#try my recipe boy i can assure you it FUCKS SEVERELY

[npdkondraki]

listen to me. you are going to buy prepackaged / premade fajita strips. you are going to get some pre-cut veggies (green and/or red peppers. you are going to put chicken strips in a pan on medium with a lid over them for 6-7 minutes. you are going to take some seasoning (garlic powder, onion powder, pepper, seasoning salt) and go over the chicken TWICE (or once if you dont like a lot of seasoning) (this step is optional in its entirety this is just how i make them bc i like a lot of seasoning). you are going to flip the chicken and leave it to sit for 6-7 minutes again. WHILE the chicken is cooking you are going to put the veggies in a pan, ON LOW, and put the lid over them. flip after 3 minutes. THEN. you are going to PUT ALL OF THE INGREDIENCE onto a TORTILLA. and you are going to DEVOUR THAT SHIT like you are a STARVED MAN.

[galedekkarios]

mx galedekkarios dot tumblr dot com may i please have some gale and/or bloodweave hcs from your big beautiful mind 👉👈 (or honestly just any longform post of bg thoughts at all bc ur tags keep inflicting me w gory stickmen disease and wanting to read more ;;)

oh anon whadda hell.. u flatter me. 🫶 i unplugged my brain real quick and gave it a shake and this is all what fell out (some are mature):

in a modern au, gale's second favorite cuisine (after greek ofc) is east asian! he loves to both eat it and cook it from scratch. chinese, korean, japanese, etc. he's even good at other asian cuisines like thai and vietnamese. he's gotten very familiar with a lot of recipes and actively tries to learn more. when he doesn't feel like cooking that night, he opts for takeout. he's been a loyal customer of a handful of restaurants for so long that they already know his tastes too.

the only reason why gale's students don't try to flirt with him is because he's too much of a "my wife" guy. he's always wearing his ring, always talking about his partner, and has portraits of them in his office and everything. there's just no way you don't know that he's happily taken. you could be talking about the most random thing ever and he'd be like "omg! this reminds me of how my partner blahblahblah—" and everyone else is just like 😐 because he's already told this story five times before. not even tara is safe from this (and she was probably present for whatever story it is this time, too!). [this is assuming his students are older / uni prof]

i think gale would be the type of person to have a very Intense gaze without meaning to. the kind where you can feel it whenever he's looking at you. or when he's gazing at you lovingly, or even just looking you in the eye as you speak, it's almost too much. it's just so earnest, so sincere, so... intent on witnessing you and really paying attention, that it's like. whoa man. whoaaaaaaa now let's fucking chill before i blink and realize i've fallen in love with you alright 😳 (and, of course, this Greatly unsettles astarion in the beginning bc he's someone that can't afford to be seen.)

i know in my heart that mr "mine was a popular hand at the annual blackstaff's ball" + bagged a goddess + with the way i talk you can't be surprised i'm a generous munch + wyll, is it true that ppl think wizards don't fuck? :( bc i assure you we absolutely do!!!!! + mystra had pleasure domes dekarios was a hot girl once and his pussy still does pop severely. he's just in his depression era rn 💔

wyll calls gale elegant, minthara calls him dashing, shadowheart says he smells like a wealthy dowager, lae'zel assumes correctly that he had many tutors in his youth, and gale frequenting the temple of beauty in waterdeep all make me feel like gale x astarion are very the lady and the tramp coded. after they get married, they're old money x new money.

gale is always eager to teach astarion new spells, but astarion only gets excited about the ones that either help him be a better scoundrel and/or that spice up their sex life. which like. is still a win for them both either way

um. throat goat. that's it that's the headcanon sorry except it's also not really a hc bc he alludes to this but it's important to me tht we repeat it. but also maybe it shocks astarion the first time he's on the receiving end of it like boy WHAT!!!! you didn't tell me you was a freak like that!!! literally that damn shawty ok meme. gale gives him such wet sloppy glizzy gluck that it makes astarion feel like he has to wipe his ass afterward smh

neither of them want to get anywhere near bugs, but in any au gale would be the type to take it outside and astarion would just kill it using one of gale's 39304308309 books laying around

gale struggles to catch sarcasm and astarion loves to rile him up and take the piss out of him for it. lovingly ofc. whenever gale does understand astarion's sarcastic comments, he feels very proud of himself.

astarion sometimes drops things on purpose just to watch gale bend over. sorry (i'm the one that's sorry, not him btw)

[riddleblack246]

For @scoobydean and @destielsecretsanta2020

“This could be nice for Jack.”

“’My First Christmas’. Cas, this is meant for babies.”

“It’s still his first Christmas with us.”

“That mean we should get one for you too?”

“If you’d like.”

Read below for some Team Free Will 3.0 holiday head canons~!

After everything goes down with Jack makes use of his new abilities, Sam and Dean are much more willing to fight to keep him with them. He initially wonders if it is because he’s “useful” to them now. The brothers promptly inform him that no, it’s because this is the first time where they can all feel safe enough to take a breath. Sure, they’re still hunters. But after everything they’ve been through, they all deserve a chance to enjoy life without constantly looking over their shoulders. And so Jack stays.

As promised, he brought back those that were loved and lost. Obviously everyone is relieved and thankful, but that is most clearly seen in the return of Eileen and Castiel. Sam and Eileen are quick to pick up where they left off. Castiel, however, is a bit more hesitant. He didn’t expect to ever see Dean again. He truly thought he wouldn’t have to know Dean’s feelings and when he confessed, he felt he could live with that. But now he’s suddenly back in this world, aware of his existence and the knowledge that he told the man he’d been in love with for over a decade how he felt. But Dean doesn’t allow him to panic for long. Enveloping Cas in his arms, he’s squeezing the angel’s vessel so tightly that he can barely get out the words. Nonetheless, he does and finally returns the sentiment that Castiel never expected to hear.

“I love you too, Cas.”

And now to dig into holiday centric joys!

By the time Christmas rolls around, the bunker’s primary couples have developed a sense of routine. Eileen has finally moved in and Dean and Castiel have eased into a comfortable romantic domesticity. And for the first time in a while, there are no hunts to investigate or major threats to take on, and the Winchesters found themselves able to celebrate the holidays in a way that they hadn’t had a chance to in some time (save for the Mrs. Butters stint).

On the first of December, Dean sits down in the library and begins to make a list, trying to figure out exactly what was expected of a traditional Christmas. When Sam catches him, he expects scoffs of disagreement or just bored indifference. Instead, he supplies the idea of inviting some people to the bunker.

“What, Sammy? You want to throw a Christmas rager?” (The statement does earn him an eye roll)

“No. I just thought it might be nice. See everyone together.”

Neither of them explicitly say why it would be nice, but they know the relief that would come with seeing each person they never expected to see again. Dean tasks his brother with making a guest list and sending out an e-mail to those on it (because Dean draws the line at trying to make actual invitations).

The response is overwhelmingly positive and soon enough, they’re fielding constant texts from Garth, asking if it would be okay to bring his kids, and e-mails from Donna, offering to bake a multitude of requested holiday treats. 

Amidst holiday planning, the group allows themselves to give into expectations of the season. Jack and Castiel are largely in the dark of what is or isn’t part of the holidays and while Dean, Sam, and Eileen aren’t the most immersed, they do have an idea of what is to be done and are admittedly eager to dive in.

One of the first things on Dean’s list is to decorate a tree. He even insists on cutting one down himself, as aside from various times he had to cut and sharpen his own stakes, it’s something he’s never had a chance to do. Sam, reluctant to join him, tells his brother to have fun. In the spirit of “giving”, Dean bring Cas and Jack along, assuring Sam and Eileen that they’ll “be a while ;)”. They return some hours later with a tree that rivals the Rockefeller Center and relief in the fact that they have two celestial beings to transport something of that size. Decorating it is another story.

After digging through the bunker and finding that, no, the Men of Letters did not hoard Christmas ornaments or wreaths or any such things among their piles of artifacts and cursed objects, the groups decides to get a little shopping done. They initially hit a big box store for a bunch of basics - lights, tinsel, various colored balls (Dean makes several jokes about this), but as the month goes on, all of them are guilty of picking up random items to decorate with while out.

Eileen delightedly shows her boys a Christmas pyramid she bought and is quick to tell Jack that he can’t light it whenever he wants, as forgetting about it could result in burning down the bunker.

Sam buys all of them advent calendars, each dedicated specifically to every member of the bunker. Dean doesn’t comment on Sam’s shift toward the holiday spirit, not only because he’s happy that his brother has allowed himself to be more joyfully invested in things, but also because every day for the month he gets to appreciate a new and weird specialty bottle of hot sauce. Sam’s own contains different types of tea, Eileen’s has jam, Jack’s has little LEGO figures, and Castiel’s has coffee.

Jack nearly gives Dean a heart attack one morning when the man wakes up to find a nutcracker as tall as he is in the crow’s nest. Jack tells him all about finding it in a shop he and Castiel passed when getting supplies and insisting that it was a perfect thing to have for the bunker. Dean looks to Castiel and knows the angel would have been too soft to say no. Then again, he knows he would have been just as guilty.

Castiel begins buying ornaments for people in the bunker. Even with Dean teasing him about it, he does buy a “my first Christmas” ornament and puts a photo of Jack inside that Eileen helped him print out. He finds that he is particularly fond of ornaments that contain photos and begins to buy ones for that explicit purpose.

Dean doesn’t necessarily have a type of decoration that he finds himself buying outside of what they have, but he is fond of the lights. He usually insists they stay on as long as allotted, urging whoever is the last to go to bed to turn them off (though it’s usually himself).

When it does snow, Dean is eventually irritable about it with Sam and Eileen in a similar boat, though to a lesser degree. Shoveling snow out of the way of the bunker’s entrance is a pain in the ass and none of them love the chore of getting treads on their respective tires. But seeing Jack’s fascination with it - and realizing that it’s his first time encountering snow, they find themselves softening.

After getting help in clearing access to the bunker, the group spends much of the day outside. There is an unspoken agreement that they want Jack to experience all the great enjoyments of snow and it honestly brings out the kid in them too. They build a mediocre snowman (Sam takes the heat for his poor artistic skills), make snow angels (the jokes about Castiel doing so get old within five minutes), have a snowball fight (Eileen is fucking ruthless and not above putting snow down jackets), and creating makeshift sleds to race. The sledding is what ultimately makes them go back inside. Garbage can lids are hard to steer and after Dean eats it by running into a tree and loosing a tooth, even Cas fixing it doesn’t resolve the choice to go in. Nonetheless, the accident doesn’t stall the mood, as Dean insists on introducing Jack to one more awesome component of the Traditional Snow Day - the hot chocolate at the end. Said hot cocoa almost results in a fight when, after Dean makes enough for all of them, Castiel reluctantly admits that he doesn’t care for it, and Dean and Jack nearly come to childish blows over who gets his mug. Later that evening, Castiel makes sure to thank Dean privately for allowing Jack to have it. ;)

Now, when it comes to cooking, Dean likes to consider himself pretty well-versed. Baking is another story. The preciseness that’s required is what gets him. Sure, he can be meticulous, but he’s always been more of a “little of this, a bunch of that” kind of guy over exact measurements, which leaves a lot more room for error when it comes to baking. But after going on a “Gilmore Girls” binge with Castiel (the couple constantly debates the superior show of the former and “Dr. Sexy, M.D.”), he can’t help imagining a scene of tenderly showing Cas how to roll out dough and mussing some flour in his hair and watching the angel lick the spoon in a way that borders on pornographic. The day after watching, he’s searching for cookie recipes and telling Castiel to dig out some aprons.

As is the Winchester way, this expectation does not come to fruition. Cas, as he thought, didn’t know a thing about cooking or baking. But Dean pictured being able to guide him, to do all the romantic shit you see in Hallmark movies. Instead, the angel is complaining about not being able to just will the baked goods into existence, standing in the way when Dean needs to get any kind of ingredient, and getting flour on every fucking surface in the kitchen. Things reach a boiling point when Cas pulls the cookies out of the oven, sans oven mitts, and for a brief moment, Dean’s brain operates on a panic reflex and snatches the tray from his hands. The result is their hours of baking scattered all over the floor, a dented baking sheet, and second-degree burns on the hunter’s hands. He’s huffing and cursing and he fully expects Cas to scold him and point out the obvious fact that he’s an angel and such temperatures have no effect on him. But instead, he watched Castiel pulled his hands from the faucet (having immediately shoved them under there after he burned himself) and tenderly brushes his finger tips over the wounds. Dean feels the familiar sensation of healing flesh, something he hasn’t felt in a bit and he’s silent as Cas brings the newly healed skin to his lips and presses a kiss to his palms. The irritability baking had brought them is gone. Dean lets Cas wave the kitchen clean and they decide to just go out and buy Christmas cookies instead. Later that evening, Cas’ lips taste like ginger and Dean finds that the reality is way better than the fantasy.

They ultimately end up hosting the party that started their shift into the Christmas spirit a few days before the actual holiday. After all, they know most of their friends prefer flying over driving and it might be a lot to ask them to come out on the actual holiday. But their concerns of traffic and irritated guests soon fly out the window in the face of so many familiar… well, faces. Hugs never stop coming and despite everyone’s claim that gifts would not be necessary, everyone knows that’s bullshit and a pile beneath their ridiculous tree grows with every teasing comment and expression of happy holidays.

Speaking of the tree, Castiel is quite pleased with his holiday crafting and the other members of the bunker share that sentiment. Since the angel discovered the photo-insert ornaments, he had taken it upon himself to spend random periods during the month finding photographs of each important person in their lives that he could and putting them into such items. Everyone takes joy in searching for their own picture. Claire comments that he picked a terrible one of her, but Cas hears her quietly asking Dean if she could take it home with her, as it features her and Kaia pressed close in a hug. Charlie adores her’s and insists that she wants to make the same craft, but only if they do it together. Everyone quietly appreciates the ones made for those that aren’t present to appreciate them. Jack ensures that Mary’s ornament has prime placement. Eileen hugs Sam when she catches him looking at Kevin’s for a while. Dean makes a point to kiss Castiel privately after finding Bobby’s nestled among some tinsel. Everyone agrees that their the best decorations in the place.

Hunters and those that know them have never been known to operate on a normal schedule, so it is nearly three in the morning before the bunker clears out. Some have elected to drive home if the trip was relatively easy. Others have settled into the many spare rooms that the bunker holds. Once all the gifts have been opened, the eggnog’s been drunk, and everyone has eaten their weight in treats, only Dean and Cas remain in the quiet bunker. They sit together in the library, positioned on one of the many extended seats they’d brought out to fit their guests. The lights of the enormous tree are still on at Dean’s request and Castiel can’t help staring at the way the different colors still look so beautiful on him. He glances up at the other decorations strewn about. The bows, the poinsettias (Garth had brought something like ten of them), the holly, the- He spots a familiar item of decor. He’d seen Sam and Eileen equally position themselves under it in wait of their partner, always stopping them with the insistence that a kiss must be administered before they continue on their way about the bunker. Lazily, he nudges Dean and points to the archways between the crow’s nest and the hall that leads to the bedrooms.

