#door handle suppliers

[adonaihardware1234]

Learn About The Charges Charged By Different Door Handle Suppliers

Door handles are a vital part of a door as it is used to open and close it. Door handles are also referred to as levers, door knobs, handle sets, etc. Door handles come in two ways one is left-handed and the other is right-handed handle sets. Through this article the readers and viewers will learn about some common designs sold by door handle suppliers here in India, the different types of door handles and where they are used, and what a door handle benefits with.

Different types of door handles-

For cupboards and wardrobe doors need Cabinet handles

Entry doors or entrance doors need Entrance handles and Pull Handles

Passage doors or hall doors need door levers and door knobs

For sliding doors, we need to put sliding door handles or flush pull handles differing depending on the nature of the sliding door.

What are the different variations of a door handle?

As per the manufacturers and suppliers of door handles, there are two types of variations is a lever that is through this method the door opens or closes when you press and turn the handle in a downward motion door opens and then if you again use the handle in a downward motion to close the door in some of the lever handles lock and key system is attached to it. The other is a knob that requires a grip and turn action under this a separate lock and key needs to be used.

Materials used to make door handles or door knobs here in India-

The most common and strong material used to make door knobs or door handles is stainless steel. Other materials include porcelain, brass, bronze, cut glass, aluminum, and wood.

Common designs of door handles applied on the doors in India-

C-type door handles- The design of the handle is like a C. This design needs to be like the push and pull method. This design is made up of sturdy material so it can bear the weight. Commonly used in houses.

D –type door handles- The shape of this handle is like alphabet D. This design of door handles is commonly used in internal doors in apartments, houses, and houses. They have the mechanism of push and pull.

Mortise door handle- They are the most common door handles used in houses and office. Comes with a plate body with an attached lock and key. They are cylindrical and mostly made up of brass and stainless steel. They provide some security to the room and also the door. 

Glass door handle- Door handles manufacturers India are placed on thick glass doors in India you can commonly find these doors with the handle in bathroom doors in hotels, spa rooms, entrance doors of hotels, temple doors, etc. In some doors, you can attach a lock and key system or padlocks.

To be précised a door handle must depend on the different purposes it has been used internal and external door handles have their meaning to it. Recommended to use stainless steel handles as they are rust-free, strong, durable, corrosion free, can be cleaned with any cleaning agent, and do not react to any agent because the element is a mixture of various elements, and are available in varied designs and types.

[anujaupgro]

What makes ABCO one of the most legitimate and reliable building material suppliers in Saudi Arabia?

ABCO stands out as one of the most legitimate and reliable building material suppliers in Saudi Arabia due to its unwavering commitment to providing top-quality products and exceptional customer service. With a wide range of offerings including sanitary wares, door handles, power tools, and electrical supplies, ABCO ensures that every customer's needs are met with precision and excellence. Their dedication to sourcing high-quality materials and maintaining strong relationships with trusted manufacturers sets them apart in the industry. ABCO's attention to detail, professionalism, and unmatched reliability make them a preferred choice for all building material needs in Saudi Arabia.

[dluxdekor1]

Peacock Door Handles: A Unique Addition to Your Home's Interior Design

In the realm of home decor, the smallest details often make the most significant impact. One such detail that can transform the aesthetic of your living space is the choice of door handles. Among the various options available, peacock door handles peacock door handles stand out as a truly unique and elegant addition to your home's interior design. Let's explore why these stunning handles are a perfect choice for those looking to add a touch of sophistication and charm to their home.

A Touch of Elegance

Handles featuring peacock designs bring a sense of elegance and opulence to any room. The peacock, a symbol of beauty and grace, is intricately represented in these handles, often featuring detailed feathers and vibrant colors. This elegant design not only enhances the visual appeal of your doors but also serves as a conversation piece for guests.

Unique Design Elements

One of the primary reasons to choose peacock-themed handles is their uniqueness. Unlike standard door hardware, these designs are rare and distinct. Each handle is often handcrafted, ensuring that no two pieces are exactly alike. This uniqueness allows homeowners to express their individual style and taste through their choice of door hardware.

Versatility in Style

Peacock door handles Peacock door handles are versatile and can complement various interior design styles. Whether you have a traditional, contemporary, or eclectic home, these handles can seamlessly integrate into your decor. Their intricate designs and rich detailing make them suitable for a wide range of door types, from bedroom doors to grand entryways.

Quality Craftsmanship

High-quality handles with peacock designs are typically made from durable materials such as brass, bronze, or stainless steel. The craftsmanship involved in creating these handles ensures that they are not only beautiful but also long-lasting. Investing in well-made door handles means you can enjoy their beauty and functionality for years to come.

Easy Installation

Despite their elaborate appearance, peacock-themed handles are designed for easy installation. They come with standard fittings that make them compatible with most doors. Homeowners can often install these handles themselves, adding a personal touch to their home improvement projects.

Enhancing Home Value

Unique and well-crafted handles like those with peacock designs can enhance the overall value of your home. They add a layer of sophistication and attention to detail that can be appealing to potential buyers. Moreover, such distinctive features can set your home apart in a competitive real estate market.

Creating a Focal Point

Peacock door handles Peacock door handles can serve as a focal point in your home’s interior design. Their striking appearance draws attention and adds a layer of visual interest to otherwise plain doors. By incorporating these handles, you create an opportunity to highlight your personal style and make a bold design statement.

Combining Functionality and Aesthetics

While the aesthetic appeal of peacock-themed handles is undeniable, they are also highly functional. Designed to provide a comfortable grip and smooth operation, these handles ensure that your doors are both stylish and easy to use. The combination of beauty and practicality makes them an excellent choice for any home.

Conclusion

Handles with peacock motifs are a unique and elegant addition to your home's interior design. Their distinctive appearance, quality craftsmanship, and versatility make them an ideal choice for homeowners looking to elevate their decor. Whether you are renovating your home or simply looking to add a touch of elegance, these handles offer a perfect blend of beauty and functionality. Embrace the charm and sophistication of peacock door handles peacock door handles and transform your living space into a true masterpiece.

[varnagroup]

Exploring Luxury Door Handles India

People who love decorating their homes enjoy paying attention to small details that can make a big impact, like beautiful door handles and colourful rugs. In India, there are many brands that offer special door handles that not only work well but also look amazing. Let’s check out some of these cool  Luxury door handles india

Making Doors Fancy: Luxury Door Handles  India

Dorset is famous for making door handles that are not only well-crafted but also very elegant. They pay a lot of attention to making their handles look stunning and paying close attention to every little detail.

Ozone: Taking Door Decoration to the Next Level

Ozone stands out by offering a lot of different door handles that are designed by hand to make any entrance look sophisticated and classy.

Godrej Locking Solutions and Systems: Style and Safety Together

https://varnagroup.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/12/Untitled-design-11.png

Varna Group of Companies is your one-stop solution

 products are designed to last and are perfect for adding a touch of style and personality to your interior. Whether you’re looking for something classic or modern

Choosing the Right Luxury Door Handles India: Things to Think About

Material Matters:

Pick a material that goes well with your decor, like classic brass or modern chrome, to match different styles.

Design Harmony:

Make sure the design of the handle fits in with how the rest of your home looks. A good door handle can bring everything together.

Functionality First:

Check that the handle not only looks good but also works well with your doors. It should be both stylish and practical.

Questions About Door Handles:

Q: Can I easily change my current door handles to fancy ones?

A: Usually, Luxury Door Handles are made to be easily changed. But it’s a good idea to ask a professional for help to make sure everything goes smoothly.

Q: Are there special designs for different types of doors?

A: Yes! Fancy handles come in designs made for wooden, glass, or metal doors, so you can find one that fits your door perfectly.

Q: Do these handles need special care?

A: While Luxury Door Handles are usually strong, it’s a good idea to clean them regularly with mild cleaning stuff and avoid harsh materials to keep them shiny and working well.

Final Thoughts: Making an Entrance

When it comes to decorating, the little details matter, and Luxury Door Handles are more than just accessories – they show off your style and sophistication. Whether you like the classic style of Dorset, the modern look of Hafele, or the secure designs of Godrej, India has lots of amazing door handles for every taste. So, pick a handle that matches your style and makes your home look extra special!

Varna Group invites you into their world where doors aren’t just entrances but the beginning of a life filled with luxury and style.

[ginnipluss]

Why Your Door Hardware and Accessories Matter: Exploring the Importance of Bathroom Hardware in Home Building"

Introduction

When it comes to designing and building your dream home, every detail counts. Often, it's the small elements that make a big impact on both the aesthetics and functionality of your living space. In this blog, we'll delve into the significance of door hardware and accessories, with a special focus on the crucial role that bathroom hardware plays in the home building process.

Why Your Door Hardware Matters

Your doors are not just functional barriers; they are the gateways to your personal sanctuary. The choice of door hardware can transform a mundane entrance into a statement of style and sophistication. The handle, lock, and hinges are not mere details; they are the first tactile experience anyone has with a room.

The quality and design of your door hardware contribute to the overall ambiance of your home. Sleek, modern handles can impart a contemporary feel, while ornate, classic designs can add a touch of timeless elegance. Choosing durable materials ensures that your door hardware withstands the test of time, maintaining both its functionality and aesthetic appeal.

Enter Ginni Plus, your trusted partner in elevating the importance of door hardware. Our premium selection of handles, locks, and hinges doesn't just promise reliability; it ensures that every interaction with your doors is a tactile delight, complementing the overall design of your home.

Important Bathroom Hardware for Home Building

Now, let's turn our attention to a space often underestimated but undeniably vital – the bathroom. When building or remodeling a home, the selection of bathroom hardware is a critical step that influences both the style and functionality of this personal haven.

Faucets: The Jewel of the Bathroom Crown

Faucets are more than just water dispensers; they are the jewels of the bathroom crown. The choice between sleek modern designs and classic styles sets the tone for the entire space. Opt for high-quality materials to ensure durability and resistance to water damage. Ginni Plus offers a curated collection of faucets that blend style with functionality, making them an essential addition to your bathroom.

Showerheads: A Symphony of Refreshment

Showerheads are not just fixtures; they are the conductors of your daily symphony of refreshment. Consider options that provide various spray patterns to suit different moods – from a gentle rain-like drizzle to a revitalizing cascade. Ginni Plus showerheads promise an indulgent shower experience, combining water efficiency with a touch of luxury.

Towel Bars and Hooks: A Fusion of Form and Function

Towel bars and hooks are the unsung heroes of bathroom organization. Choosing high-quality, stylish options not only keeps your towels within arm's reach but also enhances the visual appeal of the space. Ginni Plus bathroom accessories seamlessly merge form and function, elevating the utility of these elements to a design statement.

