#really made my skin/pores go NUTS

[sucktacular]

YALL THEY FINALLY HAD MY ACNE CREAM IN STOCK AGAIN LISTEN ITS BEEN LIKE A MONTH!!! MY FACE FEELS TERRIBLE!!!! LIKE, FUCK!!! BUT I HAVE IT IN MY HANDS!!! HAZAA!!!!!!! GO TO HELL ACNE AND OILS!!!!!!!!!!!! AND STAY THERE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[not-your-fucking-kacchan]

♡︎𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐊𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐢 𝐁𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝐨𝐮♡︎

Day 15 of Kinktober 2022

Summary: you had never realised just how hot Katsuki was in a mask. Maybe you watched too many horror movies as a kid.

Props to my beta reader for today @sasualblxd - thank you for your amazing help!

617 words.

It's Halloween night and you and Katsuki are just about to leave the house to go and meet with the squad until suddenly you find yourself pushed up against the wall.

It's sudden, drawing a little yelp from parted lips as wide eyes scan over the Halloween mask disguising your boyfriend's face. He says nothing, only tilting his head slightly as the light reflects off of the cute fox mask you had bought for him.

He's only messing with you, of course. Though that does not explain the sudden stirring of you belly when you had been restrained and held down by a mysterious figure.

Part of you is horrified at the reaction, but you're also far too turned on now to care. Why is he so sexy like this? Why is the feeling of being pushed down by a man in a mask so sexy to you?

Obviously you only like it because he's your boyfriend, and you know it's him. If this were just some random man he would be near death right now, but when it's your Katsuki? It's thrilling.

"Oh? Please don't kill me Mr Mask-face~ I wanna be in the sequel..."

He can't help the chuckle that he releases at the reference, about to move a hand and pull the plastic mold away until you catch it, stopping him in his tracks. If he's feeling playful, who are you to stop him?

His eyebrows raise behind the mask, but you don't see it, pouting and leaning in close to talk to him instead of trying to focus on what you can't see.

"No. You know, you're kinda hot like this... Come to think of it, your hero mask is sexy as fuck, too."

Katsuki is in shock. Of all reactions, he did not expect this one. You found this hot? Shit, he's going nuts right now. His pants are starting to get a little tight though, and he can't deny that he's always had a fantasy for fucking you in his pro-hero uniform. He had worked so hard to earn the title of one of Japan's top Pros, it's a power trip fantasy that served to boost his already inflated ego. Though, he hasn't made it to actually admitting it to you yet, but this will have to do.

There's a mischievous smirk behind the mask that you're not privy to as he strokes a thumb across your cheek, focusing on every last pore and committing it to memory. Rough skin of the palm of his hand trails down to your neck, his touch lingering there on its way down your waist and pants your hip, squeezing firmly at your ass.

You smirk still, leaning in to press kisses to his bare neck and listen to muffled breathing as it turns shaky and unsteady. He lifts your leg up in silence, obviously approving of your reaction while he presses his crotch up against your own pelvis. It of course helps that you're wearing a rather loose skirt, so all he has to is pull your underwear to the side to slip a finger inside of your already soaked cunt.

"So wet for me, is this really as hot as you say it is, baby?" His calls your pet name with a rumble of his chest, in that firm, low tone that he knows you love the most. The reaction it garners is beautiful. He admires you as you shiver and squirm, your head flinging back once he starts to curl his fingers, and his other hand holds up your thigh to keep you open for him. Easy access, he muses.

You might be a little late to your meet-up with the squad.

© 2022 not-your-fucking-kacchan

◃ 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 | 𝐍𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 ▹

[elliotmdpa452]

Apparently Self Care (Bit of a Pamper) Helps Depression, I Agree, Now

I entirely Allow myself go during the worst of my depression; frankly I couldn’t have cared a lot less about how I seemed. My staple Maw outfit of Leggings and also a vest prime designed me so amazingly at ease I was possessing episodes in which I wished to rip my pores and skin off due to the fact I’m summoned up the braveness to dare to have on a pair of denims. Bit by bit, but certainly I’m earning a lot more on an hard work to search right after me also.

The thing is, I am not at all Overlook UK and I’m over informed I’ve creeped up a costume sizing. Choosing something which would be the ideal thing for me to perk myself up was seriously really hard. How could I select something that would Improve my self-confidence with nominal exertion, After i couldn’t even stand to look at myself from the mirror. Eyebrows, Lips, Hair extensions all essential exertion and with two small terrorists that makes factors tricky to even have 5 minutes to myself.

I started seeing scalp micropigmentation lots of posts on Fb for Skulltec – I Definitely cherished the prior to and after shots. My enthusiasm for hair built me enjoy this all the more, men finding their hairlines back to create them come to feel great. I used to be chuffed for them, staying an enormous fan of the Baldy heid – cause a hairdresser will never get her operate household with her – I believed the modifications for these guys should be significant, The arrogance the return of your hairline improvements their whole encounter And that i’d think about it would have built them wander a whole ton taller with a belting grin.

Then arrived the picture, a wee day out with the women, Picture bombed the picture caught purple handed that has a litre of RedBull and the Maw bun – there it had been crystal clear as day, the trauma of getting two Little ones 14 months aside confirmed massively in the shape of a large gaping hole not even remotely masked by The 2 new hair horns growing could go over it! PING!?! The sunshine bulb came on And that i understood what I desired to do. Granted I was mortified, and I didn’t Speak to the page right, I contacted the Queen of Hair about her Spouse’s small business and she reassured me he’d appear immediately after me. Barry gave me A fast bell as well as session was set.

The session was fast and straightforward and we’d clicked on the exact same webpage I felt reassured I was with a real Specialist. Having said that I will say which is significant Barry was type and mentioned politely that it wasn’t that terrible, which made receiving it carried out one million p.c my selection and my decision. I was owning it! Appointment designed which took a little bit to acquire my diary absolutely free and I was desirous to start. Appointment one was less difficult than I believed It might be, Barry and I used to be so busy chatting which i hadn’t even observed he’d began let alone explained right that’s you have a look! I observed instantly the primary difference in my hair! The only regret I had wasn't carrying out my colour ahead of I started the process – bloody gray hair drove me nuts. I adopted Barry’s Golden Guidelines and received set for session two. Session two was like a therapy session, possibly it’s neat that your conversing while somebody retains you head, or that the sensation of it getting finished is like an individual counting your hair follicles that has a pencil, it’s not sore it’s comforting. Occupation finished and Wow it absolutely was all the more apparent And that i cherished it – very well apart from that cheeky gray hair!

I am able to’t let you know the main difference in two weeks the amount of of the impression it created on my daily life. It completely perked me up recognizing that I might seem like a completely stressed out mum although not that Considerably you could see my scalp as the youngsters run circles all over me. My hair now not appeared like it had been all I had remaining on this planet but it surely appeared thick, scraping it back again I felt wonderful, like I'd definition again in my confront.

Session Three –Barry suggests would you want to go darker and I’m like mate obtain the sharpie out Lego Head me – certainly I’m joking but I just needed far more because I used to be so buzzing from the 1st two classes And the way it seemed I desired a lot more! What a difference, I’ve had a cry about the difference its made, how I experience about on the lookout inside the mirror instead of getting my scalp wave again at me. I not look like I’ve fallen aside on the outside to the globe, no more substantial circles of here’s what occurs when you have two kids close collectively. I looked and I had been reminded of younger times, with a lot more Electricity! It’s certainly boosted my self-assurance, God help the planet ear ache all round as I’ll be banging on regarding how awesome This is certainly for years!

An enormous thanks to Barry not merely with the amazing career, being a genius and being one Element of the MR and MRS hair duo. Thank you from The underside of my heart for getting a A part of my recovery from melancholy and for supplying me back some self-self esteem to consider the remainder of the world on. Thank you.

[pinnithin-writes]

more of a feeling

Mission to Zyxx fic, mild spoilers for season 5 if you're not caught up. This started as rambling about our bodies sabotaging us and turned into a conversation about our bodies taking care of us. 2117 words.

It was simple, really. It all came down to chemistry.

C-53 knew how emotions worked, of course; he’d even go so far as to call himself a veteran by now. Every frame he’d inhabited was a different experience, but the emotions he felt in those frames were a reassuring constant. He knew the programming for joy. He could trace the source code for anger. His cube felt it all the same, and no matter how many diagnostics he had to run in an unfamiliar body, his thoughts, his feelings, and his personality grounded him through the flux.

Until, that is, the failed clone of a scientist shoved him in a meat suit without his consent.

Emotions were different when he was piloting flesh. They governed his body more than he was used to. They still generated from C-53’s cube, but now that cube was hooked up to nerves and synapses, blood and organs, and those living, breathing parts responded accordingly. He was a miracle of a machine, truly – a code given life – but he couldn’t wax poetic about something like that when his pores leaked and his muscles tired and his stomach twisted in knots.

It was hard enough dealing with a body that resisted his will at every turn. It was worse still that every fleeting feeling affected him on the molecular level. He didn’t know how organics got anything done like this. Frustration made his head pound and his guts churn. Despair burned his eyes and locked his throat. Even pleasant feelings – affection, mirth – stole his breath, made his pulse race. It was distracting at best and debilitating at worst. Surely there was a way to bypass these effects.

Unable to connect his consciousness to high speed internet, he had to go about this the old fashioned way, which made it a slow process indeed. Thankfully, the USS Synergy owned a vast library, which he took advantage of to scan every file they had on hermanns, discovering himself.

He did most of his research at night. He told himself this was because he was less likely to be interrupted, but in truth he was embarrassed at his own inefficiency. Even in the old loader frame, downloading the data would have taken all of ten seconds. And though he knew his crewmates wouldn’t humiliate him, he still didn’t want to be seen like this. Having to move his eyes across a screen, absorb and process the words they scanned, and then file that information away in his slippery maze of a brain, line after line after line after line after line.

The hours of learning made him feel childish. C-53 was tired.

But he was getting somewhere. When exhaustion pulled at his eyelids and his thoughts went fuzzy in the late, still hours on Bargie, he knew it was adenosine flooding his neural pathways and inhibiting his functionality. No code existed to override adenosine. Caffeine, however, could counteract it for a short time (with the unfortunate side effect of upsetting his stomach and tasting like tar).

C-53 pored over chemistry texts and neuroscience studies, learning what made hermanns - and thus, hermanoids - do what they did. There were no comparable texts on tellurians in this galaxy, but the science, from what he could remember, was quite similar. It was all chemicals, and those chemicals told his brain to tell his body how to act.

It was exceptionally overcomplicated. There was always some other influencing factor to his body, a sensory input or a thought or even his DNA - Jeremy’s genetic memory - that scrambled a system that could theoretically be very streamlined.

An example: he could eat something that tasted good (peanut butter and chocolate), triggering a flood of dopamine that caused him to feel happy. But Jeremy was allergic to tree nuts, so his immune system attacks him for a perceived threat that doesn’t exist, so forcefully that he could die from it. It was as fascinating as it was annoying. Who knew organics could have glitches? Too bad he hadn’t figured out how to debug anaphylactic shock.

He didn’t know what he hoped to accomplish by doing all this research. In a way, studying why his body actively sabotaged him was a comfort, but the more he learned, the more faults he discovered. Evolution was a temperamental thing. He much preferred the elegance of engineering.

At present, it was a dark hour on Bargie, docked and slumbering with her crew on the Synergy. Half awake in the conversation pit, amidst a tangle of textbooks and portable screens, C-53 sat alone under the red glow of the security lights. Sprawled as he was, C-53 didn’t immediately notice Pleck wandering into the room until he said his name.

Blurry lines of text sharpened as he startled, then relaxed. “Hm? Oh, hey Pleck,” he said.

“C-53, it’s like, three in the morning,” Pleck responded. Bare footsteps signaled his approach, and then he dropped onto the couch next to C-53, a glass of water in one hand and an orange fruit in the other. He reached over and set the glass precariously on the cushion between them. “Y’know, tellurians usually sleep around this time,” he pointed out helpfully. “What are you doing out here?”

The info tablet C-53 held was inches away from his face. “I’m learning about my pineal gland,” he announced dully.

A hormone regulator located near the brain stem. Releases melatonin and influences one’s circadian rhythm. Well, it wasn’t doing a very good job right now, was it?

“Cool, is that something like - do tellurians have that too or just, y’know,” Pleck drew his feet up to sit cross-legged, “whatever you are?”

C-53 couldn’t help but smirk mirthlessly at that. “It’s found in most vertebrates, so yes, I would imagine both you and whatever I am have one.” He set the tablet aside to look at Pleck, but the screen made him night blind, and he could only see the afterimage of a splotchy red rectangle in the darkness. “Why are you awake?”

“Oh, I woke up thirsty,” Pleck explained easily. He fiddled with the peel on his fruit as he spoke. “And then I thought, well, while I’m up I might as well grab a snack, and then I saw you sitting there so,” he shrugged, “here I am.”

It was a better explanation than what C-53 had. And it was a far better explanation than Pleck would have given several months ago, when the Allwheat was still worming into his brain and keeping him up at odd hours. C-53 was thankful those days were behind them. As the afterimage of the tablet faded and Pleck became a collection of grays and blues beside him, he quietly mourned the loss of his night vision. And his regular vision.

“You ever had one of these, C-53?” Pleck asked. He finally got his fingernails under the skin and began peeling. “The Themm grow these instead of oranges. They’re kind of sour?”

“I haven’t,” C-53 answered. He hadn’t eaten an orange before, for that matter, but he wasn’t too interested in expanding his food horizons. Most things had an unpleasant texture to him.

“Do you want some?” Pleck went on, adding pieces of rind to the small pile in his lap. He slanted C-53 a glance. “Oranges are the most shareable fruit.”

“No, thank you.”

Pleck shrugged again before separating a slice of not-orange and popping it in his mouth. As he chewed in silence, C-53 picked up the glass between them and placed it safely on the coffee table. Piles of nearby notes were scrawled in his own clumsy hand, amateur diagrams and chemical formulas with lots of arrows and exclamation marks littering the margins. Writing it down helped the nonstick pan of his brain gain some traction, he found, but the coffee table was starting to look like Nermut’s conspiracy wall after so many hours of research.

His neck ached. His head pounded out a protest.

He’d been pushing his brain and body to its limits and had what to show for it? A newfound disgust with himself? A frustration he only knew more intimately? C-53 frowned and used one of his papers as a coaster.

Beside him, Pleck happily ate his fruit, unbothered. Being organic was easy for him; he was a native to his body and didn’t know anything else. C-53 pitied and envied him in equal measure.

