#cardboard boxes trash and clothes are all across my floor and I now have two different mattresses just hanging out

[insistonyourcupofstars]

this is not how i am supposed to start my year.

[sen-ketsu]

⚠️WARNING ⚠️

SMUT, CURSING, NSFW,

If this makes you uncomfortable

PLEASE DO NOT READ.

Nanami// unintentional meeting

(one shot)

As a businessman, days off would be almost impossible. Nanami worked at least 9 hours a day, not including overtime. With his drenchful hours, conversations got smaller, sex got bland, as if you two were roommates. Recently, He rearrange his hours to repair the gap in the relationship.

He also notice that you were getting very bratty with him for the past few weeks and he wanted make it up to you.

You were relaxing on the couch watching your favorite show, until your phone lights up, dotting your eyes to the direction of your phone.

*Nanami 1 Audio message*

“I just got off work, however I have a meeting to attend with Ijichi. Originally I did not plan for this to happen. *sighs* The show must go on, wear something sexy & professional ..I’ll be at home in a few.”

His husky voice made your stomach tense up. You forgot how sexy he could be without even trying. You hasten to your closet to view the clothing items that you have hanging. Your not really a head over heels person for wearing dresses. You examine the choices and finally come to a decision.

pantsuit.

You weren’t really excited about the unexpected meeting, neither was Nanami. You seemed like the person in the background to Nanami. Like his last option. Is he okay with that? You caught yourself overthinking. You fix your hair, put your shoes on, and stare at the mirror. The pantsuit hugged you perfectly, bringing out your natural body shape. While Admiring your body, Nanami finally arrived home with a small box.

“What’s that?” you blurt out, walking towards him. He takes the mystery item out of the bag.

“Special Underwear.” he remarked.

He removes the underwear from the small cardboard box and handed it to you. “Be a good girl and put these on, we don’t want to be late” tossing the box into the trash.

You go to the bathroom a examine the suspicious underwear. They looked pretty normal, until you saw a small dark purple figure poking out. Nanami knocks on the bathroom door, “Don’t question them, just put them on.” Your weary about putting on box panties. You finally put them on and walk out the bathroom feeling confident.

“There on.” fixing your jacket. Nanami takes out his phone from his stiff backpocket and starts gliding his thumb across the screen somehow making your underwear vibrate. You halfway crouch to the floor holding your inner thigh. “Nanami- what the —fuck?” He glances down at you. “Now I only have one rule;” he smirks placing his keys on the counter.. “ If you misbehave during my meeting I’ll punish you in front of everyone, I don’t care how many people are there”

His sleepy eyes stared at your weak body half way on the ground, looking back up at you. “Do you understand?”

“y-es, can- you turn it— off”

Nanami lowers his thumb to the bottom of the screen where there’s little to no vibration.

“Let’s go then.”

You both arrive to the restaurant in one piece, “Kiyotaka Ijichi, I’m supposed to have a meeting with him.” the waiter guides two of you to the booth where Ijichi, is located at. You sit near the wall, while Nanami sits beside you. While Ijichi sits in front of the two of you. “Hello Ijichi.” Nanami says fixing his tie. “Hell-o.” Ijichi says. Spreading out documents on the table.“Let’s make this meeting quick ... I’m trying to go home a little early tonight.” Nanami pulls out his pen from his chest pocket and placed it on the table. “Y-es sir” Ijichi says shakily.

You watch the both of them talk about uninteresting business stuff. Nanami sees that you’re getting bored. He pulls his phone and puts the vibrate setting on low. Your body jerks a little from the certain vibration. You look around to see if anyone saw you. The waiter finally comes to your table, taking orders for drinks and apologizing for the inconvenience. “It’s been extremely busy tonight. I’ll have you guys drinks in a few.”

The way Ijichi was acting made you laugh. Why was he so off the edge? He was so jumpy and jittery. You complement Ijichi during his conversation to tease Nanami. “You look very handsome Ijichi.” He blushes instantly, clearing his throat and continues to talk.Nanami was getting jealous and saw how you were acting.Your body got used to the slow vibrations, for his entertainment he glides his finger all the way to the top to “rapid speed” and leaves it on automatic. You close your legs because you knew that your body couldn’t handle it. “Shit~” you whimmer. Ijichi looks your way looking frighten but continues to talk. Under the table, Nanami places his muscular hands on your left thigh and parts it from your other thigh. You try to distract yourself by looking around the restaurant, or fiddle with the salt and pepper. He squeezes your thigh tightly.

You move around in your seat, until the panties hit your sweet spot. Your soaked in cum, it seemed like the more you cummed the vibrator went faster. You let out a loud, “fuck.” Some of the people in the restaurant looks your way. “Is she alrig-ht.” Ijichi concerning says, “she’s fine. She’s a little excited… let’s continue.” Nanami was on the edge of breaking, His long curvy dick imprinting on his blue slacks.

You try closing your legs again but Nanami forcefully opens then again, he leans over to your ear and whispers, “Stop it, your turning me on.”

He backs back away from your ear until you pull him closer to his ear, “n-Nana-mi ...” He hadn’t heard you moan in his ear for ages. He knew what affect you had on him. You place your hand on his hard bulge, “uah~ “ you squirm and in your seat and the fabric of your pants suit was really doing something to him. The way it imprinted some of your body parts, how tears were coming out of your eyes, seeing the sweat dripping down from the side of your face. It triggered him, to the point he was punishing himself, he couldn’t take it anymore.

Gripping your thigh wasn’t enough. He wanted to touch you, please you, feel himself inside of you. Nanami takes out his phone and turns off the vibration, and pretends to act like he just got an important message.“Excuse me Ijichi, we’ll have to finish the meeting another day, I have a sudden emergency to take care of.” Nanami gets up from his seat and grabs your arm and exits the restaurant. You couldn’t even feel your legs anymore. He took you to his car, and drove you home. He ran almost every red light, 55mph, he had the benefit of the doubt. As soon as you hit the door it was in intense kissing, groping, shuffling, removing of clothes around the living room. He didn’t even try to take you to the official bedroom. “I know I’ve been doing 9 hours of work..” he sighs, looking down at the floor. “But I’d do 9 hours with you all night long Y/N.” He smirks. After 5 solid rounds and clean up, you two fall asleep on the couch. In the morning he makes you breakfast and tries repair the relationship.

A/N — thanks for reading! I apologize for any spelling mistakes & not being active!

[blackbat05]

Day by Day

Shangqi x Reader 

A/N: My love for this man has hit an all time high so let me capitalize on it while I still can! If you read everything, I sincerely thank you for doing so!!! And holy cow 2 fics in 2 days have I gone back into my prime days? 

Genre: PG-13

Notes: As the title mentioned, I’ll probably set it some time after endgame. You could see it as a prequel to my first post! Reader is a social worker and she’s just dealing with all the mess that the snap bought back. The reader’s name as Jen Lee. I also apologize in advance for the potentially long fic. 

***

‘Excuse me, I’m looking for my child? Her name’s Wang Yiman and she’s seven.’ Another frazzled-looking parent fought her way to the front of the receptionist, approaching the helpless intern who looked like she was going to be on the verge of tears if another request came in. 

‘I got this,’ a hand calmly reassured the young intern as she beckoned the relief parent. ‘Mrs Wang? My name is Jen Lee and I’m the social worker here.’ I offered my hand for the anxious mother. ‘Oh thank god! Is Yiman ok? She must have been so scared!’ I slowed to a stop outside the room at the end of the corridor, gently sitting her down. 

‘Yiman has been a very brave girl Mrs Wang, but I will not lie to you. The sudden disappearance of their parents has traumatized a lot of kids. We’ve managed to explain to them what was going on but they will need a lot of support.’ I gave a glance over Mrs Wang’s shoulder, nodding to my colleague, Tammy who was holding the hand of a little girl in pigtails and a floral dress. 

妈妈! mā ma (mommy!)

The young girl ran into her mother’s open arms, allowing the floodgates to open from both ends. I turn to Tammy as we shared a silent agreement to leave the area. ‘That’s the last one for the day,’ Tammy unceremoniously plops herself onto the chair, letting out a groan. ‘Thanks for your hard work Jen.’ 

‘Right back at you.’ I entered the last bit of paperwork before uploading Yiman’s case file onto the portal. Yiman’s reunion with her parents meant the Children and Youth Centre were halfway in getting every displaced child back to their parents. Looking at the dingy television that was hung on the walls at the waiting room, despite not being able to hear anything, it didn’t take a genius to figure out what was going on. S.W.O.R.D was apparently in a stand-off against Wanda Maximoff? Reported rumors that Sam Wilson didn’t want anything to do with the shield? It’s been a crazy few weeks but that was utter- 

‘Bullshit! If anything it’s the government. They must have psyched him into giving up the shield.’ My chair swiveled to face Tammy who returned a nonchalant shrug. ‘What? You know I’m right. Doesn’t matter if half the world’s gone or our universe gets split into two - they’re the true evil here. I’m still struggling to find a place after I found a couple making out in my apartment! And you know what the global repatriation council told me? We’re only dealing with urgent cases right now. Well I say f-’

The incessant ringing of the bell interrupted our conversation, replacing Tammy’s tirade into a cheeky grin. ‘Look who’s here!’ 

Shangqi stands behind the counter, dressed in his usual red varsity jacket and jeans, holding bags of what I could only make out as takeout from the Chinese restaurant that was run by a friendly Singaporean couple. ‘Did I interrupt something?’ He scratches his head nervously. ‘Nope, in fact you just saved me from Tammy’s monologue, any further and she’ll explicitly tell me what she saw in her apartment when she got dusted back that day,’ I shivered in mock fear. ‘Still haunts me up till today.’ Tammy meets us by the door, bag in her hand. 

‘I thought you were staying? We got fried dumplings and 泡饭  pào fàn (poached rice).’ 

‘Last minute duty - A parent called, gotta run! Enjoy your dinner date.’ She waggles her eyebrows suggestively, much to our embarrassment. ‘What? It’s not...’ Shangqi stutters, trying to form intelligible sentences. ‘Get out before I throw a fried dumpling at your face Tammy!’ She winks at me, before darting out of the door. Once my nosy colleague was out, I turn towards a red-faced Shangqi. ‘I’m so sorry... just don’t mind her.’ 

‘Huh?’ The man was knocked out of his stupor. ‘Oh yeah... sure,’ in an attempt to forget everything that had just happened, he opened the packets of fried dumplings. ‘Ready for war?’ 

‘I was born ready.’ 

Thirty-five minutes later, all that was left were the remnants of fried dumplings and three empty containers. 

‘This should be illegal,’ I patted my stomach in satisfaction to his amusement. ‘Laugh at yourself! You lost track of how many dumplings you had and ended up taking my share!’ 

Raising his hands in defeat, Shangqi starts to clear the table up. ‘So how’s the center? Everything alright?’ I nodded numbly. 

The past five years had been a blur. Hazy, even. All I remembered was a kid running into the office telling me that half of the staff disappeared during a school holiday program that we were running with a dozen other kids. Parents who survived the snap rushed to our center, demanding to see their children. We couldn’t give them any answer as we too, were equally perplexed. Maybe the only thing that made sense was Shangqi and Katy bursting into the center to help us with the chaos. 

Coming back from what could be the 1000th phone call, I got a glimpse in the children’s playroom where the five years old kids were at, treating myself to an amusing sight. They all had red cloths draped around their neck, each holding a stick that was from the abandoned prop box. Katy wasn’t spared to as she was wearing her own red cloth that seemed a few sizes to small for her. Not that she didn’t seem to mind. 

‘Alright my warriors! Chargeeeeee!!!!!!’ 

In unison, little pairs of feet pattered across the room towards their ‘enemy’, a cardboard cutout of a monstrous creature who was really just Shangqi in disguise. 

‘RAWR! I’ll eat anyone who stands in my way!’ He stands up, mimicking a dinosaur that was about to trample an entire city. I decided that the paperwork could wait, standing near the door to watch an Oscar-worthy performance. With great effort and bravery from the kids, they finally managed to take down 5 foot 10 worth of muscle. 

‘Again! Again!’ 

I chuckled upon seeing Shangqi on the floor, about to drift off into wonderland. It was time for me to step in. ‘Alright kids that’s enough for today! Dinner’s here.’  As the kids dispersed with the help of Katy, it was just the two of us left to clear up the mess. ‘Thank you so much, both of you. I honestly can’t think of what would happen if you guys didn’t come to help.’ 

Perhaps my body language was screaming ‘I’m dead tired, please just knock me out’ as Shangqi takes a cloth from me, folding it back into the box. ‘It’s what we would have done, this place, it means a lot to us - to me.’ 

A small knock on the door diverts our attention away from the trash. Little Yiman stands at the door, as she stares at the both of us with big round eyes. 

‘Yiman, it’s late, what are you doing here?’ I squat down to her eye level. The little girl beams, ‘ 妈妈 said that I could give this to you!’ She passes me a juice box together with a handmade card with colorful scribbles. Maybe I was carrying too much on my shoulders, as I suddenly felt a boulder lifted off me. ‘Thank you,’ I smile at her sweetly, ‘I love apple juice.’ Happy with the response, she runs to Shangqi. ‘Shangqi 哥哥 gē ge (brother)!’ 

He breaks out into a smile, opening his arms wide. Yiman nuzzles her head into his shoulder before breaking out into uncontrollable giggles from his sudden attack of tickles. ‘Are you hear to help Miss Jen?’ I took the trash from his hands, giving him some time with the girl. 

‘Yes I am. Miss Jen needs some help so I’m here today!’ 

‘Are you her boyfriend?’ 

Shangqi freezes on the spot. He had undergone what could be the toughest training by his father, fought the greatest assassins in the world and here he was - stumped by a question from a seven year old. ‘Well... I’m her close friend since when we were very young,’ Yiman looks at him expectantly. ‘She helped me when I was in trouble so I had to be a good friend when she was in trouble too.’ 

‘Like how Ningning helped me when I injured my knee?’ 

‘Yeah... something like that.’ He breathes a sigh of relief, thankful to escape his first crisis. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure if he was telling himself the truth. 

‘Yiman! Your mother’s here!’ The little girl gives him one last hug before running to the waiting room. Shangqi takes a moment to recollect himself. ‘Here I am thinking that you finally managed to have some stamina while interacting with young children, maybe I was wrong.’ I teased as I sat beside him. 

‘Har har, hilarious.’ He tosses me a straw for our peach teas, as we were greeted by the amazing night view of San Francisco. ‘Enough about me, you good though?’ Looks like he didn’t forget the conversation that was cut off earlier. My mind goes back to a few minutes earlier, eavesdropping on the conversation.

‘I had to be a good friend when she was in trouble too.’

Life has been so unpredictable, I don’t even want to think too far into the future. With appearances from more superpowered beings, I don’t know what’s real anymore.

‘Yeah. To be honest, it’s been so crazy and overwhelming but I’ll get through it. I have you don’t I?’ Giving him a wink, I slowly sipped on the sweetness of the tea, savoring the pearls. He pauses for a moment, nodding thoughtfully. 

Life isn’t the same as it was before. But maybe, just maybe... if I had Shangqi, I’ll take each day on one at a time. Day by day. 

[END]

A/N: Hoho! I literally spent the whole afternoon writing because I just had to get this idea out and also because work was pretty slow today. I have no idea what is up with my first two fics hinting at unrequited love? I guess I got inspired by Shangqi’s and Katy’s platonic relationship because I thought it was so well written but I also love Shangqi so I guess is a compromise kinda thing. Again, do like and comment if you wish! Really thankful that y’all have been so kind to me so far! 

Perhaps I’ll try my hand at shorter ones like headcannons before this girl exhausts herself out and I don’t want to do that because I believe I have more to show! 

[strawberriestyles]

Watermelon Sugar (High)

Your relationship with Harry is fairly new, but that doesn’t mean it couldn’t use a little extra flavor.

Word count: 4.3k

Author’s note: Here’s my piece for @hsogolden‘s Fine Line Fic Challenge!! I had this idea almost immediately after I heard the song for the first time and then Brianne posted the challenge and it just worked out SO perfectly.  I know it’s been quite some time since I’ve posted a one shot. I hope y’all like this. Please, forgive me and let me know what you think!! Xx

For the first time this year, snow has begun to blanket the ground. It’s pretty as it falls, but it’s turned into slush on the roads and the cold has frozen patches of slick ice at the edges of intersections. Instead of the typical twenty minutes it takes you to get home from work, you were on the streets for nearly an hour, narrowly avoiding collisions.

The heat of your apartment is a relief as you rush through the doorway, a package clutched in your arms, toeing off your boots at the edge of the rug. Already, it’s grown dark outside, and the front hall is unnavigable without any lights on. You stumble over a discarded bag as you flip a switch with your elbow. With this newfound light, you dump your things on the bench directly across from the front door and carry the box you found outside, addressed to you, down the hall and into the kitchen.

You reach into the kitchen drawer beside the sink and pull out a pair of scissors, using one of the blades to slice into the tape running the length of the box. Then you drop the shears on the counter and peel back the cardboard flaps. There are layers of baby pink tissue paper cushioning the contents of the package and it crinkles between your fingers as you dig beneath it.

If anyone else was around, you would have to hide your face. There, at the bottom of the box, wrapped in transparent plastic, are three pairs of sheer panties, a glittery black mesh bra, and a lingerie set complete with garters and clips and elastic straps. You’d forgotten about the order you placed nearly two months ago at a party your friend threw. You hadn’t even been inclined to purchase anything, but the pressure you felt to support the hostess had forced you to cave.

You set the plastic-wrapped garments on the counter and drop the box onto the kitchen floor, but something rattles around in its depths. Tissue paper tears as you squat down to slide your hand along the bottom cardboard panel. A smaller, glossy box is hiding in the corner. When you pull it from beneath the tissue paper, it looks like the packaging for a tube of lipstick. The box is hot pink, almost red, with bright green script that reads High, and in smaller letters above the word, Watermelon Sugar.

It takes a few flips of the box for you to realize that it’s a lubricant. You are completely sure that you did not order this. So sure that you’re ready to toss it in the trash or send it right back to the return address. You have the box hanging over the garbage before you remember.

A free sample. The consultant has said something about receiving a free sample when you spent a certain amount. But this? A fruit-flavored lube? You’re not sure about this.

After a moment of hesitation, you close the trash can and begin to peel back the tiny cardboard flaps at one end of the box. You pull out a clear plastic tube filled with pink gel, a pump on one end. Silver lettering sparkles in the kitchen light.

What are you to do with this?

Physically, of course, you understand its purpose. But the idea of it makes your skin hot, even with the chilling press of winter upon your apartment’s windows. After all, your relationship is new and fresh. It’s too early for this.

Harry.

The thought jolts you from your train of consciousness. He’s supposed to be coming over for takeout and a movie tonight. When you glance at the clock and see that it’s already past the time you agreed upon, you tense. Perhaps he’s been slowed by the slick roads the same way you were.

Then there’s a soft knock upon the door. You hear it sliding across the rug in the entryway and Harry’s, “Hey, love! ‘S me.”

You panic as the door closes. Harry is stamping snow off of his boots. You rush back across the kitchen and begin stuffing plastic-wrapped underwear back into the box on the floor, covering it in shreds of pink tissue paper, burying your bottle of watermelon-flavored lube at the bottom.

“Whatcha got there?” Harry asks as he rounds the corner from the hallway.

Your back is turned to him and your fingers fumble with the flaps of the box as you shut it. Air spills from your lips in relief.

“It’s—um—a Christmas present,” you rush, spinning around with the box propped in the crooks of your elbows.

Harry peers at you from beneath locks of snow-dampened hair. There are still clumps of ice stuck to the ends by one temple. He has his hands tucked into the front pocket of his green hoodie and his toes wiggle against the floorboards from within thick woolen socks. You’re sure you look frazzled by comparison.

“For me?” he ponders, eyes lighting up as his face stretches into a delighted grin. “Can I take a peek?”

“Absolutely not.”

It’s then, when you’ve reeled in your utter panic and allowed your gaze to drift across the kitchen, that you find your mistake. The lubricant package—bright pink and glossy and obnoxious—is still standing on the countertop above the trash. Light glares off of its surface. You try to keep your demeanor as calm as possible.

“Just one little look? Like, one second. An’ then yeh can cover my eyes.”

“Uh, no.”

“Yeh’re sure?”

You’re creeping sideways across the kitchen, your eyes now trained on Harry, with his alarmingly mischievous smirk. He’s following you and his strides are larger than yours, even if you weren’t shuffling.

“Please, just—”

“Because I don’ like surprises, love.”

You’re there, sliding the larger box into a single arm and reaching behind you blindly with the other hand. But Harry is right in front of you, leaning down to press a featherlight kiss to your hairline, his hand snaking over the countertop. You spit out a sharp protest, but he has the lubricant package balanced between his fingers and he’s already across the kitchen, leaning against the sink, tilting the box to read it in the sparse light.