“Is standing beneath that a requirement for kissing?”

Dean follows his finger and huff out a laugh. Even though they hadn’t been dating long, they’d been together for so many years that he knows the angel is teasing. He turns to meet his eyes, smiling at the way the lights almost change them from blue to a rainbow of color.

“What, you want to kiss under the mistletoe? Now?”

For a moment, it seems as if he’s considering the offer. But instead, he shakes his head and reaches a hand up to cup Dean’s cheek. He knows that he could have kiss Dean under there the same way Eileen and Sam do. But he knows they’re different. Dean is a lot of thing and as much as he would deny it, one of those things is private. Their relationship is simultaneously new and so so ingrained into their life. Affection was always something there, just beneath the surface. And while he had the thing he desired for so long, that doesn’t mean he feels the need to push Dean into a realm of affection that just isn’t fitting of who they are together. Leaning forward, he captures Dean’s lips in a kiss. He tastes like eggnog and candy cane.

Castiel understands all the more that happiness is in the being. And he no longer fears his joy. Because he can’t imagine being happier than holding Dean beneath these lights and knowing that they still have tomorrow and so many days to come. There is no better present than that.

[jobean12-blog]

Top Shelf: Chapter 8- Drunk In Love

Paring: Bucky x reader (Bookshop/bartender AU)

Word Count: 2,656

Summary: You have a fun night hanging with Bucky at the bar and a wonderful time at Sunday dinner with grandma but then Bucky drops some bad news...

Author’s Note: So I know I usually post on Monday’s but this week is the HBC’s week of kinks and I’m super excited and plan on writing something small each day so I figured I would put this out a day early since it was ready. Thank you all for your continued support. I used the photo of 1940s!Bucky as Bucky’s grandpa :) I love him so. Your amazing kindess and loveliness really keeps me going with this. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading! Love you all ❤❤❤ (ps the italics toward the end is Betty’s story of how she met James/grandpa :)

Warnings: Fluff, sweet Bucky (when is he not haha), smut (thigh riding, sorry not sorry), implied smut, alcohol consumption, angst (I’m sorry!) 18+ only please

Previous Chapters: 

Chapter 1: Enchantment

Chapter 2: Cookie Crumble

Chapter 3: Sweet Anticipation

Chapter 4: Read Between the Limes

Chapter 5: Secrets on the Shelf

Chapter 6: Love Between the Covers

Chapter 7: Love Lines & Sould Finds

“Yes,” you whisper, suddenly feeling like you jumped the gun, but the words had just spilled out. “I’d love to be your boyfriend, if you’ll have me?” He says the first part so decisively and with so much certainty that you just stare up at him and smile. “So, is that a yes?” he asks, his grin lopsided. You jump and throw your arms around his neck, kissing him firmly before breaking into a smile and whispering, “yes, definitely yes.”

When the two of you finally come back to reality you see Sam standing with his arm around Nat, both giving you knowing smiles.  “Back to work Barnes,” Sam says, his eyes bright. “Oh, yea!” Bucky replies, giving you a squeeze and another quick kiss. He hops around the bar; his head held a bit higher and a pep in his step.

Nat rushes over and grabs your hands, “I TOLD YOU!” she yells over the loud chatter of the bar. You try to contain your happiness to a small squeal but fail when she starts hopping. “I feel like I’m drunk but I haven’t even had a sip of my drink yet! Speaking of, where are our drinks?” She reaches behind you and grabs two cold glasses, handing you one. “Try it! It’s amazing!”

The rest of the night is spent chatting and laughing with Nat while Sam and Bucky work the bar. More often than you’d like to admit your eyes drift to Bucky behind the bar. His sleeves are rolled up and the top few buttons of his shirt are undone, giving you plenty to ogle. Every so often he catches you staring, and you watch his eyes darken making your breath hitch. “Stop eye fucking your boyfriend, please,” Nat teases, emphasizing the word boyfriend.

With a startle you whip your head around, “what?!? I am not doing any such thing.” You turn back to look at Bucky, his eyes crinkled in a smile as he laughs. “I mean, maybe that’s exactly what I was doing but can you blame me? Look at him!” Now Nat throws her head back with laughter, “no, I guess I can’t.” Throwing Bucky a wink and an appreciative smile, you try to keep a straight face as you waggle your eyebrows.

It’s after 2am when the bar starts to close, you and Nat swiveling around on the stools and giggling. “Should we help them clean up?” Nat blows a raspberry, making a face and says, “no way!” a little too loudly. “No way, what?” Sam asks, sidling up beside Nat with a smirk. “Nat doesn’t think we should help you two clean up,” you say quickly, trying not to laugh. “Oh, I see how it is,” Sam teases. Bucky catches your eye as he’s walking to the back and motions for you to follow. You tell Nat and Sam you’ll be right back, leaving them to their fun.

Following Bucky to the back you watch him place the container of clean glasses down on counter. He rinses his hands and wipes them clean with a towel before starting to unbutton his shirt. You’re leaning in the doorway, your eyes fixed on his long fingers as they easily work their way down his shirt. He reaches the bottom and looks up, pulling his shirt off and smirking at your reaction. “See something you like, doll?”

Your eyes travel down his chest, following the trail of hair from his pecs to the waistband of his jeans. His ab muscles flex as he grabs his backpack and pulls out a tee shirt, your bottom lip now caught between your teeth as you try to hold back a moan. Throwing the tee shirt over his shoulder he stalks toward you, his arm reaching over your head and pulling the door shut with a click, the motion pushing you closer to him as the door nudges your back.

“Hi,” is all you manage to say, your fingers dancing over his skin as pins you against the door. His hands cup your face, gently brushing your hair back before he kisses you, slow and deep. He parts your leg with his thigh, and you gasp into his mouth, your dress riding up, so the fabric of your underwear rubs on his jeans. You can’t help the way your hips move along the thick muscle of his thigh, the friction hitting just the right spot.

Grabbing onto his shoulders you continue moving your hips back and forth, your orgasm building quickly as Bucky’s mouth travels over your neck. “Bucky, oh my god,” is all that leaves your mouth before your body trembles and you cum on his thigh, your wetness soaking through your underwear.

Bucky carefully moves his leg and holds you up, bringing your lips to his. “That was so fucking hot,” he murmurs into your mouth. “We need to go home; my jeans are way too tight right now.” You giggle and give him a nod, running your hand over the bulge in his pants, “yes, I want to go home right now.”

With quick goodbyes to Nat and Sam you leave the bar. The cool night air is a stark contrast to your heated skin as you make your way down Eldridge Street. Bucky can’t keep his hands off you, stopping to kiss you every few feet. When you finally reach his building, he opens the door and practically sprints up the steps, the two of you falling through the doorway of his apartment in a lip lock.

You wake to the warmth of the early morning sun shining through Bucky’s bedroom window. Your body is tangled with his as he peacefully sleeps. Brushing some hair from his face you give him a kiss and carefully get up, grabbing his tee shirt from the floor and throwing it over your naked body.

Tip toeing into the bathroom you wash up and give yourself a tour of his apartment. It’s unsurprisingly neat and comfortable, the warm colors and wooden furniture making it feel like a lived-in place. He has several bookshelves lining the walls in the living room and you smile to yourself, loving that he’s surrounded himself with them.

“You look so much better in my shirt than I do.” You look down at yourself before turning on your heel, “I could argue with you on that.” Bucky walks over, his sweats hung low on his hips. He winds his arms around your shoulders and holds you against his chest. “Hungry?” Just then your stomach grumbles and you both laugh. “I definitely could go for some breakfast!”

After breakfast and some fun in the shower you leave Bucky’s and return home to do laundry and bake the cookies for dinner at Betty’s. You decide you also want to try one of your new recipes for a chocolate pie, hoping to get an honest opinion from both Bucky and his grandma. The day goes by quickly as you bake and clean, Bucky texting you silly pictures from the book shop.

‘I wish I didn’t have to work tonight😢.’ You read his text, wishing the same. You want to go to the bar again, but you promised Nat some girl time and you needed to do some things around your apartment. ‘I know, me too, I miss you.’ You send the text before thinking it through, cringing to yourself and hoping you didn’t overstep.

An, ‘I miss you more❤,’ comes through almost instantly and with a giant sigh of relief, you send several heart emojis back followed by a picture of your finished chocolate pie. ‘I tried a new recipe! Hopefully, you guys will like it🥰!’ The next few texts come through quickly, Bucky making his excitement know. Nat arrives shortly after and you veg on the couch with cookies and wine, hardly talking about anything other than the boys.

When Sunday afternoon arrives, you’re pacing your apartment, rambling to Nat on the phone. “Why am I all of a sudden nervous, it’s not like I’m meeting his parents and I’ve met Betty before!” Chewing on your lip you huff into the phone causing Nat to laugh, “listen, calm down, eat a cookie and get dressed or you’re going to be late.”

Bucky meets you at your apartment and you catch a cab together, his hand in yours as you walk to Betty’s apartment. “This stuff smells amazing, I can’t wait to eat it all,” he says, pulling you into his side. Kissing the top of your head, he whispers, “she already loves you, don’t worry about anything.” You let your shoulders relax feeling somewhat lighter after his sweet words.

Betty’s apartment door is slightly ajar, the delicious smell of lasagna wafting through the small space. “Oh man, that smells so good,” you say as Bucky opens the door. “Hey grandma, we’re here!” Betty pokes her head around the corner of the kitchen with a smile, “oh good, kids, come on in! I need some help.”

You brush past Bucky and put the cookies and pie on the table, going over to Betty and asking, “what can I do?” She pats your cheek and instructs you to set the table, yelling at Bucky to help get the lasagna out of the oven and get the drinks.

Once the table is set and the three of you are seated Betty gets to talking. You had checked with Bucky on the way over, asking him if it was ok to ask her questions about his grandpa, James. He assured you it would be fine, and she would be happy to talk about him. And she was.

We met when I was 19, not long before the Vietnam War. James was so handsome with his dark hair and beautiful blue eyes. It was summer and I was at Coney Island with my friends and some of the army boys had come out to have some fun. The moment I laid eyes on him; I knew. “Knew what,” you asked, your head cocked to the side and a dreamy look in your eyes.

That I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. Thankfully, he felt the same because that night my life changed forever. Just like any other show off he approached me and asked if he could try to win me one of the stuffed bears at the water gun game. He kept saying he was a good shot. Well, turns out, he won three times in a row and I got the biggest stuff bear they had. “She still has it too,” Bucky chimed in with a smile. You squeeze his hand, “it’s all so romantic.”

We spent the whole evening together. James took me for a walk on the beach that night and we bonded over our love of books and literature, quoting all our favorite stories and authors. It almost felt too good to be true but when we kissed for the first time on that sand, I knew he would be the last man I ever kissed.

He went to Vietnam. I knew he was going to and I had to let him, but it was the hardest thing I ever had to do. So hard, I wasn’t sure I would make it through. I wrote him every day and sent him books I had read with my notes in the margin. They were more often just the words in my heart that had leaked onto the page. He kept them all of course, telling me they gotten him through many nights.

When he returned home, we got married right away. It was a small wedding but just what we wanted. After that we moved into this apartment and I got pregnant in the next year. One day, we were walking down W 15th street, or more like I was waddling because I was about 8 months pregnant and we passed this quaint little bookshop. It was one of those moments where we looked at each other and it all just clicked.

Walking inside we were immediately surrounded by the familiar smell of old books. We spent the whole afternoon exploring the shelves for books for the baby’s library. We left with probably close to 30 books, hands, and hearts full.

Later than night when we were building the bookshelf for the baby’s room, James sat back and pulled me into his lap. He asked me what I wanted in life. I told him I had everything I wanted and more. He understood because he felt the same but then he added in a quiet voice, “what if we had our own library.”

At first, I didn’t know what he meant. Maybe one for the house? But then he started telling me his idea. He spoke with so much passion that I couldn’t have said no even if I wanted to. And I didn’t want to, I was all in. It was perfect for us.

So, after Bucky’s father was born, we saved up, bought the space, and turned it into the bookshop. From day one James was fully invested. He gave it so much of himself and we had so much success. Everything he did he did for us and I know he’s so happy that Bucky has taken over and we didn’t have to sell before he passed.

Betty slowly got up and walked to the living room, taking a photo off the mantle. “Would you grab the cookies and pie dear and Bucky put on the coffee please?” You both jump up and do as she asks, clearing the table and setting out the dessert and coffee cups. She returns with the photo and sits down, handing it to you. “That’s James and I in front of the bookshop the day it opened.”

Her smile is wide, but her eyes are sad. You look down at the picture, your own eyes blurred by tears, “you are beautiful, and James is so handsome. You really look like him Bucky.” When you look up, Bucky’s eyes are on you and not the picture. Something floats across his features that steals your breath. Something akin to pain but it quickly vanishes when Betty speaks again.

“Oh, my darling, this pie is scrumptious! You are quite the baker.” You and Bucky look over, smiling as she takes another bite. “I’m so glad you like it! Will you try some Bucky?” He reaches over and cuts a giant slice, “you bet I will!”

It seems as if the painful moment has passed as he happily chews the pie, groaning at how good it is. You kiss his cheek, taking a bite yourself and smiling. “It did come good! I have to add this to my recipe book.” The three of you enjoy dessert and more lovely conversation, helping Betty clean up before you leave.

You say goodbye and head out the door, promising to be back soon with more baked goods. Bucky’s hand is tight around yours as you walk down the street, deciding to take a stroll before getting a cab. The night is warm and beautiful as Bucky pulls you into his side. You can tell something is off but you’re not sure if you should ask. The moment with the picture sits at the forefront of your mind and you decide to take the gamble.

You stop walking and wrap your arms around him, “Bucky. Talk to me, what’s going on?” His brow furrows and his lips turn down in a frown. Your stomach sinks as thoughts that he is going to end it creep into your mind. He must notice the look in your eyes and quickly kisses you before saying, “it’s not you at all, you are perfect.” Taking a deep breath, he continues, “it’s the bookshop. I have barely been able to pay the rent these past two months. I don’t know what to do.”  