“You’re going to bed soon, right C-53?” Pleck asked after making his way through half the orange. He reached to retrieve his glass from the table, but condensation stuck a note about the amygdala to the bottom. “Oh,” he remarked.

C-53 peeled it off for him. “I don’t like sleeping,” he explained, crumpling the note and tossing it on the table. “So I’m reading.”

Pleck took a sip of water and frowned. “You gotta sleep sometime.”

“I know,” he answered shortly. He’d read dozens of articles about the side effects of sleeplessness. Fatigue, irritability, memory issues, hallucinations if you waited long enough. He knew he’d crash eventually, he just wasn’t especially motivated to avoid it. “It feels bad,” he went on. “Waking up is disorienting.”

There was a thoughtful crease between Pleck’s brows; C-53 could barely see it under the security lights. Pleck took a moment to set his glass back down on the table before turning the remainder of the fruit over in his hands. “Is it because you don’t feel safe?” he asked without looking up.

“I’m… sorry?”

“It’s just - y’know, when I was having trouble sleeping-”

“Pleck, I’m not a lunatic,” C-53 interrupted. “I know I’m perfectly safe on Bargie. I just don’t like sleeping. I don’t need you to teach me how to be tellurian, okay?” He gestured at the pathetic mess of research before him, scrawled in an obvious lunatic’s hand. “I’m figuring it out.”

Pleck fed himself a section of orange and didn’t answer right away. On C-53’s other side, the info tablet’s screen auto timed out and went dark. They were bathed in red completely now, one of them frustrated and exhausted, the other watchful and concerned. C-53 removed his glasses and rubbed at his stinging eyes.

“Sorry,” he said after a time. “I’m just…”

“Tired?” Pleck offered.

C-53’s sigh went through his whole body. “Yes.”

A stubborn, senseless part of him didn’t want to overcome this. He didn’t want to be an example of perseverance, some epic struggle conquered by learning to live well. He wanted to kick and bite and throw a fit over this new frame. It wasn’t fair.

“C-53,” Pleck broke quietly into his thoughts. “You don’t have to, y’know, have the answer to everything all the time. Sometimes you have to just… do what your body is telling you to do, even if you don’t want to.” He offered an orange slice in C-53’s direction. “It’s trying to take care of you.”

“You say that like this flesh suit has a soul,” C-53 grumbled, but he took the fruit anyway, staring glumly as it lay in his stupid, sweaty palm.

“Well, sure it does.” Pleck smiled and prodded his shoulder with an index finger. “It’s you.”

C-53 fell silent. It was strange, learning things from Pleck. He was used to the roles being reversed, and it shifted something uncomfortably inside him every time it happened. Dutifully, he put the orange in his mouth, felt the tart flavor burst on his tongue, and chewed past the slimy sensation until he was able to swallow it. He was unable to hide a shudder.

Pleck watched him with one hopeful eye. “Not your favorite?” he guessed.

“It’s the texture,” C-53 explained, grimacing. But he held his hand out for another slice in spite of it.

Pleck grinned. “We can find something you like to eat instead of this,” he said, scooping the orange peels out of his lap and leaving them on the coffee table for later cleanup. “It doesn’t have to all be bad. Come on,” he rose from his seat and offered C-53 his hand. “Let’s check the kitchen for something better and then, y’know, maybe try and get some sleep?”

The please was unspoken, but C-53 could see it on Pleck’s freckled face. He was trying to take care of him, just like his clunky, unfamiliar body was. C-53 didn’t like his body very much, and wasn’t sure he ever would, but he liked Pleck enough to go along with him for now. He didn’t know what kind of chemical governed trust. He didn’t even let himself ask.

C-53 took Pleck’s hand, tried not to flinch from the zing it sent up his arm, and followed him out of the pit.

[farfromtommy]

black and white (tom holland x singer!reader)

request: all too well part two? Maybe happy ending

a/n: this is a continuation of all too well! i left this one with kind of an open ending. not angsty like the previous fic. i really loved writing this and i’ve been thinking about making this sort of a mini series with different songs. please let me know what you think! based off of the song black and white by niall horan 

requests are open!

word count: 2,200

warnings: quick allusion to sex

masterlist  social media au masterlist  taglist form 

part 1

You walked calmly off stage wiping the few tears off your face. You kept your head down as you walked towards your dressing room to get ready to leave, moving as quickly as you could to avoid any familiar faces. With the last of your things packed, you grabbed your bag and followed your assistant  out of the building. Right as you rounded a corner you heard chatter and Tom’s voice right ahead of you. He spotted you immediately and said ‘if you’ll excuse me for just one second’ before walking towards you. 

“Hey, Y/N. It’s uh.. It’s really good to see you.” Tom mumbled quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. Your assistant looked at you questioningly. “I’ll be out in a minute, just have the car pull around.” You said to her and she walked off. 

“Yeah it’s good to see you, too.” You rubbed the side of your arm and met his gaze. “They didn’t tell me who was going to be on the show tonight. I probably wouldn’t have put us in this position if I would’ve known you were here with everyone.”  You told him truthfully. Regardless of how things ended for you and Tom, the last thing you wanted to do was put him in an uncomfortable situation. 

He had an unreadable expression on his face. It was uncommon for you to be unable to know what Tom was feeling, it had become a sort of superpower of yours. 

“It was an amazing performance, I’m glad I was able to see it. You know I always loved watching you perform.” He said, gesturing his hand to the entrance to the stage. He was nervous, you knew it. You saw movement from behind him and saw your manager waving you to hurry up the conversation. 

“T-Thank you. Uh, look. I need to go. Tonight is the last show on tour at O2 and I need to get to rehearsals.  Um. If you want to go, I’ll have my assistant put you on the guest list. Bring whomever you’d like, there won’t be a guest limit. We can talk more after the show, if you’d like.” You moved to start walking towards the door, nodding towards your assistant. 

“Yeah, I’d really enjoy that. I’ll be there.” He said, saying his goodbyes as you said yours and he watched you jog off. You looked over your shoulder as you walked out the door and saw him still staring at you. 

~~ 

Tom walked into the VIP section, nerves radiating off of him. He was recognized by a few other celebrities there and by the fans sitting close by. Flashes started going off in the stands and screams were heard as he looked around and waved. He was wearing a lanyard with your new album cover and ‘special guest’ written along the bottom. 

He greeted the handful of people he knew and took a few pictures as well. He ran into a few of your friends who seemed shocked and a bit skeptical to see him, knowing the history. He shot them a tightlipped smile and a polite nod before grabbing a beer and heading to a spot where you could see him from the stage.

He had been in this spot like this many, many times before. Him and Harrison had often gone to your shows as special guests for support. This was the opening night of you opening for Harry Styles. He did his first musical feature on your latest album and you had been really good friends for a while, so it made sense to have you open for him. It was a dream of yours to perform in O2 stadium alongside an amazing artist like him. He knew one day it’d be your name in big letters all over the stadium. 

The lights dimmed and the thousands of people screamed as they heard the beat to one of your songs. You walked out with a huge grin on your face and started singing the lyrics. All the fans joined in and even Tom caught himself singing along. The song ended and the screams of the crowd made Tom’s whole body vibrate. He looked around and saw the pure joy spread across the faces of the fans at the mere sight of you. 

“London, how are we doing tonight?!” You screamed into the mic and pointed it towards the crowd. 

“I’m so overwhelmed with joy, excitement, and a little bit of nervousness to be here tonight. This is the biggest crowd I think I have ever performed in front of. Everyone give yourselves a round of applause for selling out all 20,000 seats!” You giggled into the mic as the crowd continued to go crazy. 

“I just want to give a quick shoutout to my amazing friend for allowing me to join him on tour this year. Travelling the world with such an amazing group of people has been the adventure of a lifetime and I’m so grateful to have been a part of this. Let’s give it up for Harry Styles!” The crowd went nuts at the mention of the headliner and Tom politely clapped and cheered. 

One of Tom’s favorite things in the world was watching you perform. He loved the energy that came out of every pore in your body, and the crowd loved it too. His favorite moments were hearing the crowd singing along to your songs and watching your reactions to it. Your time on stage seemed to go so quick. He hadn’t realized it was almost time for you to wrap up your set. 

“I’m having a blast with you all tonight, but unfortunately our time together is coming to a close. I have a few more songs for you tonight. I wrote this next one a few years ago, kind of as a personal message for me and someone really special to me and I never recorded it and only performed it for one person.” You paused, grabbing your favorite guitar and clearing your throat. 

“This song means a lot to me, personally. I performed on the Graham Norton show today and while I was there, something reminded me of it and I had to dig it up so I could share it with you all tonight.” You looked around the VIP section until your eyes landed on Tom. His heart sped up as you shot him a smile and he sent you a small wave. 

That first night we were standing at your door Fumbling for your keys, then I kissed you Ask me if I want to come inside 'Cause we didn't want to end the night Then you took my hand, and I followed you

He remembers the lyrics to this song vaguely. You wrote this song for him. You would spend hours with your guitar on the couch humming along to lyrics you came up with. You had performed it for him once, when you finished it. He remembers the smile on your face as you sang to him and the blush that spread across your cheeks as he got emotional listening to you sing. 

Yeah, I see us in black and white Crystal clear on a star lit night In all your gorgeous colors I promise that I'll love you for the rest of my life See me standing in my dress Swear in front of all our friends There'll never be another I promise that I'll love you for the rest of my life

This is the song I’m dedicating to you on my album. We’re gonna tell the whole world about us, Tommy. I want everyone to know how much I love you. This is how I want to do it, is what you told him when you set your guitar down after you finished singing the song. He told you he was finally ready to tell the world about your relationship. It had been over a year already, and he was getting tired of sneaking around. He was ready to show you off to everyone. 

Now, we're sitting here in your living room Telling stories while we share a drink or two And there's a vision I've been holding in my mind We're 65 and you ask "When did I first know?" I always knew

You always knew Tom was it for you. Even after the breakup, you knew you’d never love anyone the way you love him. Even after meeting Harry and falling into his arms and into his bed, you both were aware of the deep love you still had for Tom. You thanked him for those intimate moments you had with each other and swore it never had to come up again. He stuck by your side and helped you heal from the heartbreak. The friendships you developed with him and his band were the reason you managed to stay afloat and allowed yourself to enjoy life again. 

Yeah, I see us in black and white Crystal clear on a star lit night In all your gorgeous colors I promise that I'll love you for the rest of my life See me standing in my dress Swear in front of all our friends There'll never be another I promise that I'll love you for the rest of my life

The fans could sense the emotion through your words and stayed silent as your voice filled every corner of the arena. Flashlights were out and hands were in the air as they moved in sync with the people around them. Tom could feel the eyes of your friends burning into his skin as he kept his eyes glued to you. All he wanted to do was jump on stage and tell you everything he wished he could’ve told you after you ran out of his house. He reached out to you handfuls of times after the breakup, wanting to apologize to you and to try and fix what he had broken. 

I want the world to witness When we finally say I do It's the way you love I gotta give it back to you I can't promise picket fences Or sunny afternoons But, at night when I close my eyes

Your silence spoke volumes to him. You never returned any of his texts or his calls. The only thing he had heard from you was a message that had been passed onto him by a mutual friend. Y/N said she needs to find out who she is without you. She said that maybe one day your paths will cross again and maybe take another shot at it, but for now she wants to be alone and hopes you understand why. She also wanted me to tell you that she’s never going to stop loving you and if you find someone who makes you happy, she hopes you’ll love them the way you did her. I’m sorry, Tom. I wish I could’ve passed along a better message. Take care of yourself.  

I see us in black and white Crystal clear on a star lit night There'll never be another I promise that I'll love ya

Your eyes scanned the crowd and you watched them as they felt every word of what you were singing. You continued your scan to the VIP area and smiled as you saw your friends and they blew kisses to you. Tom’s gaze never broke even as you met his eyes. He felt the emotion bubbling in his gut as he continued to listen and watch you. Your eyes never left his as you kept singing. 

I see us in black and white Crystal clear on a star lit night In all your gorgeous colors I promise that I'll love you for the rest of my life See me standing in my dress Swear in front of all our friends There'll never be another I promise that I'll love you for the rest of my life

He mouthed the words with you as you sang them so powerfully. He let a few tears fall and wiped them away. Your voice wavered a bit as you started to get emotional as well and the crowd heard the slight dip in your voice. Some fans followed your gaze that landed on Tom and went crazy as they saw him in a similar state as you. A few noticed him mouthing the words to the song you had said you only performed for one person. You smirked as you watched the handful of fans put the pieces together and whisper to the people around them. You winked at Tom and he blew you a kiss. 

There'll never be another I promise that I'll love you for the rest of my life

[sleepypeaky]

amore?

michael gray x italian american male reader

wc: 1.5k

warnings: mentions of death, scars, you know the drill

request: My gay italian ass self would LOVE a Micheal Gray fic, but like, not sure he would like a guy who's italian after that fucking Luca incident.. and I dont know if you write for mlm..

a/n:  I hope you enjoy! idk why i made it so long but when i get a plot in my head i mean,,,,,

also i always try not to describe the readers features so everyone can be represented and i full mean for that when i say early on that michael sees him as italian. I personally dont look italian besides my nose- somehow the like 2% irish overrided it- so obviously this is a little off but i didnt know where to fix it

1927

Michael sat in his desk chair facing the window.

He was in New York City, he was the head of this branch of the company.

But he still felt like something was missing. Naturally, part of that feeling was from the fact that he had been exiled from his home. But the other was something else, boredom maybe, depression, loneliness. 

He sighed and turned back to his desk, where his meetings planner was open to the days page. 

His first meeting was a clandestine one, booked under a guise of what it really was. It was always intriguing, Michael thought, running a company that was a front. 

What he knew of this client was they were attached to one of the city’s hundreds of speakeasies, what these prohibition inhibited Americans called their secret pubs. And he assumed the client was coming to purchase some quality booze from the Shelby Company Limited.

What he he didn’t expect was who they were going to send. 

Normally the heads of the pubs sent someone to broker the deal in their place, a tall weasel faced man usually, who reeked of alcohol from every pore. 

Instead, when his secretary opened the door, an incredibly striking Italian lad strode through.

-

You weren’t expecting to see a man like that behind the desk. You figured it’d be some slimy old guy getting rich off of the illegal cash. Not a charming and incredibly handsome British boy.

-

“Uh hi, I’m Michael, Michael Gray.” He held his hand out to you and you shook it.

“I’m (y/n) (l/n).”

 He offered you a seat. 

“You’re not from around here are you?” You said.

He chuckled, “What gave it away?”

The deal was done in barely a half hour. But somehow you both found yourselves at lunch. 

“So how did you find yourself in, well, this line of work?” Michael asked.