“Watermelon sugar?”

Your skin feels hot and clammy and your feet have been glued to the floorboards. There’s a furrow in his brow as his eyes scan the text, and then you watch as his expression shifts, as his eyes widen ever so slightly, as his jaw ticks.

“It’s not a Christmas present,” you mutter, dry-throated. “It’s a sample. It came with an order.”

Harry’s gaze flickers to you and then back to the pink box. His thumb traces the embossed words along its surface.

“What did yeh order, then?”

If you could be swallowed up by the earth, this would be the moment for it. You did not order any of the items you’re holding for Harry, or even with Harry in mind. You had only been on a single date with him at that point, and not a very promising one. He’d spilled red wine all over your new sweater and scratched the corner of your car trying to back out of your apartment complex’s parking lot. It’s incredible to see how your dynamic has shifted. But your sex life is even newer than your relationship.

You clear your throat and press your lips together. “Uh, just underwear.”

Harry finally looks at you, and his face seems brighter, though there’s not even a hint of a smile playing at his mouth. “‘S in there?”

You nod faintly, and he tosses the carton he’s holding across the counter, where it tumbles to a stop beside the stove.

“Let’s see.”

“Harry...” Your arms tighten instinctually around the box.

“I mean, yeh don’ have to, of course. But I’d love if yeh showed me.”

“Just quick?”

His smirk finally returns, though his eyes have darkened and his hands have curled themselves around the edge of the sink. The light above the window casts his face in shadowed shapes.

“Would prefer if I could see ‘em on yeh.”

“And if I don’t wanna put them on?”

“Fair enough.” He studies your face and then frowns. “Am I pushin’ yeh? Don’ mean to.”

“No, no.” Your teeth dig into your bottom lip with bruising force. “I just—” Your eyes fall, dancing around his gaze.

“If yeh’re not comfortable with it, tha’s fine, love.” Harry pads across the space between you. He looks down at the box you’re still holding and nods toward the countertop, prompting you to set it down. Then one of his palms is curved around your jaw and his nose is bumping yours. What little air you had to breathe is stolen by him.

“Should let yeh know, though,” he continues, thumb stroking your cheek where your skin burns against his touch, “that ‘m already half-hard.”

You’re still in your thick coat and the heat of your body is trapped, broiling you until you feel that your flesh might peel right off the bone. Harry must be able to feel it because his fingers tickle down your neck until he can pull at your buttons. His face withdraws from yours and you’re chasing it, the terrible proximity of his lips. He chuckles.

“If yeh don’ wanna put the panties on, no problem.”

You’re reaching for him again and this time he relents, fitting his mouth to yours while he tugs your jacket down your arms. There’s still a fresh humming in your veins whenever he kisses you, as if it’s the first time. The thought of him wanting this as much as you do leaves you pumping with adrenaline.

“We’re tryin’ out that watermelon stuff, though,” he mutters against your tingling lips. His fingers hook beneath the hem of your shirt, curling against your hips. “So we’ll just get yeh completely naked, yeah? No underwear involved.”

In another moment, your shirt lies on the floor with your coat and your pants are halfway down your thighs. The warmth you felt within the confines of your clothes evaporates as if it were never there. Harry lifts you up onto the edge of the counter, sponging wet kisses along your chest, wiggling your pants over the bend of your knees. Your hands slip under the back of his hoodie and he flinches when your cold fingertips meet his spine.

“Sorry,” you whisper.

Harry reaches back to tug his hoodie over his head, mussing his hair and riding up the shirt he has on underneath. He scoffs at your apology and allows you to peel his t-shirt off.

“‘S okay. I’ll warm yeh right up.”

His words ring true as he takes your hands in his, twining your fingers together, and closes his lips around your collarbone. His hot breath unfurls against your skin and leaves you shuddering. Your knuckles knock against the countertop.

“Better?” he murmurs against the base of your throat before sliding his mouth up along the underside of your jaw. His lips find yours again and his tongue flicks at the careless part of them.

“Yes,” you manage to muster. And you are warmer. The blood surging through your body might as well be some molten metal, liquid silver sloshing around your insides.

“Get this off then, yeah?” His fingers slip from yours and deftly unclip your bra. The straps fall down your arms and Harry lets it tumble to his feet, his attention focused solely on the way your nipples have already begun to pebble against the chill air. “Look so pretty.”

You let out a labored breath as he traces one of your nipples with his tongue. Your fingers catch in the loose curls at the back of his head, nails biting into his scalp. The sound of his lips popping from your skin distracts you from his hands, wiggling your panties beneath your bottom, dropping them to the floor to rest beside your discarded bra.

“Wanna get it out for me, love?” he mutters against your chest, teeth grazing the curve of one breast and leaving chills in their wake.

“What?” you breathe.

“The lube, baby. Where’s the lube?” He lifts his eyes so he can gaze up at you, peppering just a few more kisses to your chest. You don’t notice him pulling the chunky rings off his fingers until you hear them clinking together into the pocket of his jeans.

“Oh.” Your hands are clumsy as you open up the box beside you, rifling through the tissue paper to find the little plastic bottle. Harry’s palms trail up your thighs and you shiver so violently that you fumble the bottle twice before you’re able to extract it from the wrappings.

“Thank you.” He takes the bottle from your hand and pops the cap off the pump, tossing it noisily across the counter. He squirts a generous amount of glimmering pink, translucent gel onto the fingers of his right hand, where the prints of his rings still glow just above his knuckles. His thumb spreads the gel along his digits and he rubs it back and forth to warm it against his skin.

“Yeh ready?” he asks, crooking your knee up with his clean hand and leaning forward to sponge kisses up the inside of your thigh. For a moment you forget that his question requires a response. You forget that you require breaths.

“Love,” he prompts, pausing at the middle of your thigh and settling his cheek against your skin. You can hear the lubricant as it shifts between his fingers. His eyes find yours.

“Yes,” you answer finally. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

Harry hums. He turns to press a final kiss to your leg and then straightens up. With a gentle bump of his nose to yours, he slides his middle finger inside you. Even despite his effort to warm it, the lube isn’t nearly up to temperature. Your fingers clamp onto his shoulder, legs twitching at the chill of his touch, body tensing.

“‘M sorry, baby,” Harry mutters, pecking your chin. “Christ, yeh’re fuckin’ warm.” His other hand kneads at your propped up thigh as he begins to pump his finger into you. The sound it makes brings an uncomfortable heat to your face, but Harry only sighs into your burning cheek. Your eyes are drawn to the shift of his forearm, the rippling of the corded muscles just beneath his skin, under his eagle tattoo.

“I want another,” you whisper into his ear. You can smell his freshly washed hair, sweet and fruity beneath the sharp musk of his cologne. The hand you’ve been using to support yourself on the countertop combs through his soft curls and then folds them between your fingers.

Harry grunts, nipping at the skin just behind your jaw, just under your ear. He wiggles a second finger past your entrance and this time the cold is less of a shock. Instead, you’re dazed by the way he separates the two fingers apart, spreading you open, and then tips them up toward your belly. You release a staggered moan and lick at the dry flesh of your parted lips. It's as if he’s watched your tongue move. Harry draws back from your neck and finds your mouth, continuing to push his fingers into you while he kisses you until your lips are tingling and swollen and feel as though they could never be dry again.

By the time Harry slides a third finger into you, the countertop has become slick. You cling to him and your breath hitches when he stretches you open again, rubbing his thumb over your clit. A curse slips out under your breath. The smug look Harry gives you is almost too much.

“Gonna let me get a taste, then?” he asks, pressing his hand against your hip to keep you from creeping toward the edge of the counter. “’S flavored, yeah? Meant to be eaten. Want me to taste it?"

You open your mouth to answer and choke on the words. Harry’s fingers are buried to the hilts, his palm flat against your clit, a cocky lilt to his mouth. “Sorry, love. Didn’ catch that."

You want to push him away, but your hands tug at him in spite of his teasing. You resort to a vexed nod. Harry wastes no time. He draws his fingers free, leaving you achingly empty, dripping lubricant, and sinks to his knees.

His movements displace air and you catch the faint, tart scent of fruit, like flavored candy. It makes your mouth water but you barely have time to process it before Harry’s sticky hand finds the crease where your thigh meets your hip and he’s pressing his lips to the skin just above your pubic bone.

There’s no teasing like you suspected. You wait for another wandering kiss and instead you feel Harry’s tongue dip between your folds, licking up the uncomfortable wetness that’s begun to collect there. His nose flattens against your skin.

“Oh, fuck,” you stutter out when he moans, lip vibrating against your clit. Your hands clamp onto the edge of the counter, the pressure biting your fingers.

Harry’s clean hand loops around to the bottom of your spine, yanking you forward until you’re dangling precariously, held in place by nothing but his face and his shoulders, digging into your legs. You gasp and then choke on air when he gives your clit a rough pull.

“Tastes so fuckin’ good,” he murmurs when he separates for a breath. Your hazy eyes lower to look at him, and in the dim light from above the sink you find his mouth glimmering and wet. “Could lick yeh clean an’ still want more.”

You let out a weak, whimpering huff of acknowledgement, but he’s burying his tongue deep in your pussy before you’ve even finished. One of your hands stumbles across the counter to find a point of balance behind you and the other grasps at the topmost tendrils of Harry’s curls, knuckles knocking against his scalp. As if you could be wetter, you feel his spit dribbling down to pool underneath you while he licks and sucks and bites at you, obscene sounds echoing through the empty rooms of your flat.

The next moan you let out is so broken that if anyone heard it without context they wouldn’t be able to place it, or to even confidently state that the sound was made by a person. Harry slurps at you, ravenous still, his eyes screwed shut and a focused crease set deep between his brows. The palm you’re using for support is slick with sweat and when it starts to slip, the tug you give his hair releases a heavy grunt from his full mouth. He shifts beneath you, lubed fingers peeling from your thigh and pressing against your abdomen. When you can decipher his movements and realize that he’s pressing himself up against the cabinets, hips rutting in a disjointed, desperate pattern, you come so hard you nearly tumble right off the counter.

Harry is on his feet to catch you, tipping you onto your back and shimmying his mouth back between your legs to work you through your high. Your nails bite into his shoulder blades, belly convulsing until you’re spent. You push defeatedly at his head until he relents with a final kiss to your sensitive clit.

“So fuckin’ good,” Harry hums as he laces his clean fingers with yours. Your chest heaves and your head tips to the side. He kisses your tummy, just under the end of your ribcage. “Wanna fuck yeh but I’d never last, love. ‘M sorry.”

You shake your head, dazed, squeezing his hand. You don’t think you’d be able to handle it, anyway, and from the way he was grinding against your kitchen cabinets, you’re sure he’s right.

“Yeh wanna taste it, baby?” Harry asks. "So sweet.” He taps your mouth with a fingertip so sticky it pulls at your skin. You part your lips, still vibrating with the effects of your orgasm, and he dips his middle finger past them, the same finger he began this mess with. As much as you’ve been smelling candy, this tastes like a bowl of fresh fruit, like citrus and strawberries and a thick slice of juicy watermelon, and you understand Harry’s greedy tongue at once. It’s like a frozen smoothie in the suffocating heat of the tropics. You lick from his knuckle to his fingertip and then suck on the digit until your mouth is full of the sugared taste.

Harry groans. “So fuckin’ sexy, yeh know that?” He kisses the valley between your breasts, and his chin still feels sticky.

“Wanna taste it on you,” you mumble around his finger. He pulls it from your mouth and blinks up at you.

“What?”

A fresh wave of heat washes over your skin, but you nod, lifting yourself up onto an elbow. “Let me lick it off you, Harry.”

His head drops forward, suddenly too heavy for his neck, and he’s pulling you off the countertop, gathering you in his arms to press a feverish kiss to your lips. You crumple to your knees when he lets you go, ripping open the button of his jeans and tugging them over his ass, followed by his briefs. He stumbles out of both and then kicks them onto your pile of clothing.

Harry’s cock is hard and bright red and leaking. You straighten up and run your thumb along the side of it, the slightest touch, but Harry huffs in blissful relief. He forgets about the lubricant for a long moment before he tastes its ghost on his lips. His hand creeps across the counter for the bottle.

“Let me,” you whisper, holding out an expectant hand. Harry drops the bottle into your palm and you pour out three pumps, rubbing it between your fingers to give him the same courtesy he gave to you.

When you set the bottle to the side and wrap your coated hand around Harry’s length, air hisses between his teeth. You smell nothing but summer and sweetness, and your thumb has barely swiped over the tip of him before your tongue follows. And this taste is somehow better, fruit mixed with the salty flavor of him. Your lips close around him and you press forward until he reaches the back of your mouth.

Harry moans, deep and gravelly, and his closest hand grips the edge of the counter the same way yours did just a few minutes ago. His chin falls to his chest. “Taste good, baby?” he asks brokenly. “Yeh like it?”

You hum around him and he gasps, balling his free hand up into a tight fist. “No, no,” he protests. “No, just use your words for me. Tell me.”

You slide off of him grudgingly and lick at your lips, glancing up into his flushed face, his hooded eyes. “Tastes so good,” you confirm, placing your hand on the front of his thigh over the tattoo of a roaring tiger.

“Wanted to hide it from me,” he says. “Aren’ yeh glad I saw it?”

You nod and pump your hand up and down his cock, coating the area you’ve already sucked clean. Harry gulps and lets you wrap your lips back around him. This time, you take as much of him as you can handle and then begin to bob your head, letting the flavored gel glaze your tongue and fill your mouth, twisting your fist around the base of him.

“Shit,” Harry wheezes. His thumb catches on your cheek as he strokes your skin. The girth of him makes your jaw ache, but his gentle touch somehow soothes you. “Oh, fuck, yeh make me feel so fuckin’ good,” he praises. And that’s enough for you to take another extra bit of him into your mouth, even though it brings you close to gagging.

Harry chants a string of expletives when your bobbing hastens and your fist tightens around him in a quick squeeze. You’ve licked almost his entire dick clean. You remove your fingers in an effort to swallow even more of him, steadying yourself by gripping onto both of his sides.

Harry’s hand clamps around a fistful of your hair and you can feel strands sticking to his fingers, adhering to his skin. Your scalp bites as he pulls you even farther up his cock. He whimpers at the way your tongue presses at the underside of him and the sound you make as you struggle to breathe air through your nose. And then a desperate moan, almost a cry, rips from him as he finds release, lurching forward and filling your throat. You can see the muscles in his stomach spasming. Your fingers curl into his hips and your eyes tear up but you let him finish, thrusting shallowly but frantically until he’s emptied himself onto your tongue.

You suckle at the tip of his sensitive cock as he pulls out from your mouth and releases your hair. A stray tear drips down your cheek and you cough, come dribbling out of your mouth and down your chin.

“Fuck, sorry,” Harry rushes, panting above you. “‘M so sorry.”

You shake your head quickly and catch the liquid leaking from your lips with your sticky fingers and sucking it from your fingers. Harry sighs weakly above you as he watches. When you look up, you find his chest red and splotchy, his cheeks high with color.

“Don’t be sorry,” you tell him, and you’re almost embarrassed at the feebleness of your voice.

Harry crouches down in front of you and brings your mouth to his. You’re a messy tangle of lips and tongues and hair, sticky fingers and liquids. He huffs a sickly sweet breath across your chin and gives you one more brief kiss before he pulls away. His eyes wander across the kitchen, from the sole light above the sink to the scattered clothes to the shining, filthy counter, to the bottle laying beside your knee. He smirks. There’s got to be less than a couple pumps of gel left.

“Think we’re gonna need to make another order, yeah?" 

[jiminrings]

I'll show you~ Can I please get a drabble of Yoongi as a roommate? Because I think that'd be an amazing IDEA- like srsly, he'd be the one to tell u to wake him early for his work stuff and then get grumpy in the morning and refuse to even moVE out of the bed and u have to bribe him with something to wake him up for hiS WORK. And he will most likely say "no" to any chores in the house but still do aLL of them nonetheless. aND though he hates hugs on occasions he might even ask for cuddles???

across the living room

pairing: yoongi x y/n

wordcount: 3k

glimpse: you’re yoongi’s alarm clock, he aLWAYS acts that you’d be the bane of his existence, and his cooking actually tastes good if he wakes up early enough for it!!

notes: thank u so much for ur request baby i have nevEr written something so fast ever in my life because i was so :’’)

yoongi isn’t necessarily a bad roommate

of course nOt!!

because bad is relative and everyone has different variations of a bad roomie

he wasn’t messy or anything like that

it’s just the occasional clutter that he’d clean up himself

he isn’t rude either

well okay “rude” is aLSO relative

just because yoongi could be a little condescending most times

like when yOU do the grocery shopping and the first thing he’d do is look through the bags with some certain hums of approval

nice nice you picked the kimchi that wasn’t on sale because it was gonna expire the very next week like what you did with the last time

your picking and judgement for carton eggs are actually improving!!!

yoongi once called you an idiot for not smelling the carton of eggs first and in your defense you were in a hURRY

ok but he do be right they did stink the last time

hmmmm decent snacks

“why did you get this milk? i already told you to buy the other brand!! it has like a difference of three dollars and gOd if you’re short on it then ask me for it”

can that be called rude and condescending <3

or after yoongi’s milk tirade, he then goes picking at the other groceries you’ve gotten

you got less greens this time because if you’re being honest you’re getting sICK of seeing spinach and celery all the damn time

you’re the one who mostly cooks anyways and yoongi still insists that you use them

you could have a bagel for breakfast and hE’D PUT SPINACH ON IT

you’re getting a bit fed up with the color green nowadays so you got more fruits than vegetables!! frozen berries and yogurt are the superior match!!

there’s the “too-sweet diabetes are you trying to kill yourself y/n look at the nutrition fACTS” cereal

the “we have an obsessive amount of chocolate-covered almonds. stop it already. i’ll throw this out i’m not even kidding” almonds

the “why did you buy three boxes they’re all the same thing it’s not even delicious anyway” mozzarella sticks

the “this tastes like cardboard i swear why won’t you just get the individual ingredients that i told you to” cake mix

and of course

the “why did you buy tampons already? napkins, also?? it’s not even your period yet” tam-

wait a minute

... h-hold on

did yoongi really just

you must have froze and he must have noticed too because well that’s a surprise you’re nOt huffing with his digs

“you knOW my cycle???”

he doesn’t really know why it’s such a big deal that he shrugs at your pointless question and just continues piling on the cupboards

“yeah, don’t you?”

b-but

wHAT

“i don’t even tell you wHEN i get my period!! why do you know that??”

“you don’t need to tell me, stupid.”

ok rude

but seconds of all hOW does he know

you can’t even talk about yourself to yoongi or even tell him how your day went because he’s just.,.,.

yoongi could sense the internal meltdown in your head and he just chuckles because you’re entirely clueless

or maybe he’s just extremely observant of you without even noticing

there’s a pile of paper bags that the two of you keep because rECYCLING <3

and he always sees atleast one or two disappearing from the pile when you have your period because you’re nOt just gonna discard it to the communal trash can

you’re not a monster!!!

the snacks go by a little more quickly this time

you’re a little mORE demanding but just a little

like when yoongi has the news on when you eat dinner and you’re side-eyeing him

ok he’s already turned the volume down

you still look irritated at him

“.... y’want me to change the channel?”

lol and you have a zit somewhere on your face that yoongi could point out but he chooses not to

instead he just leaves around his box of pimple patches lying somewhere and you dOn’t scold him for that and you know what

maybe you’ll stick some to your face you deserve it ok

it’s affirmative that you’re rEALLY shocked to how yoongi explained all this to you effortlessly

“i bought them because it was a buy one take one deal :((“

that’s all he could hear from you as you mumble under your breath because now you’re just speechless

wow

your roommate cares about you,,,,

MIN YOONGI CARES ABOUT YOU :D

care may be a little bit of a reach from observing but it’s okay you dOn’t care lol they’re probably synonyms anyway

there’s good days!!!

those are probably your happiest days when yoongi initiates a conversation with you that doesn’t involve him intentionally pissing you off

or when you can make him laugh and he looks like the most adorable being EVER you swear

you tried taking pictures of him but he has a radar for it and he immediately holds out his hand to reach out for your phone and effectively cover him

that’s all you have

pictures with yoongi’s hand on focus and him blurred in the background

adjusting to yoongi’s rhythm always varies because well he dOes vary

there’s days when he completely deadpans at you for no apparent reason at all

or when you just need someone to squeal with!!

like that time you got the highest score at an exam that was claimed to be difficult and you were jumping up and down while trying to shake up yoongi

and he looked annoyed for some reason and him not sharing your sentiment,, probably even hating it,, already put a dampener in your mood :((

or that time you went on an angry monologue of why he won’t contribute to doing the chores and how you do everything

from sweeping the floors and doing the dishes and taking out the trash and even cooking!!!

you even fold the clothes and you can’t even remember how yoongi managed to convince you to fold his clothes too

with that he just pursed his lips before putting his attention back to his phone

“no.”

unbeknownst to you though, yoongi does his share of chores more evidently this time around

most times he just does his part when you’re in your room and lately he’s been slacking

ok i’ll help you out i guess ://

sometimes you just want to do nice things for yoongi okay

there’s already a set routine that you follow and adapated to for his sake

you now wake up at four in the morning for hIM and that just depends if he’d wake up within the next thirty minutes

the first actual “friend” unlike roommate intercation you had was yoongi telling you to go knock on his door early in the morning

absolutely dON’T stop knocking until he wakes up and opens the door

sure his four in the morning compared to you staying in is a much much mUch earlier time

but it’s okay because it’s for yoongi! :D

the first time you did that? yoongi raised his voice at you because wHY ARE YOU KNOCKING ON MY DOOR???