@aesthetical-bucky @bugsbucky @book-dragon-13 @buckys-broody-muffin @devynsdiary @eurynome827 @hawksmagnolia @hailmary-yramliah @hiddles-rose @itsunclebucky @ikaris-whore @jhangelface0523 @jewels2876 @loricameback @littledarlinhavefaithinme @littleredstarfish @metal-armed-cuddly-dork @mushyjellybeans @marvelgirl7 @marvelandotherfandomimagines @nano--raptor​ @nerdypinupcrystal​ @randomfandompenguin​ @sallycanwait68​ @softpeachbarnes​ @scarletsoldierrr​ @the-wayward-robot​ @when-the-hell-is-bucky​ @nordlysinthewoods​ @moonybarnes​ @rinthehufflepuff​ @irishflutiegirl​ @jamesbarnesappreciationclub​ @fire-flv​ @nd1998sc​ @captainchrisstan​ @vherriepie​ @godofplumsandthunder​ @amandatar-06​ @throwmyheartawayagain​ @flyawaybay 

[wxlfstxrx]

OH GOD I’M THE ONE WHO ASKED FOR THE COOKING HEADCANON AND IT IS W O N D E R F U L THANK YOU SO MUCH ALSO WHY AM I SHOUTING

YOU ARE WELCOME. HERE IS THE ALTERNATIVE SCENARIO.

i can’t get this out of my head. i was smiling to myself while running on the treadmill earlier in the evening and i swear, my mom saw and looked at me weirdly. #fanficwriterwoes here’s 1349 words of tooth rotting fluff. yum.

Leo wakes up one morning to a cold, empty bed. Rubbing his eyes with one hand, he flings the other arm out, fumbling for his phone. He’s confused; 7.08am is not the usual time that the boys would be up and about on a weekend.

Flinging the sheets off of himself, he stretches his lanky body just like a cat, the sunrise outside his window casting a warm glow on his lightly freckled torso. He reaches out and flicks the table lamp off, swinging his legs over the side of the bed as he sits up. He finds his sweatpants on the floor and tugs those on, and subsequently wipes the lenses of the black chunky glasses he rarely wears with the soft fabric of his sweatpants pocket.

Standing up, he makes his way into the bathroom to brush his teeth and splash some water on his face, before putting on his glasses and running a hand through his messy hair. His lips are swollen and cracked and on his neck are several purplish bruises, all from the night before when Leo arrived back to their apartment after spending a couple of days back in New Orleans with his family. He rubs a particularly dark bruise fondly, smiling at the memory. He loves his family, he really does. He enjoyed the time back at home immensely, but coming back to Gryffindor, coming back to their apartment, coming back to his two boys, brings about a whole different type of contentment that he never thought he’d ever find when he joined the NHL.

Leo steps out of his bedroom and immediately hears hushed whispers. He lingers in the hallway, straining to hear the voices coming from the kitchen that’s right around the corner.

“—even know what you’re doing?”

“More than you, anyway,” Finn’s unmistakeable New York accent raises to a loud whisper and Logan immediately shushes him.

“Merde, not so loud!”

“Sorry, yeah, alright, so the recipe says—” A short pause. “Fuck.”

A frustrated groan from Logan is cut off by a sudden, loud whirring noise.

“Shit, shit, turn that off,” Finn’s slightly hysterical voice raises again, louder this time.

“God damn, I don’t know how,” Logan whines, his voice taking on a desperate tone. A few quick beeps can be heard, but the oven is still making weird noises, and Leo decides that he simply cannot let the two boys get their heads blown off. Not in that way, at least.

“Did you guys just spoil my precious oven?” Leo rounds the corner and bites back a smile upon seeing Finn and Logan yell in surprise.

“What the fuck, Nut,” Finn whirls around, clutching a hand to his chest and rubbing. “Scared the living shit out of me, man. Not cool.”

Meanwhile, Logan’s discreetly pushing something behind his back as he straightens up from where he was leaning against the kitchen counter. The fleur-de-lis resting on his chest catches the light, and it’s then that Leo realises that the two boys are only in their boxers.

He raises both his eyebrows, distracted for a moment, until loud beeping catches his attention.

“Oh no,” He quickly crosses the distance to the oven and fiddles with the knobs until the whirring stops, and he flips the switch off just in case.

“I have one question,” He turns to face the two guilty looking boys who are hovering beside him. He can’t help smiling in amusement at how meek the usually loud and boisterous boys look. “What the ever-loving fuck were you guys trying to do with the oven?”

“We were doing a science experiment.” “We were hungry.”

Finn and Logan shoot each other a glare, and Leo quirks a brow, leaning back against the counter.

“Oooookay, say I believe you,” Leo says slowly. “What were you planning to do with all the things you’ve hidden behind you? You’ve got eggs, milk, sugar, flour, vanilla extract…”

He trails off for a moment, brows furrowing. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to bake a—”

“Cake,” Finn and Logan mumble, not meeting his eyes.

“I— You— What?” Leo cannot stop the surprised laugh that bubbles out of his chest. He clamps his hands down over his mouth as he starts laughing hysterically, doubling over in front of the two suddenly very indignant boys.

“Hey,” Finn pouts, folding his arms across his chest. “Don’t laugh at us, we were just—”

“Trying to do something nice for you,” Logan mirrors Finn’s facial expression as Leo straightens back up. He presses the back of his palm against his lips as his eyes shine with tears of mirth.

“God, I’m sorry, mes amours, I know you were,” He holds out his arms and the two boys step into his hug, wrapping their arms around his bare waist. Leo places gentle kisses on both their foreheads as he rubs circles on their backs. 

“Thank you,” He whispers, and they look up at him with soft smiles on their faces.

“Joyeux anniversaire, peanut,” Logan raises onto the balls of his feet to murmur against his lips before capturing them in a tender kiss.

“Jwa-yuh-zeh-nee-vayr-sayhr,” Finn tries, and Leo throws his head back and laughs loudly, breaking the kiss.

“Harz, what did I tell you about speaking French?” Logan narrows his eyes at Finn, whose lip is curled up in a smile.

“Never speak my language again,” Finn’s imitation of Logan is perfect, all the way down to the accent.

The brunette rolls his eyes but smiles nonetheless. “You remember that, got it?”

Finn smiles widely, which means that he definitely won’t. Or at least, it means that he’s going to continue trying and failing to speak in French just to rile Logan up.

The redhead turns back to Leo and tightens his arms around him, tilting his head up to await for Leo’s kiss.

Leo obliges, and when they break apart, Finn leans their foreheads together and looks into his eyes. “Happy birthday, baby lizard.”

He makes a sound of disgust at the nickname but kisses Finn’s cheek anyway.

They stay that way for a while, Finn’s hand resting on Leo’s chest, feeling his strong and steady heartbeat under his fingertips while Logan rests his forehead on Leo’s shoulder. Leo’s eyes scan the mess in the kitchen, from where the boys had obviously been stumbling their way through their failed attempt. He chuckles softly at the sight, his heart feeling like it’s going to burst out of his chest at any moment from how much love he has for Finn and Logan.

“So…” Finn breaks the silence eventually, his hand beginning to trail down Leo’s torso. 

“We blew the whole surprise, but we’ve got another surprise that will definitely…” He slips his hand into the waistband of Leo’s sweatpants. “Blow you away, if you catch my drift.” 

Leo gasps, his eyes fluttering shut and his arms tightening around the two boys as Finn’s cold fingers close around his rapidly hardening length.

“You and your horrible puns, as usual,” Logan scoffs, but he removes himself from Leo’s grasp and starts pulling them back towards the bedroom.

“Wait, the mess in the kitchen—” Leo starts, but Finn cuts him off, slipping his hand into the taller boy’s as he starts walking backwards down the hallway alongside Logan.

“We’ll clean it up later,” He assures Leo earnestly, a hand over his heart. “And then maybe you can teach us how to actually bake.”

“Sure, Harz, make the birthday boy bake his own goddamn cake,” Logan reprimands lightly as he pushes Leo’s bedroom door open.

“Just shut the fuck up and put your mouth to better use, why don’t you, Lo?” Finn smirks at the shorter boy, and Leo shakes his head in mild exasperation, moving to half lie down on the bed with his elbows propping himself up. His sweatpants are tented where he’s hard and ready, and he beckons the two boys over with a crooked finger and a raised eyebrow.

“I think both of you can put your mouths to better use, don’t you think?”

[starrybbarnes]

into the heat [b.b]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: it’s taco tuesday. you make some salsa. your friends can’t hang, and apparently, neither can your boyfriend.

Word Count: 1473

Author’s note: I had some tacos on sunday and my god, la salsa verde was to d i e for. it was so good, I swear. I’m just salivating at the thought of tacos and green salsa, with some lime on top. I think I might buy some for work later today. as always, feedback is appreciated!

Warnings: definitely some swearing, food mention so don’t read while on an empty stomach 

It was a normal Tuesday afternoon back at the compound. It was lunchtime and it meant only one thing: Taco Tuesday.

The team has done taco Tuesday before you came on board, but it would just consist of Stark buying 2 boxes of the Taco Bell party pack and would call it a day. It was a disgrace. 

You remember the first time you joined the Avengers for taco Tuesday. You were deceived when Thor said, “it’s the best Midguardian food I’ve ever tasted.” 

Oh, how you missed eating your grilled serrano pepper that day. 

You remembered you offered to make some street tacos about a month later, and boy, did everyone’s mind explode. Savory meats, fresh limones, and decadent salsas would line the kitchen table every time on Tuesday. The Avengers would have more than seconds almost every week. 

Not only that but with your cooking (in general), you won your way through a super soldier’s heart. “It’s the easiest way to trap a man,” Natasha would joke around with you.

You have been dating Bucky for over a year now, and he’s wedged himself in helping you during taco Tuesdays. Whether it be chopping the cilantro and onions, heating up las tortillas, or going to the farmers market early in the morning, Bucky enjoyed that time with you.

There were only two things, however, that your Bucky wouldn’t touch on Taco Tuesdays. That was the meat preparation and salsa making. Sure, Bucky would choose the cuts of meat and the freshest peppers and cilantro, but when it came down to actually cooking it, it was none of his business.

“I simply cannot trust a white man to season their food,” you simply said over the table one time. 

“But you’ve seen me add actual seasoning and flavors to other dishes?” Bucky argued. 

“Bucky please,” you interjected, “my trust has been severed ever since that Niall celebrity didn’t season his chicken. An absolute catastrophe.” 

Since then, no one has argued on that topic. It was a part of the routine that you called yours. 

When it came to the nitty-gritty, everyone seemed to enjoy the fact that you’d make a savory taco, with some mild but delicious salsas. 

However, the one dish you missed making was your signature spicy avocado salsa. Since no one in this compound can handle the flavor, you’d always send Bucky to go to the nearest taco truck and ask for a small serving of it to take home to you. You’d always remember to tip the workers for all that they do, and you’ve actually exchanged recipes. 

Today, you decided to make your favorite salsa. 

It was 12 noon, and you knew Bucky was well underway getting the ingredients for the tacos. You called him and let him know to add avocados, fresh jalapeños, and some green husk tomatoes. You also mentioned to not bring any avocado salsa today, but to pay the truck a visit.

“Uh, Y/N?” Bucky started, “are you not gonna have salsa with your tacos?”

“I am,” you slowly said, “but I’m kinda wanting to have some more kick in my life.”

“All you had to do was ask, doll,” Bucky chuckled through the phone.

“Oh no, Buck,” you laughed, “We’re talking me crying while eating a taco typa kick.”

“Just don’t kill anyone, okay?” Bucky replied, half-joking, half actually being serious.

“No promises,” you sang.

。。

Smells of meat and cilantro swirled the kitchen and made its way into the common room, signaling that food was almost ready. Bucky was helping you chop up the meat while you were heating up tortillas on the comal. 

One by one, the team started filing into the dining area, words of praises and absolute delight that their favorite day of the week has finally arrived. 

You set the garnishes and red and green on the main table. From the fridge, you pulled out a bowl of the almost neon green substance and placed it on the table. 

The avocado salsa. 

The team ooo’ed at how bright green the salsa was as if giving off a warning. 

“Whoa!” an eager Sam yelled in amazing, “the food looks amazing! I’m really banking on the fact that you made the food instead of ol’ Chef Boyardee over here” 

You started giggling as Bucky attempted to throw a piece of meat at Sam, only for him to catch it in his mouth. 

“Well, he was a big help, but rest assured, Sam I was in charge of the cooking,” you replied as everyone started serving themselves.

Once everyone was seated, people dug in, only the sounds of content would be heard. You grabbed your bowl of avocado salsa and put a helping on each taco that was on your plate. 

Sam saw what you were doing and spoke up, “what is that green stuff, Y/N? It smells really good and looks amazing.”

You hesitated a bit before you answered, “it’s guacamole. I know it doesn’t look like your standard one, but that’s because I added some extra stuff.” 

Sam signaled for the bowl and you passed it over to him. Seeing you eat the tacos with ease, he decided to put even more salsa on his helping of tacos. You eyed him carefully, awaiting a reaction.

“Wow!” Sam exclaimed, “This is so good! I think I’ll eat spoonfuls of this stuff!”

You were about to feel left down when you saw it happening. Sam started coughing profusely and started sticking out his tongue. He started signaling for water and when you handed him the large cup, he downed it in 5 seconds flat.

“What in the fuck is in the god damn guac!” Sam hollered. “I think I am about to pass out.”

“Not much really,” you stated, “some lime juice, avocado, green tomatoes, 2 jalapeños, maybe half a serrano paper?”

“Two??” Sam yelled, “do you want me to DIE?”

“Sam,” you started, “I think you’re overreacting.”

“Your tacos were practically bathing in the salsa,” Sam argued.

“Psh, it can’t be that bad,” Thor commented.

“Would you like to try some, Thor?” you offered sweetly. 

Now everyone was looking at Thor. Slowly, he gulped and poured some on a taco. As he ate it, he did the same reaction as Sam. Absolute delight, and then his life flashing before his eyes.

Before long everyone tried to get their hands on the salsa. Steve stopped everyone and said, “I think as super soldiers, Bucky and I should try it out. Maybe Sam is overreacting.”

When Bucky heard his name, he choked on his drink. “No way man. You know I don’t mess with m’girls food.”

“Oh lighten up,” Steve assured him, “We probably won’t feel a thing.”

You snickered. You knew for a fact that Steve would start tearing up at just eating Hot Cheetos. 

Bucky looked at you with his puppy eyes. He was trying to get out of it, and fast. He saw you when you added the peppers into the blender. Even the times he’s seen you eat raw peppers, it freaked him out that you’d never elicit a reaction. 

“C’mon sweetheart,” you pouted, “just one bite. I swear it’s not spicy.” 

Bucky sighed and put a helping of salsa on his taco, Steve trying so hard to put the same amount if not less.

They saluted each other and bit into their taco. Bucky actually finished the whole thing, triumphant smile now apparent. Steve slowly finished his and sighed in relief.

“Well ya look at that,” Bucky laughed, “Looks like I still am a super-soldier.”

“Give it a minute.” 

Steve was the first to start coughing. “Oh my god, my mouth is on FIRE!” 