“Well it’s pretty simple, there’s always work for people who don’t mind taking risks.” Michael smiled at that. You continued, 

“but I could ask you the same question.”

“Well lets say that this is one of the less illegal ventures of my family. And as you put it, risks are lucrative.”

“Ill cheers to that.” You smiled and raised a glass.

-

The lunches happened again, and then again.

Soon you were meeting daily, making up further excuses for getting to know each other.

-

“My family is, well, its complicated...” Michael chuckled one day as you were at lunch.

You smirked, “Michael, i’m Italian. My family is fucking nuts, trust me, your’s is no worse than mine.”

With people who had said that to Michael in the past he had laughed along and said sure, he was sure you meant it. Probably not in the same way, but he was in no position to argue.

“I might work in the illegal pub world, but some of my family is fucking nuts,”  You began. “My parents are fine, they came over from Italy before the war and brought my grandma, who i’m convinced my grandma used to be a spy or something in Italy. At least 3 of my cousins are working for the mob. It easy work for us, we’re all connected to one family or another between here and the old country.” You noticed a dark look on Michael’s face, a typical reaction “Dont worry, not the big guys like the Black hand, we don’t mix with Sicilians, they think they’re better because they live on an island.”

You went on for a bit more, just basic family outlining. And then it was his turn.

Michael went into the abbreviated version of his past (how he was taken and adopted) and the Shelby’s endeavors- the betting to drugs, smuggling, alcohol. Eventually he got up to the Changretta execution and John.

“John was killed by the Black hand in December ‘25.” 

“Stronzi, I’m sorry.” You cursed. 

He rubbed his right shoulder, “Yeah, after that my cousins decided to take down the boss, unfortunately I made some stupid decisions that could have ruined the plan and ended up exiled here.”

He took a weak bite of food. You tried to lighten the mood.

“Well, you weren’t kidding when you said you’re family was complicated.” 

You both laughed.

Shortly after this lunch you were both walking back to his office when a group of black clad men passed by on the street. They passed by without issue, but you saw that Michael paled and clenched his jaw. They were blatantly Black Hand. You saw he was rubbing his right shoulder again, nd you now figured it was a nervous habit. You endeavored to take his mind off it and started a new conversation.

-

About a month following this, you had brought Michael to the bar where you worked. You danced to the jazz and drank heavily, both getting caught in the energy of the decade. 

You ended up back at his office, now the only ones there, and he cracked open a hidden bottle of Shelby malt. 

Now both of you were on several glasses of liquor from the night, you found yourself floating in and out of conscious perception. Though you came to, suddenly, when you realized your lips were quite incriminatingly interlocked with Michael’s. 

Your inhibitions lowered, you continued gladly. And before anything progressed you both passed out drunk on his office floor.

-

You didn’t talk to him the next day. Mostly because your hangover was so severe you thought you would have permanent brain damage, but also because you were not sure how to proceed.

It would be easy to pretend like nothing had ever happened. To blame it on the booze, or just claim you didn’t have any recollection of the night. That was also gnawing at you, what if Michael didn’t remember?

It would be easy to just move past it, but did you want that?

-

Michael still felt the slight pressure in his head after 2 days. He rubbed his eyes and put the cigarette back to his lips. He was sitting in his apartment contemplating. He knew what he wanted, but did he want to risk it.

The door buzzer rang as he stumped the cigarette out. Who was calling at this hour? He took his pistol from the table.

He walked along the passageway to the door, he unlocked it and looked through the crack.

His heart skipped a beat and he released his grip on the gun.

“I got your address from your secretary.” You said. “I hope that’s o–” 

Michael cut you off by pulling you inside and kissing you against the shut door. You gave in to surprise and kissed back, pushing him through the hallway. 

Without breaking you unbuttoned your shirt and let it fall in your path. He broke for a breath of air.

You kissed him again and began to unbutton his shirt. He pulled back quickly to say something, but it was too late. You had already seen them.

Two knotted scars on his right shoulder.

“Michael what-”

“I didn’t want to tell you.” He looked down. “I was scared.”

Still in shock you watched as he finished unbuttoning his shirt. Low on his abdomen were two more scars. 

Suddenly in your mind you connected the signs, talking about john, the Sicilians, and the instinctive rub of his shoulder.

“They shot you too.” You said in a barely audible whisper.

Michael only nodded.

You walked forward and reached a tentative hand out to one on his shoulder. Tears prickled your eyes. You walked around to his back, you hand trailing over the soft skin before finding the exit scars from 3 of the bullets.

Michael turned to face you. 

“I didn’t think you’d ever find out.” 

You nodded.

He put his hand behind your head and guided it back to his. 

-

“What do your parents think?” Michael asked later.

Your head was tucked in the curve of his neck, your arm laying over his bare chest, playing carelessly with the sheet draped over it.

“My dads not really invested around to care, i think he knows but it’s just brushed over. Ma still thinks that maybe if she pushes the right Italian girl at me i’ll change. But honestly?” You laughed. “You’re catholic, she’ll be over the moon.” 

Michael smiled and threaded his fingers through your hand.

“What about you?” You moved back a little to see his face better, “Does anyone know?”

Michael let out a deep breath, the one that normally proceeded any talk referring to his family. 

“There was always so much going on that i didn't have much time to process, much less let anyone else see it. There were girls, i wont lie. That may have thrown them off. Even now, i think there is so much actual bad going on that what i do wouldn't make any of them bat an eye.”

“Is this what you want?”

He looked at you,

“I didn’t know until now.”

You breathed. 

“And?”

“More than anything.”

And he kissed you again.

☾ ✧ ☾ ✩ ☾ ✧ ☾ ✩ ☾

☾ ✧ ☾ ✩ ☾

☾ ✧ ☾ ✩

☾ ✧ ☾

☾ ✧

☾

[katsmonsterblog]

Guardian Monster

Hello! 

So this was a Monster Matchup requested by @thedyingredrose for a donation she sent me! She wonderful and requested a non romantic story with my monster OC Chevelle :3

It was only supposed to be a snippet up to 1,000 words buuuuut I got a tad bit carried away... ^-^;

So here is a monster x reader story about meeting Chev for the first time!

Warnings: Nightmares, slight panic, general creepy stuffs

Word count: 2111

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Terror raced through your veins, your legs pumping and your chest heaving as you tried to claw at the door in front of you. You had to get out, panic bleeding out of every pore, your fingers numb and you were running out of time! You had.. you had to... breathe! Oh god... you couldn’t breathe! You stopped wrenching at the doorknob that you knew wouldn’t open, gasping and sobbing as you sank to your knees. It was always like this, your body not listening to you, the fear that followed you and threatened to consume you like a wave and no matter how fast you tried to run or move, it was like you were wading through mud, making your legs heavy and weak. 

A scream sounded behind you and your body seized up. Don’t look. God don’t look behind you. It was as if every fiber in your being was screaming and yet against your will, your body turned, so terribly slow and then suddenly you were face to face with it. Human, or that’s what it appeared to be, but the face was off, warped and wrong, its mouth hanging open to scream again. The sound masked your own cry of terror, and as it swung, arms reaching for you.. 

The dream froze. 

You couldn’t comprehend what you were seeing, as the terror around you slowly faded, the monster that had been reaching for you dissolved into dust and the world around you whited out into nothing. It was then that you saw it, a large, impossibly huge beast with fur so deep black that the stark contrast made you pause. Heaped on the floor, you watched, unable really to do much else. Walking on all fours, it turned to look at you, an enormous white skull with tall branching antlers and what looked like eight glowing yellow eyes stared through you. It should have terrified you, this huge beast like thing, but the terror from the dream had faded.. And all you felt then, was a calm relief as you woke up in your bed. 

Though it felt like your heart was still trying to hammer its way through your ribs, and your shaky breaths came to a heaving sigh, the dream left you wondering. What was that creature? No not the nightmarish thing that screamed but the one that… took it away. Something about it seemed... familiar? Comforting even. You couldn’t place it and as you got out of your warm bed, heading to the bathroom then the kitchen to make a late breakfast. The next few days went by and the dream went out of your mind with all the stress that your life and your job and your family put on you. The only thing that made it better were those little moments where you’re online friends made you smile. But in the end… you headed to bed alone again, and the nightmares still came. One morning, as you woke, you swore that there was a huge figure in your room, right at the edge of your bed, and your heart leapt to your throat as you sat up with a gasp… but nothing was there. 

The creature. It had to be the beast from your dreams that would take the nightmares away and let you get some semblance of sleep. A decision in your head, you forced yourself to get up and  go through the day normally, making a small stop at the store down the street, there was little you could do until that evening. But finally, after a long day of thinking and doubting… you had everything set. A candle beside your bed, well enough away from everything so that it wouldn’t be a hazard, and a glass of water just in case too, you laid down in bed. And waited… the only sounds were your breathing, the fan on low in the corner of the room, and your thoughts running rampant in your head. It was difficult, to lay there really, because you weren’t sure if you were going officially crazy or not but what did you have to lose? 

After what seemed like forever, at least you were sure it was past your normal bedtime, something in the room changed. Maybe the air, maybe it was your imagination but… you took a chance. 

“Hello…?  I’m.. I don’t know if this will work.. But if you’re there.... If something is there, then I just wanted to say hello.” You winced visibly, scrunching your face. It was easy to say that you believed in magic, and you’d experimented with paganism and witchcraft, you felt the spiritual pull of it. At least you hoped you did. But it felt odd to just speak out loud and gain no response. “Please… I know that you’ve been in my dreams. I’ve seen you.. So if you’re.. A sign? Or a guide or.. something. Could you.. Give me a sign? More of a sign, let me know you’re there? I’m not scared of you.” You said, the words rolling off your tongue the more you spoke because you felt that, at least if you were alone then no one could call you nuts. 

No response. At least.. Not for a few minutes but the hairs on your arms stood straight up, you heart began to pound and.. It wasn't a scary feeling, but more the feeling of being watched. Unsettling. You were about to sit up, end whatever conversation you had going on but a voice sounded from the corner of the room. 

“I… do not.. wish to frighten you..” The voice spoke from nothing, but as you turned your head, the shadows at the edges of the room seemed to shift and darken. Blurred but you knew something was there now. “But I am… here..” More silence, and then softer, “...do you wish for me to go…?” it said.  

It took several moments for you to find your voice, and with each passing second, you feared that this bubble of weirdness was a dream and you had fallen asleep but it felt too real. With a soft clearing of your throat, you sat up. Every movement you made was deliberately slow, as to not break whatever spell this was but you did, now sat crossed legged on your comforter, looking into the shadows. “No,” You said gently, licking your lips and trying to calm your racing heart. You weren’t scared but this was.. scary. In a way. “No, I don’t want you to leave… I um, well I wanted to say… thank you. For taking my nightmares away.” 

“You are curious… but I would frighten you…” It said again,and you frowned. 

“Yes.” Was all you got, and just out of the corner of your eye you could see a flash of yellow or white. You head snapped to the side.

“Do...you have a name? Can I see you? Why did you show up in my dreams?” You had to stop yourself from the myriad of questions popping up in your head. You didn’t want to offend whatever being this was and it just occurred to you that it could be a demon… if you believed in those, and maybe you should have researched beings that could be in the dream realm. There was a sound, soft but it sounded like.. bugs? Or maybe… you weren’t sure but it sounded oddly like a chittering noise. 

“I’m not scared. I promise. Unless you mean me harm?” You said, trying again to peer into the shadows. There were… several moments that passed, and you again feared that they had left you. But there was a small prickle of energy over your skin again and a shape solidified in the corner of your room. 

“I mean… no harm… I am… a protector.” it spoke, the pattern of speech was slow but precise and as it solidified, you realised why. Just like before, the creature’s face was a huge white skull, like that of a deer with large branching antlers the same shade of paper. How did it talk at all with a skull like that for a head? The voice was… male, or at least more male than female, and deeper. 

“And you protected my dreams?” You asked, fingers fiddling with the blanket almost absentmindedly. You watched as it, he, came into shape. The skull became more clear, as if a fog lifted, and you could definitely see now that the skull had not two, but eight different and nearly symmetrical eyeholes with soft yellow pupils glowing in each one. They ’blinked’ at random, as if black lids covered them but you couldn’t tell. The rest of him was covered in fur, thick and black, hanging from his too long limbs. He looked, fluffy at first glance but it was how he sat  on all fours, hunched that made him appear bigger. Well that and the tangible shadows that clung to the air around him. 

You strained your eyes to see something, anything in the shadows but each time you tried to see past the darkness in the room, the flickering flame of the candles made them dance and writhe. “It ...was you right?”

“Yes.” He tilted his head at you, and you realized he’d mimicked your own action. “I am in this world… and also the world of dreams… I can feed off nightmares that plague the innocent… make them fade…” And it made sense… in a way, how he always seemed to be there when the nightmare hit, the last thing you saw before you woke, or the dream faded completely to a semi blank one. It occurred then that you’d sort of always knew he’d been there. 

“See…? Not scary to me. What… can I call you? Like, do you have a name?” You asked again, curious now. 

“....Once… I had a name… a friend.. They called me, Chevelle.” There was a chittering sound again as he finished speaking, filling your ears like a soft static. It sounded… like bug wings almost. His jaw clicked. 

“Chevelle..? Like the car or the band?” You asked only to get another head tilt and now response. You offered a smile, introducing yourself. “Well, Thank you. And… I’m glad you’re around… Chevelle.”

Slowly, you moved, watching him a bit nervously as you crawled off the bed and he watched you in return. There was no feeling of danger, other than the small anxiousness you felt in conversing with what seemed to be a shadow being that fed on nightmare fuel, you were sure that he wouldn’t suddenly eat you. “Can I ask you something?” You wondered, sitting back down on the edge of the mattress, Chevelle close enough now that even though he was… massive, and slightly terrifying to look at, he seemed nervous too. He leaned forward, just as slowly as you had and lifted a hand… or… paw? It was like a human’s, but had the pads like a great cat on his palms. Then there were the long black claws…

A small smile graced your lips. “You’re right, but I was going to ask… do you plan… to stick around?” It had been nice to have… someone. A small hope in the seemingly constant state of grey you had been finding yourself in. “I’ll make pancakes?” you offered. Yes it was late but.. There was no way you could possibly sleep yet.

“That was a question in itself…. But yes, you may ask…” he spoke and  for just a moment… you were shocked at what seemed to be humor coming from him.  

You looked to your doorway, then to him, and back. “How will you fit through the door…?” You asked, more thinking out loud than really asking him, but in answer, he was suddenly not there. You felt a brush of warmth and then the shadows moved past you to the hallway, where you watched him appear once more. He blinked at you. 