“b-but you told me to!!”

“oh. right. thanks.”

lmao he kinda simmered down after that and you took this job to heart

you have now evolved into cooking breakfast BEFORE knocking on his door

you just care for yoongi perhaps

but you won’t delve into elaborating that just yet

today’s breakfast was waffles!!

but they’re special waffles of course!! kinda like a s’mores situation in between the two

little marshmallows that you put in your ice cream and in your drinks and within two seconds they shrivel up into nothingness

crushed biscuits that resemble graham and maybe it would be easier if you just buy graham crackers itself lol

of cOurse some chocolate chips!!

they’re leftovers from when you decided to buy a big bag of them

and yoongi asked you on wHy the hell did you buy these in this huge quantity

“i’ll melt them because i aLSO got those silicone molds on sale!! including the stars and the seashells!!”

“you do know that these are solid... and you’ll melt them into liquid... only for them to be in the same way you bought them in..... just in a different shape....”

“oh my gOd yoongi just because you’re accurate doesn’t mean you’re interesting!! fine then, i’ll split these with jimin instead”

“did you even ask if i wanted them in the first place???”

anyways besides those waffles lol

you also made dalgona :D instead of yoongi’s preferred dark black coffee :D

you tasted his one time and it tasted like death and liver and charcoal all at the same time

this is a GOOD morning okay??

last night you couldn’t sleep that well because you had a thought

a really, intricate, awe-forming thought

there’s such a thing called work husbands, right??

do apartment husbands exist

lol of course if your husband does live in the same apartment as you do

you’re probably making a reach and yoongi doesn’t care about you in the same way that you do for him

but it just makes you think :((

these things that you’re doing, with and for him....

they’re things that you do with your boyfriend ya know

you’re essentially a couple if you think about it further

you’re under the same roof and you do things together and well

the only thing missing is the aCTUAL commitment itself

this was why it’s a good morning

jimin, your friend that’s just down at the end of the hall, managed to convince you to try and hINT atleast that you like yoongi

to be clear

you’ve only known jimin for three weeks and you feel like you’ve done much more progress with him than you ever did with yoongi for five months

it was when he asked you for your notes and you told him that lol you had nONE and the both of you just laughed for like five minutes straight

yoongi still won’t buy that story no matter how much you tell him that it’s true

with his hunch he thinks you’re actually fuck buddies with jimin because you’ve been sneaking off at night right when he closes his door and tHAT’S when you go to jimin’s room

to be also clear

ok yes you might like yoongi

perhaps a whole ton as what you decide because he’s been effectively plaguing your mind and your senses

and the oNLY reason you’ve been going to jimin’s is to talk to him and freak out on what you should do

because you know that yoongi is a sensible person and if u give him even the slightesy whiff of a hint that you like him, he’ll catch on instantly!!!

at the same time it’s like.... so be it....

yeah if yoongi doesn’t return your feelings then you’ll completely understand

things would be awkward for awhile aha

and if yoongi decides to move out because of you? no problem yOU’RE the one who’s gonna move out and let yoongi keep the apartment

jimin’s roommate is leaving soon anyway

see? you’re already equipped for rejection!!!!

aha that’s not necessarily a bad thing but it IS a heartbreaking concept

but here you are

so whipped to the point that you might just cave and put everything in a tray so you could set it on yoongi’s bed

that does seem to be the case because you’re knocking and knocking and he wON’T answer

this is an important day for him anyways because he gets his evaluation today!! and you can’t have him late and hungry and sad now can you

“yOONGI ARE YOU-“

“god, why do you have to be so loud??”

“i told you-“

wait a second

that voice doesn’t belong to yoongi

and the person in front of you, most certainly, isn’t yoongi.

oh that’s nice

she’s wearing yoongi’s shirt from the night before

you don’t recall someone else being in your apartment because after all, you and yoongi are the only roommates

and that yoongi doesn’t even have any visitors

it takes a second for you to connect the dots at hand

it’s okay :)

it’s cool!

this way you’re already heartbroken without prolonging it and bringing it upon yourself

it was bound to happen anyway

yoongi was more than a handsome and skilled and capable man and someone like him wouldn’t stay single for perhaps forever

“o-oh, sorry. uhm help yourself to breakfast, or uhm go back to bed, i guess. if you could just, w-wake up yoongs? i think he has something important at work today, oR well atleast he told me so.”

holy fuck

that was a mess

you’re a mess

there’s no need for confrontation or researching or anything like that because there is absolutely no reason for it lol

you’re a mere roommate to yoongi and you’re just acting like it.

he finds you weird these days

you’re not... bothering him

you’re not trying to linger around or pester him with your usual presence

you only come out when you’re going out for class or for work or for something else he can’t even imagine

which was weird

because yoongi oddly enough misses the white noise you provide

he knocked at your door yesterday and he wasn’t really sure on what to say so he panicked and said “aren’t you supposed to vacuum today?”

which is actually true!!!!

you just got the vacuum and your..,., earphones???

and put them in????

wait shouldn’t this be the time that you try to talk over the vacuum and ineffectively yell as you try to make conversation with him???

this time you’re just silent and probably enjoying the music that’s playing and yoongi couldn’t be anymore confused

he goes to his room when you vacuum but this time he stayed just because he wanted to test the waters ok

he didn’t put his feet up so you could vacuum underneath

he just got one tap on his calf and he wordlessly complies aND HE DOESN’T KNOW WHY HE DID IT SO EASILY

he was supposed to bicker with you :(((

did he... do something??

well he didn’t forget to take the trash out and made sure not to flood the showers this time

fuck it fine that’s IT

he even cooked dinner tonight and he knocked at your door and those are two rare occurrences in the sAME sentence

“y/n, don’t make me regret doing this.”

that’s an empty threat ok he really just wanted to cook for himself and coincidentially made enough for another portion for you

or atleast that’s what he convinces himself

yoongi reaches the end of his wick and he’s about to look for one of your hairpins and pick at your lock

one thing he hasn’t taken into account is that oh,,, your door’s open

there wasn’t really a reaction when your door creaks but there is one but it’s from hIM

because you’re bundled in your comforter and you look different and that’s when he presses his hand to your forehead and you’re tOO HOT

“why didn’t you tell me that you have a fever??”

there’s no room for him to enunciate him being upset because he’s worriedly getting you things to nurse you back to health ok

there’s the wet towels and the water and the medicine!!!

there’s him checking underneath your comforter and you dOn’t have any socks on so he’s getting that alright

yoongi’s third most-prized possession probably is his gravity blanket he spent a pretty penny on and here he is,,, carrying it over to you so you’d be more comfortable — the food he just made you but maybe he should make some soup for you to easily digest

yoongi just felt pure panic seeing you like this ok

you running a fever and being the complete opposite of bubbly but won’t take shit atleAst 5/7 times from him and would argue with him to hell and back

were you starting to get sick the days before so that’s why you were distant??

or was it the other way around

there’s this utmost feeling of concern looming in yoongi’s chest and he even tried clutching at his chest because what iS this

he almost forgot that you’re sleeping and that you barely talked to him at all despite helping you out of his own accord

“you’re here but you’re not yOu!!!”

god he’s just so frustrated because he isn’t used to this and frankly he’ll never be

yoongi’s chewing on his inner cheek and he knits his brows trying to figure wHAT happened, his index finger poking and tracing at your hand that’s laid snugly on your pillow

“you’re already here but why do i keep missing you?”

[glassartpeasants]

Petals

Overhaul x reader

Warnings: Angst

A/N: Im satisfying my craving for the angst, so enjoy.

================================================

“Hey Boss! Anything that you need from me?” You said slowly walking over to your stone cold boss. 

He turned around and looked at you a hint of annoyance in his amber eyes. You only smiled trying to forget that little ping in your chest.

“I thought i told you that i have no more work for you today, leave before i lose my patience.” He growled lowly causing you to yelp and turn around quickly. 

You quickly turn the corner and let out a dry cough before looking down to seeing petals floating down to the floor. You sigh as you pick them up careful not to leave any behind. You look around to see nothing but an empty hallway.

Sighing you slowly walk into your room and shut the door behind you. Turning around you pull out a cardboard box from underneath your bed. Upon opening it you place the petals in it. 

“Its almost full to the brim...i need a new one.” You said in a hushed tone. Petals among petals laid in the box. All reminding you of your one sided love for your boss.

Pushing the box back underneath the bed you slowly get up and get undressed. The clothes pooling on the floor as you step into the shower. You turn on the water to a steaming hot and sigh once it hit your chest. 

Too soon you felt another pain in your chest as a coughing fit began. You covered your mouth trying to make sure overhaul didn’t hear in fear of you being killed. But your hacking and wheezing was way louder then you wanted.

As soon as the coughing started it ended, little flower petals scattered across the shower floor, different shapes and colors. You whine out as you continue to shower. Coughing here and there. 

Once the shower was over Your head was spinning from all the air you lacked in your lungs due to all the coughing.

“Its getting worse...i’ll be fine though! I can handle it!” You lied to yourself, you knew you wouldn’t be able to. 

================================================

You woke up the next morning yawning and stepping out of bed letting your toes hit the carpeted floor. You immediately started coughing once more. But it was ten times worse then yesterday. The pain your felt was close to unbearable as you fell to the floor clutching your chest in hopes that you could breathe again.

Your coughing finally stopped and you looked down seeing the entire space where you laid was covered in petals. A little bit of blood staining them. 

You shook your head and got up, your feet wobbling to the bathroom. You took one good look in the mirror before gasping in horror.

2 bright red flowers clung to your face.

“ No! No! No! No! NO!” You grabbed the flowers that lived on your face and yanked them off. Your bit your lips to muffle a loud scream in pain as the flowers bled in your hands. 

Once off your face the flowers wilted into nothing. You sighed in relief licking the blood of your lips when a whimper escaped them.

The two flowers you just took off had regrown along with a nice blue one. The blue one was on your right cheek, one red one was on your forehead and the last red one on the left side of your jaw. 

“H-How am i going to hide this?!” You yelled in whispers. You mind clicked to your mask as you run to put it on. You never really wore it but it came in handy once in a while.

Like now.

You get changed and walk out of your room and into the corridors looking for your boss. He gave you the orders and you followed them, that’s how it always was. Nothing more.

“Okay boss im here.” You said as you entered his office. He let out a small grunt and looked at chrono. They spoke in hushed tones and you stood there awkwardly trying to listen to what they were saying.

“(Y/N) please sit down.” The brunette told you. You did what you were told and sat down on the couch he had in his office. Your heart beating at inhumane speeds. Worry had your body in its clutches and all you could do was be quiet and listen.

“I have been talking with my associates and i have made a decision that would be best for the Shie Hassaikai.” Your heart almost came to a stop as a million things flashed through your mind. Would he kill you? Would he fire you? Did he maybe love you back??

“You need to leave, bring your mask here.” You started to shake as you sat up not saying a word to him. Looking down as you grabbed the straps your hands shaking the entire time. You put the mask down refusing to show your face.

“Good choice now leave and never come back.” Those words hit you like a train and before you could stop it you turned around and started coughing wildly.

“What the hell?! Cover your-” Overhaul had fallen silent as he watched petals spew from your mouth, a rainbow of colors leaving your lips as blood covered them. You got up and ran fast still coughing on the way.

You ran past your door not bothering to pick up your stuff as your nails begin to claw at your face, Scratching off the flowers and leaving them to die. The more you scratched off the more grew back. Then soon your entire body started to get covered by them.

You finally made your way out of the door leaving behind a trail of dead flowers and bloody petals.

================================================

“What the hell is that?!” Overhaul yelled in anger as he looked at the bloody petals a few feet away.

“Hanahaki Disease.”

The angry male turned to his friend in confusion, what the hell is that? How come he never heard of this before??

“Why have i never heard of this ‘disease’? Is it contagious?!” He started to freak out, not wanting to catch whatever you had.

“No sir, the disease is cause by having a one sided love. They most have loved someone but the other person didn’t love them back.” The other male said his tone of voice never changing.

“Hmm i see. Clean up the mess they made. I wanna check out there room to see if i can figure out who it is.” The male said in a stone cold tone. He wanted to learn more about this so called disease. Could he maybe try and cure it without having the other person love them back?

On his way to your room and sees the trail of petals and flowers leading to the door. They must have coughed a lot for that to happen. Hes gonna have to clean the entire base thanks to you.

He opens your door and see’s you left everything here. Nothing seems to be touched at all. He looks around the room and sees a brown box underneath your bed. He slowly slides the box out and opens it to find more petals. His brow furrows in confusion.

How long have they had this love enough to fill a whole box?

HE sat up and continued his search around your room, checking every nook and cranny. Until he saw your desk with a drawer open in it. He open said drawer and in there where about a dozen love letters to someone that you had made.

As inspecting them he came to realize that they were all addressed to him. His eyes widened as he continued to read the letters, carefully as not to damage them. It have him a shiver reading them seeing on how much time and effort you put in to writing them.

He looked at them once more before his stone cold face returned and he ripped all the letters to shreds. He threw the discarded pieces in the trash before turning around and going back into his office.

He didn’t have the time for love, he had a goal, a job to do. And no matter who or what he hurt no one was gonna stand in his way. Not even you.

[harringtonstudios]

space cake.

plot: being machine gun kelly’s personal assistant comes with some interesting experiences.

A/N: NON-CON DRUG USE!! this was loosely based off something irl LMAO, enjoy ;) v long oops 

please send in any prompts! 

taglist: @iamdorka​ @no-shxt-sherl​ @bakerkells​

Being Machine Gun Kelly’s personal assistant was a unique job. There wasn’t a clear line of duties, and often you would find yourself driving around aimlessly, waiting on a text from the man himself. You’d been hired a few months ago, and it had been so easy to fall into a routine with Colson. He was surprisingly cool for a talented musician, and you’d soon learned that he was looking for more of a chill vibe than the other artists you had worked for. 

In past jobs, you were required to constantly attend to any needs. With Colson, it was more of having your phone on and being in the area in case of emergencies. There were always those days where he would send you a grocery list, and then an hour later, you’d be standing in his kitchen with a mixture of vegetables making dinner. Other days, he’d send you an address, and you would pick up his weed for the week. Sometimes, he’d ask for your help with his room, but you would always grimace and he’d wave it off, knowing that his room was a disaster zone. 

A couple of times he had hit you up to just sit on his couch while he played new songs on his speakers. Those days were your favorite, because you’d both sit in silence, him blowing smoke from his joint and you sipping on whatever drink you’d created in his bar. He would always wait for the song to finish, and then look over at you and raise an eyebrow. You relished in his music, and it was easy for you to tell him any opinions you had. He’d always take them seriously, scribbling notes down. After a good music session, you always felt a little bit closer to Colson, slow electricity building in the air. But you would always remind yourself to shake it off, bringing back distance between the two of you. This was a job, and even if he couldn’t tell, you needed this and you weren’t going to risk it for just anything.

-

You were standing in line for hot dogs when your phone buzzed twice. Both messages were from Colson, the first one had a list of ingredients and the second one had an address with a few leaf emojis. You sent him back a thumbs up before ordering your food and googling the random address he sent. It was a ten minute drive from the grocery store and you climbed into your car, eating one of the best hot dogs they offered in LA.

Grabbing the ingredients Colson had sent you, you pieced together his plans for the night. He was gonna bake a cake? He wanted a shit-ton of eggs, a few tubs of frosting, and boxes of cake mix. A part of you wanted to try and see if you could bake with him, but professional boundaries existed and you needed to maintain them.

- 

A few minutes later, you knocked on the door of the other address, “Hey, here for Kells,” you said to the man standing there. He nodded over at you before walking into his house. You stayed in the doorway as he walked back up to you, giving you a large cardboard box. The box was heavy, and you huffed as you balanced it in one hand before getting in your car, driving off. 

Parking in Colson’s driveway was difficult. There were cars filling up the space, and you could already hear the music coming from inside. Sighing, you decided to open the cardboard box to try and put some of the groceries inside of it. Right off, you regretted opening it. Packets of weed stared right up at you, and your eyes widened at the amount of drugs you’d been carrying. You quickly closed it back up and stacked a few cake mix boxes on top of it. Grabbing everything in your hands, you tried to efficiently close the door, determined not to make a second trip. 

Kicking the front door open, you waddled over to the kitchen counter. It was already covered with solo cups and alcohol bottles and you grew more confused about why anyone wanted to bake in the middle of what seemed to be a party. 

“Hey, Y/N! You’re back,” Colson shouted from across the room. 

You waved him over and started moving all the empty cups into the trash. Coming up behind you, he grabbed the box over your head. 

“Fuck yeah. This is gonna be the best night ever,” he muttered as you turned around to face him. 

“What’s all this even for?” you questioned as he giddily moved around the ingredients on the counter. 

“Don’t worry about it, you’re good to leave if you wanna,” he waved it off and you side stepped as he tried to move closer to the counter. Giving him full access, you grabbed your jacket and turned around to view the scene unfolding in front of you. 

The guys were all in various states of drunk, fumbling around the living room. Slim and Rook were assembling the frosting tubs in a line and you could tell it was going to be a night full of antics. A part of you desperately wanted to stay, to play along with the guys, knock a couple of drinks back and help them bake this disaster of a cake, but messing around with your employer’s friends wasn’t going to do you any favors, so you waved goodbye and walked out for the night. 

-

Two hours later, you were sitting in a bar. Your friends had set you up on a blind date, eager to get you back on the playing field. You didn’t have time in your randomized schedule to go out and dates always made you a little uneasy. 

A few minutes later, you felt a tap on your shoulder. “Y/N? Hey, nice to meet you,” the guy reached his hand out. You shook his hand, but already could feel yourself grimacing internally. It wasn’t that this guy was unattractive, it was more like he just wasn’t your type. He was dressed in a button down and khakis at a bar, it just didn’t work for you. You braced yourself for an evening of careless small talk and grabbed your drink as he led you to a table. 

Half an hour into the date, which was as boring as you’d anticipated, your phone buzzed. At first, you reached for it, but your date threw an unkind glance, so you brushed the notification off. A few minutes later, you got a few more buzzes and then a phone call. Your date threw another look at you. You smiled sweetly before picking up the phone. 

“Y/N! I need you to come over now,” Colson shouted over the noise through the phone. You pulled it back from your ear, before bringing it back. 

“Is everything okay?” you mumbled into the phone. 

“Yeah. Nooo. We’re out of alcohol,” he whined on the other end. 

You rolled your eyes, and spared a glance at your date who was picking at his teeth. Maybe this was a good thing, an excuse to leave this terrible date. 

“Sorry, something’s come up at work and I gotta head over,” you reached for your bag. Not particularly waiting for a response, you pushed in your chair and walked out of the bar. 

-

Walking to the corner store, you purchased a few bottles of Jameson and ordered a Lyft to Colson’s house. 

People were dancing all around, and you spotted Colson sitting on his kitchen counter. There was an impressive looking cake placed next to him, covered in different colors of frosting. You placed the new bottles next to the cake. 

“Fuck yeahhhh!” Colson fist bumped you as you hid your purse under the counter. Grabbing a cup you decided to get a little more drunk tonight. Honestly, you deserved it after sitting through that hellish date. 

Rook cut the cake into pieces to much celebration and soon enough, you had a fork in your hand. Reaching over to share with Colson, he snatched his plate away. 

“Hey no, I wanted that,” you grabbed for it. 

“No cake for you,” he responded and walked away. You stuck your tongue out behind his back before taking your fork and reaching into someone else's plate. 

Taking a few bites, it hit you that the cake tasted terrible. The flavor profile was just off. Everyone still seemed to be eating it, so you brushed it off and took a couple more bites for good measure. 