Bucky soon after followed, eyes welling up and his sinuses going haywire. Steve actually started crying, just repeating ‘so spicy’ over and over again.

“Doll, if I die right here, just know that I love you very much,” Bucky cried out. 

You handed Bucky a slice of bread, “eat this, you’ll live.”

The team concluded that you were a goddess amongst them because apparently, you can’t feel the heat. 

You rubbed Bucky’s back as he slowly started to feel better.

“I just don’t get it,” you sighed, “this stuff tastes really good. And I only put a little bit this time!”

Bucky just groaned in response, “well, this is one thing I won’t be stealing from the fridge.” 

“Then maybe, just maybe, my planned worked,” you joked, earning a smile from Bucky.

You kissed him on the lips and then scowled, “Jesus, Buck even your lips are on fire!”

“What can I say, I’m attracted to heat,” Bucky answered, panting ever so slightly.

“Maybe one of these days, you’ll be able to handle it,” you joked, eating one more of your man-catching tacos doused in your salsa. 

。。

i made myself hungry just writing this bahaha

translations:

Limones = lemons

comal = skillet/griddle

[elaera23]

A Special Otome Men Ranking

... or which would I fuck, date /marry or be best friends with 😎

So my dear friend @mandyinwonderland came up with this funny idea to do a ranking with all the Otome men I’ve read so far and put them into categories - Fuck / Date or Marry / BFF, so three characters per game.

So here is my ranking, sorry for making the explanations so long 😅 I shortened them towards the end 😉

1. Star Crossed Myth

Fuck: I mean this is a obvious choice – Scorpio would be definitely my fuck! Of course you wouldn’t get vanilla sex, but who wants that anyway with this hot and prickly guy? We would be riling each other up in front of the others, which would us turn on so hard that we’d stomp out of the living room, smash the door behind us, leaving the other gods clueless how this interaction actually could’ve been the foreplay 😂 Behind closed doors you can do all that naughty stuff you always wanted to try out with him, maybe leaving behind a destroyed bedroom. Sounds like a good plan for me?

Date: This was a really hard one. I decided to go with Zyglavis. I would be really curious to find out what kinda man lies behind the god who always looks severe and follows the rules. I’d love to mess with him and test his limits and of course I did fall in love his his damn hair (which is probably prettier then mine, cough.) I’d like to know what he is able to do in bedroom, just so I can gush around the other gods when they would make fun of him again 😏 He’d be the ying to my yang as he for example has the objectivity that I need as counter part to my emotional side.

BFF: There were a few possibilities for this position, but when I’m honest I would go with Ichthys. We would watch my favorite Disney movies together while singing along with all the songs 😁 (which of course would earn us annoyed looks from the other gods) Shopping would be always fun with him as he would try on the same dresses, assuring me that they look much better on him then on me. Going on street food festivals or try out new recipes at home would be so much fun as Ikky would try everything, no matter how spicy, exotic or strange it might look. 

2. Kissed by the Baddest Bidder

So this was a hard one.... and I had to cheat a little but - who cares?!

Fuck: Here I definitely have to go with Luke. He is British, means he probably has an irresistible English accent, he is tall and honestly - I couldn’t resist his bone structure fetish. The way a doctor sees your body is so much different from a “normal” guy and it fascinates me. Not even mentioning that he for sure knows where and how he has to touch you to give you the most amazing night ever. Paired with his odd behavior which is just hilarious he is my man 🤷‍♀

BFF: As I was thinking about Eisuke and Soryu being really good buddies too, I went with one where I share more interests with - Rhion. He’d be my BFF because he is a dreamer but not stupid, an artist, he loves to dance and sucks in the kitchen so I would be glad to show him some things 😂 You’d had fun going shopping with him or binge watching Disney Movies or Series like Once Upon a Time, Grimm or Doctor Who.  

And then there is Baba…

If I look at it realistically he is all three for me - I would totally fuck him (I mean, come on?!), I’d be more than happy to be his wife and in the end he would be my BFF too. I mean honestly, this man for sure will grant all your wishes in bed, he gives you a helping hand at home and is an amazing cook, brings you flowers and not just calls you princess but also treats you like one. He’d go shopping with you and give you style tips and your holidays will always be adventures and relaxing. What would you want more from a guy?

3. Irresistible Mistakes

Marry: I have to go with my No. 1 Otome-Man here and that is Toma. He is a tease and I’m sure we would have a loooot of fun together (not just in the bedroom lol). I can imagine us chasing and throwing pillows each other and then fall on to the bed and cuddle. He is my shoulder to lean on when I feel small and he will bring me back to reality when I’d be getting to irrational. He appreciates my food, my hard work and is supportive where ever he can be – what do I want more?

Fuck: Hmmm. I honestly can’t decide between Shunichiro and Yukihisa. Shun is a scoundrel and ooses sex appeal while Yuki is unpredictible and a mind reader. But Yuki gets a small minus point as he would not kiss me - and that’s something I’d definitly miss.

BFF: I was thinking really really hard about this one. There are two type of friends which I love to have around me. The first one are funny and crazy grown up childs and the other ones are my complete opposite, the calm, objective thinkers. So I went with Toshiaki here. He would be my calm anchor when I lose the connection to the ground and he’d help me organize my mind chaos when everything gets to much.

4. Enchanted in the Moonlight

Marry: For me there is just one real answer for this one – Kyoga. He is actually the type of guy which I can imagine really having a relationship with – easygoing, humorous, loyal, a literal beast in the sheets with a good appetite (in more than one sense, if you know what I mean… 😂 😂 😂) He wouldn’t complain go shopping with me, we’d explore the world together or just cuddle on the sofa watching a movie (which I probably would have to explain to him lol). So I’d be very happy to be the woman at his side.

Fuck: In this case I’d go with Miyabi, I’d love to catch him by surprise when he comes with one of his pervy jokes and I’d be like “Sure let’s go, show me what you Kitsunes are made of” 😏 😏 or pulling him into the shower and start making out instead of throwing him out of the bath where he tried to peep on me again xD We’d have fun.

BFF: As I love books and writing my choice is kinda obvious, so I’d go with Kiryu for my BFF. He is a more the objective type of guy and would help me a lot to organize my thoughts when I would rile myself up about some stupidity. He knows the human world better then any other Ayakashi and would be able to understand my problems I might have at work or with my friends. Of course he would be merciless while teaching me how to write better fanfiction and we’d have a What’s App chat where he sends me new book recommendations quicker than I can actually read all of them.

5. Scandal in the Spotlight

Date: I’d go with Kyohei, I mean he is charming, good looking, successfull and loves Revance more than anything. It would be a little annyoing to date him in secret but would be really happy to share those special moments where we are alone and he actually shows me his ‘real’ self.

Fuck: This was a close call for Nagi as he is just as pervy as I am, but I’d go with Takashi… You know, still waters run deep – and he has a sound proof bedroom.

BFF: I mean come on! Of course I’d go with Nagito! He is a fashion designer and I sew my own clothes, so who would be a better fit for me there? On top he is just as suggestive and childish as I am – so we would have plenty of fun together. If it’s gossiping about the other boy’s love life or a way how we can organize an amazing surprise party for them, I’d be all in.

6. Our Two Bedroom Story

Marry: Minato

Fuck: Tsumugu

BFF: Shusei

7. Era of Samurai

Marry: Okita (tho I would also fuck him xD)

Fuck: Hijikata

BFF: Kondo

8. Mystic Messenger

Marry: Zen

Fuck: Saeran

BFF: Seven

Tagging @mandyinwonderland-blog​ @justjen523 @lin-ful​ @speakfearlessly1989​ @hifftn​​ @rougepetale​​ @you-wandered-here​​​ @iluvsexyvoltageguys​​ @voltage-my2dlove​​ @gamerneko-girl​​

[txnysheart]

let’s get on with living (while we can) [4]

chapter 4: pools of sorrow, waves of joy

word count: 3867

warnings: cancer, angst, sad, side effects from chemo (basically same as previous chapters)

summary: bucky, sam and natasha get an explanation from pepper. peter feels a little bit better.

read on ao3: x

playlist: x

chapter 1 - chapter 2 - chapter 3 - chapter 4 - chapter 5 - chapter 6 - chapter 7 - chapter 8 - chapter 9

series masterlist | masterlist

━━━━━━━━

A knock to his bedroom door startled Bucky a bit. Natasha never knocked; it was her bedroom as well. And Sam normally just yelled Bucky’s name, used to getting a reaction from that. Sam’s bedroom was on the same floor, but quite far from theirs for some privacy, and they all shared a large living room and kitchen, courtesy of Tony Stark.

Putting down his book, he walked over to the door, opening it. “Pepper? What’s going on?” he asked, his tone confused.

“I, uh… It’s best if you just go to the living room, and I’ll get the others.”

It wasn’t often he had heard that woman sound so uncertain, so he did as she told him. He shrugged as Sam walked in and sat next to him on the couch. Lastly came Natasha, looking like she came straight from the gym, Pepper right next to her. “Sit,” Pepper prompted her, standing in front of the three of them for a few seconds before sitting down in a chair facing them. She tried to keep her professional composure, but the three Avengers saw right through it.

Pepper swept her eyes over them once and took a breath; almost speaking, but stopping herself. How to word it? She exhaled heavily and took another breath.

“It’s Peter.”

“What about Peter?” Natasha asked warily, her pulse quickening at the mention of his name in combination with how upset Pepper seemed to be. When she didn’t answer, Sam leaned forward. “Pepper. What’s going on?” he asked. Bucky sat quietly, trying to keep his breathing calm.

A thousand thoughts flew through each of their heads.

“He has… Oh god. He has stage four lung cancer with spreading to his liver and his,” a sharp intake of air, “brain.” The last word was barely audible.

They were all silent for several seconds. “What? Wait- what?” Natasha asked, hoping she’d heard her wrong. The stone cold spy who always hid her true emotions didn’t have a chance at stopping the tears that gathered in her eyes. Clenched fists. Nails digging into her palms. Bucky unconsciously pried her fingers open, letting her squeeze his hand instead.

“You’re kidding, right?” Bucky breathed out. He got no response. “Pepper, please, be kidding.” He was terrified. Please be a joke. The worst joke in the entire universe, but he didn’t care as long as it wasn’t true. His eyes were wide, trying to process her words.

Sam just looked at her in shock. Had that sentence actually come out of her mouth?

“I wish I was, Bucky,” she said, a sob escaping her mouth before she covered her face with her hands.

“What is- How long?” Sam asked, fully aware of the fact that that advanced lung cancer rarely ended well.

“One year. At most,” she whispered, not able to meet anyone’s eyes.

“No,” Natasha begged, “not him.” Her voice was thick with tears; she couldn’t hold them back anymore. She startled a little when Bucky let go of her hand and stood up abruptly. “I- I can’t,” he mumbled, walking quickly to their room. Once he had some privacy, he tugged at his hair, trying to wake himself up from this nightmare. He pinched himself, slapped himself and splashed cold water on his face but he couldn’t seem to fucking wake up.

Because it couldn’t be real, please. Not Peter. Ever since he met him, he’d had a soft spot for the boy, never able to resist those wide, brown puppy eyes. That little boy just couldn’t have cancer. He couldn’t stand the thought of him dying. And, oh god, Steve. He’s Steve’s kid. His best friend’s kid. Bucky knew him well enough to be certain that he wouldn’t handle this well. Knew how much he loved his son.

“FRIDAY?” he grumbled.

“Yes, Mr. Barnes?”

“Can I go see Steve now?”

“I’m sorry, but all I’m authorized to tell you is that he’s in the building.”

“Goddamnit, let me see Steve!” he roared, ignoring the tears on his cheek. He had to see Steve; had to be there for him, so he hurried back out into the living room.

“Pepper, I need to see Steve. Please.” He didn’t care that he sounded desperate. She nodded. “We can go now if you want?”

“Yes. Thank you,” he sighed.

“I’ll have FRIDAY make their part of the building available to you again. But… just Bucky right now. Peter’s pretty tired today,” Pepper explained, everyone accepting her answer with solemn nods and lowered eyes.

──────── 

“The deal was three crackers, right?” Tony said, trying to get Peter to eat more.

“Please, Dad. It really hurts my mouth,” Peter complained. That was new to Tony. He hadn’t said anything about his mouth hurting.

“How does it hurt?”

“These mouth sores. They’re really annoying. I want something soft.”

Oh, yeah, mouth sores. Yet another side effect they’d been warned about. “Anything in particular?”

“Soggy corn flakes?” was the first thing he could think about. He wanted something with little taste.

“Sure, kiddo, I’ll be right back,” Tony smiled, ruffling his hair.

In the kitchen, Steve was cooking dinner for him and Tony. “Is he eating?” he asked when Tony walked in. Tony sent him an amused smile. “He wants soggy corn flakes.”

“Soggy corn flakes?” Steve laughed.

“As long as he’s eating,” Tony shrugged, pouring corn flakes into a bowl. “Yeah,” Steve agreed, passing his husband the milk he’d just used in the Alfredo recipe. Tony took his time, making sure all the cereal was soft, letting the milk make it all soggy. He managed to spill a little milk on his cast, but pleased with the result, he brought the bowl and a spoon to Peter who was sitting on the couch.

He actually ate all of it. “Was that any good?” Tony asked, his nose scrunched up a little. Peter shrugged. “Didn’t really taste anything, and hurt a lot less than crackers, so yeah, it was good,” he smiled tiredly. Tony counted that as a win. It would take some getting used to, though. Chemo made things taste differently and it had given Peter mouth sores. He made a note on his phone to remember to research what foods could be good for Peter.

“Can I go back to bed?” Peter yawned, feeling almost as if he had a fever. “Of course you can. Let’s go,” Tony said, putting his phone down as Steve walked into the living room. “Going back to bed?” he asked his son with a gentle smile on his face when he saw him getting up.

“Yeah. ‘m really tired.”

“Have a nice sleep then, sweetheart,” he kissed his forehead. “Dinner’s ready in twenty minutes,” he said to Tony, hinting for him to stay with their son until that. Tony wrapped a secure arm around Peter, even though he could tell the boy was relatively steady. Just in case. He couldn’t fix what was going on, but he sure as hell wouldn’t risk doing anything that could make it even only slightly worse. Not one to shy away from comforting physical contact, Peter just leaned contently against his Dad’s side as they walked to his bedroom.

Steve just smiled at the sight, walking back into the kitchen to keep cooking when he was interrupted by someone walking in the door that separated their apartment from the rest of the building, and went to greet whoever it was, expecting Pepper.

And, yeah, Pepper was there. But his breath caught in his throat when he saw Bucky was right behind her. It took him a second to compose himself. “Hey, Buck.”

Oh, Steve, Bucky thought. That fake front of I’m totally okay might work on everyone else. But not on him. And he knew that Steve knew that. He had a suspicion it was for Pepper.