“What are… pancakes?” He asked, your jaw dropping in response. 

“What are pan- oh I’m definitely making some now. Can you eat… you know.. Like.. human food?” you scrunched your face in question and he nodded his head. “Good. Then um, follow me?” You grinned, hopping up and moving to your bedroom door. He stood too, halfway, moving on all fours like some great dog, he even had a tail…

“Okay… well that’s neat.” You smiled, heading toward the kitchen, still a bit cautious but you were also excited. After all, it wasn’t everyday you got to meet your guardian dream monster, or be the first to feed him pancakes.

Tag list:

@serenitydusk

@thejellyflux

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@sunrisehoneybee

@ijwrff

@thedyingredrose

@bee-wrecker

@matronofthevoid

@spooky-scary-lesbian

@justwritingscibbles

@spooky-scary-lesbian

@domesticandlovingmonsters

@monstersandmaw

@monster-bait

@no-need-to-apply

@junepop45

@huffle-princess

@turquoisemagpie

@gerardwayslips

if you made it this far just know I love you all to bits. 

I hope you enjoyed! Leave a comment!!

[joshslater]

Russian Dolt Multiverse

Continuation of Russian Dolt. Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

Russian history in four words: then things got worse. Russian story in four worlds:

Universe Один

My first thought was to get a bucket of ice, but I doubt this hotel has an ice machine, and I didn’t really care to put on any clothes just to find out. I walked into the bathroom and let the shower run on the coldest setting. After a minute I had to resign to it not being any cooler, this is the Philippines after all, and begun showering my cock and balls. Who is stupid enough to buy a solid, metal cock ring in the first place? If it wasn’t bad enough cock and ball torture to have a ring on for so many hours, though no idea exactly how many, having it doused in cold water certainly added to the sensory experience. At first nothing happened, but once the ring itself was coming down in temperature I started to see movement, and then it went quickly. The pain when the blood started moving properly was something otherworldly. I’ve had the odd sleeping leg from surfing to much while on the toilet, but this was that times thousand.

I cranked the temperature back up again and just stood there and soaked in the shower, trying to think about as little as possible. When I started to feel like a person again, albeit one who needed a smoke, I realized I should try to freshen up best I could. I’d already ruined some of it by showering hot before using soap, trapping much of the scent of cum and sweat in the pores that had now shut closed by the expanding skin. I still did an attempt using the dinky hotel soap. Shampoo would be pointless, looking like this. When I came to soaping my ass I paused. It didn’t feel right, like my anus was protruding a little. I didn’t hurt though, so I just assumed it was a side effect of the night’s adventure and would sort itself given time.

There wasn’t much to wear, and less I wanted to wear in the room. I found a bottle of body spray and a slightly distressed black T-shirt, that I combined with the jeans and the flip flops from the day before. I didn’t know how long I had the room for, if it was paid in advance, or anything, so I took another look around the room and saw nothing I would miss. The ear studs might be worth something, so I kept them on, and I pocketed the mysterious ring, but everything else I left in the room with the full knowledge it might all have been thrown out by the time I got back.

I really wanted to inhale as deep and as fast as possible, but I forced myself to savor the cigarette I lit as soon as I entered the street. It felt healthier, though it probably was at least as bad. But then the streets in Manila isn’t all that great for lung health either. I had started to walk with no particular goal in mind, but decided to at least have a look at my old hotel. Not because I had any hope of finding anything useful there, but I just didn’t have anything else to do.

With no clear memory of the way, no cellphone to guide and no money to be driven, it took more than an hour to get back. As I’m closing in on the hotel I see someone in my peripheral that looks familiar. Turn and see the hulking body of Boris lumbering towards my destination. He is marginally better dressed than last I saw him, and is carrying a canvas bag. We are quite far apart, and I saw him first, but as soon as he sees me he stops walking. He is just standing there for a good ten seconds, after which he turns and walk the other direction. I want to run up to him and ask him what the fuck they have done with my body, but he is too far away and I’m too damaged after the night’s events. Fuck! Perhaps he was returning to pick something up? I saw no reason to change my plan.

It was fully morning by now, and someone from the bell service at the hotel walked up to me as soon as I entered the lobby, asking if they could help. That was code for “you don’t belong”. I told him I know which room to get to, and thanked my luck this hotel didn’t require any key card for the elevator.

I was somehow hesitant, standing outside my old hotel door. The longer I waited, longer it would take until my fears were confirmed. I made a soft knock on the door.

Nothing happened.

I make a more forceful knock on the door.

As I open my eyes the light hurts. I hear a thud against the door. I look around and see the hotel room I checked in to two days ago. The bed is made, but someone has clearly been lying on it. To my left, on a small table, is a line of small, empty mini bar bottles. I’m just about to scratch my forehead when the faint chime-like rattle of chains made me look at the cuff around my wrist. It takes a moment to click that I am in my body again. My real body.

There is a knock on the door. Unsteadily I walk towards the door and open it. On the other side is Mikhail, rubbing his head. “You could knock first, remove ring not first. Not opposite order.”

The ring! “I removed the ring in your hotel room. Nothing happened.”

“Ah.” Mikhail nodded, and then waved his hand toward the mini bar empties. “Doesn’t work unless both are conscious. I got bored.” He stood still for a bit. “You was not bored. Was good?”

“да“

Universe Два

The rattle of key in keyhole snaps me out of my self pity, and in panic I dive into the bed sheets, only to immediately be reminded of why they are damp and sticky. I hope I can scare away room service before she realizes what a mess the room is in. But the door doesn’t swing open to reveal a tiny Asian lady. Instead a huge German wearing a tank top that barely contain his muscles confidently walks into the room. He carries a few different plastic shopping bags in his large hands. As soon as he sees me his serious face gets brighter with a smile.

“So, you are awake, ja. Schlept gut?” “да, but am sore all over.” “Entschuldigung, but I wanted to be back before you awake, but I got late. I saw your big friend from the bar.” “You met Boris?” “No, I saw him. He was taken by police. Don’t know why. Do you?”

Was this in any way related to me, or why I wasn’t swapping back to my body? Perhaps by just talking to the police this would all be sorted. Or perhaps they are really after Mikhail, and for all practical purposes I am him now. I could be shot before the end of the day.

“No. No idea.” “Gut”

He was smiling again, as he placed the bags on the small table and pulled the sheet that covered me.

“Oh, mein Gott. Your dick color. Hurts, ja?” “Yes. Hurts.”

He dove into one of the bags and pulled out some sort of medicinal cream tube, and a condom pack. He ripped open the condom pack, and used the condom as a glove, squeezed a large dollop of the gel from the tube onto my dick, and started to carefully cover it all with the condomed hand. Working quickly he then moved down and did the same to my balls. “Move less” he said, as if I didn’t understand my squirming made things difficult for him. The pain was however disappearing quickly. “It’s Anästhetikum. Makes it hurt less.”

He then tossed the condom in the trash bucket, grabbed another bag and picked out a few cans of beers and two cups from the top, and placed them on the night stand. Next he picked up a bag of ice, wet with condensation from the humidity. He tore it open, grabbed a fistful of ice, and cupped my dick and balls with it. Amazingly I didn’t feel a thing, except the cold water against my thighs. Only a minute or so later he dunked the remains of the ice in the plastic cups, and I could feel him slipping my dick, and then my nut sack, out of the ring. He put the ring down on the nightstand as well.

“So. You should feel again in one or two hour. Now bier.”

He opened one of the cans and poured into the cups with ice. Dark and foamy. “Bayerisches Bier” he proclaimed proudly, handing me a cup. He emptied his without waiting and promptly refilled it. “Wait for ice to it cool, ja.”

I carefully tasted my beer. It was strong in flavor, high in proof, and cold enough with so much ice in such a small cup. I realized that his eyes were glued on me. Suddenly he lept forward and kissed my mouth forcefully, making me spill half my cup of beer. I managed to put the cup back on the nightstand and wrapped my arms around my German. He kissed me close to asphyxiation before he pulled away. “I want you to move in, ja. Stay in my place.” That came completely unexpected, but I knew I wanted nothing more, just as he said it. What good was a nice apartment if you never saw it? I had enjoyed living as a lone, travelling salesman, but this right here was passion. In a way the choice had already been made for me. With this new body I couldn’t go back to the life I knew.

“I am happy to.” I answered. He noticed that my dick had perked up again, despite what it had been through. He carefully touched it, and I winced. It was bruised and raw, but I still hadn’t cum all night. He stroke my body, and my chin and then got up from the bed. Slowly he stepped out of his camo cargo shorts and his jockstrap, revealing his large, erect cock. He grabbed both my legs and carefully, almost tenderly, moved me towards him and inserted his dick into my abused ass.

Lying on my back our eyes were locked, as he slowly begun to gyrate his hips, moving his dick head back and forth over my prostate. I wanted to resist, but he had obviously set a goal to have me cum as soon as possible. To have my decision sealed not in blood, but in cum. I had been teased all night and it didn’t take much to splatter my body up to my neck in my own cum.

Universe три

I didn’t know what else to expect from the day, so I savored the coffee. Coffee and cigarette is such a cliche, but I’ve never been a smoker before. When I tried smoking in school once I hadn’t yet tasted coffee. But now everything made so much sense. One might argue I shouldn’t spend my last cash on a coffee, but I would argue there is no point saving such small amounts.

With the cup completely dry, it was time to figure out what to do next. The hotel wasn’t far off. I’d seen it while looking for a place to affordably drink a coffee. The hotel wasn’t one such place though , so I found this little cafe to have a calm moment before facing reality. The hot and humid air hit me as soon as I exit the cool cafe and walk the block down to the hotel.

As I enter the hotel lobby there is a weird vibe. A few guests are scattered around, and mostly ignores me, but the staff is pretending to not stare. I guess I am out of place, looking the way I do.

I take the elevator to my floor. As I exit I immediately see one of the cleaning carts from the room service standing by my door. Shit. I should have tried to come earlier, before they erased all clues. As I get closer I see the door opposite my room is opened, and my door handle still has a “Do not disturb” sign on it. I sigh a slight relief and knock on the door.

It takes just a second and the door swung in, and before I had a chance to see who was opening it something hit me in the back, pushing me tumbling forward. Someone grabbed my shoulders slowed my fall from totally crashing into the floor. There was something pushing hard on my back, just below the neck. I could feel my arms pulled together, and then cuffed. People were talking Filipino, a radio squeaked, someone was pressing something against my fingers, and I could only see boots and tactical trousers.

Just as I started to comprehend that the police had me arrested, I was lifted to my feet and pushed out of the room. Two police men were marching me towards the elevator, down through the lobby and out into a waiting police car. I asked “What is happening?”, “Where are you taking me?” and similar questions with obvious and useless answers, until one of them told me to shut up

We sat in silence in the car for what felt like 20 minutes, when finally a plain clothes officer approached the car. The driver lowered the window, and I assume for my benefit, the plain cloths officer spoke in English.

“It’s him. His fingerprints are all over the cuffs.”

Universe четыре

I was utterly confused when I woke up in a hotel bed, but then memories started trickle in. The body swap. I clearly was still in Mikhail’s body, I knew, because I could feel it. I felt sore. Wait, why was I still in Mikhail’s body? Looking around I could see I was in the bed in his shitty hotel room, no German to be found. I got up while the whole body was screaming in agony. The bed sheets were pretty much ruined with semen and other fluids. What a mess. My head throbbed with a hangover worse than I have ever experienced before. I stumbled over to the mirror.

Young, muscled, and well-hung were the bright side of what I saw. Everything else I saw in the mirror disgusted me, even more now than when I swapped into it yesterday. I was naked except for the thumb ring and a cock ring. The dick and balls looked bruised, a dangerously purple color. I tentatively touched the dick and pleasure tinged pain shot through my body. It was swollen and had a dull ache, but a small part of me even wanted to play with this dick some more, as I was still horny as fuck. I didn’t remember cumming. I didn’t even dare to think about the agony it would be to remove that cock ring. My thoughts went to the other ring. I’ve had enough of this. It was time to end this experience, exciting as it might have been.

I removed the ring.

Immediately I looked down at my face. It had the wrong color. The mouth was open, the eyes bloodshot and the chain from the handcuff was wrapped around the throat. In horror I let go of the chain and stepped away from the body. It looked dead. The neck looked weird, as if the chain had broken something inside of it.

I stumbled, hit a desk, and almost cried out. The body was unfamiliar and bulky. I looked into the mirror on the wall above the desk. Staring back at me was the Russian brick shithouse made of meat, Boris.

The sensation was completely different from Mikhail, and not just in the obvious way of being taller and beefier, or the lack of bruising from a night of rough sex. There were no cravings to smoke or drink. This guy must have treated himself well, but then you don’t get a body like this if your don’t.

The irony of that thought made me chuckle out loud. I hadn’t done anything to get his body. Why was I in it? I removed the leather glove and looked at my hand. One of those rings were on the thumb. I look at my dead body’s hand. No ring. Whatever he had been up to, he had managed to swap me into his body and probably him into Mikhail’s body.

I started to feel dread. Whatever reason he had for doing this was not going to be good for me, I felt. I needed to leave the hotel right away. I resisted the urge to take any of my belongings with me. Clothes were worthless, phone and computer could probably be tracked. I didn’t really have any money in the wallet, just cards, and any use of them could also be tracked.

There was a canvas bag on the floor I didn’t recognize. I picked it up and exited the room. There were no cameras in the corridor that I could see. I took the stairs on floor down, put the gloves in the bag. Then I took the elevator down to the lobby and tried my best to look as calm as possible while walking out. In my mind I was screaming “I didn’t murder myself, it was this body.”

Not far from the hotel I saw a cafe, and apparently I had plenty of cash in my wallet, so I decided for a coffee. Only a few sips in I could tell this body wasn’t used to that, and I was in for a massive shit within the hour. Let’s add that to the list of problems. If it isn’t the police that will get me, it is whatever Boris was running from.

[seofine]

Martini Blue - Hong Dabin

Warnings: Pure Fluff

Ice cream Shop Au

"Girl, what's your flavour?"

You'd been working at the ice cream shop for almost a month and a half now. It had seemed like a simple and easy summer job and what could possibly go wrong?

Everything.

The shop was lovely yet outdated and everything, from the interior to the customers, was still very much living in the past. The same elderly customers came every day, a pit-stop on their regular routines.

You had worked at the shop three days a week (Sundays the shop was closed) for almost two months and had sampled every flavour there was to offer. It was monotonous and could get a little boring. You had concluded that the most exciting flavour you offered was raspberry-ripple and that was never going to blow anyone's mind.

You were one of two staff and you both worked alternate days. You had never even seen each other. Rosa had told you the other staff member was a boy a few years older than you though.