-

Half an hour later, you bumped into Colson as you walked up the stairway. He looked over at you, grinning until he caught sight of your face. “Y/N? Oh fuck, did you eat the cake,” he rushed out as he grabbed hold of your wrists.

“Yeah, haha. What gave it away?” you responded as you swayed a little. He cursed under his breath before looking around at the swarm of people moving around his house.

“Is there frosting on my mouth? What,” you started as he pulled you along. Following him upstairs, you smiled at the people dancing alongside his walls. Tripping over your own feet, you snatched back your wrists from his grip. 

“Dude, where are we going?” you asked as he moved people in front of him. 

“My room,” he answered and you hadn’t been this confused in a while. Colson knew you hated going into his room. He looked a little frantic, so you brushed your disgust off and stood behind him as he pulled the key out from his pocket. 

Moving into his room, you heard the music muffle itself as the door closed. There were clothes strewn everywhere, and you could see his luggage opened in a corner, things spilling out of it. Grimacing, you kicked a couple of things aside as you walked over to his bathroom. You didn’t feel too good. 

Splashing your face with cold water, you gasped. Everything around you was looking sharper, and you felt your heartbeat rabbiting as you gripped the sink. Your mind was racing, and you tried to take a deep breath as the world tilted just a little.

“What the fuck, what the fuck,” you breathed out as you closed your eyes. 

“Y/N, you okay?” Colson called out from behind the door. You looked back up in the mirror as your heart continued thudding against your chest.

“I don’t know,” you mumbled out. Your eyes looked hazy, and you touched your cheek, trying to feel your face. 

“Hey, it’s going to be fine. Open the door yeah?” you heard him say and you closed your eyes again. You couldn’t really walk, so you sat down on the floor. You shifted yourself to the door and reached up to turn the knob. He stumbled in and saw you on the floor, eyes shut. 

He sat across from you, legs crossed and you could feel his fingers run over your hands. “Hey, hey I’m here,” he murmured. 

“Colson, what’s going on?” you whispered. 

“So, um that cake you ate? It was laced. We wanted to make a space cake,” he responded and you opened your eyes. 

“A space cake, what the fuck is that,” you bit your tongue as your hands shook a little.

“Weed. A shit-ton of weed in that cake. I know you don’t smoke, it probably hit hard,” he explained.You exhaled, and took your hands out of his. Placing them on your thighs, you pushed down a little.

 “Let me get this straight, you made a cake edible, which I ate. And now I am high,” you muttered out, staring at his hands across from you. 

“Yeah, basically,” his hands twitched and you reached over for them again. Your heart seemed to relax when you could feel the weight of his fingers with yours. 

“I don’t smoke because the last time I did, I got crazy paranoid. Bad trip,” you whispered as you played with his hand. Continuing, you blurted out, “I didn’t want you to see all that.” 

“If it makes you feel better, I am really high right now,” he whispered back and you laughed a little. It did help, Colson could handle his weed better than you, but at least you weren’t the only one tripping. 

“Can I hold you,” he murmured, “you’re shaking.”

You looked up at his face and he looked so sincere. Nodding, you leaned in closer as he scooted over to where you were. You turned around, facing the wall as he wrapped his arms around you. His heartbeat was steady, calming, and you felt it against your back. 

“I didn’t want this to ever happen,” you mumbled as you stared at the chipping paint on the corner. 

“I can leave,” he started and you felt his arms move from around you. 

“No!” you shouted a little, and he paused. 

“Shit, I- okay look. I just didn’t want to get this close to you. You’re my boss and I need this job and I can’t actually like you,” you stumbled out. 

He was quiet for a beat and then he whispered, “You like me?” 

The tone in his voice was softer than you’d expected and his arms relaxed against you.

“No, never pfft. Why would I? You’re annoying and you never actually eat any fruits and you’re just terrible,” you rambled on and you could feel him laughing behind you.

“Oh, you totally have a crush on me,” he barked out between his laughs. 

“Shut up,” you felt hot all of a sudden and you closed your eyes again. 

“It’s all good. Honestly, I might like you too. There’s just something about you. It’s why I always wanna hear your thoughts on my stuff. You matter to me,” he said as he moved his thumbs over the back of your hand. 

You didn’t respond. Trying to get his words out of your head, you focused on the feeling of his thumb. After a few minutes of silence, you spoke out.

“Is there anyway I can sleep here tonight?”

“In my messy bed? I thought you hated this room,” he said, leaning his head against the back of yours. 

“It’s disgusting here. I just- I don’t wanna go back out there,” you sighed out. 

“Yeah, of course you can stay here Y/N,” and you turned around to see his grin. 

Even though you were tripping on some serious space cake, you found yourself smiling back. You’d deal with this in the morning, right now all you wanted was a warm bed and Colson Baker’s arms around you.

[yes-i-am-happyaspie]

The Mess in the Corner

Summary: 

It's been a while since Tony's seen the corner of the workshop that Peter calls his own but when he does, he finds it to be a complete disaster. Asking Peter to clean it up leads to some interesting explanations and all he can do is laugh.  Basically, Tony learns that Peter is a typical teenager.

Warnings: None    Rated: G

Tags: Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Peter Parker is a Mess, Random and Short... ...

Word count: 2077

Link to Post on AO3: The Mess in the Corner-happyaspie

 "Hey, Mr. Stark?  Can you look at this for me?", Peter asked from across Tony's large spread out, personal workshop.  The one that only a handful of people had access to and no one else but him had ever been allowed to make themselves at home in.  It was amazing, really.  

 Tony looked up from his own work and looked towards the small corner of the room that Peter had pretty much taken over during the last few months. "Sure, kiddo.  Bring it over here.", he said, wondering why the boy hadn't carried whatever it was over already.   That was typically how it worked.  Anytime the kid had a question or needed some input he would slink quietly over to wherever he was working, a project in hand.

 Glancing between his desk and his mentor, Peter sighed.  "Actually it's not quite stable enough to pick up yet.  Can you come over here?  I mean, if you're too busy that's fine but maybe when you have the chance?", he hesitantly asked because Tony was a busy man who did a lot of crazy important things and he was always worried about interrupting him.  Which is exactly why he'd never asked the man to come to him before.  It seemed less disruptive the other way around.

 "I'm coming, Pete.  Two seconds.", Tony returned with a smile.  He could use a break from staring at the screen in front of him anyway.  Helping the kid out was a good excuse to step away from it for a few minutes.  So, he closed up the multiple windows he had open and started towards his mentee.  Though as he got closer to where the teenager was waiting for his arrival, it occurred to him that he'd not been in that corner of the lab in quite a long time and he realized that the space looked very different than it had the last time he'd seen it.

 "Pete... it's a disaster over here.", Tony said as he took in the scene.  He knew the kid could be unorganized.  He'd seen the way his clothes were wrinkled from lack of proper folding and knew that the boy's backpack was slap full of wadded up worksheets and notes but what he was looking at was a whole new level of clutter.  It was teetering on the edge of disgusting.  "You should probably take a few minutes to clean it when you're done.  I'm not sure how you can even find anything in all this mess.", he said with a sigh, his eyes slowly roaming over various piles of junk and seemingly out of place items.

 "It's not a disaster.  It's controlled chaos. I know where everything is.", Peter said with a smile.  

 Tony huffed a laugh and placed his hands on his hips.  There was no way the kid knew where everything was.  The desk's top looked like a scrapyard.  "Oh yeah?  Where are your mini precision hand tools, hmm?", he asked with a quirk of his brow and watched with interest as the kid used his hand to knock a small pile of things into an open drawer before picking up the micro-tool kit and waving it in his face with a grin.  

 Taking a deep breath, Tony tipped his head towards the only part of the work table that didn't have anything stacked on top of it.  "What about that.  Is that... crumbs and Cheeto powder coating your desk?", he asked with a quirk of his brow.

 The desk was, in fact, covered in Cheeto powered and there was no denying, so Peter just shrugged his shoulders.  "Well, yeah but I have a really important equation written out in it.  See?", he explained while gesturing towards where you could vaguely make out where there was indeed an equation traced out in the crumbs.

 Tony blinked back in dumbfoundedness.  The kid had done a multi-step physics calculation with his finger, in a pile of crumbs.  "You, you have a tablet to store those sorts of things in   Or, you know, paper.  I realize it's super high tech in here but I do have paper, kid.", he said, his hands going from his hips to wildly gesture towards the supply closet that was stocked with numerous office supplies.  Everything from pencils and highlighters to pads of graphing paper and stacks of notebooks.  There were some things that just begged to be written down and he was prepared for just such things.    

 "I was in a hurry and that worked.", Peter replied with a verbal shrug.  He knew there was paper but he'd not had time to go track it down.  He'd been on a roll and the pause would have caused him to lose concentration.  He'd worked with what he had.  He'd been resourceful. 

 Moving on, Tony pointed towards the office chair that had been pushed off to the side and rendered unusable. "You can't even sit in your chair.  It's covered in... what is that?", he asked when he'd not been able to see what exactly was being stored inside of the cardboard from his angle.  Whatever it was it looked dusty, as if it hadn't been touched in ages.

 Following his mentor's gaze, Peter laid eyes on the box and smiled. "Oh!  That's the parts I was going to use to build the rotary indexer that Ned and I thought we needed for that science project last month.", he explained.  "Turns out we were overthinking it and decided to go another route completely."

 "If you're not going to use it then why do you still have it?  It's just in the way.", Tony strained because he couldn't fathom why it was still there if nothing was ever going to be done with it.

 "I might need it later.", Peter countered.  He and Ned had spent days collecting all of those parts from various dumpsters and consignment shops.  He wasn't going to just toss it out and the chair wasn't an issue in his opinion.  He tended to fidget while he worked and being on his feet was easier than sitting still.  Something about having the freedom to step side to side and dart from one place to another helped him concentrate.  He would have thought his mentor would have known that.  He was always telling him to be still whenever they ended up sitting side by side.  He couldn't help it.  His body just needed to move in order to think properly.  "Besides, I never sit in the chair anyway.

 There was no denying that Peter was rarely in a chair.  As such, he chose to let that one go for the time being.  Instead, he turned his attention to the area just above his mentee's table.   "...and how about that spider up there?", he said, pointing upwards with a smirk.

 Glaring at his mentor, Peter crossed one arm over his chest while the other pointed towards the neatly maintained web along with its small occupant.  "Hey!  You leave Jimmy out of this!", he said with more passion than was probably necessary.  

 "You... you've named the spider?", Tony sputter, once again baffled by the kid's thought process.  Peter cut his eyes to the side not answering and Tony threw his hands up in defeat.   "Oh my god, You can put that box in the storage closet and then wipe down that desk.  I'll go get a broom.", he said once again waving his hand towards the eight-legged intruder.

 Peter's mouth gaped open in horror at the indication.  "Don't you dare touch, Jimmy!", he gasped, taking several hurried steps towards where his mentor was already starting towards the closest that held the cleaning supplies, grabbing his arm as soon as he'd caught up.  "What did he ever do to you?", he pleaded, taking note of the incredulous look his mentor was sending him but not caring.  He happened to like his little spider brethren's company.  

 "Are you being serious right now?", Tony inquired and then shook his head.  It was all too obvious that the kid was actually being serious.  "Never mind.", he groaned as he reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose.  "The spider can stay but the crumbs and the box are going.  I'll go get you some paper... and a new tool chest or something so you have somewhere to put all that other stuff."

 "I already have one.", Peter replied as if that should have been obvious.  Tony had casually delegated an entire collection of things to store his stuff in, he just... didn't always use it.  There were certain tools that he employed on a regular basis and it was easier to keep them out and spread around his workspace.  

 "Where?", Tony responded as his eyes darted around, not seeing a tool chest anywhere.

 Smiling, Peter moved towards the far wall and started moving a few things around so that the chest would become visible. "Behind this stack of plywood and sheet metal over here.", he explained and watched as Tony crossed the room to investigate.

 After pulling open three mostly empty drawers, Tony closed his eyes and took a deep breath in through his nose.  "I-- Do you have any executive functioning skills?", he queried.  While he didn't necessarily have all of his own tools perfectly arranged and categorized, he did put the things he wasn't actively using away in order to avoid complete disarray.

 Peter briefly looked towards the floor and began to twist the toe of his shoe on the tiled floor.  Then with a sigh, he looked up and folded his arms in front of himself.  "I make up for what I'm lacking in that department with creativity.", he flatly replied. 

 Tony nodded his head and smirked at his slightly miffed mentee.  "Well, could you please creatively put all the apple cores and banana peels into the trash can?", he asked with humor.  "...because that's how you get flies."

 "That's what I have Jimmy for.", Peter shot back with a broad grin that met his eyes.  However, he did decide to make a show of picking up one of the banana peels and dropped it into the small, admittedly empty, wastebasket beside his desk.  

 Tony stared back at the kid for several seconds and then laughed.  "You're a piping hot mess.", he mirthfully quipped.

 "No, I'm not.", Peter returned but he wasn't the least bit offended.  

 Tony's gleeful smile turned soft as he reached out and pulled the kid into his side.  "Yes, you are but it's not a completely bad thing.  You keep me entertained on a regular basis.", he teased but there was truth behind his words.  The boy kept him on his toes, made him laugh and was constantly reminding him of everything that was good in the world.  

 Leaning his head into his mentor's shoulder, Peter sighed contentedly. "I'm glad I can be of service.", he said after a few moments had passed. Then, just as he was really starting to relax into the man's grasp he has playfully shoved away.

 "Great.  You know how else you can be of service?", Tony asked once the moment the kid had caught his balance and started to laugh.

 "By throwing away the trash and moving that box?", Peter guessed with a smile. 

 "He learns!", Tony announced without missing a beat and then reach out to ruffle the boy's hair.   After that, he looked on as Peter began to pick up the rest of the empty snack wrappers and throw them away. As he did so, he remembered why he'd been called over there in the first place and started looking at the design that was sitting at the edge of the table.  The kid didn't even notice as he ran his hands over it and tweaked a few of the loose wires.  Despite the unholy mess, it had been fabricated amongst, it was good work.  

 "Hey, Pete?", Tony called out quietly, Peter humming back in acknowledgment.  "The mock-up you wanted me to look at?  That's some really smart stuff.  Good job, kid.", he continued with a gentle smile before slipping his hands into his pockets and starting towards the supply closet as promised.  

 Peter smiled over his shoulder as he continued to wipe the crumbs into his hand so that he could transfer them into the trash and smiled.  "Thanks, Mr. Stark.", he said and went back to cleaning up, a thousand new ideas already haphazardly flying through his head.

[supernovadragoncat]

Thunderstruck Outtake: Sally Cancels the THOT in Sandor’s Dressing Room (What happened after Chapter 14)

Dedicated to @jennusdemenus who asked for a glimpse into what happened directly after Chapter 14 (aka what happened to that THOT in Sandor’s dressing room, you know the one!) 

Read on below the cut to find out! 

You can catch Thunderstruck here on AO3 and here on FF.net! Only two chapters left!  

Back to the door, Sally watched the venue thin out. This bit was always the same. The city or the venue didn’t matter. Groupies and drunks, they were always the last to go. The drunks would plant themselves in an empty floor and wail for another encore well after the band left the stage and the crew started clearing off the gear. The groupies would flock to the door Sally had planted himself in front of and wield their feminine wiles in hopes of sneaking past.

As it stood, neither the groupies nor the drunks got too far, and Sally occupied himself with self-indulgent daydreams. He was usually hungry right about now. Having scrambled for scraps earlier, tonight was no exception. While Cannibal Star was likely on the prowl for booze and women, Sally had one thing on his mind.

Soft and sweet. Heaven on his lips. He’d savor every moment.

I shouldn’t.

He’d already had two cupcakes, but then also that beer and he wasn’t a twenty-something anymore, metabolism burning through every bit of bullshit he put in his body. His gut could prove it; the wobbly bits that hadn’t been there two years ago and showed no signs of slowing down now.

What’s a third cupcake when you’ve already had two? Sally reasoned with himself.

Catering got the kind he liked; the icing wasn’t too sweet and melted like butter on a hot July day in his mouth. Not that he ever let it be known. This shit wasn’t about him and he was just grateful no one had told him to pound sand yet. If anything, Cannibal Star had become some of his closest friends, the crew like family. They took care of their own and catering got the cupcakes he liked. That must count for something.

A flurry of activity snapped Sally out of his daydream. The crew all appeared absolutely addled as a roadie hurried across the stage, hollering about something or another that beckoned the others to gape in saucer-eyed wonder. The roadie jumped down to the floor and rushed to Sally.

“Shit’s going down. Sandor and his girl,” the kid panted and nudged his way past Sally and through the door that led to the hall.

“Oh my God!” Sally damn near punted the roadie out of his way and bolted down the corridor. He caught of glimpse of fiery red hair blazing towards the back door and Sandor looking like the world was crumbling around him.

Sandor turned to Sally, at a loss and out of words, any stray bits of explanation he could manage. That all fled the man now and he tore into his dressing room like a tornado, fury quick on the heels of emotional ruin and it was a wonder the flimsy door wasn’t ripped off the hinges.

“Trouble with the little lady?”

Sally hovered outside the dressing room and recognized the voice emanating from the other side. Mona the Monster’s ludicrous attempt at sultry banter was embarrassing even in the best of times and now solidified her place squarely on the blacklist of shame.

The men of Cannibal Star didn’t spook easy and certainly put up with their fair share of crazy if it meant getting laid at the end of it. It took a lot to get added to the blacklist.

“Get the fuck out!” Sandor’s shouts exploded into the hall and he bounded towards the doorway, wrangling Mona by her upper arm as he went.

“If you think I’ll tell you twice, you’re stupider than I’ve always known you to be.”

The woman’s feet barely had the opportunity to the meet the floor before her mostly naked ass was being tossed into the hall for Cannibal Star, the crew, and all of God’s green creation to see.

Ankles buckling, she stumbled and barely caught herself when her arms shot to the cinderblock wall.

“I’m actually very intelligent—” she fired back, equal parts furious and haughty even now, mostly naked and looking haggard in the harsh fluorescent lights beaming up above.

Anger like Sally had never seen consumed Sandor. Wide-eyed fury, fists curled, chest heaving, and face burning red—if Sally didn’t know any better, Sandor was teetering on the precipice of quite literally exploding.

“You’re trash! That’s all you’ve ever been,” he seethed in a commendable show of restraint, so much so the man was shaking. He pointed a trembling finger at Mona the Monster.

A crowd had gathered in the corridor, the message having spread like wildfire. By Sally’s estimate, the entire production now lined the hall to watch this holy terror finally get taken to task. Mona the Monster had a reputation all her own—an ungodly abomination of self-righteous entitlement and paper-thin self-esteem.

Sandor shifted towards her in a quiet step and a faint smirk Sally knew to be the calm in the storm. The fury roiled beneath the surface but next came the exacting cruelty that Sandor wielded better than anyone Sally knew.

Mona seemed to know what was coming too. Her eyes scanned the hall of faces all watching in twisted delight at her impending downfall. Her arms crossed over her chest in a laughable attempt at modesty.

“In all these years you’ve been around, spreading your legs for anything with a guitar and a pulse, I’ve never gone for you,” Sandor began, voice a deep rumble, but his eyes still flashed with rage. “I haven’t even looked at you twice. I find a girl who’s leaps and bounds better than you in every conceivable way, the first girl I’ve ever loved, and that’s when you think I’m going to hit it? Tell me again how intelligent you are. You’re nothing. You’re old, your tits are saggy, you reek of cigarettes and booze. Even at your youngest, all you could ever offer anyone was a lousy lay and now you’ve defined new levels of disgusting and that’s the only distinction you’re worthy of.”  

Snickering and quiet encouragement rolled over the crowd. Mona’s eyes darted up and down the hall, desperate to find a sympathetic gaze to latch onto. For some absurd reason, her eyes landed on Sally.

“Don’t look at me!” Sally barked. “You’ve done it now, you nasty bitch.”

“Like you’ve ever amounted to anything,” Mona snapped. “You’re a nobody!”

All at once, the members of Cannibal Star hurled themselves from their perches throughout the hall, peeling away with congruent fervor to be done with Mona the Monster.

“Done! You’re done!” Sandor bellowed and lurched towards her, settling in next to Sally’s side. “If I ever see you at one of our shows or practices, you even breathe the name ‘Cannibal Star’ in this city, you’re getting a Stratocaster shoved so far up your ass, you’ll be choking on the strings for the rest of your shit-filled life.” Sandor leveled irate eyes at Sally. “Take out the trash.”

Sandor turned on his heel without another glance and disappeared in his dressing room. Silence blanketed the hall.

After all these years, the shame finally caught up to Mona and, when it came, it came like an avalanche. For the rest of them, justice came just as mighty and sugary sweet. Tears rolled down Mona’s cheeks in a river of jet-black mascara. In one last ditch effort, she reached for Thoros, tits now exposed for all to see.