Conclusion

In the grand symphony of home building, it's the intricate notes of door hardware and bathroom accessories that add depth and character to the composition. Choosing high-quality, aesthetically pleasing elements enhances your living space's overall ambiance and functionality.

Ginni Plus understands the importance of these details, offering a curated selection of door hardware and bathroom accessories that marry style with substance. Elevate your home building experience with Ginni Plus, where every detail matters, and every element tells a story of craftsmanship and sophistication.

Also Read : knobs supplier in delhi

[adarshhardwarestores]

Shop wide range of unique door pool handles at budgest friendly price in ahmedabad from adarsh hardware. We are top door handle manufacturer, supplier & distributor in ahmedabad.

[krishuhardware]

Why Choose Krishu Hardware and Locks?

Krishu Hardware and Locks have earned the trust of thousands of customers. We have made it our mission to provide you with a product that is not only worth your money, but also one that you can feel good about putting in your home. We take pride in doing things correctly in order to accomplish this. From the materials we use in our products to ensuring that every piece is numbered for quality control purposes; from picking locks with features such as anti-pick cylinders to bringing branded products on board that are easy to maintain; no detail is too small for us when it comes to how we treat your property.

So, why should you choose krishu Hardware and locks?

Our attention to detail is the main reason you should come to us. We are more than a store, you see; we are a family that cares about its customers and their homes. Our commitment is to provide the best in durability, security, and dependability - all at an affordable price. That is why we have some of the most popular locking brands on the market today, ranging from commercial door hardware to smart home doors. Our products are guaranteed to meet your expectations, whether you want to upgrade an existing lock or replace the entire system.

It can be difficult to select the right door lock for your doors. At Krishu Hardware and locks, we strive to make the process as simple as possible by breaking down your options and providing a diverse selection to suit your tastes. many other products are among our best-selling items. When you shop with us, you can get the best door lock brands all in one place at low prices, whether you are a custom home builder or a homeowner. Krishu Hardware and Locks is the place to go for all your door locks and accessories. We offer competitively priced residential and commercial door locks.  

Also, Read: 

Buy Antique Brass Door Knockers | Krishu Hardware

Which Door Knocker is good? Krishu Hardware

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[neiptune]

surreal, but nice

cw: 7k wc, female reader, strangers to lovers, osamu doesn't exactly know how to handle one of the most famous music artists in japan suddenly popping in onigiri miya, inspired by notting hill, my sappy entry for the romcom collab hosted by @bloompompom! thank you @yellow-sword-lily, this fic is also a little yours :)

Miya Osamu is a creature of habit.

He gets up fairly early, showers, never leaves the small apartment without fixing himself a nutritious breakfast, more or less knows and is therefore prepared to what to expect from each particular day.

Downstairs there’s his beloved shop, a dormant creature he gently stirs from sleep each morning. When he doesn’t have to head to the market to select and order the freshest products, Osamu starts the day by contacting all his suppliers and arranging the deliveries. He then checks the inventory, reviews reservations, welcomes the only other chef to discuss any special preparations or new experiments. It’s not unusual for him to check his emails, monitor the website and official social media of the shop, the one thing he actually hates doing because he knows damn well one negative comment will ruin his day, especially since there’s nothing he can do to rectify mistakes made days, sometimes weeks before.

He has a chef, one dishwasher, three servers, two food delivery drivers and that’s about it. Osamu Miya is the owner, manager, host, executive chef, server and cashier of onigiri Miya. He juggles management skills, culinary talent and business acumen just perfectly. He’s prepared and knows exactly what each day has in store for him.

Until you happen.

Osamu has been cooking for almost three hours by the time the shop officially opens at 11AM. It’s not unusual for new faces to come in from time to time, despite his clientele being more or less established, but it is rare to hear the little door chime ring so soon. Except if his dumb brother happens to be in town.

But you’re not his dumb brother. You’re a new and yet strangely familiar face, even hidden behind thick sunglasses and a beret that one could deem more appropriate to a parisian getaway rather than a Kansai one.

“Morning” you offer a little bow, hesitant by the door “you’re open, right?”

“Uh, sure” he smiles, still a little uncertain after a moment of astonishment “I don’t often have clients for breakfast. What can I get ya?”

“I’ve been told this is the best onigiri shop in town. I’ll let you decide”

You seem to consider your options for a moment, then decide to sit at the closest empty table. Osamu would usually provide more than a nod: he’d make conversation, ask questions. Forming bonds with whoever visits his shop and trusts his food is his favorite part of the day, as well as a great activity to engage in while his hands are busy putting the rice into molds.

“Close that mouth” is the only thing he utters under his breath, glancing at the server who set your table “yer catching flies”

“But it’s her!” Hiro squeaks as silently as humanly possible “I’m gonna ask for an autograph”

“You will do no such thing”

“We could hang it in the shop!”

“Go help in the kitchen, Minato called in sick today. I’ll handle this”

Hiro disappears behind closed doors but only after batting his freakishly long lashes to his boss, a heartbreaking disappointed look on his face.

Osamu takes a deep breath and squeezes the molds together, an action executed as gently as possible to keep the fluffy texture that makes his onigiri the best in town.

He knows you, of course he knows you. Not only your face was on any available surface for the entirety of the previous summer (posters, billboards, magazine covers to advertise your first ever concert in the Koshien stadium), he’s also pretty sure in high school Atsumu had perpetually ruined the walls of their shared room with some crappy adhesive squares used to hang your poster.

Osamu is not really a dedicated listener, he knows a couple of your most famous songs and that your success is damn near planetary. You have a house in Tokyo but spend most of the year in America, California if he recalls correctly, and you tour across Europe as well. Yet, it’s been easy to pick what to serve you. The gourmet options such as salmon roe or roast beef are off the table: they don’t make new clients feel special. What new clients need is a taste of authenticity, something that reminds them of home, and don’t you look just like the kind of person who could use some of that?

Osamu decides on pickled plum, tuna mayo and bonito flakes. One serving usually consists of three onigiri but he can’t resist adding an extra treat for you, a tenmusu onigiri. He’s recently perfected the recipe with an egg-free tempura batter that is still thick enough to absorb his special sauce.

He hopes it’s not creepy that he lingers by your table after he brings your meal: celebrity or not, you’re a new client. And Osamu can’t resist observing the wander taking over customers who are unfamiliar with his kitchen, as soon as they take the first bite. He hopes you are no exception.

“If this is an onigiri” you lock eyes with him and smile, glorious, radiant “what the hell have I been eating until now?”

“Probably not the best in town” he grins, proud, a slight blush already coating his cheeks. Damn it, he’s tempted to turn the baseball cap once more, let the brim shield his awkwardness. But that would be totally lame.

“Is it a family business?”

“No. It’s just… mine”

You hum, busy chewing on another bite. Then you swallow and ask another question, invite him to sit eventually, then apologize because he’s probably busy (he is) and has things to do (he does) but this is never going to happen again for Osamu, because he’s not Atsumu. And so he sits and makes conversation like a normal human being that definitely isn’t obsessively dwelling on how beautiful you are, how different your voice sounds when you’re not singing, how much he’d hate for a client to come in and pop that bubble. Which is exactly what happens and he doesn’t like it one bit how you interrupt your chuckle, lower your head, hunch your shoulders in an attempt to hide. He doesn’t like that he has to excuse himself, call Hiro back form the kitchen, make conversation with Suzuki-san, listen while he describes all his latest hospital visits in horrifying detail.

You look at him from time to time, the quiet shop owner suddenly turned chatty sparks your curiosity. He’s skilled with his hands and genuinely interested in what the person who must be an habitué has to say. He’s attractive, too. Especially as he tries to disguise the occasional glances directed your way or the disappointment that flashes in his eyes when you get up and start collecting your things.

“Can I get the check, please?” you approach the counter, pretend not to notice his hesitation. Osamu decides against indulging in the “it’s on the house” cliche, opts for treating you as any other client. With the exception of a small discount you won’t even notice.

“That was the best breakfast I had in a while” you collect the receipt and put in your pocket.

“You should come back, then. To have another” Osamu cringes internally as soon as the words leave his mouth and Suzuki-san’s chuckle makes him want to dig a hole to disappear into. But you smile, despite probably having heard the corny line a million other times, and tell him that you just might.

It would’ve been perfect: a beautiful ending to a glorious encounter. It could’ve been. If only you didn’t turn around so abruptly, a small shriek echoing across the shop as you came face to face with Mai, the sudden sound and panic causing her to jump and spill the fresh iced tea from the jug in her hand all over your painfully clean, crisp, starched, white button down.

You both freeze, your mouth open in a silent scream, an horrified look in Mai’s eyes that would’ve been comical on literally any other occasion. Osamu wishes he would’ve went with the “it’s on the house” cliche.

“Oh my god! Oh god! It’s you! I mean, I’m sorry!” Mai’s voice comes out an octave too high “my god, I’m so sorry!”

“Well, this is great” you frantically grab a handful of napkins from the counter and attempt to dab the mess on your shirt “I have a meeting in half an hour!”

“Please, take my uniform! I will pay for the dry cleaning!”

“Actually” Osamu chimes in as politely as possible, trying his best not to let his anxiety get the best of him “don’t take this the wrong way but, uh, I live upstairs. You can get cleaned up and…”

“You’re kidding, right?” your astonished look is almost glacial. It makes him falter just slightly.

“Or ya can leave with a giant orange stain on yer wet, probably uncomfortably cold shirt?”

“Miya-san!” Mai’s hiss and your shocked expression make him think that sarcasm probably wasn’t a good idea. Osamu sighs.

“Listen, I’m really sorry. These are the keys, you can go on your own, I promise the bathroom’s clean”

You eye him for a few seconds more, then decide against grabbing the keys from his hand.

“I’m gonna need a change of clothes”

Osamu blinks a couple times, dumbfounded. His clothes? You’re asking to wear… his clothes?

“Sure! Yeah, sure. Come on” now his voice sounds uncharacteristically squeaky and he clears his throat as you follow him up the stairs, Suzuki-san’s good grief still ringing in his ears.

Thank god he cleaned the entire apartment just the day before. As much as he likes to brag about being the tidy twin, deep down he knows he’s just as messy as Atsumu.

Osamu tries hard not to look at you, leaning against the doorframe with your arms crossed while he rummages in his drawers in search of something that could fit you. He shortly wonders if it’d be a good idea to offer a complementary bento box to make up for the disaster Mai caused.

“I’m genuinely sorry” he starts rambling because the silence is unbearable and some of Atsumu’s genes really do take over sometimes “the worst incident we ever had at the shop was my brother almost choking on his dinner. I had to perform the heimlich maneuver, it wasn’t pretty” god, where the hell are this clean, not embarrassing shirts?