“I, uh, was in the middle of cooking dinner, actually. Would you mind taking over just for a little while?” he asked Pepper, cocking his head towards his best friend to signal he wanted some alone time with him. “I’ve got it, Steve,” she assured him with a hand on his arm.

Not quite sure where to bring Bucky, Steve ended up leading him to one of the guest rooms, closing the door behind them. “Steve, I’m so sorry,” Bucky said sincerely and was ready when Steve leaned into him for a hug. He only held him tightly, keeping quiet, and almost winced when he both felt and heard a raw sob escape Steve’s throat.

“I don’t know what to do,” Steve whimpered between cries, clinging to his best friend who was trying his best to comfort him. All Bucky wanted to do was to tell him that everything would be okay. But he couldn’t. “I’m here,” he settled on, not knowing how else to help. “He’s so young. And so good, I just- I can’t, Bucky,” Steve mumbled, trying to catch his breath in between sobs. He just couldn’t anymore and completely broke down in Bucky’s arms. Sitting them both down on the bed, Bucky held him while he sobbed his heart out.

Knowing his best friend, Bucky was almost certain he’d been holding it all back for Peter and Tony’s sake. That’s why he didn’t try shushing him and calming him down. He needed to let it all out. Needed to scream about how fucking unfair it all was. And scream he did. Screamed and yelled his heart out, constant tears running down his face. About how scared he was. So, so scared. Every time he allowed his thoughts to stray one year into the future, he almost threw up. He knew what was coming, and it was the worst thing he could imagine. He cried about Tony. How it was so obvious that he was barely holding himself together. And what he had said that night after they’d been told Peter - their child - had tumors in his lungs. It haunted him, hearing those words leave his husband’s mouth. Whenever Tony had that distinguishable broken, distant look on his face, Steve could only hear those words.

If he dies, I can’t—

I’m serious

But most of all, he cried about his son. Peter. “He’s fading away, Buck. S-so skinny already, and he’s barely eating. God, it fucking hurts,” he sobbed, hating the thought of how Peter was gradually becoming lighter to cradle in his arms. But, still, he couldn’t imagine anything better in this world than holding his little boy. It was equally painful and heartwarming.

Bucky held him until he had cried himself to sleep. Whenever he thought about how small Steve used to be, it was still a little strange to him that he was so big now. But sleeping, he could almost be mistaken for that scrawny boy he’d been back in the day.

With a sad smile on his face, Bucky made sure Steve was comfortable before leaving the room to let him sleep in peace. He let out a long breath, burying his face with his hands to calm down as much as possible so he wouldn’t worry anyone. That thought made him stop in his tracks - Steve had rubbed off on him. Always pushing his own needs away for the sake of others.

“Hey, you seen Steve?” Tony asked from the dining table when Bucky walked in. “Yeah, he’s in the guest room furthest down the hall. Sleeping,” he said, clenching his jaw. It was barely noticeable, but Tony picked it up. “And?” Tony prompted him to explain.

“And, he broke down completely and cried himself to sleep.”

“Thank god. He’s been holding back this entire time. But it’s so damn obvious that it’s all fucking gnawing at him from the inside,” Tony croaked, bottom lip trembling just in the slightest, trying his best to keep his emotions at bay in front of his husband’s best friend.

“It’s how he is. You know it’s just his way of protecting you two.”

“Yeah. I know.” Tony breathed through his nose, looking down on his wristwatch when it beeped. It felt weird to have to wear it on his right wrist because of his cast. “Pills,” he chuckled dryly. “I gotta go feed my son some pills. You should probably see yourself out, I might stay with him for a while.”

“How’s he holding up?” Bucky inquired, standing up.

“He, uh… You can see him tomorrow if he’s up for it, alright? Sam and Nat too.”

“Okay. Take care of yourself, Tony.” He glanced down at the man’s left arm, which prompted him to casually hide it behind his back.

“Guest room at the end of the hall, was it?”

“Yeah,” Bucky sighed after a silent second, sending Tony a look concern, even though he couldn’t see it; already halfway to Peter’s bedroom. “Shit,” Bucky muttered to himself as he walked out of their apartment, making his way down to his part of the building.

Natasha was in bed, seemingly waiting for him. “How is he?” she asked the second he closed the door behind him. “I don’t know,” he sighed, “he was sleeping, and… God, just- Steve’s a wreck. Tony too, for that matter, but… I’ve known Steve for so long and I’ve never seen him so… distraught before. He cried himself to sleep, Nat.”

“I hate this,” she mumbled, tugging the comforter closer to her chin. Bucky got into bed, and held her tight. “We all do. Try and get some sleep. Tony said we could all visit Peter tomorrow if he’s feeling well enough,” he whispered, placing a kiss to the top of her head. “I love you, Buck,” she yawned into his chest. “Love you too.” His voice was muffled by her hair and he found comfort in the familiar scent.

──────── 

Confident Peter had consumed all necessary pills and was soundly asleep again, Tony went straight to the guest room. He curled up next to his husband, noticing how puffy his eyes were and the dried tear tracks on his cheeks. “Steve,” he whispered to himself, his chest aching as he traced a thumb over the man’s cheek. He drifted off to sleep with his family running through his mind, and it followed him into his dreams, which, for once, provided Tony with a good night’s sleep.

Both men felt rested when they woke up, and after FRIDAY told them it was only eight in the morning and that Peter was still deeply asleep, they stayed in bed a little longer. Tony was holding Steve who had his head right next to the arc reactor.

“You know you can talk to me, right?” Tony asked into Steve’s hair.

“Of course. I’ve just been… scared of making it worse.”

“It’s okay, honey. I get it,” Tony assured him.

──────── 

An entire night’s sleep seemed to have affected Peter positively. The boy was less tired than the previous day, and he wasn’t nauseous. For breakfast, he had soggy corn flakes, and accepted Tony’s suggestion to have tasteless noodles for dinner. He still preferred the couch, his body feeling heavy and muscles and bones aching - not too bad, but enough for it to annoy him.

“You feeling up for some visitors today? Sam, Bucky and Natasha really wanna see you,” Steve smiled, looking down at Peter who was slumped against him, legs stretched out and feet on Tony’s lap on the other end of the couch. His eyes lit up a little at the idea. “Yeah, I’d like that,” he told him. “When?”

“Right now, if you want,” Tony chimed in while massaging Peter’s feet, who nodded happily.

About ten minutes after Tony had told FRIDAY to summon the three Avengers, they heard them walk into the apartment. Peter perked up, moving his legs from his dad’s lap to sit up normally.

“Hey, kid,” Natasha greeted him with her signature smirk, leaning down for a hug so he wouldn’t have to get up. Bucky and Sam followed suit, and soon they were all lounging in the two couches in the living room, talking as if everything was normal. And Peter appreciated that so much. He knew he was visibly ill, skinnier than before, but didn’t care about that when they treated him just like always.

The way Peter kept changing his position, obviously in pain, made it hard for Sam to keep a straight face. He fought back when he felt his face scrunching up in pity, trying his best to be his usual self, throwing out jokes for the boy to laugh at.

“Kid, that looks miserable,” Sam teased as he watched Peter slowly eat his soggy corn flakes for lunch, and it made the kid giggle. A sigh of relief.

“Could be worse,” Peter smirked, mouth full of cereal.

“You’re doing good,” Tony commented with a ruffle to his kid’s hair, who only half-heartedly tried to get away. “At least it doesn’t make me puke,” the boy laughed lightly. He’d eaten breakfast only a couple hours earlier, but both Tony and Steve agreed that as long as he wasn’t feeling sick, they’d try to get as much food in him as possible.

Halfway through the bowl, he pushed it away. “I’m full,” he yawned, leaning back into the couch with closed eyes. He let himself rest for a few seconds before opening them again; a soft smile on his face brought on by the people around him.

“Drink,” Steve encouraged, handing him a bottle of water which he accepted, taking a few sips before giving it back.

They honestly had a really nice time, Pepper joining them a little before dinner was ready, and Peter ate almost all of his noodles. Noticing Peter wasn’t comfortable at the dining table, Tony helped him over to the couch, and the rest followed.

It was a warm, loving evening, filled with smiles, stories and sentiment. All a big, very welcomed distraction that let them laugh and lightened their hearts for a few hours. The illusion was broken for Natasha when she noticed Peter scrunching his face up in pain, and the fifth time he did it, she spoke up.

“Peter,” she spoke softly as not to interrupt Steve and Bucky who was telling a story from when they were much younger. The boy looked at her with glossy eyes.

“What’s wrong?” she asked him, and he squeezed his eyes shut again.

“My head,” he whispered, wincing when the rest of the group burst out in a loud laugh. Tony turned to his right, where Peter was sitting close to him, just to see him genuinely laugh. The fact that his kid looked to be in pain wiped the smile off of his face.

“You okay, sweetie?” he asked, but Peter was covering his ears, eyes closed.

“Says his head’s hurting,” Natasha explained, and all attention was on them, funny anecdote forgotten.

“FRIDAY, lights at 20 percent,” he ordered, and gently pried Peter’s hand off of his ears. “Open your eyes for me, Petey. Do you have a headache?” he asked him, voice as soft as he could manage.

“Yeah, but I dunno,” he mumbled, “feels worse.”

“Migraine?”

“Never had one, so I wouldn’t know. But I guess that could be it.”

He frowned. “How long’s it been hurting?”

“Dinner, maybe? Not sure, but it just suddenly got a lot worse.”

“Oh, baby, I’m sorry. Do you wanna go to bed?”

“Please,” he whimpered, obviously keeping back tears. Steve wordlessly gestured for the others to leave with an apologetic look on his face, and they did so very quietly, feeling bad for the boy. Suddenly they were reminded what was really going on. It wasn’t just another weekend at the compound.

“Can you please carry me? So dizzy,” Peter asked, and felt so embarrassed, but couldn’t bring himself to stand up on his own. He hadn’t really specified who he wanted to carry him, but then again, it didn’t matter.

“Of course, sweetie,” Steve said. Tony had almost said the same thing, but then remembered his cast. That wouldn’t be comfortable for Peter.

Trying his best to keep the boy steady, Steve carried him to his room. Tony muttered instructions to FRIDAY to make the bedroom as dark and silent as possible. “I’ll be back with something for him to take. Gonna see the doctor so we don’t give him anything that could be bad for him,” Tony whispered to Steve, who nodded as he put their son down.

The door closed silently, and Steve knelt next to the bed. “Dad’s just getting some medicine for you. Do you want me to stay here with you or do you wanna be alone?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Alone. Sorry, Pops, I just need quiet,” Peter mumbled, feeling bad that he was asking Steve to leave.

“That’s okay, baby,” Steve smiled, even though Peter couldn’t see it. “Remember, Dad’ll come back in a few minutes with some medicine, okay?”

“Yeah. Thanks. Love you.”

“Love you too, Petey.” He stopped himself from placing a kiss on the top of the kid’s head, and left the room. Right outside, he let himself slide down the wall, sitting down on the floor with his knees up to his chest. He wrapped his arms around his legs and rested his forehead against his knees, eyes closed. For the umpteenth time, he was reminded how much he hated seeing Peter in pain.

And he just sat there until Tony’s voice startled him, too far gone in his own mind to register his footsteps approaching. “Steve?” His head whipped up. They shared a look. “He wanted to be alone. Said he needed quiet, and then had the nerve to feel bad about it,” Steve explained with a tired smirk. “It’s like he’s designed to break our hearts,” Tony commented, and held up a standard pill vial containing only a few pills. “I’ll be right out, honey.”

Steve smiled up at his husband who opened the door quietly, and listened to his and their son’s whispers which were clear as day to him thanks to his enhanced hearing. He’d learned to control it so he wouldn’t have to hear everything all the time. But with his mind solely focused on the conversation in the room behind him, it was like he was in there with them. He’d always loved how caring Tony was with Peter. How gentle, kind and loving he could be. Nothing like the Tony Stark the rest of the world liked to think they knew.

With a silent click, Tony closed the bedroom door. “Come on, handsome,” he said, putting his right hand out to help Steve up. He accepted it, but made sure not to actually make Tony pull his full weight up. “When’s this thing coming off?” he asked, trailing a finger over the cast. “Two weeks,” Tony groaned, already so over it after less than a week. It didn’t sit right with him, having done something to himself that prevented him from taking as much care of Peter as he wanted to.

“Not that long. You’ll be alright,” Steve smiled, and bumped Tony’s hip with his own lazily, getting a chuckle in return.

“I’m always alright.”

[your-hero-imagines]

can I request headcanons for the 1A kids helping out at a soup kitchen or a shelter or something similar? it's such a pure way to help people and very fitting for heroes in training I think!

Since Aizawa thought that some students *cough* Bakugou *cough* needed to humble themselves, he suggested it might be a good idea to make them work in a Soup Kitchen for a whole week, to learn some gratitude and humanity.

Please ignore all the logic gaps I shamefully have to admit I’ve never worked at a soup kitchen before. :/

Iida:

- Is probably the most motivated of them all, obviously.

- Will use his speed to go grocery shopping. He doesn’t need to since they have food donations at the location, but he wants to contribute something. Uses his own money.

- The fate of some of the people in need really touches him, and he admires and respects everyone working here in their free time.

- Will probably work here again later on, or at least donate tons of money when he’s a pro hero.

Momo:

- Will use her quirk to make new kitchen equipment for the cooks.

- Isn’t really used to this kind of cooking. At home she gets much more fine and delicate food, and never has to cook for herself. Doesn’t know any simple recipes because she never intended to make food with her quirk anyway since it’s kinda weird.

- Knows the Soup Kitchen because she forced her rich parents to donate money here ever since she was a kid and realized some kids at school have a way harder time than she herself has.

Todoroki:

- His ice has many uses, from being used in drinks to keep some indigrents fresh. Even manages to make Slush Ice for the kids.

- The smile a little girl gives him when she thanks him makes his heart melt. It reminds him so much of his sister.

- Feels bad for it but actually admires some of the families there. They may not have much, but they’re holding together and are very affectionate with each other. Unlike his own.

Bakugo:

- Is skilled in basically anything, from slicing indigrents to seasoning it and so on. Everyone always asks for his help and opinion.

- To be honest, his mother told him to fuck off and cook his own meals pretty early in his life. Doesn’t understand why some of the other students can’t take care of themselves. “How petty”.

- Acts like he doesn’t give a shit about all the compliments he receives by his classmates and the guests but he’ll still think about it way later.

- Gives the smaller, weaker children and woman bigger portions and anyone who calls him out gets to feel his rage.

Koda:

- Is a vegetarian for obvious reasons. Freaks out every time he even sees people handling with meat. How could they even?!

- So he tries to stay away from the kitchen and help in the dining room, or cleans up the dishes.

- He comes a bit after the cooking is done because he doesn’t like such an intense smell of meat, but stays longer to clean up.