“A bridge too far. Get the fuck out,” he grumbled and eyed her in a way no groupie ever wanted to be regarded. Sandor had the right of it—disgust. This woman was worthy of nothing more than that.

Mona stumbled towards Harwin, probably seeking out the softest of the bunch, the one most likely to toss her stray bits of sympathy. Sally held his breath and said a little prayer that the kid would keep his wits about him.  

“You heard the man,” Harwin sniped with usual iciness. “You’re done. Get out.”

In a few more faltering steps and gasping cries, Mona eased down the hall towards Bronn. Sally fell in after her, blocking her path should she try to flee the other way. Mona blubbered a plea and Bronn crossed his arms tight over his chest.

“This was a long time coming, sweetheart. We all stand behind his decision. Get gone.” Bronn motioned to the door at the end of the hall leading to the parking lot.

Sally remembered now that’s where that sweet little Sansa had disappeared, and he hoped like hell that girl still wasn’t out there. Or maybe it was better if she was—she could witness Mona’s fall from grace, though she probably wouldn’t enjoy it as much as the crew was now.

A wave of applause rolled down the hall, growing louder as Mona continued towards the doors with Sally close behind. At the end of the line, no rope left to cling to, Mona turned to Sally.

“Can I at least get my clothes?” she pleaded on a quivering breath.

In only heels and a thong, Mona tried in earnest to cover herself. Sally reached around her and pushed open the door. A blast of chilly air swept through.

“No, should’ve thought about that when you took them off in his dressing room.” Sally shoved Mona through to the other side and followed after. She shivered against the night air. “I mean, he came here with her. How fucking stupid are you? What exactly did you expect?”

Mona lifted her eyes from the ground and glared at Sally but must’ve thought the better of mouthing off. As it stood, she was the one humiliated for all to see and standing outside naked. Sally scanned the parking lot for Sansa and thanked the man upstairs that she wasn’t here. Hopefully, she was safe and okay.

Sally spotted a flattened cardboard box perched against the fence on the other side of the lot. He motioned his head towards it. “You can cover yourself with that.”

She had the audacity to scoff. The offended breath escaped her thin, ugly lips that snarled at him. Sally prodded her shoulder with his finger and stepped to her, forcing Mona to shuffle backwards.

“Now you listen here, and you listen well, you tramp—Sansa is beautiful, and kind and she loves him. You’re not even in the same Universe as her. You have nothing to offer him. And if you think she’s some lovesick hanger-on, I’ve known that man far longer than you have, and I’ve never seen him like this. He loves her too.

“Nothing’s coming between them. Not a tour, not distance, not time. Nothing. Mark my words, they’re it for each other and they’ll figure this out. And you’ll still be a dried-up, bitter hag.

“Like he said. You’re done. I’m putting the crew on notice. If anyone catches a whiff of your skanky ass, you’ll leave here missing more than just your clothes next time.”

“Bye now!” he taunted with a wave before pulling the door shut.

On the other side, the hall had cleared out, both shows of the night now over. Sally retreated to the catering room and poked his head inside. The stars aligned in a rare formation and by some celestial miracle one lone cupcake sat pristine and unaccounted for on the table. Sally plucked it from the spot on the plate and admired the swirl of white icing on the top.

Back down the hall, he cradled the cupcake in his hands but the little flush of joy he felt was short lived as he passed Sandor’s dressing room door, wide open now. Inside, Sandor dwarfed the chair he sat in, elbows to knees and his forehead cradled in the palm of his hand.

Sally hovered beneath the doorframe, almost certain Sandor was aware that a presence had joined him. His shoulders tensed and his breathing shallowed, but the man remained resolute in his abject misery that kept him rooted where he was.

“Anything I can do?” Sally ventured.

Face still obscured, Sandor didn’t move other than the faint shake of his head. It was a wasted courtesy anyhow. What exactly could he do? Anything he could think to offer would be like tossing fistfuls of dirt into a gaping chasm that’d been created in Sandor’s life. The futility was absurd, and the man was so clearly already suffering the loss.

Sally’s gaze drifted to the cupcake in his hand—the last one, but he’d already had two, so the right choice was glaringly obvious. He paced into the room in shuffled steps and stopped in front of Sandor.  

“Here. Take this.” He held out the cupcake and Sandor finally lifted his head from his hand. Sally saw clear enough what he’d been trying to hide. Sandor’s eyes glistened with tears.  

“Those are your favorite.” Sandor shook his head and settled back in the seat. “Why do you think we tell catering to get them?”

“Always assumed it was a coincidence,” Sally shrugged. “Then it sounds like there will be plenty of cupcakes in my future. Take it.”

He jabbed the cupcake towards Sandor who took it from Sally and set it on the table next to him.

“Thank you,” Sandor murmured on a voice almost as deflated as he looked.  

A cumbersome silence fell between them and Sally took it as his cue to leave. He retreated to the door but stopped beneath the frame.

“If you’re curious, after handing her ass to her, I told her touring, distance, time, a tramp in your dressing room—I don’t honestly believe any of that is going to come between you and Sansa.”

“How do you know that?” Sandor countered and a deep crease of contemplation settled between his brows.

Sally could’ve laughed. It was obvious. Everyone that met Sansa tonight commented on it in one way or another and it all distilled down to the same damn thing—something shifted in Sandor with her around. She quieted him in a way, the stillness of peace for a man so accustomed to a life uprooted and unsettled; one who prided himself on being grounded and Sansa rooted him in a different reality—one where he was worthy of love and she was more than willing to give it.

Sandor had no family, nothing much to call his own, except now her and it scared the poor bastard in a way that meant he understood the gravity of what he’d been given. In some ways, Sally couldn’t blame him; the guy had been given the keys to the kingdom and bore the responsibility of not fucking it up.

“Just a feeling,” Sally said because how the fuck was he supposed to explain all this? The man would figure it out one way or another. “When you know, you know. You know?”

Sandor expelled a quiet laugh. “Yeah, I do know,” he said, shouldering the tremendous weight of regret. Sally had been there. The lessons of age came with more than just a few extra pounds and some things were heavier and harder to carry.

“Was she out there?” he asked and, when his eyes drifted from the floor to Sally, Sandor looked caught in a tangle between devastating sadness and foolhardy hopefulness.

“No, man. She’s left.”

Once more, Sally glimpsed the way Sandor’s eyes glistened when his gaze returned to the floor. Sandor bit his bottom lip hard and nodded.

Sally offered what paltry advice he could, and it wasn’t about placating the man. He and Sandor had an honest understanding, one that meant they could speak freely with one another and Sally took that liberty where he could and right now Sandor needed it.

“She may have left, but that doesn’t mean she’s gone,” Sally offered. “And you may not be able to get her back tonight but, one of these nights, you will. You just wait and see.”

It was a call to faith and Sally didn’t know much about what Sandor believed in and in some ways it didn’t matter. Certain things superseded the superficial constructs of belief and love was one of them. And if there were ever two people desperately, stupidly in love with one another, it was Sansa and Sandor and sooner or later they’d figure it out.

[irisallenm]

No Easy Way Out — Izuku Midoriya x Fem!Reader

Chapter #03/25 — Single Parenting Masterlist

Words: +1.5 k.

Warnings: Cursing, rape, abuse, blood, and a lot of tears, I proofed read this at 3 am, so I’m sorry if there is a mistake.

Previous | Next

Being a single parent is not easy, and when the world hates Y/N it is only a matter of time for everything to collapse.

When your mother found out your pregnancy test things went straight to hell,  you are force, not only to leave the love of your life, but everything behind and now happiness will not be easy to achive. You are like cinderella before the magic, with more responsibilities and abuse of all kinds, and there is no ball in the small kingdom of the basement you live in, but some times there could be a glimpse of hope, one that calls you “Mommy”.

A/N: I can believed that we are going this fast! Also, my classes just got cancelled but all of my school work was put online, that means that my exams, that were for next week are going to happen and I’m scared. Also also, have you read a book with this same title? I loved it!

Keys to read:

Y/N: Your name.

L/N: Last name.

N/N: Nickname.

H/C: Hair color.

E/C: Eye color.

Taglist: @xoxo-dede​​ (Ask to be added!)

It was harder after Haru was born, the little and frail body of your child was something new for you, never have you ever have hold a baby in your arms and that being the first time was both amazing and scary. The small body and frail head made you nervous, the baby’s hands wrapped around your finger and his cries made you cry as well.

It was a boy, a beautiful baby boy and it looked like heaven had heard your prayers, his hair was dark green and covered with fluids, a glimpse of hope creeped at your heart, and as the time went by you realized that he was more like Izuku than anything, in body and attitude. It was as if the love of your life gave you a message, ‘One day we’ll be together again’.

The night after giving birth the man came down, you had given Haru a bath with warm water and now he was eating at your breast, his force making you hurt a little. But that was normal, right? And as you were making him burp, because you learned it on some video back at home, he opened the door.

‘What are you doing here?’ You were hiding your baby, scared of him.

‘Leave that thing there’, he pointed at Haru. ‘And come here now!’.

‘Wait, I need to—’

‘Shut the fuck up and bring your damn ass here’.

So you obeyed, taking your child to the little crib you had made out of cardboard boxes and old clothes lying around, fearing that at any moment he would grab your child and do something to him. And it was the hardest night so far in those months trapped down there, your body had just given birth, alone nonetheless, and it was horrifyingly painful, but him doing what he was doing reached a different level of pain.

How many time had it been after that? Ten times? Impossible, twenty? Perhaps, fifty? Maybe, a hundred? Probably. You were tired of him, you couldn’t take him anymore, literally. It pained your whole body, the rough sex, the spits, the slaps and the broken voice for telling him to stop. EVERY. SINGLE. TIME.

But he never did.

He enjoyed having the control of if.

When he was done he left, living your trembling body crying on the floor, your conscious fading as Haru started crying, just like you. You swallowed loudly and pushed yourself up, still crying and feeling his release slowly going down your legs, making you feel like trash, ashamed of everything that had happened. Before even cleaning yourself was Haru, who may be hungry or dirty, and holding him in your arms made you happy of not being alone.

His first smile made you cried and his firth word being “Mommy” told you that you were doing a good job, his first steps made your heart squish at the sight and his first loosen tooth made you wondered how much time had passed.

That man came every couple of days, when he was bored or when there were people around in the house. If more than a week had passed then the punishment and sex were harder and rougher, and you wanted to end everything, you were tired and the only human being keeping you alive was the boy at the other side of the door.

The guy who always kept you downstairs was there, having “fun” after more than a month away, and he was charging fuel because he had another long trip scheduled.

Your body was too accustomed to him that I hurted you.

Much more than normal, actually.

‘Wait!’ You exclaimed the moment the pain was unbearable, as if something inside you was twisting, breaking. ‘I can’t, not anymore. I— it hurts, please’.

‘Yeah, baby doll, let me fuck you to the point I’m breaking you from the inside out’. The man kept thrusting, harder and harder, feeling you tighter than usual. ‘Just like that, fuck you are so narrow, even after all this years’.

Years? Has it really being that long?

The tears fell out of your eyes. Your sobs sounding hard at his ears, just like he was pounding you, there was something wrong.

‘Shut up!’ But you couldn’t. ‘Let me enjoy this before my trip’.

And then a sound came from outside.

‘Mommy!’ The tiny little boy screamed from the outside. ‘Please, leave my mommy alone!’

He was knocking as hard as a 4-year-old kid could.

‘Tell that piece of shit to stop’, he slapped you, cracking open your lips as his hand traveled across your face. And with that you came back to your senses, ignoring the pain just to protected your only ray of hope. ‘I’m okay, sweetie, don—don’t worry’.

‘But!’ His japanese slipped out.

‘What did I told you, bitch!’ His hands traveled to your neck. ‘No fucking Chinese in this house!’

The voice of your child was muffled by the sound of him sobbing, in silence, hearing how he was harming you, and he knew he had done something he promised not to do.

‘I’m sorry, mommy’. He ran to the back of the stairs, covering his ears as the sound of his dear mother being hit resonates within the walls of the basement. ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry’.

‘Fuck, I’m not in the mood anymore’. He let your throat go. ‘You better be prepared for next time, I’m sick of that useless child that if he gets me angry again—’

His hands traveled horizontally across his own neck, your loud coughs and gasps for air made him laugh. He took his thing out of you, just to notice something in it.

‘It won't— happen again’. Your words falling in deaf ears.

‘Bitch, what the fuck?!’ He grabbed your hair, giving you a new place to hurt. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you were on your period again? Ughh, disgusting, you better tell me next time or else…’

He grabbed one of your towels and cleaned himself, “my period? again?” you wondered. “I haven’t had my period since I got pregnant”. Your mind traveling along with your fingers, your fingers touching your privates and feeling them covered in what you thought was semen or some other stuff, but looking it up closed there was a lot of blood… and a lot of pain after that.

You grabbed the same towel that was on the floor and pressed it on to you, the sensation was sharp, acute, horrendous. It was almost impossible for you to sit, the pain was going everywhere and you were scared.

Where was Haru? He had to be somewhere, scared and hidden.

‘It’s okay baby, you can come out, he is not here anymore’. You said as you put on a set of baggy jeans that were yours the day you arrived and that after the pregnancy never entered your body correctly, not after the lack of food. Most of it going to your beautiful baby boy.

‘I’m sorry, mommy’ His eyes watered as if a hose was opened. ‘I’m— I’m so sorry’. You grabbed him on your arms, hugging him with delicacy, and patting his head.

‘Don’t worry, baby’. You cleaned his face with your own shirt. ‘Mommy is okay now, see?’

You looked him in the eyes, green to e/c, both hiding their panic. But everything was far from okay, and you had to do something before the man was back from who knows where.

It was as if you never tried to run away, in fact it was more that you could count with your fingers, but the last time you ended with a new black eye and a sprained ankle, not to mention that Haru got some bruises as well. And having him hurt was not a choice, but being threatened with killing him was something even more frightful that the rape itself.

So, without any other though in your head you grabbed the little stuff you had. Your papers, the note where you wrote Haru’s birthday and a bar of granola for him, the only left over of your food for the day.

‘What are you doing, mommy?’ He asked, looking around while your body crossed the room several times.

‘I need you to trust me, okay?’ You lowered yourself to his size. ‘It may be scary, but we need to keep going without looking back, no talking to anyone nor looking at them, do you understand?’

‘But why—’

‘Do you understand, baby?’

‘Yes, mommy’.

‘Good, because we are going to try and get out of here’.

‘What if he finds out? Like the other time?’ He started crying, and for a moment you could see ‘Zuzu’s face, the same one as that day. ‘What if he hurts mommy like all the other times?’

‘Listen here, sweetie’. You caught his hand on yours. ‘If we fail this time… things are gonna get harder, so we really need to leave’.

‘Okay, mommy, I trust you’.

And with that you ignored the pain in your body, grabbed a blanket in which you could put your child over your back, and looked over the window, searching for the car of the family living above you.

It was nowhere to be found.

There was no sounds upstairs.

So it was time for you two to run and escape, to try and find happiness and help, somewhere out of the basement that held you captive for all those years.

NEXT

[jerkbitchidjitassbutt]

Hope To See You

Characters: Jensen x Reader

A/n: Thank you @our-jensen-ackles-love​ for this little bit of inspiration. I needed it. Single!Jensen (kind of set around season 4 in my mind). Warnings: Embarrassment? Cussing? Completely un-beta’d, all mistakes are mine (and I’m tired, so there’s probably some)

Who’s idea was this?

Who thought it was a good idea to move into a three-floor walk-up? On, like, the hottest day of the year? During the hottest part of the morning?

Finally, how on earth was it a smart decision to pack your “delicates” in a box instead of a trash bag like a normal human being? You know, one that could be tied and secured just in case said item happened to fall out of your grasp and down two flights of stairs? Also, who uses tape to make sure boxes don't open? The little foldy thing where you tuck the stupid flaps underneath each other is supposed to work to close the box. But no.

Because of your defective boxes—yes, it was the box’s fault—every bra and piece of lingerie you owned now littered the stairs of the new apartment building you were currently moving into after it bounced noisily down every step and spattered its contents everywhere as it vaulted off of every surface.

So here you were, rapidly attempting to gather your undergarments and praying to whomever was listening that your new neighbors wouldn’t peak out of their doors as you scattered passed.

This damn box managed to make it all the way to the bottom platform, so as you scrambled down the last flight of stairs with arms full of tit slingers and lacy nighties, the very last thing you wanted to see was perched on the bottom step staring dumbfounded at an array of women’s unmentionables.

A fucking gorgeous man with green eyes and perfectly tousled hair in a black t-shirt and jeans stood there with his mouth agape, “Uh… hi.” He uttered, an expression of what looked like a mixture of confusion and intrigue.

Blowing some of the hair that had managed to fall from your ponytail out of your face, you responded, “Hey. Hi. Hi.” Not entirely sure how many times you were supposed to say hello in a typical greeting, but whatevs.

His eyes stared into yours for a heavy moment before he spoke again, “Do you—do you need a hand?” Adonis dude asked.

“Um… I just kind of need that box right there.” You pointed toward the dilapidated piece of cardboard that was crumpled next to his feet.

As he bent down to retrieve it a fleeting image passed through your head of this guy leisurely walking towards the staircase twirling his keys when an explosion of lace and padding flew at him from all directions.

He unfolded the now flattened box and did the foldy thing “correctly” and allowed you to dump your armful of embarrassment into it. He graciously held the box while you hastily gathered the last few pieces and all too quickly tried to close the stupid defective thing. Granted, it seemed like he was attempting to fixate his eyesight anywhere but the thing in his hand, so at least he was gentlemanly.

You straightened your now sweat drenched tank top and brushed the hair from your eyes, “Thank you. Sorry about that.”

He laughed. Damn, how is a laugh that sexy?

“Its okay, really. Its just not everyday I come home to such interesting step decorations.”  

“Yeah.” You snickered, taking the box from his arms. “Interesting is definitely the word to describe this.”

“I’d offer to carry that for you, but uh…”

“No, that’s okay.” You huffed it onto your hip. “I’ve got it this time. I’m just going to keep both hands on it now.”

The two of you began trekking up the stairs side by side when he turned to you, “I’m Jensen, by the way.”

“Hi. I’m Y/n.”

“Nice to meet you. What apartment are you moving into?”

“3B.”

“Oh, cool. We’ll be neighbors.”

“Really?” you said, hoping to sound cool and collected, but it came out more regretful than you’d hoped.

He—Jensen, you reminded yourself—chuckled dryly and raised an eyebrow, “Do I seem that bad already?”

“No!” you all but yelled. “No, not at all. I’m sorry, that’s not how I meant that.” Damnit. Fuck. Son of a bitch. “I, uh… I’m just a little embarrassed that I’ll have to relive this awkward moment for at least a one year lease.”

“Hey, nothing to be embarrassed about. It happens.” He tried.

“Does it, now? Do you often see women slewing their most private clothing items across a very public part of their new building?” you said with a smirk, keeping your tone as light as you could to hide the dread at the recent memory.

“Well, no… but if it helps I’ll hang my laundry outside to dry if you’d like.”

You couldn’t help the giggled that escaped your lips, “Not necessary, honest. But, if you don’t mind, lets just never mention this again, please?” you asked as you reached your door, dropping the box on the ground by your feet.

“I don't know, Y/n. I may just need some conversation starters with the neighbors.”

When you whipped your head around, he was already holding his hands up in surrender, “I’m kidding. I’m kidding. I won’t say anything, I swear.”

“Thanks. And thanks again for the help, Jensen—“

“Ackles.” He replied, extending a hand.

“Y/l/n.” you said, sighing a bit too deeply when his hand enveloped yours, the warmth of him seeping into your already flushed skin.

He smiled, one that made his plump lips fuse together and his dimples appear at the corners of his mouth. Of course. This is the guy that had to witness the dumpster fire that you were right now; sweating like a swamp dragon in cutoff shorts and your music festival tank top from last year and muddy chuck taylors.

When he released your sweaty palm, you opened your grey door and shoved the box of incriminating garments into your foyer, next to the plethora of other boxes you’d already brought up.

“Do you need any help bringing up your other stuff? I’m happy to help.” Jensen offered, still standing in the breezeway.

“That was actually the last box.,” you answered, shoving your hands into your pockets. “My new job hired movers for the other stuff. It got here yesterday.”

“Is that what brings you here? A new job?”

“Yeah. From the U.S. to Vancouver. Working on a show called ‘Supernatural’. I actually haven’t even seen it. My last boss recommended me for a job opening, and I guess they had a spot they desperately needed to fill, so here I am. Didn’t even have much time to research before I had to pack up and get here. I was going to binge the first season later.”