“Guess this one will go down in history” your voice is less sharp now, which relieves him.

“Oh, no. I will never tell anyone about this, ever. Mai and Suzuki-san will have to sign an nda. A proper, legally binding one”

The laugh you offer sounds weirdly intimate in the small space of his bedroom, it makes the tips of his ears hot. Finally, he’s able to dig out a decent, basic shirt you accept by thanking him softly. When you lock yourself in the bathroom, Osamu rushes to the kitchen to tidy up the mess he’s left behind after that morning’s breakfast. No time to concentrate on how you’re actually, genuinely in his home, cleaning yourself in the same bathroom he showered in, without a shirt on.

No one’s ever going to believe him. Hell, he may not believe it himself by the end of the day.

“Hey” he jumps at your voice, sudden and closer than expected. You look good in his basic shirt, it suits you somehow. Did you shove your own in one of the bags you left by the door?

“Hey” Osamu says back and cringes for the millionth time “are ya hungry?”

You smile when he shuts his eyes for a second, right after the silly question leaves his mouth.

“Not hungry”

“Right. Of course. Thirsty? I have really good tea, from Shizuoka. And orange juice” he pauses for a second, then adds “or water”

Your smile grows, almost melts into a giggle. “Not thirsty either”

“Okay” he clears his throat “how about dessert? I made some mitarashi dango just yesterday”

“I have a meeting to attend”

“Oh. Sure, yeah, that makes sense” he wants to bash his head against the wall “I’ll walk you out. To downstairs” thank fuck ‘Tsumu isn’t there, he’d never let him live this down. Jesus.

You precede him to the door, gather your bags, then softly thank him for the shirt.

“Nice meeting you, Osamu” he nearly explodes when you say his name, no honorifics whatsoever. How do you even know? He hasn’t carried a name tag on his shirt for years.

“It was nice to meet you too” there’s no time to dwell on dumb, pointless questions “surreal, but nice”

He thinks if your smile could conjure waves, he’d gladly give up all the oxygen in his lungs and drown in them. Has someone ever looked as beautiful while smiling at him? He doesn’t think so. He can’t think. Not when you’re leaning closer, not when your arms are suddenly wrapped around his neck, not when you’re pressing your lips to his. Holy shit. You’re pressing your lips to his. And he’s forgotten how to breathe, let alone kiss. Osamu just freezes, like a marble statue, like a teenager who’s never touched a woman before. Right as he’s about to swallow the shock and fucking move, you’re already pulling away, eyes not leaving his despite the slight self-consciousness swarming in those irises.

And then you disappear, just like the dream he believed you were, all that’s left is an empty spot by the door and his heart slamming against a pathetically ill-equipped ribcage.

La Suite is one of the most luxurious hotels in the prefecture and Osamu feels out of place with the 30 onigiri order he’s carrying past a french restaurant and a traditional japanese one, all soft carpeting, dim lights and wide windows. So different from his.

He timidly explains that he’s there to deliver an order to a certain Bennet-san, who for some reason insisted he’d be the one bringing it to her hotel. They look at him funny but let him through and give the coordinates: top floor, superior double room. A woman meets him the second he steps out of the elevator and sternly asks him to follow her, a silly part of him wonders if he’s about to get murdered in one of the top 25 hotels in Japan. But then she knocks on a door right before swinging it open and he doesn’t even get to explain that he’s not supposed to get inside, she can take the bloody bag and he’ll be on his merry way, but once again Osamu fails to determine what the day holds in store for him.

Once more, it’s you. A less preppy version, one that seems so small in such a gigantic room, the sea breeze blowing from the terrace gracefully lifting up the hem of a tennis skirt you immediately fight to keep down as you promptly get up from the couch.

“Hi” he says, so dumbfounded he barely notices the door closing behind him.

“Miya-san” you bow, keep your eyes down, no sign of a smile he could by now deem familiar “I’m sorry for the trouble, I know the hotel is pretty far from the restaurant and you must be busy. This will only take a second”

Osamu’s brows furrow, confusion evident in the way he cocks his head. You don’t catch it, because your eyes are glued to the floor. “I wanted to apologize for my behavior. I don’t know what came over me, I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive me”

His eyes soften as part of the tension leaves his shoulders. Truth is, Osamu is glad you’re apologizing: despite how beautiful and dreamy you may be, life is not quite a movie and he doesn’t exactly appreciate being blindsided by a stranger. He doesn’t really understand what made you think kissing him would be a good idea (was his awkardness interpreted the wrong way? Did his stare linger on your smile a second too long?) but he’s certain you meant no harm. A shitty person certainly wouldn’t take time out of her day to leave an autograph on a napkin, especially right after half a jug of iced tea was spilled on her shirt just minutes before. To Hiro, with love.

After a moment, he clears his throat. “Can ya look at me?”

You meet his gaze hesitantly, mouth a thin line of harsh disapproval directed at yourself. For a second, you remind him of someone and he almost breaks into a smile.

“Thank you for apologizing. We’re good”

“Are you certain?”

“Yeah!” he chuckles “you didn’t have to place such a big order”

You blink twice, then start nervously fiddling with your fingers “ah, actually I didn’t do it to… well, those onigiris are just really good. I wanted to take some extra ones with me”

“You’re leaving?” he doesn’t mean to sound disappointed, especially not while you’re so intentionally keeping your distance.

“Kinda. My record label rented a house in the countryside, I’ll spend most of the summer locked in, trying to finish my new album. I couldn’t do it in America, I missed being home but didn’t want to endure Tokyo’s chaos so I ended up picking Hyogo. Sorry, you didn’t ask to know all that” you chuckle tensely “we leave tomorrow and I didn’t want to go without apologizing first. That’s all. You may go now”

Osamu hums. “I may go? As in I’m excused?” he laughs when your painfully stoic expression melts into sheer horror.

“No! Of course not, I didn’t mean it like that!”

“You take yourself too seriously” he grins “I’m just messin’ with ya”

“That’s not very nice of you”

“Would you compare it to kissing a stranger out of the blue?”

“Oh god” you hide your overheated face in your hands “you said we’re good!”

“And we are” Osamu steps closer to gently place the bags still in his hands on the marble topped pedestal coffee table. It’s just fun to tease you, one of the many irritating habits he shares with his brother.

His brother. Osamu looks up, a risky desire taking shape in his head and threatening to spill over the tip of his tongue.

“I’m really sorry, Miya-san” you repeat and he doesn’t love that you’re now calling him that “uh, this is your shirt. Cleaned and ironed. Thank you for…”

“Whatcha doing tonight?”

You freeze, paper bag still in hand. “Uhm, nothing interesting”

“No packing?”

“My manager does that for me”

He chuckles. “Right. Chances you’d want to spend your last night in the city at an even less interesting birthday party?”

Osamu waits patiently while you weigh your options, recognizes the confusion in your hesitant stare but doesn’t quite understand why there’s a weary vibration to your voce when you accept, the slight disappointment that flashes across your features.

It’s only fair, you think as he parts from the room with a smile and the command to secure those onigiris in a fridge. If showing you off to his friends like some valuable conquest is the way he wants to even the score, you’re in no position to deny him. You’re the one at fault and you’ve been given a chance to make up for it by wearing the facade you wear best.

Then why does it feel so disheartening, this time?

When Shinsuke opens the door, he’s more surprised by your presence than the carefully wrapped gift in your hands. Not that he doubted Osamu: why send a message to the group chat telling everyone that a) he was bringing someone and b) they should’ve absolutely not behaved any differently than usual if not better (in bold), if he wasn’t actually going to show up with a plus one?

Still, a small part of him did wonder if Atsumu’s and Rintaro’s relentless teasing finally got the best of him. Shinsuke doesn’t think that his friend works too much or that he should start “looking around” before “his hair starts greying again only this once naturally”. He remembers Osamu rolling his eyes at his brother when he implied that at this rate he’s gonna have to tie the knot with the restaurant, only to then space out for most of the evening as everyone else found new topics to migrate toward.

In short, Shinsuke wondered if Osamu was going to come up with a last minute excuse to justify the empty spot next to him at the table. But it seems that spot is going to be taken after all, by you nonetheless.

“Nice to meet you, Kita-san” you smile after Osamu introduces you by your name and nothing else, not a wink, not even a subtle hint or a reasonable explanation “happy birthday”

Shinsuke accepts the gift with a polite thank you and he’s almost made sure you could preserve a nice, normal memory of stepping foot into his house for the first time, of course failing to consider the Hinata factor.

“Thank god, Osamu, I’m so hungry- holy shit! Is her your gift? I only brought a cap that says farm hair don’t care!” there’s a strange but seemingly friendly redhead looking at you with eyes so wide you fear they might roll out of their sockets.

“Shoyo, any chance you checked the chat today?” Osamu smiles at him widely but Kita recognizes the tension at the corners.

“What? Of course not, I was busy picking a cute gift” Hinata smiles too but his excitement is genuine “hello, nice to meet you! Please come in, you can help us set the table!”

You chuckle and meet Osamu’s horrified eyes for a second, his posture relaxes as your gentle reassurance puts him at ease. I’ll be in the other room, then. Leave it to Hinata to make a gigantic deal out of a special guest only to treat her as one of his buddies ten seconds later. You seemed comfortable, though, as one always feels whenever Shoyo happens to be around.

“Who is she?” Shinsuke doesn’t mean for his tone to be so conspiratorial but he keeps it low, just in case you might still hear them.

“A friend. Kinda. Ya wouldn’t believe me” Osamu takes his jacket off and hangs it by the door, then picks up the plethora of bags from the floor and makes his way into his friend’s kitchen.

“No, I mean… who is she? Why does Shoyo know her?” Shinsuke follows suit, intent on helping him distribute all the food he’s brought in the different plates he has prepared. Osamu shakes his initial surprise off with a chuckle.

“Only one of the most famous pop music artists in Japan”

Kita stills his movements for a second, then absorbs the new information with a simple nod. “Right. And you met her at the shop”

“How d’ya know?”

“Where else would you be meeting a pop music artist?”

“Don’t make it sound so obvious” Osamu pulls a face and Shinsuke’s eyes twinkle with mischief.

“Well, she’s here. With you. Is it like… a date?”