Uraraka:

- Helps making chests and other heavy things lighter for transport, using her quirk.

- Can’t cook for god’s sake, but helps with decorating the food on the plates with much love.

- Her parents once had to go to a Soup Kitchen, too, when the times were really hard. So it’s not easy to bear with the sight for her, but that’s only more reason to give it her best!

- Knows many locations persons with financial problems can get help at, and is glad to inform people.

Mineta:

- Tries to hit on every female person, may it be another voluntee or a guest.

- Isn’t that much of a help in the beginning because he’s busy creeping around and trying to get under the skirts of the girls.

- Probably only will be portioning the soup on the plates, but isn’t allowed to talk to any of the guests. Constant supervision.

- The others will try to keep him from sneaking outside so he won’t bother the guests.

Sato:

- Oh my god this boy is a master chief. Everything he cooks is delicious so he’ll do the main work.

- Also makes some extra sweets for the children.

- Actually donates his food very often. Bakes tons of cakes for a hospiece once a month and so on.

- Insists on helping the others to carry heavy stuff but they want him to stay in the kitchen and keep up his good work.

Tokoyami:

- Can literally do twice the work since Dark Shadow helps him. Will probably be cutting indigrents or carrying plates to the guests.

- Is the perfect guy to reach for high places like shelves with his quirk.

- Dark Shadow is really struggling against it because it’s constantly depressed that it itself isn’t able to eat or taste.

- But the children there will love his birdy face and also Dark Shadow so they both cooperate in presenting small tricks to make the children laugh.

Tsuyu:

- Her tongue can reach for stuff throughout the whole room. It’s good because sometimes people cannot walk because the kitchen is so small and crowded.

- Is really talented with cooking and also dealing with children since she had to provide for her smaller siblings the whole time.

- Will still prefer making kid’s meals and bringing it to them herself, since she’s so invested in caring for them and assuring they are fine.

- Gets easily flustered whenever someone tells her what a great job she’s doing.

Mina:

- Is really good at knowing human nature. She can tell anyone what task they should be doing considering their abilities and preferences.

- Will split the teams so everyone works with people they like and are well to cooperate with.

- Has so many positive vibes and is so happy this whole time so no one really feels like they’re working.

- She herself doesn’t even do much of the work she’s just cheering at everyone to do their best until Aizawa scolds her. No one was mad at her to be the motivational support tho.

Jiro:

- She’ll be playing some nice music so it’ll feel like fun whenever she’s around.

- Can cut with her sharp earlobes but it always gets messy.

- Will be asking the guests for music suggestions and ends up making the best mood! Feels like a party started! The long-time volunteers said the people there never smiled so much in an eternity!

- Forgets her shyness every time one of the guests needs anything.

Kaminari:

- At first he’s so disinterested and tries to call in sick. His classmates will drag him out of the bed and get him there. But as soon as he sees the grateful faces of the guests it totally touches his heart.

- Helps some people charge their phones because most of them possess elder models but rarely get the chance to charge it.

- Will also do waitress work but is very sloppy and often stumbles.

- Will get many compliments by elder ladies what a sweet guy he is and that he should meet their granddaughters.

Kirishima:

- Is all fired up about it just like always. This little sunshine.

- Tells anyone about how helping people in need is ‘manly’. To him, it doesn’t matter if it’s a great fight or just a small deed. Doesn’t care about the recognition either.

- Sadly isn’t much of a help because he doesn’t know how to cook very well, and is clumsy when it comes to holding more than one plate. But he always does his best. He gives it 200% even if it’s small tasks he’s only given because he cannot fuck them up.

Ojiro:

- His cooking is pretty decent. Above average at least. So he helps in the kitchen under the command of Sato.

- Tells everyone how amazing they are and what wonderful work they are doing.

- Is really humble about every thank you he receives from the people. Has had some nice conversations and even made some new friends. He doesn’t really care about social status as long as the person is friendly.

- Afterwards he’ll come and help there at least once a week.

Shoji:

- Is very quiet most of the time and just does his work.

- But to make the children crack a smile, even he gets out of his shell. Will make them climb on his arms and stuff.

- Lowkey gets very emotional about those poor people and thinks of it all day. Will need to get cheered up later.

- When he’s a pro hero he’ll have his own foundation to make charity work. This topic never left his mind after he worked there.

Aoyama:

- My boy is really enjoying himself there. He’s good at preparing food and teaching anyone who doesn’t know how to do it right.

- Finally gets some recognition by his classmates and is integrated in the team.

- Will make many stupid jokes no one except himself finds funny but he just wants to lighten up the mood.

- Once tried to roast something using his laser but it didn’t end well. Will have to write an essay about fire safety over the weekend.

Hagakure:

- Is totally hyped but doesn’t really know what to do. Is in desperate need of leadership.

- Will do whatever task you give her and does her best. Get’s distracted very easily tho.

- Spends most of the time adoring the children and complimenting every guest about anything that comes to her mind.

- She’s overlooked very easily so she would get stumbled over in the kitchen. Will help with giving out food in the end. Talks to anyone coming to her to get a plate for several minutes. Wants to get to know anyone.

Sero:

- Is pretty stoic about the work but isn’t that invested into helping at first. Wants to fight or train or do action stuff.

- Until a woman he brings some food to tells him he reminds her of her son who’s his age and she tells him a really heartbreaking story.

- He’ll then proceed to follow that woman around and listen to her stories. Many things about that made him think about topics he wasn’t even aware until now.

- In the end, he even gifts her a keychain as a lucky charm.

Midoriya:

- Gets constant anxiety because he’s afraid his work is not good enough for those people. Really doesn’t wanna let their hopes down, and has way too high expectations into himself.

- Isn’t much of a cook, so he mainly runs around, carries some plates, chests and bottles and just listens to anyone who’s asking for his help.

- Constantly gets lost because he’s so invested in talking to the people and their backstories. His fellow classmates need to keep him from trying to help every single one of them.

- At the end of the day determined to find a way to help those people. Realizes there are so many different ways of needing help and helping and he wants to know more about it. The world is so big but he sees is as an opportunity!

______

They’ll end up raising money for that and many other social service procivers once a month, through plays they present and spending the entry fee, or selling selfmade waffles, and so on.

Every month something different is at place, and they choose together as a class what they’ll do next!

[stilesxeveryone]

He's Objectively the Best Member of Your Pack and You Ignore Him?

~Here’s what is likely going to be the final chapter of this story (except there’s probably going to be a sequel)! You can read all of it on ao3, where you can also find my ao3 account! Don’t forget that my inbox is always open to requests or criticism or anything at all! You can also send all that jazz to my art account’s inbox!~ 

Chapter 10

"Although I don't doubt your intelligence or your ability to remember and connect pieces of information," Peter started, sounding very much like he was doubting Stiles' intelligence and his ability to remember and connect pieces of information, "you are aware that if and when one of your betas kills an alpha they will themselves become an alpha, right?"

"I'm aware." Stiles nodded before raising an eyebrow when Peter didn't immediately explain himself.

"And you aren't concerned about potentially having three more alphas in your pack?" He raised an eyebrow right back, sitting down next to Stiles on his bed.

"Not really," Stiles shrugged, turning back to his phone. He was currently texting Chris to find out how quick he could get a gun from him, which lead to several lengthy explanations to catch the hunter up on what was happening in the sleepy town of Beacon Hills.

"So, even with several alphas currently in your pack and potentially three more soon, you aren't concerned about these alphas clashing or trying to become leader?"

"Yep." Still texting.

"Why?"

He held up a finger, a sliver of a smile slipping onto his lips as Peter huffed. He quickly texted Chris a few more times before turning his body towards Peter. He sighed, quickly arranging his thoughts in his mind before speaking,

"I'm not worried about the twins because they don't want to be alphas. From what I've gathered, they used to be in a really shit pack. They were mistreated and didn't get any of the attention that betas in healthy packs need, and I have no doubts that Deucalion would have manipulated them. They probably just want to be treated like they're pack, which is very unlikely to happen if they're alphas, considering their reputation. Of course these are assumptions, I haven't actually asked them, but I'm pretty sure I'm right."

Peter listened, silent, nodding as he processed the information, then asked, "And Derek?"

"We already know that Derek isn't an alpha as we probably wouldn't be talking about this if he was. I don't think he's in a healthy mental state at the moment and he probably needs an alpha to look after him right now. His sister died, his uncle was the one that killed her, then he killed his own uncle. That isn't a recipe for 'healthy alpha who can look after unstable betas who are also unstable teenagers'."

Stiles was really hoping that none of the werewolves were listening in on the conversation. He could vaguely hear the TV downstairs, but that didn't exactly tell him anything.

"Yes, biting those two teenagers probably wasn't the best idea," Peter nodded in agreement.

"Dude, you bit Scott," Stiles snorted, taking away from his accusatory tone.

"I was insane at the time," Peter frowned, an almost pouty look on his face.

"Maybe Derek was a little bit insane, too." His voice held a hint of sadness, eyes downcast. The smell drifting off of him made Peter want to hug him, scent him and assure him that everything would be okay.

The moment was broken when Stiles' phone pinged, a text message received from Chris. The boy leapt to his feet, a bright grin on his face and a spark of golden determination in his eyes.

"Right, let's go kill some alphas."

~

Of course 'Plan A' didn't work.

The mountain ash hung in the air like a black cloud, just out of reach of Stiles' hand and filled with potential danger. He wondered whether the ash ring didn't form because of a consent problem, or if they had their own magic user to protect them from such a thing, or something else entirely. This thought only lasted a moment before he was turning the ash around and circling himself, Danny and Lydia.

While Stiles held the attention of everyone in the room, he quickly began speaking,

"As you can see, Deucalion, you've lost your leverage and two of your betas to us. It's now your choice whether you want to lose your life as well."

As he spoke he walked, a leisurely pace carrying him towards the centre of the room. A ring of mountain ash crawled along, matching his pace and keeping him safe.

"You really think you can kill us?" Deucalion scoffed, following Stiles with his eyes.

"I'm pretty confident that we can. I mean, we don't have to. You three can always just pack up and leave, I'm sure there are plenty of other packs you can terrorize."

He could already tell by the fang of Deucalion's teeth that the man would never agree to simply leave.

"None as lovely as you, darling," the alpha of alphas purred out, fangs slurring his words almost unnoticeably. Of course Stiles noticed.

"So, you're choosing fight over flight?" he asked for clarity.

"So it would seem."

"Ennis," Stiles called, twirling in his circle of ash to face the brute, "are you sticking with your alpha or ditching?"

Burning red eyes, fluffy sideburns, a severe lack of eyebrows and a low growl responded.

"Sticking with the alpha, got it!"

Stiles pulled out his gun and shot the massive alpha between the eyes quicker than a werewolf could flinch. In contrast, Ennis' body seemed to collapse in slow motion. A human's eye could track the moment his knees stopped supporting his weight, how dust rose as he crashed to the floor, the way blood trickling out of his head at gravity's will.

Every 'wolf in the room listened as his heart stopped beating.

Stiles twisted on the spot. "Kali?" he asked, eyebrow raising in time with his gun.

She roared, the walls shaking minutely, and leapt towards the boy in the mountain ash circle. He shot twice, clipping her shoulder and puncturing her stomach. The ring of ash threw her to the floor and he swiftly shot her through the head.

"Peter, you're supposed to be watching Deucalion, not me. He's getting away," Peter jumped into action instantaneously, even as Stiles continued talking, "I only have two bullets left and both are going in his head. Just to be on the safe side."

Peter's clawed hand gripped Deucalion's arm, tossing him back to Stiles. The lone alpha landed at the boy's feet, kneeling.

The bullet pierced through Deucalion's skull before he had the chance to move, to attack or run or any other motion. Stiles let the man's body still before he shot him again.

"Well, that was... very dramatic but also slightly anticlimactic at the same time, which probably makes no sense," Stiles shrugged to himself and stepped out of the ring of ash. He stumbled a little but managed to keep his balance as he walked towards his pack. The gun dropped from his shakey grip. He collapsed as he reached the outermost of his pack, knees giving out but landing in someone's arms before he could hit the floor.

~

Blinking away sleep, Stiles slowly sat up and looked around, taking in where he was (his bedroom), who was with him (Lydia and Peter), and why he was there (he had passed out after killing three werewolves).

"Where is everyone?" he asked first, deciding it was the most important out of every other question racing through his head.

"They're all downstairs. We figured you wouldn't want to be buried underneath a puppy pile as soon as you woke up," Lydia explained, a soft smile on her face.

"And the bodies?" was the next question, his head turned to Peter.

"Dumped with bricks at the bottom of a lake, in the middle of the forest, that only the Hales and the dead know exists."

"Mind showing me where that is one day?"

"Sounds romantic." Peter grinned and, when Stiles let out a laugh, it twisted into a smile.

"How are you feeling?" Lydia asked, perfect eyebrows drawn together, perfect lips curled downwards, perfectly manicured hand placed atop his shoulder.

Stiles paused for a moment, answer flitting about in his mind until it formed into the truth, "I think I'm alright. I reckon I fainted because of the adrenaline crash, plus being tired after the whole mountain ash manipulation trick. I'm pretty fucking hungry, though."

As the last words left his mouth, the rest of the pack entered his room, food in the hands of Erica and Danny.

Despite the protests of the alpha and his right and left hands, a puppy pile formed on top of Stiles.

[nighting-gale17]

seven for a secret never to be told

Barely getting this Thanksgiving fic in by the skin of my teeth- which is unsurprising for me.

I hope you guys enjoy thisI just wanna give a HUGE shoutout to @sailingthecs I probably wouldn't have been able to get this to a place I'm okay with posting if it wasn't for their encouragement and cheering me on <3 thank you Bon!!!!!!

Buck isn’t sure why everyone is under the impression that he can’t speak Spanish.

He would have found it amusing if it wasn’t so annoying. He lives in Los Angeles for fuck's sake, and he works with the public daily—not to mention the summers he spent down in Ecuador bartending. And, yet, standing here at the Diaz Thanksgiving party, Eddie’s family spoke freely of their opinions of him right in front of his face as if he didn’t understand everything they said.

“No puedes ser serio.” An annoyingly high-pitched voice said behind him, the tone making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. “¿Visto lo que hizo antes? Menos mal que es bonito.”

Someone else behind him giggled in agreement. “Oí que es un poco playboy.”

“¿Crees que Eddie compartirá?” The other woman purred, making Buck’s anxiety start to climb. “Me encantaría conseguir un pedazo de eso. Una vez una prostituta, siempre una prostituta.”

Buck bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep from saying anything, trying to ignore the way his hands were starting to sweat as he grabbed two beers from the cooler in front of him. He knew there were people in Eddie’s family that weren’t too keen about the two of them dating—he knew they’d tolerated Shannon because she had given them Christopher but it seemed they couldn’t even try with him, despite his best efforts.

