a different pair of chinos that works better, Becky. No matter what I do, there will be a pretty sizable bulge down there though, Becky.

Day 3, 14:02

God Dammit! The inside of the cup just went super cold 10 minutes into math class. I couldn't finish a single thing. Just not jumping and screaming was hard enough. It's mostly back to normal now, I think.

Day 3, 15:14

This is what I think happened. They started to test the cups on inmates. By mistake it started to leak chemicals or active DNA from the device into the inmates. They had tested the cup technology artificially before, on pigs perhaps, and hadn't seen these effects. But they didn't put it on the pig’s dick, did they.

So suddenly their inmate control device has turned into the worlds best slow release injector for men. Perhaps even the original formula made dicks grow. They just made the minimal needed changes and paid coach to start human trials on teenagers.

Then why the fuck do I need to keep this log? They must have so much more data on what is done to us to have a useful trial. I guess this might come in handy in the inevitable court case.

Day 3, 16:40

I'M SO HORNY ALL DAY.

I went to have a cold shower. If anything things just went even worse. How is this happening! FUCKING FUCK TYLER FUCK

Day 3, 20:18

Why do I have to do this? I know what the end point is going to be. A fucking dumb, arrogant jock dick. Assuming it is inevitable, and I don't see any way out, why not have it over and done with tomorrow. Just walk to the gallows and submit. Whatever that thing is doing, physically and mentally, is minimized the sooner it's off me. Back when Becky would speak with me she told me a rumor that the nerds gone jocks all had monster cocks. She didn't say anything about the regular jocks, so it probably is specific to this procedure.

And if they, the old jocks, are not joining up hand over fist to get such dicks, the procedure itself, or the side effects, must be pretty discouraging. Otherwise they would just cram the cup down their own pants.

Let's get rid of this thing first thing in the morning.

Day 3, 11:49 pm

Fuck, it vibrates.

I've been sweating balls, trying to sleep naked without any sheets. I was just sort of tugging at it, to see if I could feel anything in the dick, when it started to vibrate. It's been going for like 15 minutes now.

Day 4, 2:11 am

I smell.

The cup stinks, but I smell. While trying to ignore the humming dick I noticed that my armpits smell like moist gym bag.

I showered like 10 hours ago. That's never been a problem before, so it's definitively changing me somehow.

I fucking need this thing off me ASAP!

Day 4, 2:20 am

fucking god dammit it went ice cold again

Day 4, 7:38 am

So I went to the locker room. Once inside I realized I didn't really have a plan. What if they were not all in on it? I would appear like a lunatic, ranting about sci-fi balls cups. Turns out I didn't need to worry. First guy who saw me, Derek or Devin or something. Big guy, short buzz, looks intimidating. Anyway, he saw me and started shouting "You are not supposed to be here." I was like "I need to get something removed".

He walked up right into my face. "You are not on the list. Tyler fucked up so someone has to be punished. Fuck off!"

I hesitated to leave. He took one step forward, physically pushing me backwards and almost had me trip over. "GET OUT!" he shouted right in my face.

Day 4, 9:16

I've been locked inside the disabled toilet and crying since leaving the locker room. How long can I go with this thing on? You physically die after about a week without sleep, but it is letting me sleep in short bursts, so perhaps it could keep up indefinitely. I can't. I won't. Why shouldn't I just tell everything to mum, have her call the school, the coach, the press. Whatever is needed for someone to get this thing off me.

I should think this over carefully. But how is that possible if you are sleep deprived, horny AF and your dick is on vibrate mode? I can't stay here though. I'll walk home and tell mum first thing she gets home.

When I open the door, the first thing I see is Tyler, leaning against the opposite wall and smiling a smirk.

- Sup bro? - FUCK YOU! You ruined my life! - It was a shit one anyway. You should get another one. - That's not happening either, is it?

Suddenly I was bawling my eyes out. Exhaustion, sleep deprivation, rejection, horniness, anger. It was all coming together.

- Heyyy bro, come here.

I fucking hated him, but somehow I didn’t just bolt. I walked right into his arms and let him hug me. I realized that his change in appearance and personality had obscured his bodily changes. Just feeling his arms around me, I could tell he had gotten a lot stronger.

- You know Steve O'Conner in the chess club, right?

It was such an odd non-sequitur. I had to struggle a bit, but yeah, I'd helped him with a science project last year.

- A little bit, why? - I talked things over. Give him this and you are back on the list, second place.

He handed me another cup, packaged in a sealed, tearable plastic bag. I know I should feel sorry for Steve, but the only thing I could think of was my vibrating dick.