“No” the peremptory answer comes embarrassingly fast “it’s her last night in the city, she’s here because she didn’t have anything better planned”

“But you invited her”

“Yes”

“Because you like her”

“I don’t-” Osamu gestures vaguely with his hands “it’s not like that. ‘Tsumu used to have a poster of her face in our room, for fuck’s sake”

Kita hums. “So what you actually mean is it can’t be like that”

“I don’t see the difference”

“I do”

“Well-” a loud commotion Osamu has been trained for over two decades to instantly recognize as his brother’s voice, makes the words die in his throat. By the time him and Shinsuke return to the colorfully decorated living room (courtesy of an overly enthusiastic Hinata and one resigned Rintaro), Atsumu is already talking your ear off and seemingly invading your personal space multiple times as he follows you around the table you’re setting with Suna like a golden retriever on a sugar overload.

“Shoyo, you were supposed to keep her safe” Osamu glares at his brother and takes a mental note to scold Aran too, later. For snickering.

Hinata doesn’t get the chance to defend himself because of course Atsumu’s the only one who could outshine that intense excitement with his own.

“Samu! What the hell? If this is yer gift to Shin, what are ya plannin’ to get me exactly?”

“Can everyone stop assuming she’s here as a thing and not as a person?” it comes out harsher than intended and Osamu feels his face grow hot when all those present simply stare at him. When you stare at him.

Suna clears his throat.

“Cut him some slack, he came out of the bathroom and we could barely convince him she’s not a hallucination” you chuckle at that, which makes the ever stoic Rintaro look away with a faint blush blossoming on his pale cheeks.

“Wait” Atsumu looks at you, then at his brother and his brows become progressively furrowed “she’s here with you? As in, you invited her? And she said yes?”

Osamu wonders why he thought a simple admonishment in the group chat would be enough. He has half an idea of shoving an onigiri right into his brother’s loud mouth and not perform any maneuver whatsoever when the rice obstructs his airways.

“Actually, I wanted to come” you chime in so gently it takes a few moments for him to register the words “I’m leaving tomorrow and when Miya-san mentioned it was one of his friends’ birthday, I shamelessly asked if I could tag along. Hope I’m not a bother”

Kita is looking at you the same way Osamu is, puzzled. Hinata almost chokes on his coke and starts coughing profusely, so much that Aran has to lend him a napkin.

“A bother? No, of course not!” his nose might be on fire but by god, he physically cannot let you believe such nonsense for a second too long.

Atsumu’s mouth hangs wide open, brows still knit that make his expression overall hilarious “you make her call you Miya-san? Yikes, bro” he turns to you and makes a scene of slamming a hand on his chest “please, feel free to call me ‘Tsumu. I think we’re intimate enough by now”

“Given that we took five selfies and you made me sign my name on your abs, I also think we’re intimate enough” your grin seems genuine, which only startles Osamu more.

“Ya made her do what?” oh, there are probably not enough words in the japanese vocabulary for the way he’ll have to apologize at the end of the night.

“It’s fine, I didn’t mind” you shrug “but if I could ask everyone a small favor…”

“Sure, anything!” Atsumu’s interruption only makes your smile grow wider “I’d really like to celebrate Kita-san’s birthday like you’d normally do. Please don’t make a big deal out of me, it’s his night after all”

“She’s asking not to be treated like a circus act” Aran whispers to Hinata, who blinks his big brown eyes in quiet understanding.

“Done!” Atsumu’s fist hits his chest right where the heart is as he solemnly declares “you’re one of the boys now, consider yourself a pal”

“Thanks, ‘Tsumu” he tries to keep his composure but nearly implodes as you direct your attention to Shoyo “no, Hinata-san, this doesn’t mean we won’t be taking that picture I promised. Don’t worry” your wink is the prettiest, most wonderful thing he’s ever witnessed and thank fuck he’s done drinking that coke because his airways suddenly feel clogged.

Kita thinks this is already the most entertaining birthday he’s ever celebrated.

And celebrate his birthday you all do. Normally, as per your request. You sit between Rintaro and Osamu at dinner and masterfully divert the attention from yourself whenever the questions start piling up. The uno reverse technique works well: your curiosity feels flattering and everyone is happy to satisfy it. The questions you direct are extremely specific, your laugh echoes alongside everyone else’s and Osamu can’t help but think that, in some odd way, you fit in seamlessly. 

Keeping his eyes off of you isn’t but a strenuous fight with himself, it’d be lovely if looking would be the only activity he’d be allowed to engage in. It’s not hard to guess why hordes of fans and admirers are so enamoured: you’re such a natural. Polite, poised, funny, charismatic. Making you laugh feels like a privilege, having your brows raise in interest makes the story one’s recounting instantly fascinating. And yet you’re not doing any of that on purpose, he can tell. The one thing you’re being intentionally careful about is avoiding his gaze and making sure your arm doesn’t accidentally brush against his.

Osamu wants to ask himself why but also refuses to indulge in childish fantasies. What, he thought you liked him? Part of him believed you’d accepted to come to some stranger’s birthday party purely to spend an evening with him. Bullshit. Everyone in the world knows who you are and he simply owns an onigiri shop in Hyogo, one you happened to visit by sheer chance. He’s the guy you are so embarrassed to be seen with, you had to come up with a lie to justify your presence at the very same table that seems to adore you.

But when he jokingly throws a grain of rice at Aran, you hide your chuckle behind your hand. If he speaks, you always turn to look. Osamu doesn’t remember a social gathering where he tried to come up with just as many things to say, desperately conjuring genes that always weigh heavier in Atsumu. Unfortunately, the one person he could always count on, his dear friend and trusty supplier, decides his birthday night is the perfect occasion to stab him in the back.

“I’m sorry, I just need to ask” Kita refills your glass with fresh wine from across the table before retracting to his seat once more “your encounter with Osamu, how did it happen exactly?”

“Yeah, was his onigiri so good you wanted to-”

“Do not finish that sentence, Shoyo” Aran clears his throat as Suna, next to you, has a hard time swallowing his stir fry noodles.

“She heard my shop was the best in town, which it is, came to try it. That’s the story” Osamu wishes he could disappear into his kitchen as he often does when things at the restaurant get uncomfortable.

“I don’t buy it” Shinsuke shrugs “is that really the whole story?”

Kita’s knowing stare really hasn’t changed since high school and it seems you’re affected by it just as much as every other human. His eyes bore right into yours, trained to detect hesitation or even the hint of a lie, giving you no escape. Goddamn it, he’s still the team captain, there’s no running from him.

“Well” you gently swirl the glass in your hand, suddenly very much focused on the crimson liquid swooshing inside “I also kissed him”

This time someone does actually choke and, of course, it’s Atsumu. Right as Rintaro utters an ever quiet holy shit, he explodes in a coughing fit and Aran promptly strikes between his shoulder blades with the heel of his hand, perhaps with more force than needed. Thankfully, Atsumu manages to swallow his bite and, despite the tears threatening to run down his cheeks in all their shimmering glory, still conjures the energy needed to point an intimidating finger at his brother “ya bastard!”

“That’s a joke, right?” Hinata’s eyes have once again grown three sizes.

Kita doesn’t ask, the answer is written all over Osamu’s crimson red face. He was right, no one would’ve believed him.

“No, I really did” you take a sip from your glass and now everyone is looking at you like you’re some kind of alien. Except for Atsumu, who’s still glaring daggers at his brother.

“So this is… a date for you two?” Suna’s just as shocked as everyone else but seems to be the only person currently able to string words together.

“Oh, no” you brush the question off with a gracious wave of the hand “I just did it to thank him”

This time the silence stretches for a moment too long. Atsumu seems on the verge of passing out.

“You kissed him to thank him?” Kita cocks his head.

“Yeah. I mean, he was very kind. Have you never kissed someone to thank them?”

“Uh… no. I don’t think so”

“Really?”

“Do you…” Aran hopes to the gods that the words don’t come out the wrong way “do that often?”

“Aran” as much as Osamu wishes the earth could swallow him whole, he doesn’t want you to think his friends may be implying something they’re really not.

“I didn’t mean it like that!”

“It’s okay” you let our a nervous chuckle and because Osamu is sitting so close, he hears the shaky breath too “I know it was wrong. I tend to forget that’s not what normal people are used to. I apologized and now we’re good, right, Miya-san?” your eyes meet his and he feels his heart drop right into his stomach.

“Why are you used to that?” he asks instead of replying to your question and you just. Freeze.

“Yeah…” Hinata quietly chimes in “that doesn’t sound like something anyone should be used to”

For the first time, you don’t know how to respond. Osamu senses your panic, can read it in your eyes, but is too baffled to think of something smart or chivalrous to say.

“Holy shit, ya know what that means?” Atsumu slams both his hands on the table and both you and everyone else jump “it means she thinks I’m hot! In another life, I’d have a chance! Sorry, Shin, I know it’s yer birthday but I think this is the best night of my life!”

A quiet, astonished moment follows, then the table erupts in genuine laughter. You’re giggling so much you have to hold your stomach, Kita is shaking his head in resignation, Suna rolls his eyes with affection. Osamu settles for a smile as he relaxes against his chair once more. His brother may be loud and annoyingly inopportune, but his quiet support never once faltered throughout the years. One doesn’t need to be an old acquaintance to be taken under Miya Atsumu’s wing: if he senses as much as the hint of unease, his charismatic idiocy is summoned right away at the service of whoever may need it. Yet his loyalty remains unshakeable: Osamu knows that, in his stupid head, you’re already forbidden territory.

His mind is dizzy with confusion he doesn’t know how to properly address. As Kita blows out the candles on the cake he’s made, Osamu feels a wave of affection inundate his heart. He remembers that are nights like this that are worth being present, even if he has to get up at dawn or his sink is full of dirty dishes and he’s exhausted. Life only ever feels right when he’s with his friends or his family. It’s a routine he’s trained hard to get used to: work, work, work, carve out small moments to spend with those who come and go. It’s important for him to be there, when they come.

Osamu almost misses it, too focused on cleaning an extra plate or two in the kitchen, to make sure the birthday boy can get to relax once they leave. And then you call for him, a small crack in that poised facade of yours when his name almost slips out. You rush into the kitchen and urge him to hurry up, they’re already singing happy birthday to Kita-san. Come on, you’re missing it!

You probably wanted to go for his sleeve and found his hand instead, dragged him out of the room so quickly Osamu barely had the time to put the towel down. For some reason, once in the living room you don’t let go right away and neither does he. You only do so to clap with everyone else and even then it’s not entirely possible to establish who lets go first. Regardless, Osamu gives your hand a light squeeze and hopes you notice, despite there being no signs to indicate that.

You’re the first two people to excuse themselves: he refuses to let you go back to your hotel on your own, doesn’t give two shits that you have a driver or could well afford a cab because it’s a beautiful evening and Osamu is itching to have as little as ten minutes alone with you. He watches as you formally offer a hand to Suna and he grins as he shakes it, gently taking it in between his in a respectful attempt at suggesting that there’s no need to be so ceremonious.