Working by yourself was lonely but it kept you busy; you did inventory, manned the front of the house and made sure the stock was good. You barely had the time to take a seat and rest.

The one thing you did enjoy was prep-day when you'd get to work with Rosa to create the ice cream. Everything in the shop was natural and hand-made. Rosa made sure to cater to all people whether they be gluten free, soy free, nut free or lactose free. You and the other staff member would take turns to help her depending on who was working that day.

You loved your job and the customers though. Especially the families and the elderly people who always had a kind smile and a joke to tell. You loved it when the elderly people and tired and worn-out parents brought their tiny children or grandchildren with them. Little children with bright smiles and loud voices, struggling to reach the counter on their tiptoes, their eyes wide with excitement.

They didn't mind the lack of choice. They were too excited about the opportunity of a sweet treat.

You minded though and when you had told Rosa about your thoughts she had laughed and shook her head at you. However the next time she had come to the shop she had brought a book with her 'Ice Cream Making for Beginners'. You had clutched it to your chest, like a child holding a new toy, and promised her that you'd come up with something amazing.

For weeks you had pored over the pages of the book trying out all the recipes and finally building yourself up to trying your own out. It was perfect, everything you had hoped for. Your freezer being overrun by ice cream was now worth it.

You had begged and begged Rosa to add it to the menu but she had constantly refused. Finally after your constant whining she had agreed to give you a chance. She had a condition though, your new item would only get added if both her and the other staff member tried it out. If they both agreed it was good enough, it would be added.

The date was set.

The next Saturday, after closing time, you would finally get your opportunity to show exactly what you had been working on and what you believed in.

The next few days you had many a sleepless night, staying up to try and perfect your recipe. Honing in on minute details until you thought it was as good as it could possibly get.

When saturday finally came and you had closed the shop, you wiped down the tables in the front. Your forehead was knitted in apprehension and knots had formed in your stomach.

The familiar bell above the door of the shop jingled and you looked up as Rosa entered, she walked further into the shop to seat herself at a table in the back. You put down your cloth, moving to greet her. She waved you away before you could get there, mumbling about you going to get the ice cream.

You nodded, scrambling to the back and towards the kitchen to get your ice cream out of the freezer. As you opened the door separating both halves of the shop the door once again jingled and a boy walked in.

He was average height and of slim build. His skin was golden and his inky black hair had been pushed back from his face. His high cheekbones exposed. He was beautiful but not in an intimidating way but instead in an inviting way. You paused. If someone who looked like him worked here how could business be so slow? Surely customers would flock to get a glimpse of him.

He walked to the back of the shop to talk to Rosa as the knots in your stomach transformed into butterflies. Rosa noticed you loitering and motioned you over. His beauty was inviting but you didn't want to take another step closer. All of a sudden, the feeling of not being defeated came over you and pushed you to walk forward.

The boy held out a hand towards you as Rosa introduced you to him. You shook hands, his warm hand encompassing your smaller and much more clammy one. "It's so nice to finally meet you" He said, his voice was silky and syrupy, rich like honey.

"I'm Dabin."

If he was honey, you were the unsuspecting fly that had just gotten caught.

"What's your flavour?"

He peered at you, his large eyes captivating your own, he must have asked you a question but you hadn't heard it. Too enraptured by the tone of his voice rather than the words he spoke.

"Oh, sorry. What did you say?" You asked, a blush coating your already warm cheeks.

Rosa shook her head at you, she had known this would happen. Dabin just seemed to have a charm about him that no one could resist. She had seen it so many times before.

"What's your flavour?" He questioned as you got back to the situation at hand, opening the lid of your ice cream, a gentle blue colour greeting you all.

You didn't reply, instead handing the two of them a spoon each. You'd called your flavour Martini Blue. It was blueberry and lemonade with a hint of mint. Not a martini in sight and more of a sorbet than anything else but the name had made you giggle and so you stuck with it.

You laughed as the two of them apprehensively stuck their spoons in, Dabin was first to place his in his mouth. You watched as the spoon hit his tongue and his eyes widened. His tastebuds and senses reacting to what he was eating. He looked at you, his intense stare throwing you for a moment but his eyes betrayed what he felt, "This is amazing!" He muttered, digging in for more.

You turned to Rosa, her face had remained impassive and a silence fell on you like a wet blanket. Finally she looked at you slowly "You're going to be very busy. You have an item on the menu."

You squealed, running around the table and hugging her. Her arms were warm and comforting for a moment and then she pushed you away. You knew she was proud of you though. You hesitated for a moment but then rushed towards Dabin, hugging him too. His arms surrounded you, supporting you and enclosing you in his chest.

Rosa's voice cut into your bubble. "Alright, finish closing for tonight and go home." You and Dabin untangled from each other and stepped back, turning in opposite directions to finish clearing.

You escorted Rosa to her car and when you came back Dabin was still inside clearing away the last of the day's stock. Together you worked, exchanging idle chit-chat and jokes. It was easier when you two worked together. As you finished for the evening, you both collected your belongings and made your way to the door.

Dabin pulled down the shutter for the front of the shop as you rooted around trying to find the correct key. "Guess my flavour." He suddenly said, his voice like a whisper in the quiet streets.

"What?" You muttered back, not really paying full attention.

"Guess my flavour." He repeated, looking at you over his shoulder. His smile was cheeky almost daring.

You moved around him to lock the door, nibbling your lip to think as you did so. There were so many flavours but none of them seemed completely right for him. From what you'd seen of him, he was more than what you saw on the surface but you didn't know enough and didn't want to offend him on your first meeting. You sighed, he was waiting for an answer.

"Coffee." You concluded. It was comforting and strong, you thought to yourself, with deep tones and an overwhelming yet satisfying air. It suited him.

He chuckled, not saying anything about the flavour you had assigned to him as you both walked back to the car park around the corner from the shop.

The cold air whipped your skin and you both edged closer together as you walked.

You reached your car first and he helped you pack your belongings away into the back. As he held the door open for you he scratched his neck in nervousness.

"What about if you give me your number..." He started, now rubbing the back of his neck, "You can help me figure out my flavour?" He suggested, his smile for the first time that night seeming shy and questioning. Different from the confident and boyish charm it had exuded earlier.

"I'd like that."

[alfelixtravirginproducts]

https://alfeli.com/blogs/over-coming-acne-in-adulthood/frustrating-adult-acne

Why do I have acne as an adult?

Growing up, I started experiencing acne, pimples, spots and blemishes as I got into my teenage years. Naturally this bothered me a lot, I recall an occasion that occurred with my mum and big cousin. After watching me fuss over my breakouts in front of a mirror for hours, my mum and older cousin talked to me about acne & skin blemishes and how they are a natural phenomenon for every growing child, they said acne never lasted into adulthood. They assured me of a clear acne free face by the time I turned 30…. I held onto this with everything I had, because I really hated the pink zits that occupied my face.

But as I got older, I found myself still laden with the same skin issues I always had. And despite the face creams, acne cleansers and acne spot and blemish treatments, nothing stemmed the daily appearance of new acne. Naturally, i was troubled, and self-conscious... after all my mother assured me i wouldn't have acne issues as an adult.

More than just aesthetics

Various studies show that acne can have severe effects on people’s quality of life. Comparing it to the damage caused by serious skin conditions like psoriasis, studies also show that severe acne issues, and the self-consciousness / low self-esteem it brings, is not just a teenage issue. According to the journal of American academy of dermatology, acne affects as many as 54% of adult women and 40% of men over 25 years of age.

Reason for adult acne

Dermatologists call this “adult-onset acne.” It is most common among women going through menopause. Women tend to get adult acne more often than men do. Adult acne is likely due to one or more of the following reasons.

Diet: Diets with high oil levels and dairy play a major part in contributing to clogged pores and subsequently breakouts. There are various "acne inducing foods", but these are individual specific. Paying close attention to your skin and body, taking notes, testing, and learning different diets that work for your skin and overall health is the key to a glowing healthy skin. What reflects on the outside of our skin stem’s mainly from what is happening on the inside of the body. The overall outlook of the skin is a reflection of the internal state and well-being of the body.

Stress: Researchers have found a relationship between stress and acne flare-ups. In response to stress, our bodies produce more androgens (a type of hormone). These hormones stimulate the oil glands and hair follicles in the skin, which can lead to acne. This explains why acne can be an ongoing problem when we find ourselves under constant stress.

Family history: Does a close blood relative, such as a parent, brother, or sister have acne? Findings from research studies suggest that some people may have a genetic predisposition for acne. People who have this predisposition, will be more likely to get adult acne.

Hair and skin care products: If you have adult acne, you should read the labels on your skin care and hair care products. Make sure that you see one of the following terms on every container:

Non-comedogenic

Non-acnegenic

Oil-free

Will not clog pores

Fluctuating hormone levels: An imbalance can lead to breakouts. Women often experience fluctuating hormones:

Around their periods

During pregnancy, perimenopause, and menopause

After discontinuing (or starting) birth control pills

Collagen Production: Collagen refers to a family of proteins that are the primary structural component of connective tissues, such as skin and cartilage, according to Yale University.

Type 1 collagen makes up 90% of collagen in the body, which is found in the skin, tendons, internal organs, and organic parts of the bone.

The body naturally makes its own collagen by breaking down dietary protein into amino acids. The body’s ability to produce collagen naturally decreases as we age, also excess sun exposure, smoking, poor diet can inhibit collagen production.

Eating a balanced diet of protein rich foods (chicken, beef, eggs, dairy, legumes, nuts, and whole grains) have the added benefit of providing antioxidants which protect the body from oxidative stress that can degrade collagen production.

Adult acne treatments/remedies

Diet Change:

About a year ago, I joined my son in eating yogurt on a daily basis, even though my research told me yogurt did not directly cause acne , and it wasn’t that time of the month for me either,  I found myself breaking out in the worst way. I had huge and very painful acne on my face, even after applying various topical acne treatments, the inflammations only worsened.

After a confusing and extremely frustrating few weeks of acne attack on my face, I decided to change my diet. I stopped eating yogurt and limited my dairy intake altogether. Within a week of doing this, my skin improved. I went ahead to cut down on my intake of greasy food, I started paying very close attention to the food I ate and how it affected my skin directly or indirectly (I took notes). I ended up compiling a food list, which I called ‘’my acne free diet’’ this worked magic for me, I could hardly believe the drastic change that occurred on my skin over a period of two weeks. I still get little acne every now and again during my monthly menstrual cycle, but my skin has improved considerable since I stuck to my “acne free diet”. After all, there is a saying that goes “you are what you eat”, the same ideology can be applied to the skin, “your skin is what you feed it”.

Topical treatment:

Wear Sunscreen daily

Use only non-comedogenic face oils and moisturizers. Purchase face oils here

Apply acne treatment products that contain salicylic acid daily (only apply pea-size amount of acne products)

Exfoliate your skin at least once a month to slough off dead skin cell and unclog pores. Purchase exfoliating scrubs here

Wash face morning and night before bedtime.

The skin is our body’s largest organ, it acts as a protective barrier between the outside and the inside of our body. What reflects on the surface of the skin is largely because of what is happening within the inside of our body.

If you are frustrated, or maybe somewhat embarrassed about acne that still appears on your face as an adult, I recommend you consider changing your diet, to help control and ultimately get rid of adult acne.

Since I came to understand the direct effect my diet had on my skin, I have been able to control the occurrence of acne breakouts on my face. I am definitely more confident and happier about my appearance. The best thing I did for myself was to take a close look at my diet, take out any food that caused a buildup of grease under my skin thereby clogging my pores. I made my skin the sole priority and so should you! Like I mentioned earlier “Your skin is what you feed it”.

[mingiswow]

Soulmate!au Series | Jooheon

Pairing: Jooheon x Reader

Summary: Everyone got their entire life to get ready for the day they were going to meet their soulmate, except for you, whose soul clock has been reset since you were born.

Words: +1,9k

Every morning you woke up with the sunlight in your eyes, the yellow-ish strings touching and warming your skin. Eyes slowly opening and, as soon as they focus, meeting the big frame on your wall.

“Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished.” Lao Tzu

Those words soothed your soul and mind for a while, until you looked to the little red numbers on your skin. Where it was supposed to be marking the time until you meet your soulmate were a bunch of zeros.

Is your soulmate dead? Do you even have one? Did you already met them and haven’t noticed? 

The questions filled your mind every day since you can remember. And ashamed of your “condition”, you hid the soulmate mark under a large real watch.

A shiver ran down your spine as you felt the soft and fluffy tail of your cat touch your skin as feathery as the winter wind.

“‘Morning, lollipop” you played with his ears, caressing his soft fur and earning a loud and soothing purr. “Are you hungry?” he meowed and you laughed. “C’mon, moma will feed you” another shiver went up your spine as your warm feet touched the cold tiles of your room, and you cursed yourself for not having bought a carpet yet.

The grey cat followed you along to the kitchen, waiting for you to fill his bowl with the food so you could finally do something for yourself. You decided on your usual egg roll and black coffee, taking your time before falling on the rush of Seoul.

You entered the Starship building greeting your coworkers as well as some trainees and idols that were there and walking straight up to your office.

“Good morning people” you smiled to the people there, that greeted you back, your best friend hugging you.

“Good morning, Y/N” Sooyoung said happily, her smile wide in the thin lips of her. “Boss said he’ll be coming over for a meeting at 10 am”.

“I don’t know why you keep calling him boss” your bags thudded on your table. “He’ll be your husband in a few months” she shrugged. “And I still don’t know why you’re still my PA when you can literally be one of the bosses of our department”.

“I like working with you. Besides, if I went to boss things up, you’d go with me-”

“And this department needs you” your boss arrived and ruffled your hair, it was incredible how he loved to treat like a kid even though you were already 24. “How’s the brainstorm?” he asked you, sitting in your chair and the you noticed three of the seven Monsta X members. You waved at them happily, after so many years working there, you grew a soft spot for them.

You, your boss, Shownu, Kihyun, Changkyun and other people from your team spent the whole morning and good part of the afternoon discussing the concept and the visuals for their up and coming comeback, only stopping to eat the takeovers Sooyoung brought.

“I think that we should mix it up a little bit” Changkyun spoke, holding two of the concept boards. “I don’t know, maybe make it a little more urban and edgy rather than dark”.

“Like the one we did for our last Japanese comeback?” Kihyun asked and the maknae nodded. You analysed the boards in front of you as well as the lyrics and meanings. “Call Jooheon and Wonho, they helped produce the album” the boy nodded and sent a message in his phone.”

In a matter of minutes, the two known faces arrived and took their parts in the discussion, expressing their thoughts over the ideas.