Jensen’s cheeks flushed a bit and rubbed the back of his neck shyly, “Oh, yeah. I’ve—I’ve heard of it. Let me know what you think.”

“I’ve been hearing about it since it came out a few years ago, just never got around to watching it. I’m sure I’ll love it.”

He rocked back on his heels and huffed the air from his cheeks, “Well, if you need anything, just let me know.” He began walking backwards before turning to the door directly across from yours.

“I will. Thanks, Jensen.”

“It was really nice to meet you, Y/n.” he grinned, his smile a bit too flirty to be friendly, if you were to say so yourself.

As he shut his door, you released a deep breath and let yourself into your new apartment, a bit more excited about the new chapter you were starting.

...

Later that night, after you’d mostly finished unpacking and had a very long shower, you were seated on your familiar couch with a glass of wine. Your old boss hooked you up with a copy of the first season DVDs from his own collection, so you slid it out of the small paper case and inserted the silver disc with “season 1, eps 1-5” written on it in permanent marker.

Once you pressed ‘play’, you were quickly enthralled—and heartbroken—as you saw a young father thrust a baby into another young boys arms.

“Take your brother outside as fast as you can. Don't look back. Now, Dean. Go!”

Then, about four minutes later, you were watching as Sam had a scuffle with an intruder in his apartment.

“Wait a minute.” You whispered into the empty of your own apartment.

“Easy there tiger.”

“Holy shit! That's—” You exclaimed.

After a few more scenes, you couldn’t stand it any longer.

You padded to the door in your fuzzy slippers and pj’s and flung it open, not entirely sure what you were planning to do.

Once it swung with force, you stepped into the breezeway to see a small basket sitting by your doormat. In it was a bottle of red wine, a map of Vancouver, a blanket, and a brand new copy of the first season of Supernatural, this time with a case showcasing the main actors on the sleeve cover. One of whom you now recognized as your neighbor.

An envelope sat atop the gift with a small piece of cardstock enclosed.

Y/n,

I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I don't know if it was because I didn't want to scare you or if it was because I was hoping to get to know you before the ‘actor’ title set in. Meeting you today was probably one of the most interesting and exciting things to happen to me in a while. I didn’t know someone could look so beautiful flustered and stumbling down the stairs after runaway undergarments.

I’d love to take you out to dinner tomorrow night to tell you about the show and Vancouver—and, if you’re interested, we can get to know one another as well. If you’re available, I’ll meet you downstairs at 7:30.

I hope to see you.

-Jensen

“Son of a bitch.”

You picked up the basket, ran back inside, and immediately gathered an outfit for tomorrow night. Once it was laid out, you raced back to your couch and pressed play, a new spark igniting in your chest each time “Dean” appeared on your screen. 

[xpouii]

Tentacletober Day 9

Hello! This is late! It’s also extremely triggering, so please heed the warnings. Also, I don’t condone the behavior in this story. I don’t condone things through my writing, so there you go.

Prompt: Surprise Tentacles

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Characters: Virgil, Patton, Deceit, Roman, Logan, Remus

Warnings/Tags: SFW, violence, child abuse, self-harm, blood, mental illness, swearing, generally shitty parenting, unsympathetic Patton, unsympathetic Deceit, please be safe when reading this if you are triggered by any of the above

           “Virgil Gerard Heart!”

        ��  Virgil winced, pulling his hood up and tightening it. Patton cut him off, blocking the door, “Virgil, honey… look at me.”

           Virgil tensed, his hands were shaking, but he lifted his face to his father’s squaring his jaw. He’d put on eyeshadow, smearing it under his eyes, and he desperately wanted to keep it on, “It’s just-“

           “No,” Patton said, cutting him off. “Why do you want to look like a dead person, honey? Go wash your face and hurry up now. Where did you even get that makeup? From that Prince boy? Or the little smart one… oh what’s his name, Lance? Lance Berry?”

           “No, Dad it’s just-!”

           “Virgil if you don’t march up those stairs right now you’re not leaving this house.”

           “Dad that’s not fair! It’s a mandatory band trip; come on!” Virgil begged. “I’m not a little kid anymore. Please just let me-“

           “Dee honey!” Patton called over Virgil’s shoulder, “A little help please?”

           Virgil clamped his mouth shut so hard that he bit his tongue, tears welling up in his eyes but he stayed silent, eyes on the floor. Deceit stuck his head into the living room. “What is it?”

           “Look at our son,” Patton said. “Please just… talk some sense into him alright? He’s going to be late for his little band trip and I have to finish these dishes!”

           Virgil’s heart sank as Patton swept out of the room. Patton always left, because he couldn’t stand to see what Deceit was about to do, even though he knew it by heart. Deceit lifted Virgil’s face, “Your father told you to clean your face?”

           Virgil’s bottom lip trembled, “I-“

           The slap was brutal, and Virgil stumbled into the wall, grabbing on and trying to hide his face, but Deceit pulled him back, “God damn it Virgil how many times are we going to have these talks?! When are you going to start listening?!”

           Virgil opened his mouth, but Deceit struck him again, this time in the mouth, and Virgil tasted blood. He closed his eyes and cried, “I’m sorry! Please I’ll wash my face! Please I’m sorry!”

           Deceit pulled Virgil in by his hoodie, glaring into his eyes, “Go wash your face and then apologize to your father. And you’d better not be crying when you get back down here or so help me god, Virgil you will miss this trip. I don’t care if it is mandatory!”

           Virgil walked—he wanted to run, but that would only make things worse—up the stairs and into his bedroom. He closed the door silently, carefully, and walked into his bathroom. He lowered his hood and looked at his face. His lip was busted, and he spat blood into the sink. His face was red on one side, an angry welt from the open-palmed slap. He unzipped his hoodie and shrugged it off, splashing cold water on his face and scrubbing until his entire face was red, and his tears and eyeshadow were gone down the drain. Virgil brushed his teeth and used a thin piece of wet toilet paper to stop the bleed in his mouth. His eyes stopped on a bruise just below his elbow—and the forest of cuts from wrist to elbow—and then he pulled his hoodie back on, turning off the light and rushing downstairs.

           Patton was in the kitchen, humming happily to himself as he finished up the dishes. Virgil’s shoe squeaked on the linoleum and Patton turned with a smile, “Oh honey, there’s my beautiful boy.” Patton crossed to Virgil and took his face in his hands, kissing his forehead. “I’m sorry, baby. You know your father has a temper. I wish he wouldn’t be so hard on you… but you know it’s because he loves you. We love you so much, Virgil.”

           Virgil’s lip quivered but he held his emotions back, knowing better than to cry, “I’m sorry Dad. I should have done what you said the first time. I shouldn’t have upset you.”

           Patton smiled and pulled Virgil into a tight, warm hug, stroking his hair, “Virgil, I’m never upset with you honey. You’re my perfect, sweet boy. Now, hurry up and get to the school. You’ll miss the bus.”

           Virgil took the affection greedily, like he always did; it was the only thing he could depend on just as much as Deceit’s violence, and even though Patton’s kindness was somehow even more cruel, he still craved it like oxygen.

             Virgil jogged to his truck, climbing up and starting it. He glanced at his reflection in the overhead mirror before pulling out of the driveway and heading toward the highschool. After turning off out of his suburb, Virgil leaned over and fumbled in the glove compartment, pulling out a small jewelry box. He’d taken it out of the trash when Patton had given Deceit diamond cufflinks for their anniversary. Now, it held a very different treasure. Virgil took out one of the razorblades, flicking off the cardboard guard and putting it in his mouth. He held it delicately between his front teeth, letting his lips tease against the sharp edge. He hated being such a statistic, but he wasn’t exactly the only one to blame. When he was twelve, Patton had sent him to a therapist when he accidentally burned his wrist with his hair straightener and Patton was convinced it was intentional—in truth Deceit had beat him so badly his hands were still shaking. Virgil had gone obediently and listened to a counselor tell him why he self-harmed, all of the control, the endorphins, the release. When he’d gotten home from that session, Virgil had immediately taken one of Patton’s razorblades from the bathroom and sat in the bathtub, cutting tiny lines in his inner thigh. He still saw the therapist, but now he wore hoodies and chewed toothpicks and rolled his eyes. What was he supposed to do? Roll up his sleeves and show all of his little scars—maybe he would have, if he ever went to the therapist without bruises. If he ever went out in public not having to hide the black and blue humiliation Deceit gave him.

           Virgil pressed his lips together and the razor split his bottom lip, just next to the cut Deceit had made. He let the blood flow for a moment, down his chin like a lover’s touch, warm self-indulgence, and then he took out the razor and threw it out the window, wiping his chin with his fingers and licking the blood off, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth. By the time he reached the school parking lot it could have just been a lip cracked by the dry weather. Virgil put the small box back in his glove compartment and used his chapstick before he jumped out of his truck. He took out his backpack—and his previously stowed clarinet—and locked the truck—smirking to himself at the thought someone would actually steal it. But if a security guard went snooping and found his razorblades, he’d be in deep shit. Virgil jogged to the bus that blazed in the early evening like a beacon. He climbed up and saw two familiar faces, allowing himself to smile.

           “You were almost late, you big slut!” Roman scolded and Virgil laughed.

           “Parents were being assholes,” Virgil said, sliding in the seat next to him.

           Across the aisle, their friend Logan sat with his feet up in the seat, communicating a clear message, “When are they not?”

           “Isn’t this exciting!” Roman interrupted. “The audience is going to be the biggest we’ve ever played for! Mom already drove up to set up her camera.”

           “It should go well,” Logan said. “The last practice was fairly seamless.”

           Roman rolled his eyes playfully and nudged Virgil, “What about you, Virge? How do you think the clarinets will do?”

Virgil smiled, “As long as I don’t mess up, it’ll be fine. I’m just so glad the director didn’t decide to give me the solo.”

           “Well he wanted to,” Roman said. “You wouldn’t let him.”

           “If he did my parents would have come, no way I could’ve hidden it from them if I was going to all the solo practices.”

           Roman shrugged, “Well I think it would’ve been better in your hands.”

           “He’s right,” Logan said. “You’re first clarinet for a reason, Virgil.”

           “Well you two got the solo stuff you wanted so I’m just glad about that.”

           “I’m the only cellist,” Logan said. “There was literally no competition.”

           “But-“

           “Well I am proud of my position,” Roman said. “Oboe tunes the whole band.”

           “Even if it didn’t you still have your own entire song with the piano,” Logan said.

Roman sighed happily, then frowned, “Yeah mother says it’s a hollow privilege because I have no true competition.”

           Virgil rolled his eyes, resting his head against Roman’s shoulder. His cheek complained briefly against the rough fabric of Roman’s letterman jacket, but it wasn’t long until Virgil fell asleep to his friends’ gentle bickering.

           Virgil unlocked the front door and let himself in quietly, closing the door behind him and crossing the livingroom in the dark. He almost went to his knees when the lights flipped on, and Patton was sitting in his chair, knitting. “Hey kiddo. Awfully long trip to see a concert.”

           “Y-yeah,” Virgil said. “Well, traffic was-“

           “Mrs. Berry called me about an hour ago,” Patton said. “She wanted to congratulate me on how well you played at the concert.”

           Virgil’s heart dropped and he froze, “Dad, I-“

           “Go to your room, Virgil,” Patton said. He looked hurt, and that was the most terrifying thing he could be.

Virgil raced up the stairs, closing his door and throwing his backpack into his closet. He stripped his clothes off and threw on his pajamas, jumping into bed and covering up his head. Deceit would be there eventually, and Virgil prayed for it to be quick, and then he could cry himself to sleep, where he’d be safe. He was still trying to calm his breathing when the door opened and the lights turned on. Virgil squeezed his eyes closed as he heard the footfalls cross to his bed, “Did you brush your teeth?”

Virgil whimpered, “N-no sir… I’m sor-“

“Sorry? Oh you’re sorry are you Virgil? Are you sorry for breaking your dad’s heart?! Because that’s what you did! You lied and you hid the concert. He cried for an hour, you ungrateful little bastard.”

Virgil squeezed his eyes closed; he knew what was coming, but he had no idea how long the lecture would last before the violence started. The hand in his hair drug him out of the suspense—and out of the bed. His knees hit the floor and he cried out, struggling as Deceit dragged him into the bathroom. Virgil wrapped his hands around Deceit’s wrists to help keep him from pulling out any hair as he hauled the boy across the floor, jerking him to his feet and pushing him against the sink. “Do you need help with your nightly routine, Virgil? Is that it? You’re not mature enough to do your own grooming? Do you need me to brush your teeth for you?”

“No Dad please! I’m sorry I’ll do it please!” Virgil sobbed, staring at his own terrified face in the mirror.

Deceit slammed his knee against the back of Virgil’s and the boy went down, hitting his chin on the sink and biting his tongue—bleeding again. He drove his boot into Virgil’s ribs in a brutal kick, causing the teen to sob and curl into a fetal position on the floor. Fixing his shirt, Deceit cleared his throat, “If your teeth aren’t brushed and you aren’t back in bed before I come back in here—ten minutes, Virgil. You won’t be going to school for a week. I’ll make sure of that. Do you fucking hear me?”

Virgil trembled, unable to make a coherent reply, but Deceit left him, and he managed to drag himself up from the floor and brush his teeth, spitting blood. He washed his face, trying to fight away the tears as he crawled back into bed, wincing at the unpleasant grab in his side when he did so. He held his breath when he heard Deceit open his bedroom door, hallway light flooding in. Virgil forced his eyes closed and waited, biting down on his knuckles hard enough to leave deep toothmarks. When the door closed again he let out a shaky breath, but there weren’t anymore tears to release. So much for crying himself to sleep. Despite the dry eyes, Virgil did eventually drift off, the tremble in his breath melting as his chest slowed, and sleep took him.

 Virgil

Virgil jerked awake. He’d heard something, a voice? Something crawling on his floor? He sat up and looked around. It hadn’t been Deceit, or he’d have been slapped awake by now. Something—a snake? A rat?—slid under his bed and Virgil gasped, curling back up in bed and pulling his covers over his head. Whatever it was, if he made a fuss, he’d be in for another beating.

Virgil

           Virgil’s eyes snapped open, and he rolled over to the edge of the bed; he’d heard a voice. He was sure this time. He looked down for a moment before pulling himself down and looking under the bed. The darkness stared back, and Virgil tensed, chewing his lip as he moved to climb back up onto the bed. Suddenly, a writhing mass of tentacles shot out and wrapped around him, arms and throat, yanking Virgil underneath the bed. Virgil cried out as darkness enveloped him.

           He sat up as soon as he felt his body land on the floor—ground?—and scrambled to his feet. He was in something like a cave; water was dripping somewhere nearby, and trickling over rocks. He didn’t notice the man until his eyes adjusted, and then he screamed.

           “My my what a set of pipes you have,” the man said. “But calm down. I may be the monster under your bed, but I’m not here to eat you.”

           Virgil blinked, “Am I dead?”

           The man—monster?—rolled his eyes, “You think you’re in heaven? Do I look like God to you?”

           “I didn’t expect god to have a pornstache that’s true.”

           He cackled, “Pornstache! Oh that’s a good nickname… but I feel like it’s been done. Let’s wait a while until Orange Is the New Black has settled down before we really go for it, hm? So, Virge. I’ve been watching you a long time.”

           “Creepy,” Virgil said. “Why?”

           “It’s what we do, monsters, cryptids, whatever you want to call us. Humans are interesting—they’re very weird. But, you’re such a sad sack I couldn’t just let it stand anymore. I thought I’d pop in and cheer you up!”

           “By kidnapping me,” Virgil said, “Sure ok… what’s your name?”

           The creature was thoughtful, a few tentacles emerged—from his back maybe?—and twisted around as if he were fidgeting, “Well, I’ve got a few. When you live forever you pick up names don’t you? They’re like herpes, not generally welcome but always dependable! You can call me Remus.”

           “Remus, like Professor Lupin?” Virgil said, walking over to the cave wall where lewd art had been carved with a rock. “Or like… Remus Dănălache?”

           Remus raised an eyebrow, “What now?”

           Virgil shoved his hands in the pockets of his basketball shorts, “My dad watches a lot of European football.”

           “Ooh, which one? Hug Dad or Punch Dad?”

           Virgil winced, and Remus hissed apologetically, “Yeah maybe be a little more chill when you bring up… Punch Dad, alright?”

           Remus clapped his hands together, “Let’s go do something fun, Virgil! What do you like? Besides chewing on razorblades. I love doing that but… I’d better not bring you home covered in blood or your parents—or my parents—would probably be pissed.”

           “Wait you have parents? Monsters have parents?”

           “How else do you think I got here? Do you think I crawled out from under a rock?”

           “Well you did crawl out from under my bed!” Virgil said. “But like… sorry. Ok you have parents… does that mean you’re not an adult monster?”

           Remus sighed, “Monsters age slow, so no. I have to be six thousand before I’m considered an adult and I’ve got another five hundred years before that happens. But I’m practically an adult. I can jump.”

           “Can’t everybody jump?”

           “Not like that, dummy. I can dimensional jump! It means I can interact with your world and bring you into mine! So, why don’t we… go scare your neighbor, the old bitch who complained about your music that day you had the window open and Punch Dad broke your stereo.”

           “Yeah, Ms. Miller,” Virgil muttered. “What do we do?”

           Remus grinned, offering Virgil his hand, “Just follow my lead.”

[foreverfamilyforevervongola]

Could you please write a small scenario expanding your headcanon on Fran's first breakdown (when he locks himself in the Varia basement) if you have time? Thank you! I love reading your stories!

Fran didn’t like basements.

Which was why he was hovering in the doorframe, peering down the stairs that led into the dark depths. His heart stuttered in his chest and he took a few, sharp breaths to calm himself down. The Varia tolerated his fear of storms, but he did not need them to know he had a problem with basements.

There was no way they would let that one slide.

The twelve-year-old was tempted to just forget the whole thing and return to his room. But Xanxus’ voice echoed in his mind and Fran’s posture straightened with determination.

The only reason he was scared of basements was because of her.

He left the door ajar and traversed down the steps. When he reached the bottom his fingers crept along the wall until they found the light switch. The dark space was weakly lit by a couple of yellow bulbs.

When the anxiety started to twinge in his chest Fran muttered, “I’m fine. It’s just a basement. Get what you need and get out.”

It was a large basement and there was no organization to the storage bins and cardboard boxes stacked in pillars and formed in aisles across the cement floor. But they were all labelled and Fran searched for one that might contain his winter jacket.

Usually Lussuria took care of exchanging their seasonal clothes, but this year it had gotten cold early and his fall coat was not cutting it.

He found a box marked Winter Coats halfway down the fifth aisle, right at the bottom. He knelt down and wrenched it free.

He had expected a few boxes to come tumbling after his reckless and impatient action. But a domino effect occurred and Fran clucked his tongue in annoyance when a few of the aisles started to collapse.

The annoyance immediately evaporated when he heard the basement door slam shut.

The blood roared in his ears and suddenly he was hyper-aware of his surroundings. He dropped his box and sprinted back to the stairs, where a solid barrier between him and the hallway greeted him.

He shoved frantically against the wood but it remained firm. The doorknob refused to turn and he discovered in horror that he was locked in.

Not again not again not again

“Get me out!” he screamed, pounding his fists against the door. “Get me out!”

His vision blurred and his mind created a vivid image of the small, cramped basement back in France. He had been a toddler when she tossed him down there and locked the door behind him. He had cried until his chest and throat ached from it, and screamed until he lost his voice.

How long did she leave him there? Two days? Three? He didn’t know. The passage of time meant nothing to him then. When she finally let him out he was very hungry and very thirsty, so he supposed it had been a while.

He was ripped from his mental blast to the past by the basement door being thrown open. Fran fell forwards and slammed to the floor with a strangled gasp. Xanxus studied him, his face impassive but his mind racing.

Anxiety attacks during storms were expected. But this was new. This was a proper breakdown.

Tears streamed down Fran’s cheeks and he was gasping for breath. Fear and anxiety flooded through their bond, nearly strangling the both of them with its intensity. Xanxus knelt down and Fran habitually recoiled.

“You’re a pain in my ass,” grumbled Xanxus, leaning forwards and wrapping an arm around his waist. He hoisted the kid against his side and walked away.

The solid, warm weight around his body caused Fran’s breathing to ease. His emotions smoothed out and he was able to regain control of his thoughts.

Humiliation surged through him and Fran furiously scrubbed at his wet cheeks. He hadn’t had a breakdown in a long time. But now here he was, a sobbing mess, all because he had been locked in a basement.

A basement that did not belong to his biological mother. A basement he would not have been locked in for long. A basement he could have shifted out of if he concentrated hard enough.

Stupid, stupid.