You exchange quick hugs with everyone else, take the picture promised to Hinata, chuckle lightly when Atsumu timidly asks for a kiss on the cheek just because “it’s the american way of saying goodbye!” and of course you accomodate the request. Osamu is almost willing to bet you genuinely had fun but he also can’t seem to shake off the odd feeling suggesting you’ve somehow taken it upon yourself to just… appease everyone for the entire evening. Like some kind of duty. He doesn’t want you to think back to this evening like a task that had to be carried out.

“Oh my god, I cannot fucking believe it!” Atsumu’s shriek echoes loud and clear in the empty street  as soon as Kita shuts the door and you meet Osamu’s exasperated glare.

“I’m genuinely not sure what I should start apologizing for” he runs a hand through his brown hair and his stress makes you smile as you fall into a comfortable walking pace.

“I should start by thanking you for inviting me. Can’t remember the last time I had such a normal night”

“My friends are many things but I don’t know if they really fall into the normal category”

You laugh at that. “I think they’re really nice. It was fun. I didn’t know there were two of you”

Osamu grimaces, lightly shaking his head “good call, he’s the thing I should start apologizing for”

“I liked Atsumu” of course you did, don’t they all? “you’re lucky to have such good friends and a brother. Is it true what they say about weird connections us twinless mortals wouldn’t get?”

He sighs. As much as Osamu hates stereotypes and all the disadvantages that come with not being able to be his own person, the curse of always being considered nothing but part of a set, he knows the bond with Atsumu is just as rare and irreplaceable as people make it out to be.

“Well, I can pretty much always read his mind. But it’s not a twin thing, s’just an Atsumu thing” he shrugs “most transparent, honest person on earth”

“You’re both very kind” your observation strikes him. It hits the nail on the head: he does his best but it’s unusual for someone to notice ‘Tsumu’s selflessness right away.

“Could say the same about ya” he’s eager to direct the topic to the thing he’s really interested in, the one person who refused every bit of attention directed her way throughout the night “that tea collection must’ve costed a fortune. Shinsuke loves tea, yer manager picked well”

You hum, gaze focused on your feet. “Actually, I picked it”

Another thing Osamu has in common with his brother, the ability to royally fuck up in such a short amount of time.

“Oh, I didn’t-”

“It’s okay, happens all the time”

“What happens?”

“People assuming things” you’re not mad, there’s just a sad vibration to your voice. If he could punch himself in the face, he would.

“I’m sorry”

“Don’t be” Osamu hates the smile you toss at him. He hates it so much he stops in the middle of the sidewalk and watches you turn around, confusion flashing in your disenchanted eyes.

“There’s a pretty cool park ‘round the corner. How about a detour? If you’re not too tired”

You hum in agreement, ask him to lead the way. Careful, Osamu, you’d like to say. This same polite regard is what got me in trouble the first time.

The park, which is more of a garden really, is a slice of eden in the jungle that any city inevitably ends up feeling like. Lowlands, an abundance of irregular but colorful flowerbeds that seem to glow in the dark, the warm air of the evening saturated with the sweet scent of lime trees, a gravel path you both follow all the way to a small, wooden playground. It’s only natural to gravitate toward the swings, relish in the comfort of the stillness the evening offers. It always feels like the earth rotates slower, pace decelerating to give you more time to enjoy the things it’s hard to appreciate during your hectic days.

Osamu approaches the swing like an old friend, takes hold of the chains with both hands. He lightly pushes off the ground with his feet while pulling back, giving you a perfect view of his perfect profile.

“I don’t want to assume” he says quietly “so is it okay if I ask?”

“Yeah” you rest your head on the chain you’re holding, still looking at him who won’t look at you.

“Why did you tell ‘Tsumu you asked me to come tonight?” the actual question dies in his throat. Were you that embarrassed of being there with me?

“You seemed pretty self-conscious. I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable” and I guess that way, you got to seem cooler.

Osamu almost chokes on his own spit from how surprised he is by your answer. What the fuck.

“I wasn’t-” not for the reason you seem to believe “I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable!”

You smile, patiently waiting for the moment where he’ll finally turn to meet your gaze instead of persistently staring at his feet. “I don’t think I ever felt that comfortable in a room filled with men”

“That shouldn’t be an exceptional occurrence”

“Right. But it is”

He spends a few moments trying to come up with the right words, a handful of seconds spent with part of his brain wishing he could have a talk with all the men who made you feel unsafe. How many? Where, why? Are they the reason why Osamu wants to get so desperately close and yet keep a respectful distance, not to scare you off, not to be another name added to the list of creeps you surely hate?

“Why did you kiss me?” those are far from being the right, considerate words he was trying to summon, but they bubble up from his throat before he can stop them.

You hum, pensive “I don’t know. You’re pretty, you’re gentle, I thought t’was what you expected to happen. It’s what men usually expect in return”

“In return for what?” he fights the urge to keep his eyes down, confident that the darkness will conceal the redness of his cheeks. You think he’s pretty and the first thing his dumb brain is able to link the revelation to, is Atsumu. Shit, he was right, this means you do find him attractive as well.

“Anything, really” your chuckle is devoid of actual humor “I know this night was supposed to make up for it but I didn’t expect to have so much fun. Regardless, I hope we’re even now”

Osamu furrows his brows.

“Ya think that’s why I invited ya?”

“Why else?”

He almost laughs, incredulous. You hide that mistrust really well, Osamu has to give it you. It feels unfair that life has given someone who seemingly has everything, so many reasons to think you can only be seen as an empty shell, some trophy with the sole purpose of being flaunted.

“You said you were leaving. I didn’t like the idea of not seeing you again”

“Really?” your lips curl into a small smile “the weird girl who jumped you on your first meeting?”

“You’re weird” he concedes “and selfless. Intelligent. Maybe jokes are not your forte but, hey, ya get to look like that” your laugh compliments his really well and Osamu can’t help but think he’d like to sit in a park, in the middle of the night, and talk and laugh and be with you just once more.

You briefly wonder if the man sitting so close to you is aware of just how devastatingly charming he is. Part of you wishes he’d want to take you out on a proper date, let you meet his friends on different occasions, include a weird stranger in such a well balanced life. Part of you also knows you’d never want to ruin that for him. Not for someone like Osamu. People who are unfortunate enough to stumble across you are almost always harassed away, it’s a life you’re used to and can’t bring yourself to run from. It’s who you are and, most importantly, all you have. It’d be too dangerous for your heart to desire anything different.

But he’s looking at you as if you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, land emerged from the sea millions of years ago for his eyes only to experience such a sight. No one’s ever looked at you with such wonder.

“I don’t want to assume” he holds your gaze locked to his, swing dangling lightly as he leans closer “so is it okay if I ask?”

“Yes” you utter a little too breathlessly.

“Can I kiss ya?”

You hum in affirmation and close your eyes, heart beating a little faster than what you’re used to as you sense his proximity. He smells nice, radiates warmth and his soft hair tickles a little when his lips gently press to your cheek.

Osamu smiles when he catches a glimpse of disappointment flashing over your features, the first of many clues he wants to learn how to interpret correctly. The cracks in a facade he’d make his personal mission to tear down.

“I know you have to go away tomorrow” he gently moves a strand of hair away from your forehead “but I wondered, if you didn’t, whether you might let me see ya a little. Or a lot, maybe”

You lean into his touch, calloused fingertips still barely grazing your skin.

“A lot sounds good”

[poeghoul]

hard times

in which harry is grumpy and mean and has a scary job

word count: 3,315 warnings: angst, semi-mafia!harry, a single mention of drugs, semi-gun violence, harassment. do not read if opposed to any of the topics mentioned.  authors note: i haven’t written in years so this may be bad. inspired by "western nights" by ethel cain.

Harry met Niall at a small diner called The Vinyl booth at 9:37pm, an oddly specific time Niall gave to him, Harry thought. Niall had been interested in forming a connection with Harry, seeing as he’s the biggest drug supplier in all of northern California. Niall loved The Vinyl Booth; he loved taking his girls there every other Sunday after church. It was a warm, cozy diner, with checkered flooring and a jukebox that only worked if you kicked it in the right spot. 

“Harry!” Niall exclaimed, excited to finally be meeting with him after hearing about him for so long. Harry gave him a curt nod as Niall put his hand out for him. Harry took his and grunted as Niall brought him in for a weird semi hug that men do. “Good to finally meet ya,” Niall smiled and held the door open for him, a little bell attached to the handle sounded. Harry walked in first as Niall followed behind and stood while they waited for someone to seat them.

“Niall? What are you doing here so late?” A girl approached the two men, smiling at Niall before grabbing two menus. 

“Y/n!” Niall exclaimed, returning an even bigger smile than she had initially sent him, “just needed a little late night treat.” 

“Of course you did, come on,” she led the two to a corner booth, “I’ll be back with some coffee.” She smiled at the two and Harry noticed she hadn’t greeted him or even made eye contact with him once, which infuriated him; he was used to everyone showing him the respect he swears he deserves. 

She walked back with two small gray ceramic mugs in her hands before turning again to get the coffee pot (Harry assumed they hadn’t brewed a fresh batch in some hours, disgusting him even more than he already was with the sticky menu he was holding). She went to pour some into Nialls mug before Harry decided to speak up. 

“When was that brewed?” Y/n looked up as she stopped pouring the coffee.

“Um,” she paused, trying to remember when she last even touched the pot, “maybe around 5,” she shrugged, phrasing it more as a question than a statement. 

Harry scoffed, “and you expect us to be okay with drinking that?” he practically shouted at the girl; she was taken aback, furrowing her brows and cocking her head to the side. “Get him a new mug and brew a fresh batch, we’re not drinking coffee that’s been sitting out for nearly five hours.” he spat. Niall went to speak up and Harry shot him the deadliest glare the man had ever seen, effectively shutting Niall up. 

“I’ll get on it,” she murmured as she bowed her head, picked up Nialls mug and spun on her heel, heading towards the sink to dump out the hour's old coffee. 

“You didn’t have to shout at her, Harry,” Niall scolded the man like he was a four year old. Harry just looked at him and shook his head, going to speak up before deciding against it. 

The bell on the door rang. It was one of his security guards; he had told both (one of them planning on coming in three before 10pm, the time they closed) to observe the interaction between the two men; one to scope out Niall, and two to make sure Harry made it out alive. With what Harry did, not making it out of the diner was an option. The burly man sat down in a booth facing Harry directly. 

Y/n was at the coffee pot, pouring in new coffee grinds and pressing at the brewing options, though there couldn’t have been more than one option with how old the machine was. She looked up as the man sat down, a puzzled look taking over her features; Harry couldn’t stop staring. 