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maladaptive-ninja-returns · 5 years ago

Text

Without Question (Epilogue)

Steve Rogers x fem!Reader

Content: fluffy conclusion and maybe...mayyyyybe a future fic idea

Warnings: …none? Um...except for that one lady in there.

Word Count: Hot water does not quench my thirst no matter how good it might be for my body...which in itself is such a disaster of a thing.

MASTERLIST & Taglist in bio, my love

The life of a parasite is not that complex of an affair. It is born to live inside a host, gather its nutrients from the said host- more than often at the host's expense- live till it can breed more or find a better host. Its entire life is based on the expense of another creature; its survival in the flesh of someone who can contain it. Therefore, it is no wonder she does not like it when someone calls her a parasite. For she is not one. Her kind lives in codependency, finding a host it is compatible with and helping it flourish in return for nourishment.

Her species was known to have always gone for the living, looking for hosts they could control, be the dominant party of the two sitting in the conference room inside the mind of the body they inhabited, the foreboding controllers that they were. However, inhabiting a dead host- or someone near to it- was never talked about for carcasses were beneath them and their Titan-like ego.

But she isn't like them. She wants to be different. To finally have the freedom she has craved for her entire existence; she wants to live it. And so, she has decided to throw all the laws of the dead empire outside the window and try her theory of inhabiting a body nearly at its deathbed.

The woman- strolled into the emergency room with fatal blows to her body in some accident- is covered in blood and bruises when the doctors try to rush into the process of saving her, measuring her heart rate, blood pressure and respiration rate. It is pure chaos for her to watch it all from the ceiling. Humans. Such soft creatures. She can sense that woman's vitals weakening with every passing moment, something the machines tell the medical professionals by a few seconds' delay. No amount of effort is going to repair that internal bleeding and shock accelerating that human's chances of death slithering right by the corner. And just at that second, she knows that flesh is no longer the resident to the soul it has been harbouring since the beginning of its time, she jumps discreetly into the body when the doctors are focusing at the screen that shows the patient is flatlining. One shock to through the defibrillator is enough for her to let the chemicals be catalysed to become one with neurons; her presence gradually gelling with the body to become one with it. And before any other human in the room can debate on it being a medical miracle, a sign of higher power or simply the inadequacy of the machines, she opens her eyes in her new form, seeing the world through an independent pair of windows for the first time.

Free.

"You know, when we both silently agreed on staying together, I wasn't really expecting you to spoil my life like this."

Steve's chuckle reverberates through the kitchen and dining hall. His honey-laced laugh reaches you in the living room to make you smile as you gather the whiteboard, a few markers, the portable speaker, and a couple of other knick-knacks for the small gathering you are about to have.

"If making breakfast every day is spoiling you then I am not even halfway to showing you how much more I can spoil your life, doll," he announces over the sound of something sizzling over the stove.

You bite your lips to stop the overflow of these gushing emotions all inside you. "Oh, let's not forget giving Stace the freedom to do whatever she wants, okay?" You state, getting up and moving towards the hall, "And you making that entire front yard-"

"That's our back yard."

Our back yard.

...Fuck. Why is he like this?

"Making our entire back yard into this freaking perfect garden with all those fancy fairy lights and a freaking gazebo!"

"You liked it," he stresses. You peak in from the entrance of the kitchen, watching him carefully place the omelettes in two plates along with the toasts- yours extra crispy with thinly spread butter on them- before pouring orange juice in two glasses.

"That doesn't matter," you retort, watching him being caught off guard, your heart instantly melting when his eyes light up on seeing you stand there. "I'm not gonna maintain that luxurious green patch when the time comes."

He stands facing you, his hands on his hips and oh heavens! that customised blue apron with chibi Captain America blessing its front gives you all the right feels in your stomach. "No problem," he affirms, picking the plates and moving them to the tiny breakfast table by the French window before coming back for the juice, "I'll take care of it. I'm pretty sure all of these are positive spoil-"

"Oh I'm not done yet," you interject, sauntering towards a slightly confused and faintly excited Steve, "you have me utterly spoiled-" you move your hands around his waist, earning an arched brow from him- "with all-" your hands go beyond his back, moving lower till they land over his butt cheeks- "of that-" and give them a tight squeeze, forcing a delightful hum out of Steve as you push him closer to you- "sex!"

"Hmm," Steve growls, planting his one hand on your waist under your t-shirt, while the other goes up to tease your lower lip with his thumb. "If you don't like being spoiled," he whispers, bringing his lips closer to you but never close enough for you to get a taste of him, "we can always stop."