Your eyes tried to concentrate on that creative mess in front of you but they unconsciously traveled over the face of the so well-known boy. You and Jooheon were born in the same day, the same hospital, with a difference of seconds, making him older than you - which was enough for him make fun of you and try to piss you off.

Ever since then, your parents became friends, consequently, you two too. Jooheon has been in the most importants parts of your life and you on his. When he became a trainee, when he took part in the survival show, the debut, every single bit of his life you were there. It was more than clichè to tell you’d fall for him, but can someone blame the heart? 

Yes, you can. And you did. Every single day of your existence.

Because while you were there, with your soulmate clock stopped, his was counting. He had someone. And it wasn’t you.

“Y/N? Y/N~ah!” you woke from your daydreams with Sooyoung shaking you angrily. “Are you okay? What do you think of this?” you nodded and smiled, just letting an  I think that’s great almost inaudible. “Then that’ll be!” the woman clapped her hands excitedly, being followed by the others in the room.

Everyone started to either dissipate from the room or talk to each other about the work to be done from then on. You just wanted to go home, put your feet in a nice and warm bucket of water and stuff your face with pasta and wine, when you felt a hand on your shoulder. You didn’t have to look to know to who that gripped belonged to.

“You. Me. My place. Movies and food.” he said excitedly pointing from you to him. His brown eyes shining galaxies that made you never wanted to stop looking at it. “Oh! And I won’t accept a no as an answer” you rolled your eyes and sighed. You could be 50, 60, and still would act like kids with each other. “Yah! C’mon, Y/N! I’ve finished everything for the comeback, I’m finally free and I want to spend some quality time with my bestie”.

“Kyunnie! I think Jooheon is talking to you” you called the youngster, earning a laugh from the boy in front of you. “Are you serious right now?” he nodded and nudged to your sides, basically cuddling you. He always did that when he wanted attention. “Ok. But I’ll go home first and take a shower and change” he nodded and kissed the tip of your nose, running away from somewhere you didn’t know. “He’s nuts”.

It was almost 8 pm when you parked your car in front of the condominium, giving it to the car keeper of the fancy place.

“Hey!” Jooheon greeted you with a hug, even before you rang the bell. “I saw you coming from the cameras” you giggled at him. You absolutely loved this silly and caring way he had. After all, that’s one of the reasons that made you fall for that man.

Stopping to analyze all the situation, the main reason that you fell for Jooheon is that you allowed yourself too. You never had anyone to wait for, never spend your days dreaming about how your soulmate would look or how they’d be. You had enough time to pay attention to the tiny details of the man you trusted and cared the most. The little things that made Jooheon himself. 

You only wished you could understand why you were different from everybody else and why your soulmate couldn’t be your true soulmate, the one you chose.

“What will we do tonight?” he asked pulling you to the couch perfectly placed in the center of the room.

“You were the one who invited me. You decide” his arms hugged your waist and pulled you to snuggle on his chest, which you gladly did, hugging him back and hearing his fast heartbeat. “Are you okay, Joo?” he only nodded, his hands caressing your hair like the rarest feather from a phoenix.

“Y/N…” his voice came as a whisper, loud enough only to travel slowly to your ears.

“Jooheon” 

“I have something to tell you” the chill that ran down your spine the day you saw him shirtless was nothing compared to the one you felt that moment. Every single pore of your body was awaken. Those simple words made your heart to beat at the same pace his own and, only then, you could tell it was because he was nervous. 

You nodded after a while, waiting for him to say something. The boy lifted his and your body, eyes meeting too close for comfort. His right hand pulled his left sleeve, revealing his soulmate clock, the remaining time almost ending. 

“Joo-” you could feel your heart traveling from your chest to your mouth then coming back. With a swift movement, he took his clock out. revealing another one underneath. Your eyes blinked quickly, trying to assimilate everything. “What’s… What the fuck, Lee Jooheon?” you screamed, louder than you wanted.

“The company gave me a fake clock the moment I entered so I could figure it out what was wrong with me and my soulmate” you listened carefully to the boy in front of you. “I never really cared about it, I didn't have time for it after all. But the fake clock was running and time getting tighter, so I had to figure it out what to do, especially with monbebes already knowing about my clock” he sighed, holding your hands on his. 

“That means you already met your soulmate?” the question was low, the pain in your heart being too much. His clock was reseted. The zeros adorning his arm.

“My clock always showed zeros. I can’t remember one day it had numbers on it. I didn’t know what was the problem until my mom realized. My clock never worked because I already knew my soulmate. I always did. Our clocks didn’t work because we met each other the moment we were born” you blinked a few times, too much information to handle. 

“So… Me and you are…” he nodded.

“I guess, but there’s only one way to know for sure” his body came closer than already was, chests close, knees brushing each other, foreheads touching and the hot breaths mixing it with each other. You closed your eyes and waited. His soft lips ever so gently touched yours, just enough to tickle the muscle and make your body shiver even more than it already was. You were the one who closed the space between your bodies, hand holding the back of his neck and pushing his head torwards yours.

As soon as your lips finally met, an eletric wave ran from your lips to your wrists. The numbers burning your skin, the forms changing to become each other's name. Your fingers gently touched the red-ish name imprinted in his skin. The tears threatening to scape your eyes as you felt your whole body warm up.

“I love you” the words came so easily out of his lips, like they were waiting on the tip of his tongue for so long to be spelled out. “I’m more than happy to know that you are my soulmate” his nose caressed yours, arms wrapping you up in a tight hug. “I love you so much, Y/N”.

“I love you too, Joo” it felt so good saying those words with the real meaning. “The only bad part is that we won’t have all that cute fluff shit of getting to know each other” you pouted.

“Says who?” he left your embrace and got on his feet, you following along. “Hi, I’m Lee Jooheon. Your soulmate” you laughed at his silliness. “Nice to meet you”.

“I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you too” you shooke his hand, but quickly enough he pulled to another kiss.

And another.

And another.

Shownu | Wonho | Minhyuk | Kihyun | Hyungwon | Jooheon | I.M

Requests are open

Masterlist

[stressedspidergirlsfandomblog]

Fic Interlude

(unedited. Sorry to my beta, I require attention. Please comment if you like it. It’s been a really rough week and I could use some encouragement.) 

Keith hates himself a little, thinking about what had happened that momentus first day Shiro had crash landed back on Earth. He’d seen hints of the scars. He’d seen bruises. He’d seen the livid pink and red scar slashed across the bridge of his brother’s nose… none of that had been there before. The shock of white hair, and when Shiro had refused to answer any questions, he’d just let go. And then things had become insane. Finding Blue, being chased and attacked, landing at the Castle and then having to evade the Galra… there’d been no time. He hadn’t had time, he tries to remind himself that no one had had time. 

No one had asked Shiro about the times he froze up, no one had talked to him about his panic, or the arm, god the arm. Keith had never even asked. He’d just accepted it and moved on because they had to. And then Shiro had ‘died’ and he’d been grieving and it still hadn’t occurred to him to wonder or worry about what had happened to Shiro in captivity. Just anger that he was gone, too, just like Keith’s father and mother. Everyone had kept leaving him. Abandoning him over and over. He knows Shiro would tell him he’d just been a kid, he couldn’t expect more. And then he’d go on some science-y lecture about how brain development in teens works and why Keith shouldn’t have expected himself to do what his adult self would have. And not to dwell on the past, etc. But he can’t help it. He should have done better. He should have been better, Shiro always had time to check in on him at the Garrison. And had tried to check in with them various times throughout their journey. 

Shiro had landed, crashed and the Garrison had gone and taken him in and tied him up and sedated him. Keith remembers the virulent anger he’d felt at that, the hate for the Garrison trying to take Shiro from him again. And hurting Shiro. Treating him like some kind of criminal. Dragging him off that table and then being surprised by 3 Garrison recruits he’d never paid any attention to suddenly helping him rescue his brother. He hadn’t noticed the smell until he’d gotten Shiro to the safe house. The wind had whipped it away. All he’d felt was Shiro’s limp body in his arms, and then the others had held onto him as he’d flopped like a corpse on the back of the speeder. 

Getting Shiro inside had been easy enough, for all with the adrenaline winding down Keith had started to notice that while Shiro was still heavy, he could feel his ribs through the alien fabric he was wearing. Really notice the bright red shiny scar bisecting his face, and that a chunk of his hair had turned white -probably scar tissue from some knock on the head. Keith himself had a few white strands here and there from some scars he’d earned getting into scraps. Waiting for Shiro to come to had been agonizing. He’d dragged his brother into the bedroom and shut the door to keep the others away. “He doesn’t know you, he can’t wake up and see a bunch of strangers after what just happened.” When Lance had tried to argue Hunk had put a hand on his shoulder and pulled him away. “Maybe he’s right. Dude did just crash land a ship and get tied to a table.” 

Keith had gotten water, and made some toast, not sure any of it would help or be appreciated. Or that Shiro would even wake up. What if he’d landed here just to die because they’d given him too much sedative on that table? Waiting by the bed, watching, knees drawn up to his chest as he crammed himself as small as possible into a desk chair. Watching the steady rise and fall of Shiro’s chest, over and over, until finally he started to shift and make noise. “They’re coming, you don’t understand,” he mumbled, rolling to his side and trying to push himself up, still suffering from the after effects of the drugs. 

Eyes unfocused he flinched when Keith helped him up. “I’m here, Shiro, it’s okay, I’ve got you,” he’d promised. Not even thinking about how much it would hurt when he squeezed the older man’s wrist. 

“Water,” he’d croaked in response, pupils blown as he looked hazily around the room. Needed to hydrate and fill his stomach to help counteract the drug. Keith had scrambled to pass him the cup, watching as Shiro had chugged so quickly he choked, slopping water down his chin and neck. Passing him the toast, too, or trying to, he’d ended up just setting it by Shiro’s knee on the bed. When the cup had been drained, Shiro had attacked the toast, giving Keith time to come back with the pitcher of water, so he could keep the cup full. What he hadn’t expected was Shiro to take it from him and drink straight from the side, toast left unfinished on the plate. 

“You’re gonna make yourself sick,” he’d protested, tried to take the pitcher back but had ultimately given up. So what if he made himself sick? Some of it would absorb into his body before he retched it up. Hopefully. And he could always refill the pitcher. What mattered was Shiro was home, and desperately alive. 

Not caring about the water slipping over his cheeks and chin, dripping into his uniform and soaking the top of it, he was desperate to drink as much water as he could. He was pretty good with the mind games, knowing what was real and what wasn’t in them, even if he couldn’t help his reaction. Odds weren’t good Keith was real, or the landing, or anything else, but the water was definitely real. And they usually didn’t let him have enough. He needed to drink what he could while he could. Besides the toast had been cutting into his mouth and gums, too sharp for him in his weakened state. Not to mention most of what he ate was mush now, anyway, or some kind of unpleasant texture, but nothing hard like toast. Or nuts or anything really. 

Some part of him wondered if this really is a mind game, as he’s trying to suck the water down. Because usually he sees Adam. Or his parents decide to accept him. Or the Galra never happened and he harvests his samples and goes home with the Holts and it’s all fine. This is new. When he finally finished drinking as much water as he could hold, he hands the pitcher back. He had felt more lucid, after that. And had forced himself to finish the toast, even if it did make him wonder what it really was. What game Haggar had played to disguise it. Maybe it was one of the other aliens he’d killed. Hopefully not.  

What had caught his attention was he could hear background noises and smell things. That had never happened before. “Keith?” he asked, finally, starting to take in the fact that maybe he had escaped. Maybe it was real. Maybe he was free of all of it. But the Garrison had turned on him. Caught him and locked him up. His ankles, wrists, and chest ache where he’d struggled against the restraints. He can feel the minute pain where the needle had gone in, pumping him full of sedatives that left his tongue heavy and his limbs leaden. “Is this real?” he croaked. 

“Yes it’s real, what the hell happened to you? Where were you? Why do you smell so bad?” He’d blurted out before he could stop himself. Then had hugged Shiro, immediately letting go when the other man grunted in pain. “I’m sorry!” 

“I need a shower,” he’d pointed out, rather than answer a single question. And Keith hadn’t pushed. He’d helped Shiro up, and had helped him walk into the bathroom. Cut him free of the prison uniform that his tired hands couldn’t find the release on. Keith couldn’t find the catch, didn’t know how to feel for it, and Shiro still felt leaden and slow. He would for a while yet, but at least he could be free and clean from the prison.  Keith had turned the water on, and helped keep Shiro on his feet while the water got warm. Had stepped into the stall with him, keeping him upright while the water ran down, dragging swirls of rust and dirt away from Shiro’s body. He’d seen the swelling on his ankles and wrist, seen the metal arm again. Touched it. Felt it hold onto his shoulder, just like a real arm. 

If he’s being honest, he hadn’t looked much, he’d been too scared of what he’d see that would involve that much dried blood and dirt. 

“I’m alright,” Shiro mumbled. And Keith had let him go, and stepped out. Hesitant, but it had seemed true enough. He was standing on his own two feet, not swaying anymore, chin tipped up and eyes closed as the water beat down on him. 

“I’ll put clothes on the toilet seat for you,” Keith had mumbled, changing from his soaked clothes into dry ones before laying out his father’s old uniform on the lid of the toilet, as promised. And he’d left the room. Shaken, but unsure of what to do. He had so much he had to tell Shiro, and if this invasion he’d spoken of was real, if they really were coming… they didn’t have time. There was something going on, something he’d been tracking, and he needed Shiro to understand. He’d eat, he’d sleep, he’d be better in a few hours and they could track it down. They could solve the problem and force the Garrison to listen, and they would be safe. 

In the shower, he’d looked himself over. The perpetual rash coating the insides of his thighs and backside. Torture had a funny way of making his bladder give out, and without the chance to bathe, enough to drink, or the right food, the results always scalded his skin. He could see the dirt and blood in his very pores. His hair was so greasy and filthy it took several rounds to get it clean. He’d just kept washing until the lather was white, and washed away blood free.

He’d taken the washcloth Keith had given him and had started on his left arm. Scrubbing around the nail beds and under as best he could, shuddering when he thought about what might still be trapped under them. Eyes, scales, guts… things the Garrison would have loved to analyze and take samples of, but he just wanted it all gone. Scrubbing at his neck and face, the scar had hurt as he worked to get his skin clean. Down his chest, looking at the bruising all over his abdomen. The crash had not been gentle. 