Y/n approached him, “Hi,” she smiled at him, “I’m y/n I’ll be taking care of you today, can I start you off with some coffee? I’m brewing some right now so it’ll be the freshest coffee of your life,” she joked with him, purposefully being loud enough for Harry to hear; he just narrowed his eyes at her and, instead of gazing at her, he began glaring. The man just nodded. She gave a half smile before walking back to where the two men were sat, pulling out a small notepad and pen from her apron. “Oki doki, Niall I know what you want already,” she smiled at him, a dimple forming in her cheek. She looked at Harry, “how about you? Have enough time to look the menu over?” He hadn’t even opened it. 

“No,” he said simply. Her smile faded, a puzzled look taking over her features. 

“Oh, well, do you have any questions?” She tucked her pen and notepad into a small pocket on the black apron that was folded and tied around her waist. 

“No,” he replied, a bitter tone, “I would like some fresh coffee though, if you’re capable,” he tried his hardest to contain his smirk. 

If y/n didn’t care about her job, she’d bark at him. If y/n didn’t care about the owners and how close she had gotten to them, she would’ve taken her pen from her apron and jammed it in his hand with all her might. And if y/n had the guts to either of those, she would. She cares, though, far too much to do either of those; so instead, she smiled and prayed that her eye wouldn’t start twitching. 

“Of course, sir,” she turned and rolled her eyes, mimicking him under her breath. Harry heard her, but didn’t say anything. She grabbed another mug and the coffee pot, almost burning her knuckles in the process. She placed Nialls mug before him and poured into his new one, making sure to leave room for creamer. “Room for cream?” She made eye contact with Harry. He shook his head, humming a ‘no’. She tried her best to fill it to where it would spill on him if he picked it up too quickly, and made her way to the only other patron in the small diner. The bell on the door rang again, but it wasn’t who Harry was expecting. 

Y/n looked up at the character who walked into and watched as he walked past her and sat at the counter. Nobody ever came in this late, three of them looked scary and they were all men. She felt her heart skip some beats in the worst way. Thankfully, two of the cooks were here, but they were already upset with her for seating guests twenty something minutes before closing. 

She walked behind the counter, setting the pot down on the heater, and walked to the man at the counter. She noticed his red ringed, dark brown eyes. “Hi, I’m y/n,” she started her script, “I’ll be taking care of you tonight, what can I get ya started with?” She grabbed her notepad and pen, again, hoping he knew what he wanted to eat so she’d have an excuse to go into the back, wanting to be with the men she’d known for some time, rather than three suspicious men and Niall  (who, according to her, was far too gentle to hurt a fly). 

He smiled at her; it made her stomach curl. “Orange juice, please, and a mixed cheese omelette.” She scribbled in her notepad, muttering a ‘got it’ before scrambling to the back to put the order in. 

“So,” Niall began, causing Harry to finally look away from the door the girl had basically run through. “I know you didn’t agree to meeting me here for the chorizo and eggs plate,” he joked at Harry. He gave a curt nod. Niall cleared his throat. “I know you have a busy schedule, so I’ll get right to it,” the bell on the door sounded again. Three minutes before closing, right on time. His other bodyguard walked past the two and sat at another end of the counter. Y/n peaked her head through the swinging door, looking around before setting her eyes on the last patron to walk in. She sighed before walking out and giving him her whole spiel. 

“Coffee, please,” the man smiled at her. She was grateful for someone, other than Niall, to show her some kindness in a non creepy way. She turned to grab another mug and the pot of coffee and made her way back to him.

“Long night?” she asked him while pouring into his mug. He nodded and smiled at her, offering her a thank you. Harry felt a twinge of jealousy in his chest. 

Niall continued to speak to him, though Harry tuned him out, granting him responses in the form of grunts. He watched the girl bring out the orange juice for the boy at the counter before going into the back and returning with a bowl of prepackaged creamers. “Sorry, Niall, the creamers completely slipped my mind.”

“Not a big deal, y/n, I knew you’d get around to it,” he reached into the bowl, grabbing a package and ripping it open to pour into his coffee. He did that four more times, turning the near black brown to a light, almost white shade. 

She looked at Harry, his eyes already on her, “finally decided?” he shook his head. She just stared, no emotion on her face. 

“Just get him the same thing as me, please” Niall awkwardly cut in. Y/n’s gaze softened, looking at him and smiled, before nodding and walking off. Harry, still, couldn’t stop staring; watching how she walked and moved and how she reacted to every word said to her. He also noticed how the boy at the counter did the same. Niall continued to talk at him about a deal he was wishing to make. Something about expanding Harry’s territory and getting a small cut. From what Harry heard, it wasn’t a bad proposal. 

+++

“Thanks, again, for meeting with me, Harry” Niall shook his hand, a beaming smile plastered on his face. Harry offered him a pursed smile in return. “Get home safe.” Harry nodded, watching as Niall turned to walk to his car. 

Harry turned to his, getting in the backseat, greeted by his bodyguard, Daniel, who’d entered the restaurant earlier. They sat in silence as they waited for the final of the two men, Jax, to return to the car. Harry had sent him a message halfway through their meal, asking (more like demanding) him to stay in the diner until the skeptical character had left; he left a bitter taste in Harry’s mouth and he just wanted to ensure the safety of the girl he was fascinated by. 

He waited. And waited. Bit at his nails, ran his hands through his hair, groaned many times and waited even more. 

Time seemed to go by so slowly. He stared into the window, watching the three of them closely. His left leg was bouncing up and down, an unfamiliar sense of anxiety coursing through him. Huffing through his nose, he ran his hand through his hair. He hated how he was feeling, and judging by her body language, she was feeling similarly. 

Y/n stood with the coffee pot, having had to make another batch as the group of men continued to order more and more cups throughout the night, waiting for the two men to leave so she could crawl into bed. She had been here close to eleven hours now, and was growing anxious being practically trapped in a room with two strange men she had never seen, especially since the two cooks had left for the night (she was too scared to ask them to stay, not wanting to be a bother but she desperately regrets that now).

The bigger man of the two sat glaring at the smaller one, watching his every move. Y/n could tell he was growing uncomfortable with harsh eyes on him at all times; it made her feel safer, though. 

The small one offered her a small smile, asking for the check silently. She felt a wave of relief to soon have him out of her hair. She couldn’t wait to leave; she had already wiped down all the tables, swept, asked the two men if they’d be paying cash or card, and when they both replied with card, she closed out the cash drawer on the register. She was eager, practically vibrating. Nothing planned for the night, she just couldn’t wait to step outside into the fresh air, feeling suffocated in the small space of the diner. 

She handed the small receipt to him and he immediately offered her his card, making sure to graze her hand with his. She noted how cold and pale it was. A small ‘thank you’ before a pursed smile graced her features. She ran his card through the machine, printed a receipt and handed the two over. He smiled at her, leaving a ten on the counter before walking out. 

Outside, Harry noted the movement inside the diner, watching the weird man walk out of the restaurant and around the corner to where, he assumed, was a back alley. Jax walked out shortly after, y/n walking to the door behind him to lock it before heading to the back, but he hesitated to leave, still. The lights shut off shortly after. He couldn’t make out much more. 

The door opened and, though he could barely see her silhouette, he could tell she was locking the door behind her. She stood in front of the diner, typing away at her phone. He groaned at how oblivious she was to her surroundings. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a head peeking around a corner. He unlocked his door, prepared to jump to her defense at any given moment. The man who peeked around the corner fully emerged and walked up behind y/n, his hands in the pockets of his oversized jacket. He said something to her, Harry couldn’t hear what, and she practically jumped out of her skin. She turned around with wide eyes and slipped her phone in her back pocket. 

“Oh,” she gasped, “hey, did you leave anything inside?”

He grinned at her, “no, actually was just wondering what you were up to after this.” she gulped. 

“Um,” she tried to think of something, anything, to lie about, but blanked. “I’m just, uh, gonna hang out with my friends,” she rushed out. His grin turned into a smirk. 

“You sure?” She nodded. His smirk vanished. “You’re lying.” she shook her head, a small ‘I’m not’ escaping her lips. “Yes, you are,” he stepped closer to her, “I hate liars.”

“I’m not lying,” she backed up, her breathing picking up. He stepped even closer. 

“Now you’re lying again,” he glared down at her, “must I teach you what happens to liars?” Her eyes began to well with tears. A car door slammed. A gun pressed against the boy's temple. His eyes widened. 

“Touch her and I’ll blow your fucking head off,” Harry snarled, pressing the gun even harder against him. 

“I-I wasn’t, I swear, I swear,” he barely made out. Tears began pouring out of y/n’s eyes. 

“Okay, so then tell me what you were gonna do, hm,” with his free hand, Harry grabbed y/n, pulling her behind him. She hid her face in his back and gripped his shirt in both hands, trying to focus on controlling her breathing. 

“Nothing! Nothing, I swear,” he cried out.

“You swear, hm?” he let out a breathy laugh, “Why’d you wait for her, hm? Why’d you hide back there?” The boy’s mouth just opened and closed; Harry held back a laugh. “Say something, don’t be shy. You weren’t a minute ago.”

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, I’ll leave right now if you let me, I swear, I promise!” He began to sob.

Harry just pressed harder, “that’s not what I asked, though, is it?” The boy shook his head as best as he could, “then answer my questions.”

“I just, I wanted to see her.”

Harry laughed, “so you wanted to see her, and you couldn't have done it in a normal manner? Couldn’t have asked to hang out rather than hiding in a fucking alley waiting for her when you knew she’d be most vulnerable, fucking scum,” he spat out, inching his face closer to his. 

He sobbed, “I’m so sorry.”

Harry moved the gun from his temple, but not before he pressed a little bit harder. “Get in the car,” he muttered, keeping the gun pointed at him and ushering y/n with his back towards the backseat of a black Range Rover. She opened the door and jumped in before Harry did the same. He put the gun in his holster, secured under his jacket. He looked to y/n, who was shaking in the middle seat. “You okay?” She nodded, her face down, staring at her fingers picking at a loose thread on her jeans. “I’m sorry,” Harry apologized to her, anger surged through his veins and he wished he could get out and have the opportunity to pull the trigger pointed to the back of the boy's head. The car started and pulled out of the parking lot. “We’ll take you home, I’ll send someone to stay in the general area for your safety,” she looked up at him with watery eyes. 

“Okay.”

“Can you give me an address, please,” he handed the phone to her, with trembling hands she took it and typed out her address. It was a six minute walk. “How were you planning to get home?” she handed back the phone. 

“I walk.”