They reached the living room and Xanxus lowered the two of them onto the couch. He didn’t let go and Fran felt himself sagging against his side, the physical contact a reassurance.

It took a few more minutes for Fran to completely settle down and he sent Xanxus a wary, uncertain look. “Uh…thanks,” he muttered.

Xanxus’ hand rose up and Fran tensed, expecting a solid thrashing for his weakness. But it clasped his chin and kept it steady as Xanxus regarded him. “Didn’t know basements freaked you out.”

“I don’t like them. But I’ve never really been in one since I lived with her, so it never really mattered.”

“What happened?”

“She locked me in the basement. For a long time. I don’t know how many days.”

Xanxus’ jaw twitched and Fran felt the burn of his anger. “We’re not going to lock you in the basement, small trash.”

“I know,” said Fran tiredly. Xanxus let go and he rubbed at his eyes as exhaustion crashed upon him. “I was fine until the door shut.”

“It’s broken, moron.”

“Well, why haven’t we fixed it?”

“Mammon doesn’t think it’s necessary, and what the hell do I care? I don’t use it.”

“I did keep it open. But I knocked over a bunch of boxes and I guess the impact rattled it shut. I don’t know. Sorry.”

The kid didn’t apologize often but whenever he did, it was usually related to his emotional episodes triggered by bad memories. “You don’t need to apologize, small trash.” Xanxus gave a shake of his head and he added dryly, “I don’t know how someone can be so emotionless and yet so emotional at the same time.”

“Trauma can do that to you,” said Fran.

But he gave a slight smirk when he said it and Xanxus rolled his eyes, giving him a light swat upside the head. “Stop letting it control you.”

“Working on it.”

“What were you even doing down there?”

“I needed my winter coat. It’s freezing out there.”

“Go get it.”

There was a brief flicker of nervousness before Fran’s eyes hardened with steely resolve. He gave a nod and went to give it a second shot. Xanxus watched him leave and focussed on their bond.

There was the initial spike of anxiety but nothing more followed it. A few minutes later Fran walked past the entrance with his winter coat in hand, a triumphant gleam on his features.

“Troublesome brat,” Xanxus muttered, even as a smile twitched at the corner of his lips.

[theawkwardterrier]

A Light in the Window

Steggy Week 2k19, day 3 Prompt: Firsts and lasts

Summary: Steve and Peggy attempt their first real date.

AO3 link here.

Four days after Steve wakes up in a hospital bed with Howard, pale and self-satisfied, blathering down at him about trackers in his suit and the wonders of the serum, he and Peggy go to the Stork Club. They turn slowly on the floor together even when the music dictates a faster pace, the stiffness and chill only just working its way out of Steve’s bones, the feeling of her against him too perfect to want to pull away. He even doesn’t release her hand until they reach the door of her building.

When he and Peggy arrange to meet on a Saturday evening for their first real date, he doesn’t have much planned. None of the things he can think of really inspire him: the city is bursting with returning service-members on their way to the movie houses, to dance halls and the shows on Broadway, and it doesn’t feel right to take Peggy somewhere so cliche. They haven’t had an opportunity to really talk with each other, not since those forever-past nights on watch or slogging from a dropoff point on the way to another Hydra base, so Steve decides on a simple walk through Brooklyn. They can continue getting to know each other, without being interrupted by bullets or Colonel Phillips’ voice over the radio (hopefully). He will have the comfort of all the familiar places of his neighborhood, and get a chance to introduce her to what is now her neighborhood too.

Except the stories of his childhood refuse to come off his tongue when all he can remember is standing alone on the Barnes stoop, knocking heavy-hearted on Bucky’s mother’s door. Instead, he can only manage to thank her again for the flowers she had brought to his hospital room.

“They really brightened up the place. I’ll have to send the Army a note about it so they can update the decor.”

“I’m sure they’ll appreciate the advice. They aren’t particularly well-known for comfort or aesthetic, after all.” She gives a little smile. Her lipstick, he notices, is pink tonight, to match with the flowers on her dress. “I’m glad you enjoyed the flowers. I wasn’t sure what kind you would like.”

“Chrysanthemums were great,” he says earnestly, as if he hadn’t spent too long staring at them, wondering if they were supposed to send a particular message. Everyone knows that it’s roses that are for romance. Maybe chrysanthemums mean ‘I know it seemed that there was something between us, but I’ve reconsidered and we’re probably better off as friends.’ She did say yes when he’d asked her out, but...

He knows he isn’t exactly convincing her at the moment. I guess this whole time it wasn’t my looks or my size that chased girls off, he thinks in mortification. They could just tell I was lousy date.

They keep walking, each bringing up new topics - the apartment Steve’s rented, the position Peggy is meant to start at the SSR’s New York office now that she is finished in Europe and living here permanently - that fizzle after not nearly long enough. The silences between each attempt at a conversation starter feel endless, each a chasm of infinite and humiliating depth.

He is about ready to find a movie house to point to in desperation and say, “Oh good, we’re here!” as if they’d needed to walk for three quarters of an hour to find just this one. And then it begins to rain.

“We can try to outrun it,” Peggy suggests as the first light drops fall into her hands and hair. “I know that we—” But she is cut off by the snap and boom of thunder, and then by the opening of the heavens.

Steve snatches a discarded newspaper off a nearby bench and tries to hold it over her head as they pick up their pace. It’s sodden within seconds and he tosses it away again.

“Come on!” He takes her hand. It’s after dusk, and with the rain pouring so thick that it’s like fog, there’s nearly no visibility. It would be easy for them to lose each other by accident.

They struggle down the street, and Steve is certain that she doesn’t have a particular destination in mind either, other than ‘dry.’

When he sees a lighted window, he can’t tell what sort of business it belongs too and he doesn’t care. He holds the door open for Peggy and follows her inside.

“Giulia!” calls a woman’s voice before Steve can even blink the water out of his eyes and take in his surroundings. “Two of the minestrone, and use the biggest bowls we have.”

“You can come into the kitchen yourself, you know. There won’t be much longer for it,” says another woman crankily.

“She’s too busy losing to me,” crows a third.

It’s a restaurant, but barely: only four tables, each covered in a crisp white cloth, and each empty except for the one where two women face each other over a chessboard. Steve thinks he could reach so his fingertips touch each wall. There’s a banner that stretches easily across the length of the place that reads “Closing! Last night!”

It also smells incredible, herbs and yeast and food treated with care.

“You know, Lia’s right,” says the first woman, standing and disappearing into what Steve presumes is the world’s smallest kitchen. He looks at Peggy and finds her somewhere between confused and amused. (Also soaking wet in a way that manages to look fetching, but mostly makes him want to find her a blanket or some dry clothes. He’d offer his jacket, but considering the way it’s dripping onto the floor, he doesn’t think it would be of much help.)

The last woman looks down at the board, chuckles to herself, then pushes her chair back and walks over to Steve and Peggy. “Have a seat,” she tells them, and rather than pointing to one of the empty tables, she indicates the one which has just been vacated.

“Um,” Steve gets out eloquently.

“Where are we, precisely?” Peggy asks.

The woman laughs roundly. “It’s Romano’s,” she says, and the two women join her in harmony from the back. The woman continues, “Lia’s husband finally saved up enough to buy it right before he died, and now she’s been trying to honor him for as long as she can. Tina and I just stay around to keep her company.”

“Don’t pretend as if I don’t feed you, Lessia.” The kitchen door opens again and the other two women come back out. Tina is carrying two enormous portions of steaming soup, while Giulia, wearing a clean if slightly floury apron, holds a wooden cutting board with what looks like fresh bread.

Lined up beside each other, they are clearly sisters, each with the same frame (short and full, but straight-backed) and the same hair (a curling black clearly on its way to gray, pulled back over their ears and in matching buns) and the same frown at the couple still standing awkwardly by the door.

“Sit,” Lessia says again, crossing her arms, the only free pair.

It’s not particularly an offer anymore, but Steve says, “That’s kind of you, but we were just going to wait out the rain.”

“You’d be waiting until your hair was as gray as ours,” Tina says firmly. “This weather will hold for a good while. Listen.” She’s right. The rain continues to pound without sign of lightening or moving past the city.

“The two of you are soaking wet.” Giulia adds a bit of coaxing to her voice, but it still has that unmoving steel beneath it. “And you wouldn’t let my husband’s dream restaurant close without a single customer on the last night, hmm? We lack customers simply because we lack atmosphere, nothing to do with the food.”

“Truly, Lia will be very sad if she cannot feed someone before she sells off the place,” Tina says, making a comically morose face as she sets one bowl on either side of the chessboard and pulls out the closer chair suggestively.

Steve doesn’t really know exactly what the right move is here, but then he notices the gooseflesh between the bottom of Peggy’s still-dripping hair and the slightly dipping back of her dress. “Soup sounds great,” he says, and gestures for Peggy to take the seat Tina has pulled out for her.

The soup is great. He and Peggy glance up at each other as they spoon up the hearty vegetables and full broth, and for some reason those little moments without speech don’t feel awkward anymore.

“Can I cut you some?” Steve asks, gesturing to the loaf Giulia had rested beside him before the three sisters vanished together back into the kitchen together.

“You can.” As Steve slices, Peggy takes a chess pawn in each hand and extends her curled fists to him. Putting down the knife, he taps her left hand and she hands him the black piece.

“At a disadvantage already,” she says, peering at him nonchalantly through her eyelashes as she arranges her side of the board to erase the game Lessia and Tina had been playing.

“Don’t know that I need an advantage,” he says, lifting an eyebrow at her. “Four things I did while sick in bed: draw, read, play cards, and learn chess. And I was in bed a lot.”

“I suppose we’ll see if it’s paid off,” and despite the challenge of her tone, her voice is warm.

She wins the first game handily (unfortunate - she might have an accent and act polite about it, but Peggy Carter trash talks), and he battles her hard for her second victory. The third game looks as if it might be his, as long as he doesn’t get distracted by the stories she tells about her childhood, as long as he doesn’t lose focus as he tries to make her laugh. He’s still chuckling over her description of learning to ride a bicycle having stolen her brother’s, examining his knight to make sure she’s not luring him into a trap, when the sisters come out of the kitchen looking apologetic but firm.

“The rain has stopped,” Lessia says. Steve notices for the first time that she's right. He wonders when that happened.

Giulia adds, “The new owner of the restaurant will be here early tomorrow morning and I would like to have a good sleep before.” She holds up a small cardboard box tied with twine. “Something sweet to take on your way.”

“You've already done too much,” Steve protests, already standing in embarrassment and taking out his wallet. For all the talk about getting an early night, it must be close to eleven. They’ve been here for hours.

"Put it away," Giulia tells him, waving a hand. She has an enormous purse over one shoulder, obviously ready to step right out and go home. "My husband wanted to start this place to feed people, not to make money."

"Obviously," Tina says mischievously. "Lucky thing you know how to cook, because Marco was absolutely hopeless."

"You really are marvelous," Peggy says.

Giulia gives a graceful shrug, closing her eyes as a look of humble satisfaction crosses her face. "And now I will hand over the keys to the next dreamer."

"And perhaps go cook for the handsome man next door instead," says Lessia. "And be certain to tell him of the lovers who came in on our last night here. Perhaps it will give him the right idea."

Giulia scoffs just as Steve says, wrestling down a blush, "We're not—"

"Don't try to pretend with an old woman," says Lessia, eagle-eyed. "Perhaps it's just the beginning, but everything that lasts has one of those."

"Now go," Tina adds, flicking her wrist in a little sweeping gesture. "The beginning continues, but elsewhere."

The air is a little cooler as they step out again, and without thinking Steve puts an arm around Peggy's shoulder.

"The serum has some added benefits," he blurts when she looks up at him, but she just smiles.

He has seen her smile in so many ways - large ones which she leans into after a victory or a point well-made, tiny, hidden smiles like punctuation - and he doesn't think he'll ever tire of discovering all the different kinds she has within herself. He's so lucky to have the chance.

"I'm happy to enjoy all of those benefits." The box of dessert they'd been gifted with hangs by the string from his finger, and she slides her finger in beside it. "Shall we enjoy these as well?"

They each bite into the little chocolate cakes, and Steve doesn't even feel embarrassed when she reaches up and brushes away crumbs that have been left behind.

In fact, he has the sense that he might actually get to taste what chocolate tastes like on her mouth tonight.

He had worried, somehow, that they were people brought together by war, that perhaps they would not know how to be together in peace. For some time tonight, it seemed that his fears were realized. But Peggy is still quick and kind and unswerving and unequivocally herself, and somehow she still likes him.

He’s never been so happy to be wrong.

[beautifulblhell]

Code: Home Ch1

Finder Fanfic: Asami x Akihito

Summary: Akihito, a young genius hacker living in with Asami. Working in an internet cafe in the day and coming home to Asami in the night. Peaceful life, isn’t it?Well, that’s not going to last anymore. The past that he had left behind start to resurface when a certain someone reappears, threatening Akihito and Asami’s life. With no choice, Akihito is forced to confront the shadow of his past. Except the shadow knows too much about Akihito...

Click click click

The rhythmic sound of tapping of keyboard echoed in the small booth.

A young man with blond hair sat scrunched up in front of a computer, staring intently at the screen with a slight frown, all the time his fingers flew across the keyboard.

Suddenly, a shrill alarm sounded, and the young man jerked up before cursing under his breath. Using one hand to rub the spot between his eyebrows, he used the other to press stop on his phone. Then, with a yawn, he leaned back against the chair and stretched.

“Finished just on time,” he mumbled, and leaned back down to shut the computer and pack his things.

Opening the dark booth, he squinted against the harsh light of the corridor, wincing slightly.

He was just going to turn left to head towards the exit, when he saw that the door to the booth next to his was slightly open. He glanced inside.

The boy’s shoulders were slumped, and an aura of dejection emitting from his being. On top of that, his dark hair was messy, and wore clothes that looked as if they hadn’t been changed for a few days.

Perhaps he heard the blond man’s footsteps, the messy haired boy suddenly turned his face towards the door and locked eyes with the blond man.

Crap , though Akihito, recognising the helpless look on the boy’s face.

“Akihito-senpai, please wait here for a second!” With a sudden burst of energy, the boy shot out of his seat and ran towards the end of the corridor. Before Akihito could proceed what had happened, he was back, holding a can of iced coffee. Sliding the last few metres on his knees, he prostrated against the floor to Akihito.

“Akihito-senpaaaai, I beg of you! This is the last time! I promise! Please help me!” The boy cried agonisingly.

Akihito sighed. “Didn’t you say that last time was the ‘last time’? And the time before that? On second thought, didn’t you say every time was the ‘last time’?”

“Please! I swear this is the last time! If you don’t help me I will never see tomorrow’s sun!”

Akihito shook his head in defeat. “Fine, I’ll help you.”

The boy cried in relief. “Thank you so much, Akihito-samaaaaa! I love you!”

“H-hey, don’t rub you snot-covered face on my clothes!”

“Ah, please accept this!”

Kai held up the can of iced coffee.

Akihito stared at it, pretending to be offended. “Is that all my service is worth, a can of coffee?”

“I’m really sorry, I really can’t afford anything else at the moment! I promise once I finish this I’ll make up to you!” Tears welled up in Kai’s eyes again, and he stared at Akihito like a tortured puppy.

“It’s fine, I finished my work anyway, send me the details and I’ll get it back to you before the day ends.” Akihito patted Kai’s head.

“But you have to go home and get some sleep.   Right now you look like a withered cabbage.”

After exchanging goodbyes, Akihito left Kai, who was still crying on the ground with relief. Several heads were popped out from the other booths, staring at them in wonder.

**********

Outside, Akihito strolled further down the street to the convenience store.

There weren’t any convenience stores near where he currently lived, only those upscale luxury stores with expensive imported stuff from God-knows-where, probably Mars.

The doors of the store opened with a familiar chime as Akihito stepped in, followed by a cool blast of air from the air con.

“Welcome,” a soft voice greeted him from the cashier, to which Akihito smiled and nodded in response.

Taking a detour through the sweets aisle before heading towards the ready meals section, Akihito dithered at the wide range of foods available, still not used to the freedom of choosing whatever he wants to eat, but in the end, he still bought the cheap yakisoba set with a bottle of ramune.

The young man at the counter was in his late twenties, and looked more suitable in front of a fashion magazine than in front of a cashier in a cheap convenience store. The name tag displayed his name as ‘Natsume’.

Natsume had just started working here a few weeks ago, and since Akihito comes here everyday, they were both familiar with each other, and since Natsume seemed like a pleasant person, sometimes they even exchanged a word or two.

With his dinner in hand, he went back to the parking area of the internet café to where his beloved Vespa stood.

Riding along the streets, he passed the familiar run-down apartments until the scenery blended into the high-class imposing condos.

Penthouse apartment. In the middle of Tokyo. Akihito could practically smell the money coming off from the people living there. Except for him. Even the housekeepers here have a more stable income than him. No wonder the concierge’s mouth was agape the first time he came here.

Once he opened the door to the apartment, he held his breath, automatically listening for footsteps, then shook his head when he realised that it was no longer necessary for him to be so cautious.

Taking off his shoes and carrying his dinner to the living room, Akihito dropped his dinner on the table in front of the sofa. After changing and grabbing his laptop in his room, he sat crossed legged on the sofa. Opening his email, he smiled wryly at the message Kai sent, with so many crying emojis at the title.

Cracking his knuckles slightly, he began to work.

An hour later, Akihito closed the lid of the laptop. It wasn’t as much of a challenge as he hoped it would be, but then again, some peace and quiet weren’t so bad either.

He yawned and closed his eyes. It’s been a long day. Maybe he would take a quick nap before eating dinner... just 30 minutes of break...

**********

It was dark

So dark

And silent

Then

Red.

Everything turned blood red, and he choked.

The pressure on his neck intensified.

Blood rushes towards his head, and his ears rang.

Fingers dug deeper into his neck.

He clawed desperately at the object suffocating him, but all his hands met were empty air.

Dark spots appeared against his crimson vision, and he could feel his conscious slowly slipping away.

Help

His lips parted to form the words, yet no sound came out.

I don’t want to die

I don’t want to be alone

Please, anyone

Save me

Akihito was steadily slipping into oblivion.

The dark seemed so welcoming, so safe.

“Akihito.”

The voice was muffled, as if he was hearing it underwater.

“Akihito.”

The voice was more distinct now, and suddenly, he was pulled up, towards the light that had appeared overhead him.

“Akihito, wake up.”

And Akihito woke up.

In one fluid motion, he jerked up and quickly curled into a ball, trembling, his head in his arms. His heart pounded inside his chest and his mouth felt paper dry as he waited for the inevitable, except...

“Akihito, it’s me.”

The voice was soft, yet an underlying tone of command forced Akihito to look up from inside his shell. He slowly lifted his head upwards to peek through his arms that acted like bars in front of his face.

A pair of narrow golden eyes were staring at him, with a hint of concern in the depth of his gaze.

Asami.

In an instant, relief flooded through Akihito, draining away all his energy, and he slumped against the sofa.

“What the heck, don’t scare me like that,” he grumbled, yet was secretly glad that it was Asami whom he saw when he woke up.

“A nightmare?”

Akihito tensed, before saying sharply: “Did I say anything?”

Asami started at him for a second, before merely shaking his head and stood up.

Asami Ryuichi.

The man that was more like a god than a mortal. Akihito has yet to meet another human that rivals Asami’s beauty. Even Natsume paled in comparison.

And he was the one whom Akihito currently lived with.

“By the way, where did you get that? It tasted like salted cardboard.”

“Wha-? You ate my food? That was my dinner!”

Akihito scampered up and looked at dismay at the box in front of him. Only half of the yakisoba was left.

“That doesn’t seem to qualify as food.”

“Well, excuse me if commoner’s food doesn’t suit your-highness’ rich palate, but us peasants care more about stuffing our stomaches than the taste.”

“You could have ordered food using my card. You have already memorised all of my card details, no?”

“As if I would use your card.” He snorted. “I can earn my own food at least. Hah, I’ll just finish this.”

Akihito ate a few bites half heartedly before giving up. It’s true. It indeed tasted like salted cardboard. Or salted leather shoe soles to be more precise. Plus that nightmare had left an unpleasant sinking feeling in his stomach so he wasn’t feeling too hungry.

“I’m going to bed. Good night.” Akihito stood up with the box half full of food and dumped it in the trash in the kitchen before heading towards his bedroom.

Asami looked up from his documents in his hand.

“Want to sleep in my bed tonight, Akihito?”

“Hah?! Why would I, you perverted old man?! Stay at least three metres away from me when I’m sleeping,” Akihito yelled and slammed his door shut.

In the now silent living room, Asami sat there, looking at the sofa where Akihito had slept with a displeased look on his face.