Buck shook the thoughts from his head and carefully maneuvered his way past the two women openly staring at him and through the kitchen. He desperately tried to ignore the woman’s words despite the way they seemed to echo around in his head. They were wrong. He wasn’t that person anymore. He  wasn’t .

“Esto es el novio de Edmundo.” He heard someone speak behind him, the disgust in his voice distinguishable in any language.

He kept his gaze down as he moved through the house and into the back yard, letting out a breath of relief he hadn’t realized he had been holding when he spotted Eddie across the yard. He managed to make it to his boyfriend’s side in record time, shoving Eddie’s beer in his hand and practically plastering himself against his side.

“Well, hello to you too,” Eddie said, amused until he took in Buck’s rigid stance and the tension he was holding in his shoulders. “Babe, what’s wrong?"

“Nothing it’s—” Buck cleared his throat, shaking his head and picking at the label on his beer to avoid eye contact. “It’s nothing. I’m fine. Just—a lot of people here.” he said after a moment, internally cringing at the weak excuse.

“Yeah, I’ve got a lot of family that decided to come up this year,” Eddie said, somewhat apologetically. He wrapped his arm around Buck’s waist and pressed a soft kiss against his temple. “We can leave if it’s getting too much, cariño.”

Buck closed his eyes for a moment, relaxing into Eddie’s side. “No, I’m alright. You haven’t seen your family in ages, anyway.” Not since Shannon’s funeral. Eddie deserved to be able to enjoy his family’s company without the depressing atmosphere hanging over them.”

The entire Diaz family was gathered at Eddie’s Abuela's house for Thanksgiving this year. When Eddie had warned Buck about the size of his family, he’d brushed it off, but now he was seriously regretting it. He was not prepared for the sheer amount of family Eddie seemed to have that made the trip to LA this year. Aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces, nephews, and grandparents—Buck didn’t even know it was possible to be related to so many people.

They came from all over the place too. Since Eddie is half-Swedish and half-Mexican, there was an interesting mix of culture at this particular thanksgiving. He had family from the states, Mexico, Bolivia, Ecuador, and he was sure there were more places that just flew over his head.

It was definitely a certain kind of culture shock to Buck. He’d spent the last who knows how many holidays alone and now? Well, as grateful as he is to have this little family he’s started to build with Eddie, sometimes it did get a little intimidating.

Buck spotted more members of Eddie’s family openly staring at them and whispering to themselves. He sighed, turning his head and murmuring into Eddie’s ear, “I don’t think your family likes me very much.”

He felt more than saw Eddie frown. “What do you mean? My tia and abuela love you.”

“Just… some things I’ve heard them saying.” Buck muttered, reluctant to go into any details. He felt himself relax a little when Eddie’s squeezed his hip comfortingly and ran his thumb over the small strip of exposed skin above the waistband of his jeans. “For some reason, everyone here is under the impression I can’t understand what they’re saying about me.” he huffed a little. “As if I would meet my boyfriend’s family without understanding their first language.”

“I’m sorry, mi amor.” Eddie’s voice was tinged with anger and regret. “My family is very… traditional, still, in some ways. I’d hoped they wouldn’t be rude enough to say anything to your face but it looks like I was wrong.”

“Ah, Eddie, Evan, there you are.” Buck felt a genuine smile spread across his face as he looked up and saw Eddie’s abuela walking toward them, a sleepy-looking Christopher at her side. “I’m glad I found you. This one looks like he’s ready to fall asleep on his feet.”

“About to fall into a food coma, buddy?” Buck asked teasingly, bending down and picking Christopher up in his arms. “Did you eat the entire turkey?” he asked, a fake frown on his face as he pretended to struggle lifting Christopher up. “You’re lucky I’m so strong!”

Christopher giggled and wrapped his arms around Buck’s neck, nestling his head in the crook of his neck. “Y-You’re super strong!”

Buck hummed in agreement and when he glanced over at Eddie he felt his heart squeeze tightly in his chest. His boyfriend was staring at him fondly, a soft smile on his face and Buck couldn’t help but smile back at him. It wasn’t until they heard sniffling and broke their gaze to find Abuela—alarmingly— blinking back tears and dabbing delicately at the corners of her eyes.

“Abuela, ¿que es?” Eddie asked, suddenly concerned. ”What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Abuela said, sniffing a little before smiling at the two of them, her eyes shining with unshed tears and happiness. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you this happy, mijo.” She smacked his arm and pointed her finger at him sternly. “Don’t you dare let him go.”

“Ow!” Eddie whined, rubbing the spot on his arm his abuela smacked before quickly dropping the act at the unimpressed look she gave. “Of course, abuela,” he assured her.

“And I’ve missed seeing these baby blues around,” Abuela told Buck, gently tapping her hand against Buck’s cheek and making him blush. “I expect you here bright and early next weekend for our cooking lesson.”

“Si, señora,” Buck said obediently, a grin tugging at the edges of his mouth.

Abuela chuckled and shook her head. “Cheeky. Make sure you boys eat enough food before you leave.” she chided before she walked off to greet the other guests, muttering something about skinny grandsons under her breath.

“Cooking lessons?” Eddie repeated, his eyebrows scrunching up adorably in confusion.

“Yeah.” Buck bit back a smile. “She refuses to write down her recipes and told me the only way I would get them is if I came over and made them enough I’ve memorized them and write it down myself.”

“Is that how you were able to make that delicious flan the other night?” Eddie wondered.

“Yeah.” Buck grinned proudly, a blush spreading across his cheeks. He opened his mouth to say something else but the words died on his tongue when he heard someone behind him speak in Spanish about him—about his looks, his perceived lack of intelligence.

Although Eddie looked like he was going to start a fight right here in the middle of his abuela’s backyard, instead he just clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes at someone behind Buck’s shoulders. “Come on, let’s go,” he said stiffly, running his hand down Buck’s back. “Christopher’s already half asleep and I think we’ve had enough family socializing for one evening.”

Buck wasn’t about to argue with that. He carefully held Christopher in his arms while they started to head out, the young boy dozing against his shoulder as Eddie said his goodbyes. It wasn’t until they made it to the front door, saying one last goodbye to Eddie’s tia and abuela that Buck paused, the itch to say something to Eddie’s family too strong to ignore any longer.

“Gracias por esta hermosa cena,” he spoke to Eddie’s abuela, quietly enough to not disturb Christopher but loud enough everyone could hear him. His accent was smooth after several summers of being immersed in the language, and he couldn’t help but feel a little smug at the shocked looks on the faces of Eddie’s family. “No puedo esperar a ver a todos de nuevo en Navidad.”

The quiet gasps and mutters that spread through the crowd of relatives helped ease some of the hurt and bitterness in his chest—he really couldn’t bring himself to care if he was being a little petty. They should know to never judge a book by its cover.

He leaned down and gently kissed Eddie’s abuela on the cheek goodbye before he turned and followed his boyfriend out the door. “Did you see the look on their faces?” Buck asked, unable to bite back a grin.

Eddie shook his head in amusement, pressing a quick kiss against Buck’s cheek as he lead them to the car. “I’ve got a feeling the next family gathering will be a lot better.”

[myselfinserts]

“Death is in the air tonight.”

Étienne had tuned out sometime about halfway through the dinner chit chat. As tradition of the Edinburgh conference, a small dinner party of the high level guests were always standard for the first night. After a pleasant lunch, He found himself invited to sit at Dr. Imelda Aether’s table with Alexus Nerio, Cassidy Noland, and Clovis Moray. And of course Reginald had been invited as well, though the young technonaut seemed far too out of his element among these veterans. 

It was rather pleasant though. The atmosphere was serene, the music delightful, and once Renegade was asked about how he came up with the capture foam, he managed to relax a bit enough to talk. 

Or at least, Étienne hoped that was talking. It felt more like a panic induced ramble.

“...and that’s when I decided to swap out certain compounds, leading to the consistency of the current foam upon impact. What I hope to do is eventually take this recipe and eventually make it edible, in case small children get too close and try to eat it. Its nontoxic but that doesn’t necessarily mean they should be eating it, you know? And I think an edible version could come in handy-”

Yep. Definitely a ramble. 

Dr. Aether let out a quiet chortle, leaning in close to whisper. “He does tend to go on and on, doesn’t he? Not at all the confident man we see on stage, is he?”

“You have no idea.”Étienne let out a gentle sigh. “His confidence is just a public bravado meant to assure the civilians he knows what he’s doing. Deep down, he’s a rather timid man. Not surprising giving his upbringing and current home-life but...it does seem like he could use a boost to his sense of self-worth.”

“Well, he’s certainly more confident than he was two years ago,” she said. “I don’t remember him ever really interacting with any of the others outside of asking questions after other people’s presentations. Seemed almost flabbergasted when Nerio invited him to lunch.”

“Like I said. Needs a boost to his self-worth.”

“Well,” Moray chuckled. “You certainly seem to have an eye on all kinds of scenarios, don’t you Gladstone?”

“I try to,” Regi stuttered. 

Nerio let out a hum, taking a sip of his wine. “Is that how you’ve managed to avoid the press with that horrid mark business? I must say, having a price on them is pretty grand to say the least.”

“God dammit, Alexus, can’t we go one dinner without your obsession with marks?” Moray poured himself another drink. “Just once I would like to have a conversation where that business doesn’t come up.”

“Oh Clovis, you’re not still mad that your sister and I-”

“Speak now and forever be dead to the world.”

“I’m with Mr. Moray on this one,” Regi squeaked. “Its bad enough the press is after my marks, I don’t think you all want to be bored to death about mine.”

“I second that,” Étienne and Aether said in unison. 

“Perhaps another time,” Noland said. “Right now, we should be enjoying the evening.”

“She’s right.” Aether looked up and waved for a refill of her martini. “Let’s not bother the poor boy with this on his first weekend out of hospital.”

Nerio gave the group, particularly Aether, a firm pout. “Now weren’t you the one doing research soul marks and their existence? How’s that been going, Imelda dear? Last I heard you’d said you’d found a connection between-”

“Nerio, shut up.”

The entire mood at the table seemed to sour instantly. Étienne could tell everything was at a boiling point. Moray looked completely stunned, Noland visibly furious, and Aether held her head high with cold, unfriendly intent. Regi was starting to curl in on himself, twirling his ponytail around the tip of his finger. Nerio didn’t seem to notice the change. That was one of the things that irked Étienne the most about him. A brilliant designer specializing in metalics, but a rather obtuse dinner guest he wouldn’t want anywhere near him outside of conferences.

“I think I need some air,” Regi muttered. “Please excuse me.”

“Reginald, wait-” Étienne started. He wasn’t fast enough. Regi was already several steps away and moving fast to get out front. “Dammit.”

“I’ll go talk to him,” Dr. Aether offered. 

“No, I’ll go. He’ll respond better to me.”

“Really?” Nerio asked. “Do you two-”

Étienne shot him a warning glare, rolling up his sleeves just enough to briefly show his blank wrists to them before hurrying out after the young hero. He rushed out, only to just barely catch a glimpse of him vanishing over the rooftop of the building across the street. 

“Dammit all, Gladstone,” he grumbled. 

“He ran off?” 

Étienne looked over his shoulder, seeing Dr. Aether waiting there. “Yes. He’s gone.”

“I’m so sorry, Monsieur Allard,” she said. “Alexus means well but he can be quite-”

“The asshat?”

“Not the word I’d use but its very apt.” She looked around, hoping to see Reginald reappear. “Any idea where he could be?”

“Probably heading back to the hotel.”

“My bike is around the corner. Want to go after him?”

“That’s very kind of you, but I have a ride already.”

“Alright.” Aether held out a hand to him, a sorrowful smile on her face. “Good luck.”

He looked down, just barely noticing the broken crystal mark on her wrist before returning the handshake. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Take care of him, Allard.” She glanced around once more, folding her arms close. “Death is in the air tonight. As it usually is when so many minds are under one roof. I’d like for Renegade not to suffocate on it.”

“...Of course. Good night, Dr. Aether.”

“Dammit!”

Regi kicked off his shoes, throwing his watch against the wall and wincing as it made a decent dent in the the paint. He tossed off his jacket, throwing the tie away and undoing every damn button he could find on his shirt. He let his hair down, took off his glasses, and went to grab the make-up removal wipes. 

“First I go on a nervous ramble and now I fucking...ACK!” He looked down, glaring at the bracer that had ended up on the floor. “Dammit all!” He gave it a kick, letting out a hiss as pain shot through his toes. He could hear it sputter, the music application turning itself on at a low volume.  He sat down and went to work removing the make up. 

“Never thought I’d see you get this riled up, Reginald.”

Regi looked over to the closet, a wave of shame washing over him. “I’m so, so sorry, Étienne. I know that was unprofessional, I just-”

Étienne raised a hand, silencing him long enough for him to sit down and help remove the rest of the cover up. “Dr. Aether sends her condolences. She’ll take care of Nerio. You just focus on you and what you need right now.”

“What I need? Are you serious?”

“Yes. What you need.” He shot him a look, cool yet sympathetic. “What do you need, Reginald?”

Regi watched him quietly for a moment, watching the slow, methodical movements of his friend’s fingers over his wrists, clearing away the cover. The question repeated itself over and over again in his mind. What he needed. 

He knew exactly what he needed right now. 

Hesitantly, he reached out, his hands lightly catching Étienne’s right hand and slowly rolling up the sleeve. Regi looked down at the bare skin on his wrist. It didn’t seem likely. But he had to know. Right now, he needed to know. 

He leaned down, seemingly ready to press a kiss before pausing, moving so that his forehead rested where the mark would have been.

“Reginald?” Étienne asked. “What the hell are you doing?”

“You don’t like mouths near your hands,” Regi said softly. “This is the only alternative I can think of.” 

“What are you-”

“You have the matching mark, don’t you Étienne? It’s under some makeup, isn’t it?” He slowly looked up, eyes soft and yearning. “What I need now is answers. Please. Be honest. Is the mark there?”

Étienne said nothing, looking down at his arm with stern focus as he reached for a clean wipe. A few presses, and the golden lines appeared there in all their glory. Regi smiled, taking a deep breath to steady himself.

“How’d you figure it out?” Étienne asked. 

“You kissed my mark,” Regi explained. “Normally just soul mates do that.” He reached up slightly, gently brushing his hand over the gear. “And...the way you kept looking at it...The way it felt having you touch it. It just felt...right.”

“Reginald-”

“Yes, Étienne?”

“It’s...” He let out a sigh, his lips pressed into a thin line. “It’s not my only mark. Even if this was more than...whatever it is...you’re not my one and only...”

He smiled, leaning in and kissing him on the cheek. “I don’t mind.” He wrapped his arms around him tightly, burying his head in his shoulder. “As long as I can still hold you and work together with you...that’s more than enough for me.”