"Or," you begin to propose through a moan by letting your hands run along the hem of his track pants, creating a wave of disturbance wherever your fingers touch him before stopping at the trail of hair going down, "we could make it a healthy habit so it doesn't seem like I'm being spoiled."

Your fingers run down that soft golden trail, stirring something inside the Captain, his light eyes feeling a dark edge of mischief being added to them. His finger traces a path down from your lips to your neck, going further down your chest. "Everyone'll arrive in an hour," Steve sighs, giving a light shrug.

"Oh," you turn to look at the clock and realise he's not wrong, letting go of the waistband of his track pants, "then we should-"

Your sentence ends up a light shriek from Steve lifting you by your ass, making your reflexes wrap your legs around him. "That means," he grunts, balancing you effortlessly in those buff arms while his lust-filled eyes have yours locked in place, his voice a shade huskier as he starts moving to the bedroom, "I have a lot of time to make you question all that I do for you. And to you. And more."

Oooh yes!

"How do I use this thing?"

Wasn't working with a human vessel not enough? Did they really have to invent these cheap electronic devices?

She looks down at the device that seems to keep buzzing with different messages for some reason as she tries to find her way through the street.

Getting out of the hospital had been easy (and so was getting a fresh set of clothes). Give the docs and nurses another pile of flesh and bones to worry about and they run like scared animals to help their flock. Now, she is out exploring, trying to work with this new suit, find out the perks and non-perks, questioning her idea of travelling solo when having another conscience to talk to and gnaw at would have been easier. Now it's just her with her voice speaking from some uncharted void walking down into a farmer's market, already having discovered how much of gross unwanted attention this sex of the human species is given on the street.

There is a huge variety of delectables lines up that the humans seemingly prefer. Different shapes, colours and sizes. Some smell sweet, some sour, and some smell like they would sting your tongue before leaving a sweetness behind. Strange edibles. She watches another human- a man as far as the scent of the hormones off him goes- politely asking for some fresh oranges while telling the man behind the counter the ones he is trying to pack do not smell fresh. The sweet nectar of curiosity seems to send a reaction to her brain, making her step towards the box of citrus fruits displayed for the customers. Quickly picking half a dozen from down the different boxes, she brings them forward to the man who is nearly losing his patience. "These are fresh."

The man turns to see her. And she gets a good look at him for the first time. Hypnotising blue eyes look at her in a flurry of confusion and gratuitous delight, the beard hiding pink lips and flushed cheeks.

After a short considerable second, he takes the oranges from her. "Thank you," he mentions without blinking, taking a little time to turn back to make the payment. And in that turn is a microscopic moment, he watches, from the corner of his eye, a stranger try to touch her ass for barely a second.

She, of course, feels it too well. The man turns to get hold of that pervert and kick some respect into him only to find her punching the daylights out of him.

And he just stands there, full body in pause, mind in awe of the woman who has knocked that excuse of a man out in one blow, looking at her once again- this time from his heart. She looks back at him too; though with visible shades of uncertainty before looking down at the guy.

"Was I not supposed to do that?" She asks the man who by now has his mouth agape, still looking at her.

He blinks. "Huh?" Looks down at the man and raises his brows and chuckles. "What? No. I mean yes. You are absolutely supposed to do that."

"Oh-" she nods, and he watches her beam and be proud of herself, "okay."

"Um," he tries to catch her attention. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

She looks down at the hand she used, feeling nothing more than minute tickles. "Yeah, I think I'm good." She turns her gaze back to him with a smile.

He melts inside.

"Do you know where is this place?" She asks him, taking out a card she found in her- the dead woman's- pocket.

"This," he hums, reading the card, "was a few blocks down the road the last I saw it."

"Oh," she scrunches her nose and feels a tired groan come out of her, "how far?"

"I can drop you there if you want," he blurts out, "I'm going that way myself."

She looks at him again. Watching him run his hands through his long lush hair, wondering if she'd seen him somewhere before shaking that thought off, knowing full well that she would remember a pretty face like this. "Yes, I'd like that."

"Great," he chirps. "Oh, I'm James," he addresses, drawing forward his hand, "my friends call me Bucky."

"Bucky," she tastes the name on her tongue and feels all the black mush inside her do a little dance for some unknown reason.

"And you are?"

She licks her lips and feels them stretch involuntary, drawing her own hand forward to meet his, saying her name to bring herself- her true self- into existence, letting the air carry her name for whatever future it is to bring for her.

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