All the same he worked soap over his skin, thorough and painful, until he couldn’t see the outline of dirt anymore, until his skin was pink and raw, and no trace of the arena was left. And he worked his way down his hips, hesitating at the raw skin before taking a breath and forcing himself to scrub that, too. It hurt, and his eyes burned, but it had to be done. Rather than risk infection. Or it just taking longer to heal. He would be fine. He would heal, and it would be over. He would go back, they would go back with an army and they would burn the arena to the ground. It wouldn’t claim another life if he could help it. And Sendak… he would never jab anyone with that electric baton ever again. Never laugh as he beat another prisoner senseless. 

Confused when the lather started turning pink, he realized he’d scrubbed too hard and had taken off skin. Embarrassed, he forced himself to focus on the task at hand, and finished cleaning himself up. Forced himself to clean over the scar tissue he’d created, in his desperate bid for death. But he was here now. He’d made it. He’d survived. And he could warn them, and stop Earth from becoming another part of the Galra conquest. 

Dragging the towel off the curtain rod, he’d reluctantly turned off the hot water. It had felt good. He’d made his wrist and ankles bleed, trying to escape the restraints. And he’d made the bleeding and scabbing worse, scrubbing them open to make sure no dirt remained. He’d caught sight of himself in the mirror for a minute, skin pale, scar livid, cheekbones sharp… he barely recognized himself. He hadn’t really seen the white streak in his hair, not in a proper mirror. 

What would Adam think? Would Adam even speak to him? How he could he tell him about anything that had happened since he left? He was so sorry. So sorry things had ended like that, but so thankful they had ended, because he couldn’t go back to Adam after this. After all he’d done, the blood staining his hands, no. It was better that they were over, but he still wanted to apologize. They could go out there, tell the Garrison, handle it, and then he could just apologize. That’s all he needed to do. Say sorry. Tell him he’d been selfish, and awful, and that Adam was right he’d deserved better. 

He should have had someone who had put him first, once in a while. But he’d been fighting the illness, he had to prove he could do it even with the disease holding him back. He still had to prove his life was worth living, now, after all the people he’d killed. He was a monster. Maybe Adam had moved on. That would be best. Found someone new, someone worthy. But all the same, he just wanted to apologize for that last fight. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled to the mirror, as if it made any difference. 

Leaning against the sink, staring at himself, the pain brings him back and he glances at his wrist. Chafed and bloody. 

Not too sure where any bandaging is, he’d looked around helplessly until Keith had come in.

He’d been waiting to hear the water shut off. Had picked up his med kit and headed right back in. Knocking lightly on the bathroom door before letting himself slip in. Shiro had dragged on some underwear and pants, he’d need a belt.The pants were low on his hips, showing off the band plus an inch or so of grey boxer brief.

 He’d slipped on the undershirt, and Keith could see he’d rolled up the pants some to bare bloodied ankles, rather than let the blood soak into the cloth. 

“I’ve got it,” he’d whispered, eyes round as saucers. “Why don’t you sit?” he’d asked, remembering Adam bandaging him up after a scuffle. What would Adam do? “I’ve got you,” he’d said, carefully dabbing disinfectant the whole way ‘round both ankles before adding salve and then bandaging them neatly. “That’s better right?” he knows the salve has a minor numbing agent, and the wounds are puffy and ugly. Not infected, just new and angry. Rolling the pants back down, he then quietly bandages Shiro’s wrist. He doesn’t want to tell Shiro about how he and Adam had fought after Kerberos. Especially once the mission had failed. 

“I’ll get you a belt,” he mumbled, exiting quickly enough to let Shiro finish dressing in privacy. When he’d come back his brother had seemed calmer, more centered. More like himself. He’d smiled. 

“Guess these don’t fit quite right, huh?” he’d tried to joke, slipping the belt through the loops and cinching it before stepping out. Keith had wordlessly passed over socks and pointed at some boots at the foot of the bed. Shiro had tugged them on and stepped into the shoes before filling the cup with water and sipping it until it was empty. He’d finished the toast before turning to look at Keith. “Okay, let’s do this,” he’d simply said, and walked out into the room with the others. 

Keith hadn’t had a chance after that to bring up anything he’d seen. He hadn’t helped with another bandage. If he’s being truly honest, in all the events and rush, he’d forgotten completely. He hadn’t meant to. He just had. It had been one giant mess. 

He’d let Shiro down so badly. And in so many ways. Coming out of all of that, remembering all of that, he feels so sick he can barely think, let alone breathe. In and out, in and out, he tries to remember how it all works. He has to be better and do better now. He can’t get caught up. Or forget. Or let Shiro push him aside. Not again. 

Keith sits down heavily, fingers steepled in front of his face as he forces himself to breathe in through his nose, out through his mouth. When he thinks his panic is under control he dials the comms.

Waiting, he finds himself panting a little, stress taking over. What if there’s no answer? Then a picture starts to appear and a familiar orange mustache fills the screen.

“Keith?”

“Coran!”

“It’s a bit of an odd time to be calling, is everything alright?” He asks with a gigantic yawn.

Keith remembers suddenly Altea isn’t exactly on the same time schedule  as Earth. “Coran I’m sorry, I can call you back later.”

“Obviously it must be some kind of emergency. Or did you really forget?”

“Are you sure Allura brought Shiro over okay?” He bursts out before he can stop himself.

“What?” He asks in confusion.

“He’s- he’s missing memories, he’s confused, we were out shopping and he got panicky and indecisive. Coran he couldn’t pick something simple like shampoo! He’s not acting like himself at all…”

“I see. What else?” Coran asks softly, leaning forward some.

“Nightmares. He has really bad nightmares. And Curtis yelled at all of us for forgetting to check in… We forgot his birthday. He won’t wear the arm the Garrison made…he was so tired from running errands he just passed out after. So is the clone body falling apart? Should I get him into a pod!?” His voice rises with stress.

“I know exactly what it is.” Coran says, raising a hand and yawning again. “No, Allura didn’t make any mistakes transferring his quintessence over. No, the clone body isn’t unstable. I didn’t know humans could suffer from it, too.”

“Suffer from what? Is he sick? How sick?!”

“Only in a manner of speaking.” Holding up his hand to indicate Keith needs to let him finish. “On Altea, with all the fighting, we had several soldiers get sick. Not physically. Mentally. We would rotate them off the battle lines. They were fine in the heat of it, but at home couldn’t adjust. Trouble sleeping, trouble eating, trouble making decisions. Panic at loud noises. That kind of thing. We found that the only real way to help was time. Some medicines did some good but it was a patch over a gaping wound.” He twirls his mustache a little. “Shiro has been through quite a lot. Now that he’s safe, he’s beginning the healing process. Which means giving up some of the rigid control he needed to maintain focus and lead.

“ There’s treatments we had on Altea that involved talking through through the trauma. That was highly effective in a more long term way. And the other thing was just making sure they had love and support. Patience. Not tolerance of any wrongdoing. Just support as they healed.”

“What did you call it?”

“Ah. Yes! The most important part: Battle fatigue. I have done some studying of your history, meaning Earth history, not yours personally. There’s a lot of elements of what Earthlings call “Pee-Tee-Es-Dee”that seem to overlap with our own Battle Fatigue.  I know we’ve seen Shiro have some moments of, shall we say, discomfort? But I admit I didn’t know much about humans before, and still wouldn’t know as much as you about what would be considered normal. But I read about something called “ The thousand yard stare.” Is that also a thing he does?”

“Yeah… He spaces out sometimes. We have that… We have that here on Earth. And we call it Post-Traumatic Stress Syndrome. I think we called it something similar to Battle Fatigue. But after our second major war we changed the name.” Keith sees Coran waiting. Obviously tired but always willing to help. “Thanks Coran. I’m sorry I woke you. That helps a lot.” For all he’s not sure what to do. Give Shiro patience, and love. Well that’s great, but he’s got the Blade, and they’re busy a lot of the time. 

Does he just take a break? Can he take a break? He was just getting to know his mother.  Selfish. Shiro wouldn’t have even hesitated. And Keith had had time in that weird field out of time. Maybe she can stay, too. Shiro took care of him, he’s family. Maybe Krolia can be his family, too. 

“Don’t be a stranger!” Coran gives him a little wink and signs out, leaving Keith facing a blank screen.

Taking a few breaths, what he knows about PTSD isn’t good. There’s no magic cure for it. The brain is too complex. Cracking his knuckles he boots up the screen and starts researching away.

[jasper76723333-blog]

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[boonefry6-blog]

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[ekaterinakostrova]

So I have this theory that Nesta is actually bonded to Cassian and Koschei. Since she did take a something from the Cauldron that, that piece of her mates her to Koschei while her true self is bonded to Cassian. I think I’m liking it more towards a Harry Potter-esque where adopted a few of Voldemort’s qualities

Unfortunately, we still knownothing about Koschei and what role he plays in the ACOTAR’s universe exceptthe fact that he is the eldest brother of Stryga and the Bone Carver, so all ofthis is rather basic information. At the same time, we have some interestinglines in the books that can be used as a proof of possible connection, possiblerelationship between Nesta and Koschei. It was stated by the Bone Carver thatKoschei is the strongest one among all three siblings, and Prythian’sinhabitants think of him as the God of the Death - all three of them wereconsidered as “Gods of Death”.

Nesta has dark gifts. Not just one gift, but gifts. Ifeel so attached to her, because I consider her as the strongest character in awhole trilogy. She is trying to fight against destiny – she doesn’t want toaccept the death of her mother; the death of her father had a strong impact onher, readers can see what the death of loved people can do with a fragile andsensitive soul. She feels nothing. Nesta’s present state should not benecessarily connected with the Claudron, I believe that a person really canfeel nothing because of the death of the loved one. Therefore,Nesta has a posttraumatic stress disorder. And I do not think anyone could get through what shewent through. Nesta was in the war camp during the battles with Hybern, and itseems that she helped to treat wounded, brought fresh water, tried to bandage soldiers’wounds. The girl who tried to distance herself from the suffering of other peoplewas at the very center of cruelty - torn limbs, physical pain, death,bitterness, blood. No one likes war, but Nesta, who feels too deeply and seeseverything that others do not notice, I’m sure it was incredibly difficult forher to be in a war camp. And Nesta watched Cassian during the battle, but shelooked not only at him, but also at other soldiers who were dying. And Istrongly believe that she blames herself not only for the fact that her fatherdied trying to protect her, but also for the fact that she could not stop the Claudron’spower, she did not save the Illyrian’s soldiers who were killed by the Claudron.She could not prevent the destruction of the wall, which for many centuries hadbeen the only barrier that separated the immortal regiments from weak mortals.And there are still many high fae, who wants to enslave humans once again. WhenNesta met the mortal queens, she did not ask for her life, but for the lives ofthe people who were living in her village, in the Archeron’s mansion; she askedfor the lives of weak people before the High Lords, she was trying to convince thatpeople behind the wall were dying because of hunger. She asked Rhysand to tryto hide people with families during the battle with the Hybern, but Rhysandrefused, because there was no time, there was no place to hide so many peopleas if he really did not care.

By the way, this could be one of the reasons, whythere were so many servants in the Archeron’s mansion, not because they reallyneeded servants, or they did not need money, but most likely because Nestacould give money to other people from poor families, so that they could buywarm clothing, food. This could be one of the reasons, why Nesta so quicklyfurnished the house with paintings and expensive furniture, using the moneythat Tamlin left - she bought other things to give money to others. And Nestais well versed in human feelings, I think she understood that pity could offendother people, and when she gave money in exchange for utensils, for work otherdid in their mansion – by doing this she did not cause moral pain to others,and helped those, who needed this. Cassian correctly notes in the novella thatNeste has no other place to go - she has no home anymore. And I believe thatthe Hybern’s soldiers killed those, who were in the Archeron’s mansion thatnight, when soldiers came for the older sisters, perhaps, they even burned theirhouse. And she could feel guilty for the death of her servants because shehired those, who cooked, cleaned rooms and washed clothes.

Sadness, sorrow, grief, loneliness, empathy, love -all these feelings may cause the death.

The void had already tortured Nesta before. She had alreadyexperienced similar feelings of loss, when Elain reminds Cassian of what Hyberndid with him, when Archeron’s sisters were transformed into immortals.

“Nesta’s nostrils flared, but Elain peered upat Cassian, blinking twice. “He snapped your wings, broke your bones.”

I tried to shut out the soundof Cassian’s scream—the memory of the spraying blood.

Nesta stared at her plate”.

Nesta did not want him to feel any pain, she sharedhis physical pain, as if she felt this pain as her own. Nesta does not tellanyone about her gift. Cassian accuses her of stealth in the very beginning ofthe third book, saying that she does not want to talk about her gift.

“You won’t talk about your powers, so youcertainly aren’t going to be able to wield them. And you—”

“Shut your mouth,” shesnapped, every inch the conquering empress. “I told you to stay the hell awayfrom me, and if you—”

The reason of all of this is that she does not wanther gift to be associated with death. A person, who has such an acutesensitivity to words, who so sensitively feels other people’s emotions, gettingbadly burned by the feelings of other people - it is not surprising that Nestaopposes her new nature. No wonder she hates Feyre – because of her Nesta wastransformed into the creature that brings death. The death that took her mother.

And fear surge through every pore of her new andsevere nature, when she speaks about her power:

“Nesta didn’t look convinced. “Does she havepowers? Like mine.”

Firstly, the Bone Carver says that Nesta is the sameas his sister once was, he calls her Queen. He equates Nesta with himself, saysthat they are the same, they are equal.

“A rasping laugh as the Carver laid the shardof bone on the ground beside him. “How lovely she is—new as a fawn and yetancient as the sea. How she calls to you. Aqueen, as my sister once was. Terribleand proud; beautiful as a winter sunrise.”

The Bone Carver heard the song of her dark gifts,heard from the winds about Nesta.

“I think it’s death,” I saidquietly.

I held Rhys’s gaze, as if itwere again the tether that had kept me in this world. “I think the power isdeath—death made flesh. Or whatever power the Cauldron holds over such things.That’s why the Carver heard it—heardabout her.”

Secondly, we have such a terrific character as Vassa,who directly tells Nesta that in the future they will fight together.

“I do not have much time left—before I must return tothe lake. To him.”

To the death-lord who held her leash. “Who is he?” Ibreathed.

And if we are talking about Vassa and her curse, thenwe will certainly meet with Koschei. And if The Bone Carver says that Nestaresembles his sister, there is a possibility that Koschei would love to have abride, who is equal in strength to him.

And here is one interesting turn in the plot of thewhole story. What I really like about Russian fairy tales is that many womenare represented as warrior-queens and sometimes women in Russian fairy talessave their spouses and husbands. Koschei is the main villain in many Russianfairy tales, and always captivates the most beautiful women, turning intomythical creatures those, who refused to become his bride. He has many uniqueabilities - he turns into black ravens, and with his touch he turns all livingthings into gold and diamonds, his rich palaces are full of untold treasures,jewels. But he always acts like a villain. No arrows, no sword can kill him,but still he can be killed, but his death is hidden.