“For every shift?” she nodded. “I don’t like that,” he admitted. 

“It’s only, like, five minutes,” she shrugged, still not making eye contact. 

“Still don’t like it,” he ran his hands through his hair, sighing. She picked at her nails, chewing on her bottom lip. 

The drive was short, two right turns and they arrived at her apartment complex. Harry opened the door and helped her out, following her up the stairs, standing close behind her as she unlocked the door. 

“It’s a little messy, sorry,” she opened the door and led him in. He stood in the entryway, taking in the details of the decorations that filled the small space (it was a small studio apartment, big enough for Y/n, but far too small for Harry). Her bed wasn’t made, with halloween sheets and decorative pillows on the floor next to the bed, and the only chair in the apartment was covered in laundry. 

“It’s not bad,” he looked down at her while she gazed at him. Harry loved the way she looked at him and hated that he loved it.  

“Thank you for taking me home and ya know,” she smiled at him. He nodded. 

“I’ll send someone to take you to work and bring you home for the next few days, need to make sure you’re safe,” he took a deep breath in, stepping closer to her, his hand reaching up to graze her cheek, resting it as he caressed the soft skin with the pad of his thumb. He looked down at her, a glint in his eyes she couldn’t make out. His gaze shifted to her lips, his hand stilled and she tilted her head up in the slightest. 

His expression changed, he removed his hand, and he stepped back. “You’ll know when they’re here. Goodnight,” and with that, he turned and walked out, slamming the door behind him.

Her cheek felt cold. 

She missed his touch. 

And that would be all she thought about for the rest of the night. 

troubles always gonna find you baby, but so will i.

[lowkeyerror]

The Family Business Ch.8

WandaNatxReader

Word Count: 3k

Ch notes: Angst, Nightmares, Fighting

Summary: The family copes with the situation revolving Dragos

An: Sorry for posting so late.... hope you like it. Also posting from my phone, so sorry formatting issues.

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

“ Enough time has passed Wanda. We have to act now before we lose everything,” you speak to the woman in her office.

“I'm not ready for war Y/n,” She tries to dismiss you.

“Detka, I think she’s right. If we wait any longer it could, everything your father built would be over,” Natasha backs you up.

Wanda puts her head down on the desk, "I don't think I can do this.”

“It’s just like we planned, Wanda. Nat and I have everything on standby to close the ports, we’re just waiting on your word,” you speak softly to her.

“Fine, just do it,” she waves her hand, but doesn’t move her face from it’s place on the desk.

She had been like this for nearly two weeks. The shooting of her father seemed to hit her the hardest. She felt like she wasted too much time away from him and now he was gone.

The only way you were functioning was hope that he would wake up. He wasn’t gone, he was just in a coma. People recover from being in comas, they wake up. You just keep telling yourself that Dragos would be waking up soon.

“Wanda, maybe you should go home, I can handle this,” your eyes are full of worry, but your voice is firm.

“I’m capable of running this business Y/n,” she snaps back at you.

“ I know you are, that’s why they put you in charge. However, this is not a one man job Wanda. Dragos had days where he needed someone to take charge. I’m one of those people. Whether he’s sitting in that seat or you’re sitting in that seat, I’m going to continue to be that person. Now go home.”

She looks at you with something you’ve never seen before. It makes your brow furrow. The intensity of her stare isn’t malicious, but it’s unfamiliar to you.

“I’ll take you baby,” Nat offers, taking Wanda’s attention away from you.

Wanda takes one more look at you before agreeing to go with her wife.

“Stop by after work, I don’t care how late it is,” her demand makes you want to gulp, but you hold it and nod.

She’s out of the door first. You share a look with Natasha as you take s seat at the desk.

“I’ll be back, I can have everything ready for tonight,” the spy says.

“Thank you, Natasha.”

She leaves and you get to work immediately. You call in your dealers and suppliers to inform them of potential uptick in all products your pushing to prepare them adequately. You call your supposed allies, you’re vague but they know it’s a threat. More than threat, but a test of loyalty. Some of them dismiss you as you aren’t Dragos, but you’re sure by morning they’ll come around or go out of business.

There had been too much silence on your side of the business. Fisk was parading around the city saying that he killed Dragos. The lack of movement from your side of things only made it seem true.

Wanda had been placed temporarily in charge of the business while Dragos was out of commission. However, she wasn't emotionally prepared for this yet. None of you were in actuality, you all needed more time.

“ Where’s Wanda?” Pietro strolls into the office.

Your eyes are locked on the screen, “ Sent her home.”

“You’re running things today?”

You nod, “We’re going through with the plan to shut down the pier tonight. I put out some feelers, stayed pretty vague. I know they'll get on board when there's no other option.”

“You sound like him,” Pietro chuckles.

“I hope so, I got brushed off by one too many people over the phone. We need to let them know we aren’t weak. We will not be usurped, we are this city and it’s time to remind them.”

Pietro agrees, “My eyes and ears on the street have been telling me about Kingpin He’s telling others he fixed the Maximoff issue. We need to get a handle on this.”

“They will be dealt with and I’ll save Fisk for last. Next time I wont miss when I shoot,” your jaw clenches.

“How are you holding up?” He asks, taking in your appearance.

The bags under your eyes spoke for themselves. You hadn’t been sleeping well, getting 3 hours seems like a blessing some days.

“Not well, but I’ll be alright.”

“You haven’t been sleeping.”

You sigh, “How can I rest well, knowing that the man who has taken someone important from me walks around the streets celebrating it? It’s like he’s taunting me.”

Pietro’s hand lands on your shoulder, “We’re going to get him Y/n, I swear.”

Natasha strolls back into the room, “I’ve got everything set we're just waiting on nightfall.”

“Good, I’m almost done here. I’ve got some paperwork to get through and if it’s not too late, maybe we can carpool?”

Natasha smiles, “I’ll wait for you, it’s no problem.”

“I guess we’ll leave you to it Don Y/n,” Pietro jokes as he pats your shoulder before exiting the office, Natasha’s following behind him.

The paperwork takes longer than expected. You’re exhausted by the end of it, your eyes are strained as you finish the last of it up.

When Natasha comes to check on you , she can tell you’ve dissociated from the work you’re doing. It looks mindless yet stressful at the same time. You don’t even notice she's standing there for another 10 minutes.

“Ok you’re done, lisichka. Time to go home,” Natasha’s voice startles you.

You give her little protest, moving out of the seat. Your bones crack and you let out a yawn as you grab your belongings.

“Wanda’s going to need help tomorrow. The lines should be busy. We can open them up so Kate and I can help filter orders,” you mumble as you leave the office.

“No more work talk, we’re out of the office,” Natasha reminds you.

You let out a tired laugh, “Now you’re sounding like a Maximoff."

“I am married to one,” she says as the two of you get in her car.

“I don't know who's luckier you or her.”

Natasha quirks an eyebrow as she begins to dive, “I’m pretty sure it's me.”

“You’re good for her too; don't discredit yourself. Wanda has always been a caregiver of sorts. She wants to take care of everyone. It's nice to see she has someone who can take care of her,” your eyes begin to close as you speak.

“You’ve taken care of her before. When she was fighting with Pietro, the whole situation with Dragos; you kept her grounded,” Natasha points out.

You shrug lightly, “I couldn't when I was younger.”

Natasha glances at your nearly sleeping figure, “You were just a child, lisichka.”

“I was fragile, she needed someone strong,” you feel sleep overtaking you.

Natasha goes to respond, but hears you snoring softly, “I don't think you could've ever been fragile.”

The spy doesn't wake you when you arrive at the condo. Instead she carefully removes you from the car and carries you up to her door. She rings the bell unable to get her keys while holding you.

When Wanda opens the door her eyes soften at the sight of you asleep in her wife’s arm.

“I didn't want to wake her. I overheard her telling Pietro she hasn't been sleeping,” Nat explains to her wife.

“Just lay her in our bed,” Wanda says, and Natasha complies.

Wanda heads to the kitchen, unable to sleep. She stays to make herself some tea.

“She cares about you a lot,” Natasha says meeting her wife in the kitchen.

Wanda just hums a response.

“You care about her a lot too,” Natasha looks to meet her wife’s gaze.

“Astute observation, sweetheart,” Wanda responds dryly.

Natasha steps into Wanda’s personal space, “You know what I’m insinuating then?”

Wanda finally looks at her wife, “No I don’t.”

“I think you're in love with her,” Natasha is gentle when she speaks.

Wanda laughs, “What are you talking about? Y/n is a part of my family. I’ve cared for her for years; healed her wounds, held her when she cried, taught her how to defend herself. Natasha, she was barley turning 17 when I met her.”

“I see the way you look at her Wanda. It’s the same way you look at me,” her tone doesn’t convey anger or sorrow.

Wanda’s laughter has yet to die down, “She’s my little brother’s best friend.”

“Then tell me why she can ground you the same way I can? Her touch calms you, her look quiets you, and her figure causes your eyes to drift. Just be honest with me Wanda.”

“Look, I love Y/n. I would do anything to keep her safe, but there’s nothing between us romantically,” Wanda gets serious for the first time in the conversation.

Natasha rolls her eyes, “You lost your mind about something from 5 years ago involving her, you were in tears when you couldn't attend her graduation, you talked about her more than your brother, mother, and father.”

Wanda’s eyes shift for a second, it’s the only sign Natasha needs. Her hand reach for her wife’s. Her thumbs pad the back of Wanda’s hand.

“Baby-”

“Natasha I can’t. I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” she tries to escape but Natasha won’t let her.

“Talk to me, detka.”

For a moment it seems like Wanda is going to talk it out with her wife. However a commotion in their bedroom puts brakes to the conversation.

They both rush in that direction. In the bedroom they find you fighting in your sleep. You’re thrashing, punching, and screaming.

Wanda’s eyes go wide at the sight. The distress on your face send her into fight or flight. She wants to help, but she’s unaware of what to do.

Natasha on the other hand has had her fair share of life like nightmares. She knows how delicate of a situation that they can be.

“Easy lisichka, it’s not real,” Natasha’s voice is firm as she speaks, slowly inching towards you.

Natasha’s hand slowly reaches for your forearm. The action cause you to jerk, but Natasha is unflinching. Her hands trailing up and down your arm trying to calm you.

“Baby you’re safe here,” Natasha slips her fingers between yours.

It’s sudden the way you jolt forward into consciousness. Natasha’s arms wrap around you securely as your chest heaves up and down.

Wanda joins your side, hand running through your hair, “It’s ok, you’re ok. You’re safe little krolik.”

You sniffle a couple of times. Before realizing the position you're in. You sit in a bed that you can only assume belongs to the two women, that are slowing your erratic heart rate.