“Dammit, Reginald,” Étienne sighed, returning the embrace. “You’re more trouble than I ever could have anticipated.”

“I’ll try not to be.”

“I know you will. But for now...” His hand reached up, lightly combing through his long, dark hair. “I think now is alright to indulge in a little selfish emotion.”

Regi chuckled, lightly nuzzling him and letting out a content sigh of relief. “After this, I need a proper vacation. Some r&r and all that...”

“...I have a spare room. If you need time away.”

Regi looked at him, a rush of excitement in his veins. “That’d be perfect.”

Étienne nodded. “I’ll make arrangements then.”

[nutsandboltsandcabbagerolls]

AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR

               A strange man stood in front of Ezma’s shop. He had been standing there for hours, staring, apparently muttering to himself. Ezma stared back through the window. He seemed too absorbed in his own thoughts to notice.

Her stomach growled. She had been staring back for as long has he had been standing there. She should go get something to eat, but she knew if she left now, this late in the game, the man would wander away and she would not get any money from him. Even though he seemed not to notice her staring, he probably actually did notice. People did. Ezma had a very intense stare, which had on more than one occasion stopped somebody in their tracks. People didn’t typically stare back. This man did. Now it was a competition. If she got up from the counter, he would win, and she couldn’t have that.

“Just come buy something, old man,” she muttered to herself. Perhaps if she muttered also, the man would take it as a signal. It didn’t do anything immediately. He also didn’t seem to notice that. For somebody who had spent hours observing her shop, he didn’t seem very observant.

It was just after midday. The bell tower in the middle of Roark pealed twelve times, each strike more deafening than the last. Even though the tower was in the upper part of town, the sound carried such that it made her head hurt, like twelve stones hurled at her skull. Her mood was turning sour. She was very hungry.

On any normal day, this would not be such a dilemma. Ezma, in fact, had cared very little about the overall success or failure of her shop. The only reason she kept it was that it was an excellent workspace. The basement remained at just the right temperature and elevation to keep her alchemical experiments from destabilizing, and there was a fertile batch of soil in the back yard that was now home to several of her most often used ingredients. The shop had an upstairs area, but she was unable to open the door to the second floor. Apart from that, the only other detriment was that occasionally the building would creak strangely from the second floor. Perhaps the door was shut because it was unsafe to go in. But, all in all, the building wasn’t bad. It was abandoned when she found it, and she wasn’t sure why.

She had originally opened the first floor as a potion shop to pay for the ingredients and equipment she didn’t have or couldn’t make herself. Young women from the city came in occasionally looking for petty things like a tonic for pimples or a love potion. Ezma sold them bottles of ointment for significantly inflated prices. The ointment wasn’t completely useless; it just was a significantly weaker version than what her customers actually wanted. The tactic worked for the most part. People tended to keep away from the shop, and that was exactly how Ezma liked it.

But earlier this morning, a dark-haired man appeared in her shop when it opened. He called himself Shadowlight—that was his last name. Ezma couldn’t remember his first name. She was awful with names. Shadowlight claimed he was purchasing several buildings in the area to expand his business. Roark mandates that all businesses in the city submit an annual statement of earnings, to help them determine what outlandish tax rate to impose for the following year. Shadowlight somehow had gotten her most recent statement, and noted that earnings had been too poor to sustain itself. He had given her an ultimatum: Either double her profits by the end of the month, or he would be purchasing the business. He assured her that she would still be able to work there, but that he would get a cut of her earnings and a say in her inventory. She had stared him down through the entire offer. Apparently, Shadowlight took her sullen silence as acceptance, flashed a charming grin and left with his retainers.

The memory made her angrier. “Fucking come in and buy something already,” she said to the man currently outside her shop. Her stomach yowled in agreement.

The man considering her shop was an older man, with stringy gray hair that reached down his back and a long beard. He wore a set of gray robes that frayed at the edges, and had a curved piece of wood strapped to his hunched back. Despite his haggard appearance, his face didn’t seem as wrinkled as she expected from somebody his age, and his eyes were bright and alert. Part of her wanted him just to come in so she could get a better look at him. Not all was as it seemed, but she couldn’t put her finger on what, and that bothered her.

The bell tower rang again, tolling one. The man outside looked incredulously up at the sky, breaking his gaze with the shop for the first time all day. Ezma sat back in her chair, feeling victorious. She decided that it was perhaps time for him to go back to his hovel, asylum, or convent, and got up to get a rasher of jerky from the basement.

Just as she rounded the wall toward the stairs, she heard the soft jingle of the bell on the shop’s front door. She paused, considered just going to get the jerky anyway, but with a pang of anxiety remembered Shadowlight’s ultimatum. She took a deep breath and turned back toward the shop, not really bothering to hide the scowl on her face.

The gray-haired man stood in front of the counter, staring once again. Her shop wasn’t big, but she found it hard to believe he had made it to from the front door to the counter that quickly with how feeble he looked. She glanced to her side of the counter, where her greatsword rested.

“Can I help you?” she asked, trying to make her voice sound pleasant in spite of her foul mood. The result was the words came out in a squeaky growl, which only made her mood worse. She forced a smile on her face to try and help.

“Perhaps,” the old man said. His voice was high-pitched and warbled, and sounded as feeble as he looked. “I am looking for an alchemist to help me with…a potion.” He paced his words strangely, as though he was choosing them very carefully halfway through his sentences.

“I sell potions,” Ezma sighed.  “Take a look through the ones here on the counter and let me know if you have any questions.”

                The man glanced over at them and shook his head. “No, no, no, those are crap. I need something better. Some medicine.” He patted his robe in search of a pocket, and pulled a slip of paper out of his sleeve. He considered it for a moment, blinking several times. “…Yes, this is the one,” he decided, and slid the paper over the counter.

               Ezma picked it up. The recipe was very cleanly written, and the handwriting was tidy. The recipe itself, however, was highly unusual. “Wolfsbane…ginseng root…heart chakra petals? Human blood?” She looked up at the man. “What the hell is this?”

               He stared back, unblinking. “Is there a problem?

               She reached to give the paper back. “I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but this won’t make medicine to help whatever ails you. I suggest you talk to a priest, instead. Whatever you are trying to cure is beyond the assistance of medicine. I’m sorry.” She redoubled her reach to insist the man took his recipe back.

               “The medicine isn’t for me.” The man’s voice dropped in pitch slightly, and his stare darkened.

               Ezma was slightly unnerved by the change in tone. “Is your voice okay?”

               “What?” The feebleness had returned to his voice.

               “Your voice. It changed. Who are you?”

               “What?” he asked more loudly. “I can’t hear you!” He paused and looked around in confusion. “Where am I?” He blinked at her. “Who are you?”

               Now Ezma was thoroughly confused. Clearly his mind was failing. “Why do you want me to help you? There’s an alchemist up a few tiers who can assist better than me. Rumor has it he brews potions for the nobles themselves.” She couldn’t hide the disgust in her voice.

               The old man’s eyes glinted. “That is why I came to you. I understand you make more than crappy potions, and are one of the greatest alchemists in this city. Additionally, it seems you don’t much like the nobility. Me, either. ” He paused for a moment. “My father was a member of the nobility. He sent me away when…” He caught himself. “…When I was just a little boy.”  

She saw an opening and took it. Empathy and commiseration would definitely help secure a sale of some sort. Even better, she didn’t even have to lie about it. “Mine wasn’t great either. He was also a noble. He left my mother and I to fend for ourselves when I was young, too. Must be a nobleman thing.” Ezma had few memories of that early in her childhood, but that day she remembered very clearly. “He had bright red hair, and stupid eyebrows. At least I didn’t have to look at his ugly face any more after that.” Hey, I’m pretty good at this empathy thing. She gazed at the surface of the counter for a few beats for effect.

When she looked up, the man was staring at her again. This time, she was certain it wasn’t out of observation, but out of surprise. “Do…” He was choosing his words very carefully this time. “Do you know his name?”

Of course she did. Her mother wailed his name for months after he left, right up until she worried herself to death. It was a nonsense name, but she wasn’t about to give up one of her most closely guarded secrets. Speaking about her past indirectly was one thing; naming the people involved was something completely different. “Maybe. It’s been a while. I’m not sure. Why?”

“Was his name…Erlisch?” The man’s voice had changed again.

Ezma paled. “Who are you? What are you doing here?” How do you know who my father is?

“That’s the name of my father, as well,” the man muttered. “I didn’t know he had other children. I’m unsurprised, though.” He wiped the palm of his hand against his robe and held it out to her. “My name is Gadesh. I appear to be your brother.”

[vanquisher2099]

Part 26: A Most Unwelcome Package

“A head in a box?” Camila’s voice carried a tone of absolute befuddlement as she paced back and forth across her office, holding a glass of much-needed wine. “Who sends a head?”

To her credit, Camila’s assistant managed to keep a straight face as she responded. “Someone who wishes to send a message.”

“Like what? ‘I know how to use the postal service?’”

This did elicit a slight laugh which her assistant covered as a cough. “I think it is more like a threat that you are not untouchable.”

Camila snorted and waved at the aforementioned box on her desk, where it awaited the arrival of the proper authorities. “It would have been a little more threatening if I had any clue who the poor bastard was. Isn’t that the point if you’re trying to show me I’m not untouchable? To strike at someone I actually know?”

“You don’t recognize him?” There was a note of surprise to the assistant’s voice, who was, she thought, dealing with the fact that she was standing near a severed head rather well.

“No, Miss Pine, I am afraid I do not. Although to be honest, I didn’t take a close look. You may be surprised to know this, but I was a bit shocked by the sight.” Camila shuddered involuntarily and she took another sip of wine that was more like a gulp. She paused to refill her glass and waved the bottle in her assistant’s general direction. “Sorry, I’m being rude. Would you like a glass? I would assume you are also in need of something to calm your nerves.”

Miss Pine considered the pros and cons before another glance at the box on the desk made her mind up and she nodded. “Thank you, Miss Tower.” A message scrolled across her eye as Camila handed her the glass and she felt her body relax slightly. “The police are on their way up now. I believe you will need to relinquish your office for some time while they work. I have reserved a conference room for the remainder of the day, should you wish to continue working.”

Camila nodded her thanks. “What would I do without you, Lana?”

“I am sure you would be able to manage.”

Camila hummed something that was probably agreement. She did, of course, like having an assistant – particularly one who was so effective – but she was something of an expert of going it alone when it came to running her business affairs. Certainly this had won her more than her fair share of fans (and detractors) over the years, but even her fiercest enemies were above sending her a head in a box. Any further thoughts on the issue were briefly derailed by the arrival of the police, who seemed as confused about the head in the box as she was.

There were the usual questions, of course. Did she know the deceased (she did not), did she have any enemies who may wish her harm (yes), had she touched the head (of fucking course not), was there anything else in the package apart from the head (not that she’d seen), where did the package come from (the normal mail delivery), and so on and so forth. Then the sergeant who seemed to be in charge for the moment shook her hand and assured her the police would be in touch and asked her if she minded leaving the office so the crime scene boys could have a look and such.

Which was how Camila ended up slightly drunk in a conference room trying to concentrate on the day-to-day operations of the company while being completely unable to think of anything but the fact that a severed head in a box was sitting on her desk and being scanned and prodded at by various police technicians. It was not a recipe for productivity. Lana, to her credit, was carrying on as best as she could as well, putting together a press release that basically acknowledged a suspicious package had been sent to the building and the authorities were handling it and there was nothing further to say at this point in time.

Meanwhile Camila read through a few profit forecasts and caught up on correspondence and generally forced herself to keep up appearances. When the press caught wind that police had been called to the GFB Incorporated headquarters yet again, there would be some questions, and obviously the shareholders would want a more thorough explanation than Camila could provide at the moment. For now, at least, the press remained blissfully unaware, and once Lana finished drafting the statement on the unusual mailing, they would be able to get out in front of any speculation. Hell, maybe they would even have some more information by then! She could dream, anyway.

A knock on the conference room door provided a much-needed distraction and Camila nodded to Lana, who waved in the police officer.

“Miss Tower, we just wanted you to know that we will be out of your hair soon. We have an id for the victim – one Monty Hyland. Name ring any bells?”

It was perhaps Camila’s greatest achievement of the day that her face remained completely blank as the sickening feeling of the floor dropping out from under her passed. “No, I can’t say that it does. Should I know him?”

The officer shrugged. “Couldn’t hurt to ask. We have a file on him down at the station – he was a fairly well-known hacker for hire. Corporations as big as this one sometimes contract work out, don’t they?”

Camila drew herself up haughtily, on familiar ground now. “Not to criminals, officer.”

“No, no, of course not. I didn’t mean to imply anything of the sort, Miss Tower.” The officer’s hands were raised in a placating gesture of surrender. “It’s just my job to ask these sorts of questions, is all.”

A tight smile and a nod from Camila wordlessly accepted the officer’s (insincere) apology. “Of course. I am afraid that this whole matter has me a bit on edge.”

“Understandable. We’re just finishing up and we’ll take the package with us soon. Shouldn’t take us longer than another hour, tops.”

“Thank you officer. Do let my assistant know if you require anything further.”

The officer nodded his head slightly and left the room. Camila poured herself another drink and sat down heavily. Lana raised an eyebrow quizzically at her boss’ behavior. “Forgive me for overstepping my boundaries, Miss Tower, but it seems like you do know who this Monty Hyland is.”

Camila looked up sharply and then seemed to give up. “Not personally, no. But I heard the name earlier this morning.”

“This morning, Miss Tower? Where?”

“You recall I had a morning call with an…outside consultant about the hack?”

Lana nodded.

“I was informed on that call the name of our hacker was one Monty Hyland, and that he was no longer among the living, having perished in what seemed to be an unrelated incident.” Camila sighed. “It no longer appears that it was unrelated to our hack.”

“Why send it here, though?” Lana wrinkled her forehead in confusion. “If it was meant to be a threat, why kill the guy who caused us trouble?”

“Because now we know that someone else knows who hacked our network. Not only that, but they probably know that we found out who did the hacking. And of course, because now it could be argued that we were behind his death. We certainly have the means and the motive, after all.” Camila frowned again. “Perhaps that’s the threat they’re making. That they can make us appear guilty of this murder, and thus cause us no end of grief.”

“But wouldn’t a simple police investigation clear that up?”

“A simple police investigation would tank our share prices and at the very least spell the end of my tenure as CEO. One does not generally bounce back from a murder investigation, at least not for a year or two.” Camila sighed again and peered into her wineglass as if she expected it to answer. “We will need to keep our eyes peeled for the next message, Miss Pine.”

“The next message? What do you mean?”

“I mean that someone is going to try to blackmail me,” Camila said, her voice taking on an amused tone, “and I would very much like to teach them why that is an awful idea.”

Part 27

Part 25