**********

Morning came all the too quickly, and Akihito sat up blearily, rubbing his eyes. He didn’t sleep well. The nightmare continued during the night. He could only hope that he didn’t  screamed anymore.

After finished washing up and getting dressed, he was greeted by a low humming noise of conversation when he opened his bedroom door.

Who is here so early in the morning?  Akihito wondered. Asami was usually still asleep at this time of the day. Akihito walked quietly towards the living room, wanting to take a peek at the visitors without disturbing them, hoping all the way that it was not Asami’s bespectacled secretary.

Before Akihito could get closer to hear clearly what the two men were saying, they seemed to have noticed Akihito’s arrival and the low hum of conversation abruptly stopped.

Akihito, knew that he can’t turn tail now, opened the door.

Asami sat in one of the armchairs, somehow still looking imposing in a white bathrobe, and the other person sat opposite Asami. His trench coat hung behind the chair, and wore a waistcoat with a dark tie. His short hair was neatly trimmed and on his face sat a pair of glasses, yet Akihito could not help the smile blooming on his face.

“Shinji!”

Akihito bounded over to Kuroda.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were back? Wait, when did you get back? How was Osaka? Did you visit any hot springs? I’ve heard that some hot springs got medicinal properties, is that true?”

Kuroda laughed as Akihito fired off hundreds of questions.

“Wait, let me get a word in please,” he smiled. “I only got back yesterday evening. As it was too late, I didn’t notify you of my arrival as I didn’t want to wake you up. The original plan was to come back tomorrow, but we cleared things up quicker than expected so I’m back early. And yes, I did visit the hot spring. It was very relaxing. I highly recommend you going there sometime. Also, here,” Kuroda turned around and rummaged though his pockets before taking out a small bag with a ribbon on top, and handed it to Akihito.

“Lavender scented bath salts with calming effects. It should give the user a good night sleep.”

“Oh wow, thanks! I’ll try them tonight!” Akihito beamed at the present, then suddenly seemed to remember something as he dashed to his room and back, with a sheaf of documents in his hand.

Asami raised his eyebrows questioning but Akihito shook his head and said seriously, “It’s confidential,” before handing it to Kuroda.

“Then I’m glad that I finished this yesterday. Here, proof that Kawaguchi had been laundering money. He asked me to look into Kamado’s email to see if there’s anything juicy, but since I saw in your emails that you were interested in Kawaguchi, I helped you to dig out some dirt on him.” Akihito grinned cheekily.

The corners of Asami’s lip curved upwards and he took a sip of his whiskey before asking, ”Client confidentiality?”

Akihito stuck out his tongue at him.

Kuroda smiled wryly. “This is a great help, so thank you, Akihito, but to hear that my emails were read...”

“Don’t worry, there’s nothing interesting about your emails. Only thing though, those shots of the cat were really ugly.”

“So you also looked into my photo album...”

Akihito laughed.

Just then, Akihito’s phone rang. He took the phone out of his pocket before pulling a face.

“I gotta go. Work calls.”

Kuroda started to get up but Akihito waved at him to sit down.

“Don’t worry, you and that boss guy over there continue your chat before I interrupted you. I’ll see you guys later.”

**********

The front door closed with a soft click, and a heavy mood settled over the living room.

“Ryuichi, how is he doing?”

Asami was silent for a few seconds, before shaking his head and replying grimly: “He’s still having nightmares.”

Kuroda sighed softly. “It’s been 2 years.”

“Some scars take a long time to heal. Others never do.”

“We can only hope that it’s the former one.”

The two men sat motionlessly, each lost in their own thoughts. After a while, Asami spoke up.

“Any news?”

Kuroda shook his head.

“Nothing substantial.”

“But he’s still alive.”

Kuroda looked at Asami carefully.

“And what would you do if he was?”

Asami flickered his eyes towards Kuroda, a quiet storm brewing behind his eyes. “He still screams himself awake at nights, and sometimes he doesn’t want to go back to sleep because of the nightmares.”

“And I suppose that he’s dead set against any sleeping pills.”

Asami nodded darkly.

“I won’t keep you here any longer. I’ll keep in touch if anything new comes up, but keep in mind he’s got quite a network of allies.”

“The more people that are involved the more likely there will be a traitor to come out.”

Kuroda nodded, before heading off.

Asami’s mood didn’t lift the entire day, and it worsened during his meeting with a small clan’s head, who came to Asami hoping for business deals.

It was already nearing the end of the discussion when the elder man made the blunder.

“So I’ve heard that you’ve been keeping a pet by your side for quite a while now? My, my, isn’t this quite unusually for the great Asami? However, it would be my greatest honour to meet this lady of yours someday.”

His words meant no harm, but simply said at the wrong time.

The last word hadn’t left his mouth when the whole room became frigid.

“I-is something wrong, Asami-sama?” The man asked nervously, playing with his hands.

“And where did you get this information, Yamaguchi-san?”

“A-ah? It’s just there’s rumours floating around...” Yamaguchi’s voice died when the temperature in the room dropped another 10 degrees, and the look in Asami’s eyes froze him before he babbled. “I-it was the head of the Sh-shimada-gumi who told me that. I swear I don’t know anything else, please believe me...”

He was still babbling by the time Asami left.

**********

Inside the car, the only sound that could be heard was the purr of the engine. Kirishima took a quick glance in the rear view mirror, and   found Asami’s brows tightly furrowed.

Akihito’s security is going to tighten , Kirishima thought, half dreading the process of finding another victim as Akihito’s bodyguard.

Indeed, his prediction came true.

“Change the security for Akihito to 24/7 except when he’s inside the apartment with me. Keep watching him even if he’s inside the apartment but I’m not there.”

“Yes sir.”

**********

Akihito spotted Kai waving at him near the back of the café.

He looked much more refreshed. A bath, a good night sleep and a change of clothes really do wonders.

“Over here, Akihito-senpai!”

Kai was literally radiating sunshine and flowers with his enthusiasm, and Akihito could help but smile when looking at his bright face.

The café that Kai told him to come to was a really popular café, and its patrons were mostly girls or couples, as the cute cakes were highly popular with females. Akihito secretly wanted to come but didn’t have the guts to come as a single guy.

“Thank you again for last time! You really saved me! Please order whatever you feel like, it’s all on me.” Kai’s eyes were sparkling. It seemed like the guy yesterday wailing about work was entirely different person. I should have bought sunglasses , staring at this new sunshine Kai hurts his eyes.

“How did you get a reservation here? I heard that you usually have to book in weeks in advance.”

“Ah, I asked the owner for help, and he helped me to reserve a place for us today. Seems like he knows the owner here.” Kai beamed innocently.

The owner is weak to cute boys like you. Watch out or he will end up devouring you. Akihito thought.

Suddenly the couple sitting next to him stared at the TV in surprise.

“No way, isn’t that guy, like, the super famous politician or something?” The guy said.

“Oh yeah, it is! It’s Kawaguchi-sensei. Apparently there’s rumours he’s going to be the next prime minster. ”

The name caught Akihito by surprise and his eyes automatically gravitated towards the TV at the back of the room. The scene currently showing on the screen was a man with his head bowed being lead away by police officers. They were surrounded by reporters whom were all trying to shove their mics in the man’s face while asking questions. A voice said: “Police officers are seen escorting Kawaguchi Koda away from his house after reports came in of him laundering money. This will no doubt be a stain on his career and the possibility of him becoming the next prime minister is rapidly decreasing. And now we have reports in that all of his assets are frozen by the police until further notice.”

“Ah, I was going to vote him as the prime minster. Politician are all the same, dirty scumbags.”

“Yeah, as they say, ‘you really can’t judge a book by its cover’.”

The café was instantly abuzz with the latest news, yet Akihito’s mouth was wide open. The words ‘all his assets are frozen’ kept replaying in his head, yet is was as if his brain was frozen, unable to comprehend those simple words.

“Akihito-senpai? Is something the matter?” Kai peered at him worriedly.

“Argh!” Akihito let out a frustrated groan. “Damn it! I won’t be paid at this rate.” He banged his head on the table in frustration.

“Kawaguchi-sensei is your client?” Kai’s eyes widen in surprise.

“Shhh. Not so loud. But yeah, he is. Or was. With his accounts frozen I won’t be paid.” Akihito’s voice was bitter. And the help he gave Kuroda came back to bite his ass.

“Oh.” Kai frowned before saying, “Look, you helped me yesterday, and because you finished so quickly, I also got a bonus. How about I give you half the amount I got?”

“No it’s fine.”

“But I feel bad. How about just the bonus? My patron was quite generous this time.”

“It’s fine, I’ll just be broke for a few days before my next pay. I’ve already got another job lined up,” Akihito gestured at his phone.

“Will your rent and everything be okay?”

Don’t worry, I leech of my ‘landlord’ at the moment,Akihito thought.

“Then at least let me order you another creme brûlée,” while speaking, he waved down the waitress to place the order.

“If you ever need anything, doesn’t hesitate to ask me okay? Though I might not be able to help much with work, but if you ever need somewhere to stay or someone to talk to, I’ll be here, okay?” Kai smiled and held Akihito’s hand with both hands.

“Thanks.” Akihito smiled. Truthfully, he actually liked Kai, though usually he hated people who were so talkative and always leaked so much energy that Akihito simply felt tired just by looking at them. Maybe it was because Kai never probed about his private life or past, or knew when to stop pushing for answers.

Then, their orders came.

The creme brûlée looked delicious. With its bubbling scorched sugar and the hint of yellow creaminess below that. Akihito had just taken one mouthful of bliss when Kai stared wide eye at something behind his back. Then he leaned forward and whispered excitedly to Akihito.

“Hey! There’s an ikemen behind you! He’s so good looking! But what’s he doing here in a suit and alone?”

And for the second time in the day, Akihito froze.

Akihito turned around slowly, praying to whatever diety that was listening to him right now that his suspicion would be false.

Of course, fortune never seemed to favour him, and with a sinking feeling, he saw a man in a suit sitting a couple of tables away from him. Staring straight at him.

[hotoffthepressfics]

Broke But Not Broken: Chapter 4

MASTERLIST

Part IV

Previous | Next

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Word Count: 2,304

Summary: You are slowly learning bits and pieces about Bucky, but is that a good or bad thing? CiCi continues on her mission to help get your life back in order.

Warnings: Angst

Inspiration/Chapter Soundtrack:

“Come Alive” - Rachel Taylor

“Hello My Old Heart” - The Oh Hellos

A/N: This is turning out to be a very slow burn, which is killing me so I’m sure it’s killing you! But all good things come to those who wait! ;) I promise it’ll be good! Again, thank you so much for your support!

“Can you hand me the needle – nosed pliers…”

An hour later found you sitting cross – legged on the floor next to one of the dryers, periodically handing over whatever tool Bucky asked for.

You rummage through the cardboard box and grab the handle to pliers with elongated tips. You assume that was the correct tool as you place it in his hand and he continues his work.

Looking around the laundry room your eyes once again fall on the upright piano tucked in the back. When you first walked in you had honed in on the instrument. As Bucky led the way to the broken dryer you drifted towards it. The piano wasn’t in the greatest condition. The finish on the wood was chipped and dinged; the keys worn over from countless hours of playing. You could see it had been well loved. You placed your fingers lightly on the keys.

That’s it, my little songbird, play a tune for me.  

You drew your hand back, clenching your fingers into a fist. Phantom pains shot up your right arm from your hand. You pulled it up to your chest and rubbed at the puckered scars across your knuckles.

“Do you play?”

Bucky’s voice snapped you back to the present, but the memories still clung to you like tar. You turned to him, brows furrowed in confusion.

“W-what?”

He gestured nonchalantly towards the piano.

“Do you play? You could play something if – “

“No.” You stepped back away from it, turning fully to face Bucky. You shook your head to emphasize your word.  

“Oh. Alright… well it’s been there for about a month now. It used to belong to this old guy, Omar. He lived on the first floor – really nice guy – anyways, he would play that thing day and night. He died recently and no one wanted to claim the piano so I tried to get rid of it but here it sits. Now people have grown so used to it, it’s just become part of the scenery.” He turned and motioned to the dryer.

Bucky had launched into a series of stories about the tenants of the apartment building. He had seemed content to just talk without any feedback from you, and for that you were grateful. Like all one – sided conversations though he soon fell silent and concentrated on his task at hand. Now you alternated between gazing across the room toward the piano and sneaking glances of Bucky.

There had been a time that no one could separate you from a piano. Even when you couldn't be behind one you would tap your fingers along to a silent melody in your head. The music flowed through you and you drifted away with it. Then your mother died and you became even more of a slave to your music, using it to escape from your heartbreak. If only you had known what that would lead to...

You close your eyes, lost in memory. When you open them again you peek under your lashes to watch Bucky. With his attention solely focused now on the dryer repair you feel safe enough to study him as much as you like.

You had decided that Bucky was an attractive man, albeit a little unkempt. He had pulled his shaggy hair back into a tiny bun at the back of his head while he worked. You found it a little silly and, admittedly, a little cute. Your eyes travel from his profile down to his arms. Studying his metallic left arm, you can see that it's made of interlocking metal bands. It appears to be more than just a prosthetic because as you watch him work you can see the metal bands shifting and realigning. You wonder how it works but know you will never ask. It was hard enough to endure interaction with him when it was unbidden. You weren't about to draw attention to yourself or the fact that you had been ogling him.

So instead you settle on watching him, now viewing the muscles in his right arm bunch and release. You followed the curve of muscle in his forearm, the rest hidden under the sleeve of his dirty baseball tee. The fabric of the shirt hugs him rather nicely allowing you to see he is well toned underneath. Heat slowly spreads up to your cheeks. Nervously you shift a little away from him, pressing your back against the side of the dryer. Now you'd be less likely to let your eyes roam over him, but it left you staring back at the piano.  

You huff, lean your head against the metal siding, and allow your eyes to shut.  

Another moment of silence passes. It was beginning to make you feel edgy. You suddenly want Bucky to start rambling again. At least then you could focus on his voice and stories. What could you get him talking about that would be unobtrusive.

"Bucky..."

"Hmm?"

"...Is that your real name? Did your parents really name you Bucky?" That seemed like good neutral ground.  

Bucky guffaws. You crane your head to see him smiling again, all teeth and crinkled eyes.

"Naw. My given name is James Buchanan Barnes. I got the nickname "Bucky" when I signed up to be a soldier."

"A soldier?"

"Yeah. Being the orphaned son of one, it seemed like the right path for me to go on."

You ponder on that for a moment. So, he used to be a soldier. That must be how he lost and got his metal arm.

"You know, I'm just now realizing I haven’t caught what your name is?" Bucky pauses in his repair job to glance over to you expectantly. You delay a moment then take a breath.

“Y/N.”

He grins wide, rubbing his right hand against his jeans. He sticks it out to you. You hesitantly place your hand against his. His fingers clasp around yours in a firm but gentle handshake.

“Nice to make your acquaintance, Y/N. Even if you did try to take me out with a shoe today.” He winks and releases his grip on your hand.

You can’t help it. A smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. You give a little shake of your head and glance away to hide it, but not before Bucky notices.

“I saw that smile. Knew I’d get one out of you even if it killed me. Now that I know you look so pretty doing it, it’s my aim to make you do it more often.”

You blush and draw your knees up, wrapping your arms around them. You aren’t used to being complimented and you still aren’t sure if you mind it or not. You didn’t know how to respond but it seemed you wouldn’t have to as Bucky just returned the dryer repair.

“I thought I heard voices in here.” A dark -skinned, thin man with a shaved head pops around the corner carrying two, black garbage bags.

If not for the voice similarities you wouldn’t have recognized CiCi. The white t-shirt and black cargo pants a stark contrast to the crystal bustier and hot pink skirt you’d seen her in the night before. CiCi smiles and wriggles her fingers at you.  

“Hey sweetheart, I’m glad to see you out of the apartment and not holed up in it like I thought you’d be.”

You raise your hand and wave back to her, unsure if you should be insulted or pleased to exceed her expectations.

“Has he been nice to you?” CiCi inclines her head down towards Bucky.

Bucky snorts. “Hey! I am always a gentleman!”  

“Oh really?” mocks CiCi, one eyebrow raised.

At that same moment someone behind CiCi clears their throat. Bucky looks up and stares at CiCi.  

“Do… you have company?” CiCi shakes her head.

“No, but it seems you do.” She steps back to reveal a voluptuous, platinum blonde haired woman. She beams when she sees Bucky.

“Baby!” She breezes past CiCi coming up short when she sees you sitting close by. The smile fades a little and she slightly glares at you. You inch away, becoming a little shaken by the instant hostility. You were just here to help, nothing more.

Bucky groans and lets his head fall against the dryer door with a metallic thunk.

“Why did you let her in here?” He hisses.

CiCi leans closer, arms folded in front of her.  

“I didn’t. She ambushed me the second I opened the door. Now, I could have dealt with the situation, but then I realized, it’s not my problem. This is what happens when you let the little head think for the big one!” She gestures first towards Bucky’s groin, then to his head.  

You watch their interaction then flick your gaze over to the blonde. The beaming smile has completely disappeared, replaced with a scowl that mars her pretty features. Her arms are crossed and she looks like she’s about to throw a fit. She senses your stare. You look away before she can level her glare at you.

CiCi straightens and reaches out her hand to you. You take it and she hoists you up to your feet.

“Time to clean up your mess, Buck.”CiCi pats his cheek as he gives her an annoyed look.

Cici beckons you to follow. You keep your head down and stay close. Bucky sighs.

“C’mon Rachel we need to t – “

“My name’s Rebecca!” The blonde shrieks.

You wince and hear CiCi mutter, “Lord, have mercy.”

•••

“That boy just keeps gettin’ himself into trouble, and all because he refuses to see he’s got a problem.”

CiCi had brought you up to her apartment, trash bags in tow. When you entered she upturned each bag to reveal piles of women’s clothing. Just before she had gone to her day job CiCi made some calls and collected more clothing for you.

You thanked her over and over, swearing that you would make it up to her, to which she simply waved you off and sent you to go through the piles while she got more comfortable.

So you rifled through mounds of clothing, picking out the pieces you liked while CiCi  sat at a vanity table applying her makeup and ranting about the drama from downstairs.

You weren’t sure what to make of what CiCi’s words insinuated and the incident you witnessed between Rachel/Rebecca and Bucky. You pause in your sorting.

“Does… Bucky always bring girls like that here?” He didn’t seem to be a bad person, but you also didn’t want to get tangled up with someone who treated women so… casually. You were starting to think it would be best to keep your distance.

CiCi blows out a breath. “I’m sorry, I’m painting Buck in a really bad light, aren’t I?” She swivels in her seat to look over at you.  

“No, it’s not a common occurrence. Poor Bucky has some… demons that like to hang on his back from time to time. So, he does everything he can to forget them – everything except what’s healthy.” She makes a gesture of throwing a shot back.  

“Most of the girls come with the understanding that it’s a one – and – done situation, but sometimes… they get a little carried away.” With that explanation CiCi swerves back to the vanity and reapplies another layer of lipstick.

You mull over this information as you watch her work. A quick swipe along her lips and CiCi rubs them together with a pop. She stands, smoothing out her blue fringe dress and posing for you with a wink, tossing the hair of the lavender wig she’d put on. You grin up at her. This was more the CiCi you remembered.

“You look good CiCi.”

“Look good, feel good! We should do your makeup. I bet you’d look pretty as a picture.”

The grin falters a bit and you shake your head emphatically. The last thing you needed to do was start drawing attention to yourself.

“No, thank you.”

Eyes narrowed CiCi points a finger at you, her other hand propped up on her hip.

“Mark my words, we are gonna get you outta this little wallflower phase. You are too much of a stunner to be looking so sad and defeated.”

You cast your eyes down to the fabric wrapped around your hands. “We’ll see.”

CiCi sighs. Changing the subject she walks over to her bed, snatching up the small stack of papers she had pulled from one of the bags before dumping it out.

“I also snagged you some applications while I was out. I figured you could get a head start in finding employment.”

Eagerly, you take the papers from her. The sooner you could find a job, the sooner you could feel less like a burden and pay back CiCi’s generosity. Sifting through the papers, however, you begin to feel dismayed. You lean back on your heels, crestfallen.

Inspecting herself in a full length mirror, occasionally fluffing up her wig, CiCi catches your dejected form.

“What’s wrong?”  

“Th – they want my social security and proof of identity… I don’t have any of that…. Even if I did I can’t…” you pull your bottom lip between your teeth, worrying it.

How were you going get a job if you couldn’t use your information? The moment you put it out there they would know where to find you.

CiCi bends over and slides one of the papers from your hands. She skims through it.

“It seems to me they just need a social and any proof of identity.” CiCi’s mouth curled into a mischievous grin.

You furrow your brows, puzzling over her choice of words. Somehow you weren’t sure you were going to like this.

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