Koschei is a very powerful magician:

in the fairy tale “Ivan Sosnovich” he turnsinto a stone a whole kingdom;

in the fairy tale “Elena the Beautiful”turns Ivan Tsarevich into a nut;

in the fairy tale “The Princess-the Serpent”transforms the princess into a serpent;

in the fairy tale “The Frog Princess”punishes the princess, putting on her a frog skin.

And the very name of Koschei is translated as a ‘slave’or a ‘prisoner’; using his name as a verb, that would be translated as “to hurt”,therefore he is called as an avenger and as a pest or as a wrecker.

“The Death of Koschei the Deathless or Marya Morevna” isa well-known Russian fairy tale and Marya Morevna is described as a beautiful warrior-queen,that captivated Koschei with her beauty. Koschei always acts as a bridekidnapper. And Nesta can be regarded as a bride, if in the next book we wouldfinally find out that Nesta and Cassian are mates. But Marya Morevna was alsothe one, who could put Koschei in chains.

And there are a few more fairy tales “Vasilisa theBeautiful”, which is more like Russian version of ‘Snow White’; “The FrogTsarevna” or “The Enchanted Lake” (The Frog Princess, named Vasilisa the Wise,is a beautiful, intelligent, friendly, skilled girl who was forced to spend 3years in a frog’s skin for disobeying Koschei, she refused to become hisbride); “The Firebird and Princess Vasilisa”.

Viktor Vasnetsov, The Frog Tsarevna, 1918.

The Koschei’s true form is very repulsive, but since wehave Sarah J. Maas as an author, for some reason I imagine him as a handsome andstrong man - he is the eternal and immortal God of Death after all.

There are no hints that Koschei knows anything about Nesta’sexistence, except for the words that the Bone Carver said about the island.

“You have met my sister—my twin. The Weaver,as you now call her. I knew her as Stryga. She, and our older brother, Koschei. How they delighted in this world when we fellinto it. How those ancient Fae feared and worshipped them. Had I beenbraver, I might have bided my time—waited for their power to fade, for thatlong-ago Fae warrior to trick Stryga into diminishing her power and becomingconfined to the Middle. Koschei,too—confined and bound by his little lake on the continent. All beforePrythian, before the land was carved up and any High Lord was crowned.”

It seems that the Bone Carver is afraid of them, especiallyafraid of Koschei.

“They are death-gods, girl,” the Carver hissed. “You are immortal—orlong-lived enough to seem that way. But my siblings and I … We are different. And the two of them …Stronger. So much stronger than I ever was. My sister … she found a way toeat life itself. To stay young and beautiful forever thanks to the lives shesteals.”

“I have no desire to remind mysister and brother that I am alive and in the world. Contained and diminishedas they are, their influence remains … considerable.”

Therefore, The Carver used the prison as a shelterfrom his powerful siblings.

I do not know what will happen next, but for somereason I believe that this meeting between Koschei and Nesta is quite possible,and it would be like a dark and dangerous, tragic romance. I do not think thatNesta will choose Koschei, because in fairy tales he always appears as avillain, however Nesta is a person, who sees the depth of the soul of otherpeople. She can look within the soul of the most ancient and powerful God, whois attached to her.

Why the romance between them will be tragic? Usuallyvillains of such high level like Koschei offer the finest things that virtuousheroines never agree to accept (that stupid girls) and usuallyvillains uses thisperfect line like – ‘Let’s rule this world together like the King and the Queen’.I do not think Nesta will agree with this if it means enslavement or annihilation.I also think that the affection between them could be very passionate. Sometimes they say that affection is scarier than a sword.

Nesta is described as an incredibly beautiful woman. Helion,Eris, and even Hybern were interested in her. Only Cassian – “The Prince of Fools”pretends not to know her and keeps saying himself that he does not care. Buteither he begins to behave like a man and grow some balls, or Koschei will comewith very direct statements and plans about Nesta Archeron. For some reason itseems to me that Koschei is very straightforward in his intentions.

[roraewrites]

kacchako positivity week // day three: rematch

He couldn’t stop the aching feeling in his chest as he threw punch after punch towards the redhead. Just like he expected, Kirishima either ducked or deflected every one of his attacks but it just wasn’t enough.

It wasn’t satisfying, it wasn’t quenching the thirst or the drive that he had to want to fight.

The fact that his opponent before him wouldn’t even throw a punch was pissing him off; he wanted to feel pain, wanted to actually have someone worth fighting and only one person had proved worthy enough — only she wasn’t around.

It had been driving him nuts over the past few months. Bakugou couldn’t control his thoughts, couldn’t control the beast that thrived to fight inside; it clawed at his chest, begging to be released every single day.

Except he couldn’t bring himself to challenge her just yet.

So he continued to throw a punch, then a kick before his palms began to spark and ignite until Kirishima started yelling.

“Dude! Take it down a notch. We’re only training, yeah?”

Bakugou fumed before glaring at his classmate. He stopped himself from throwing another punch before he huffed, shoulder slumped and hands ready to go but the look in Kirishima’s eyes is sincere and worried.

He hates when people look at him like that.

“Whatever. If you can’t fucking take it, then I’ll go find someone that can.”

“That’s not what I meant— hey! Bakugou, dude!”

But the redhead’s words fell on deaf ears as he began to walk away, clearly pissed off and lost in the whirlwind of thoughts that claimed his mind. He can hardly think straight, hardly see straight as he stomped off of the training grounds, his boots kicking up puffs of dust until he’s finally standing on the sidelines with a scowl lining his features.

Aizawa directed all the boys of their class to do specific training with one another but Bakugou didn’t see the appeal in that. He didn’t want to fight any of them; Deku was too fucking weak, Half-and-Half wouldn’t put up a real fucking fight, Shitty Hair wasn���t even trying— none of them were worth his time.

He crossed his arms as he watched each of them activate their quirks, working on theirs moves but Bakugou could care less. His hands itched with heat as the sparks in his palms crackled softly. It tickled more than anything, but he didn’t want to feel that.

He wanted to feel the heat of his explosions, feel his body propel through the air as he laughed and aimed his palms at his target.

Katuski just wanted to face someone worthy except she wasn’t here.

He bottled his anger up in the center of his chest, swallowing back words of fury and venomous insults before their class was dismissed. By that time, school hours came to a close and he found himself stomping towards the shared bathrooms.

Once he started up the shower, he found a familiar face present.

“The fuck are you doing here?” He bit out.

Kirishima shuffled nervously before moving towards the wall and entering a shower stall on the end.

“Showering,” he responded cooly and it rubbed Katsuki the wrong way.

Instead of demanding a different answer, he rolled his eyes and kept to himself. Usually he didn’t mind a cooler shower after training, but today he preferred scalding hot.

As much as he wanted to relax the tension in his muscles, it did everything but that and it only riled him up even more. He had conflicting thoughts in his head as he scrubbed his scalp clean, letting the suds run down his skin before scrubbing his arms, his legs, his abs — he just wanted to feel something, wanted to rid his body of this annoyed and agitated sensation.

Kirishima finished showering before Bakugou and that’s when he finally knew that he was alone. He took a few minutes longer, standing under the shower head as it doused his entire being and once the water started to cool off, he finally turned it off and let the steam engulf him.

His core was running rampant with fire, coursing through his muscles and heating all of his bones up until he made it to his dorm. He entered quickly before slamming the door closed and he was pretty sure he could hear his classmates opening theirs to find out what had pissed him off this time.

Instead of wandering out to pick a fight with someone, Katsuki lost his head to his thoughts; his head was like a carousel, spinning around with thought after thought.

He thought it best to close his eyes for the time being, letting sleep take him until he could calm down enough to just breathe.

.

.

.

He couldn’t believe that he had slept through his rage, slept through the thoughts that he had fallen victim to and he was now sitting in class the next morning. It didn’t matter how many hours he had slept or how much coffee he had downed, he couldn’t seem to shake himself from the groggy hands that clung to him.

Not until he noticed a certain brunette turn in her seat to glance at the clock.

She looked almost impatient like she needed to be somewhere. Katsuki chose to ignore her shuffling body but when she did it once more and then turned to look in the opposite direction, he felt his anger seeping through his pores.

What in the fuck is she doing?

He slouched lower in his seat before pulling at his messy bangs, trying to block her out of his view.

“Make sure to do your homework, or don’t. Not my grades, so I don’t care. I’ll see you later.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes at the way Aizawa dismissed them but he was quick to remove himself from his desk and dart out the door. What he didn’t miss was Uraraka’s fleeing form before him, hustling down the hall and rounding the corner before he could even shout at her.

He still wanted to fight her, still wanted to feel that sort of freedom she allowed him to feel during the sport’s festival but it pissed him off that he couldn’t even work up the nerve to talk to her, let alone tell her that she was going to fight him again.

Hell, he couldn’t even rid the image of her being hauled away after their fight and he hated waking up to those nightmares that haunted him. He huffed once more before a hand landed on his shoulder.

“Hey, man.”

It was Kirishima and his stupid goofy grin. It was the last thing that Bakugou wanted to deal with today so he shrugged his hand off.

“Don’t touch me.”

“Heading to lunch?”

“Yes.”

“Cool! I’ll come with.”

“I didn’t fucking invite you!”

Kirishima matched his gaze, smile never fading and it was pushing Katsuki towards the edge. Why the fuck couldn’t he get away from these types of people? Instead, they were always drawn to him and he never fucking understood why.

He didn’t have the energy to fight with the redhead though; with Kirishima by his side, they wandered away until it was just the two of them sitting at a table, eating side by side and that’s when he finally spared him a glance.

“Are you still mad?”

“When isn’t he mad?” A new voice butted into their conversation and Bakugou could feel his heart racing in his chest. “Right, ‘Splodey?”

“Get the fuck away from me, Pikachu.”

It didn’t matter how much venom and anger he put into his words, these idiots never learned when to leave him alone and it annoyed him to no extent. Once again, he didn’t have the energy to fight.

His mind was entirely too focused on someone else.

Bakugou could hardly contain his temper now with the rest of their “squad” sitting with them. He was fine with it just being Kirishima, but with Kaminari, Mina and Sero mindlessly blathering, he couldn’t focus or keep his anger at bay.

He refused to listen to them talk; instead, he found himself running through the many different scenarios of how he wanted to face Uraraka and ask for a rematch.

He could ask her the next time he saw her, or he could tell her. He wanted to tell her more than anything. Bakugou wanted to fight Uraraka again and see how much she had improved because he was caught off guard when she pulled that stupid stunt of trying to off him with a meteor shower.

The mere thought made him grin.

“Yo, Bakugou— you okay?”

Everyone was now looking at him and that’s when he noticed he was actually grinning. His eyes narrowed almost immediately before he grabbed his bag and left.

He needed to find Uraraka.

When he spared the clock on the wall a glance, he realized that he had more than enough time to find her and demand a rematch.

When he finally left the common area, he went straight to her door. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, rocking against his ribcage and making it hard to breathe. When he arrived at her door, he didn’t bother taking a deep breath before banging on it with his entire fist.

“Open up, Roundface!”

He waited a minute before pounding on it again. Bakugou knew that she had to be in there because she wasn’t in the common areas that everyone else had been in. He took a thorough sweep of the room before disappearing through the entryway and just when he was about to give up and leave, that’s when the door cracked open.

“What do you want, Bakugou?”

Her eyes looked puffy as they were swollen and red. It was a look that he’d seen on her before, one from the sport’s festival and he could feel his stomach churn from where he stood.

The words that he wanted to say were now lodged in his throat, stuck on the lump there and he couldn’t even make a sound. He then scowled at her when she raised a brow and opened the door a little more.

“If you’re not going to say anything then could you please leave?”

“No,” he retorted with a strong tone and that’s when Uraraka really looked at him.

He felt torn between wanting to leave and wanting to stay. The last thing he wanted was to comfort the girl that he wanted to fight but he didn’t want to leave.

He’d look like a damn loser if he were to do that and Bakugou Katsuki was definitely not a loser.

She started to close the door but he stuck his foot in the entry way before pushing his way into her room. That’s when he noticed something flare up from within her eyes and it’s a look that he’s seen before.

“Fight me.”

“What?” She had a puzzled look on her face as he towered over her.

“I said fight me.” He said with a stern tone.

He couldn’t tell if she was going to break down and start crying again or try and throw a punch, but the look in her eyes began to heat up and that’s when he found himself smirking.

“No,” she responded. He felt his heart in his throat, pulsating and throbbing. “I’m not going to fight you right now.”

“Are ya too scared?” He mocked, eyes set on hers and when she wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, he felt his fingers begin to tremble.

He so badly wanted to fight her, so badly wanted to see her come at him with everything she had again. Bakugou wanted nothing more than to challenge her, but the fact that she was backing down meant that she was being grouped in with Kirishima and that shitty nerd.

“I’m not scared but I’m not fighting you.”

He frowned at her now, eyes narrowed and lips pressed into a firm line before he took a step back. There was something wrong with her, something he didn’t like and maybe it was because he came at the wrong time, but the fact that she wouldn’t accept his offer (taunt) was infuriating.

Bakugou had nothing more to say to her. He felt somewhat disappointed in her for rejecting him and when he turned to leave, she let the door close behind him.

He couldn’t control the shaking in his hands or the way he wanted to crumble to the floor because his knees felt weak. He was pissed that all of his classmates were too weak; he wanted someone to rise up and give him an actual fight and the only person he knew that could do it had refused to.

Katsuki clenched his fists, teeth grating against one another until he found Ochako opening the door and staring at him.

Her eyes held a different look, something swirling in the depths of her pools and it sent shivers down his spine. She held herself with a different demeanor, her chin raised a little higher and her shoulders pulled back slightly.

With scarlet eyes set into a glare, she mirrored his gaze and he found something lingering there that excited him.

It was the exact same look she gave him when they fought, the same look she gave him when she rushed him, intent on attacking.

“What the fuck do you want, extra?”

His insult bounced off of her. Uraraka took a single step towards him, careful of his bubble and when she felt like she was close enough, she stopped.

“Tonight,” she spoke with confidence and it made him perk up slightly. “Right after class.”

“Who says I’m gonna show up?”

That’s when she smirked slightly. He was amazed with how different she could look in the matter of a few minutes; only seconds ago she looked pitiful and upset. Now she stood with confidence, a determined look lining her face and it excited Bakugou.

“Then I’ll assume that you’re scared.”

He chuckled before turning his back to her.

“Don’t pass out on me this time, Angelface.”