“I uh- I fell asleep in the car,” you say pushing the women away from you slightly.

You wipe the sweat from your forehead and then rub at your eyes roughly. The feeling of embarrassment starts to creep in on you.

“ You did, exhausted from all that work and no sleep,” Natasha says.

You nod lightly, “As you can see I have a hard time with sleeping.”

“It’s like that every night?” Wanda’s voice was laced with concern.

You try to laugh it off, “I get by with the little sleep I get before the nightmares.”

“Y/n, we’re being serious,” Wanda’s use of your actual name startles you a bit.

You take a deep breath, “Nearly every night since the shooting. But I’m a big girl guys, I’ve got it under control.”

“Wanda’s been having trouble sleeping too. If I leave just for a second, she starts panicking pretty bad,” Natasha mentions, causing her wife to glare at her.

Wanda crosses her arms over her chest defensively and that’s how you know Natasha is telling the truth.

“I’ve been trying to run a company and a business. There’s no time for a comfortable rest.”

It was your turn to give a stern look, “You won’t be able to lead well if all your senses are weakened from lack of sleep.”

“And how much sleep did you get last night before so graciously kicking me out of the office today?” She counters and your face heats up.

“It's not like I don't want to sleep. I’ve tried a bunch of shit, but nothing is enough for the nightmares. It’s triggering, you know because not only are the nightmares themselves intense, but having them in the first place reminds me the ones I used to have about my family.”

Though you've arguably been vulnerable with both of these women before, it feels harder this time. It feels like they are seeing a piece of you that is supposed to be neatly tucked away. Yet you’re too tired to hide it and you trust them not to use it against you.

“If you’re comfortable with it, I know something that might help,” Natasha offers.

“I’m willing to try anything,” you give her your full attention.

“Stay here with us tonight,” her eyes pierce through yours.

“Here as in…”

“The bed, yes,” Natasha elaborates.

Almost reflexively you look to Wanda to find her staring at her wife. The look isn’t entirely inviting and you take note of that.

You look directly towards Wanda as you speak, “I don't want to impose or be anymore of an inconvenience than I already have. I can actually just go home and try again.”

You attempt to get out of bed, but Wanda places a hand on your chest, keeping you down, “Y/n, you will never be an inconvenience to me. I don't want to keep you here if you’re uncomfortable, but if Nat thinks this could help you then I think it’s worth a shot.”

Your skin is hot under her hand, and you hope she can’t feel the way your heart is beating. It truly shouldn’t feel like such a big deal, you’ve laid with Wanda before . You knew what it was like to have her arms tightly secured around you while she played with your hair until your nerves died. Something about it felt more innocent then.

Now that you were both adults and Wanda was married, it almost seemed like crossing a line.

“What if this works?” You say looking between the couple. They share a quick look at each other before fixing their eyes on you.

“ We’ll cross that bridge when we get there lisichka. We should all get some rest, tomorrow will be very hectic for everyone,” Natasha again reassures you.

“ Do you want something more comfortable to sleep in?” Wanda says, as she pinches the fabric of your work shirt.

You nod lightly and not even a second later Natasha is shoving some pajamas in your hand. She points you to the direction on the restroom and you go leaving the two redheads alone for a moment.

“Natalia,” Wanda’s voice is low and cold as she speaks to her wife.

Natasha shrugs, “What was I supposed to do, Wanda? Did you see the poor girl?”

“You did this to prove a point,” Wanda keeps her voice down with much effort.

“I think you’re doing that all on your own. This is simply helping a friend out. It’s not like you haven’t shared bed with her before,” Natasha shoots back.

“T-this is different,” she stumbles over her words.

“Why?” Natasha raises an eyebrow at her wife.

“Can we drop this please?” Wanda looks away.

Her wife reaches to caress her face, “Detka, we can drop it for now but sooner or later we’re going to have to talk about your feelings.”

Wanda draws in a large breath . She focuses on the way Natasha’s thumb cascades across her cheek.

She looks at her wife, “I love you. More than anything Natalia. I would never put you through anything that I think would hurt us. This to me is the most important everything .”

“I’m not doubting that baby. I’m not asking you this question to make you pick between the two, I just want some clarity,” Natasha kisses Wanda briefly after speaking.

Before Wanda can speak again you’re back in the room. You stand awkwardly as the couple behind you to the bed.

“So, how does this work? Do you want me on the edge or in the middle or..?”

“We’re following your lead little krolik."

Alarms go off in your brain but the aren't loud enough in your sleep deprived state. You take your place at the edge of the bed, closest to Wanda.

You try your best to keep your arms stiffly to yourself. There isn't any chance that you'd willingly embarrass yourself further.

It would be so easy to put your arm around her waist. The more you think the less sleep you get.

Wanda can sense the tense state of your body. Natasha words echo in her mind and it causes her to hesitate. Usually she would’ve already taken initiative to make sure you were comfortable. However here she was, scared that the feeling of your arms around her would send her into an overload.

“Can I- ” your sentence is aided by the action of your hand coming to rest respectfully on her stomach.

Wanda doesn’t speak but her hand lands gently over yours, keeping it in place. You relax at the action and unintentionally pull the woman closer to you. Her back is flush against your front as soft snores fall from your lips. You fall asleep instantly.

She doesn't want to admit it, but being this close to you makes her heart thunder in her chest. She feels warm in your hold. It’s a new feeling.

Being held by you is different than holding you herself. Her free hand reaches out for her wife. Natasha scoots closer, to be face to face with Wanda. Her hand interlaces itself with Wanda’s.

Natasha kisses the back of Wanda’s hand, “I love you.”

“Love you more,” Wanda whispers as her eyes flutter shut.

The three women lay together. For once their minds are quiet as they sleep. It’s peaceful, something that they can revel in before the storm of the morning disrupts their peace.

Taglist: @natashaswife4125 @autorasexy @alexawynters @blkmxrvel @toouncreativeforausername @likemick @sgm616 @bstvst @dorabledewdroop @sapphic-simp4015 @natty-taffy @justarandomreaderxoxo @mmmmokdok

[starshipsofstarlord]

Modern!Nat Being Your Dealer

summary - natasha romanoff is your dealer, and you go to collect your order, however you seem to have forgotten something important… though there is another way that you can pay for your addiction (2.1k)

warnings - 18+ minors dni, smut, oral (female receiving), fingering, drug dealing, sex in place of payment, swearing

natasha romanoff works other mcu works masterlist

Everyone struggled in life, and once in a while they needed a little help. There were many ways people went about that, some people went to therapy, others enjoyed a good book, others listened to waves that had been recorded for that specific purpose. But none of those spectacles of aid made you feel any better.

And thus you had turned to substances instead of white noise, specifically one that was more common and less harmful - weed. A large majority of the population did it, and it was nothing to be ashamed about, it just made you unwind from the trauma that skulked in the darkest parts of your mind and coaxed you into a resting state of sleep.

Unbuckling your seat belt, you climbed out of your beat convertible, locking the vehicle behind yourself as you strode towards the locked hinges of your e of dealer's door. It felt suspenseful every time that you came here, knowing that it could be your last if your supplier was overturned by the forces for her illegal actions actions, and you wouldn't exactly be ignored pu so for purchasing from her.

But everything looked crisp and normal, just the way you liked it. Quickly as to not avert any attention you shot Natalia, the Russian importer a text letting her know that you had arrived to the destination where she handled business. It felt like a lifetime as you awaited for her to open the door and usher you inside, and once she unlocked the barricade of privacy you felt like you were hit by a brick.

It didn't matter how many times that you had seen the astoundingly attractive redhead, you always felt as though you were experiencing whiplash from being greeted with her appearance. It was an unruly kind of magnetism that she styled herself with, her lipstick was blurred subtly past the lines of her actual lips, her short bob was twisted with curls that she had no doubt patiently toyed with as she sat there, looming behind the frosted windows for her buyers.

And you were no more than another one of them, you had to remind yourself, even as slithered past her, both of your breasts briefly brushing as she allowed you entry before she followed your footsteps to the main room after bolting the door shut to as it had been. As usual you took a seat in the dusty and quaint living area as usual, her taking place opposite you as she disgustedly brushed specks off the fabric arm of the chair.

"I don't live here if that's what you're wondering." She smirked, making it undoubtedly clear that her tastes were too clean to permanently reside in a place like this. "So I'll take it you're picking up the usual?" It was the safe assumption on her part, there was no kindness in coaxing you to spend more on the grams of freedom that she rationed out for a price. Not to mention, with spare product there would no doubt be another soul that was prepared to take it off her hands.

"Yeah, please." A curt nod had the woman lounging her body to stretch so that she could pick up the complimentary medicine that she had self prescribed you for. The normal amount was visible through the small and clear baggy that carried the goods, and you immediately rushed to find the notes that would allow you to proceed in your pockets. But they were gone. Shit. This was the last thing that you needed after the day that you had endured with the whispers of thought that clouded your brain.

Panic settled over you, and thus with a dry mouth it was with wise decision that you chose to speak up. There was no point beating around the bush, after all this was your first slip up when it came to this, and you prayed to every ethereal being that it would be the last. "I seemed to have forgotten to put the cash in this jacket, would it be okay if i were to come by later to collect again?" It was embarrassing really, there was nothing that screamed being newer to the scene of all this mutual transaction than forgetting the payment.

"Trial and error one would say." Nat slouched back, dropping the bag mockingly in her lap so that you could see. "The problem is I'm not available for business later." So stupid, you thought to yourself, insulting yourself because she wouldn't for your blatant and misconducted dumb foolery. It certainly may have ben a mistake, but you were no doubt paying for it because you could not pay for what you had really wanted. With a gulp of apologetic waver of disregard, you stood on your two feet, eyeing the door as your escape.

You were just about to begin walking when the red headed conductor silenced all movement your body was ready to perform. "Uh, uh, uh." The noise of scolding that she proclaimed towards you made your heart beat a little faster, afraid that she was going to refuse future service to you altogether. However much you dreaded what she was going to say, you politely listened, intending to remain on her good side. "If you have time to spare, I don't mind being paid in other ways..."

"I'm sorry, I don't quite understand what you mean." Maybe it was plain obliviousness to Nat's ultimatum of a suggestion, or perhaps you didn't quite believe your body's instinct to the prowess in her eyes that made your spine coil in a retrograde of quivering arousal, but you avertedly decided to play it dumb. She stood, and strode towards you like a vixen, her wide eyes scorning every inch of your vessel, humming contentedly to herself.

"Don't be so naive little y/n," her tongue peeked out from her mouth, swiping languidly across her plump bottom lip. "You'll still be a respectable woman, you'll just have to respect me too... in an intimate way." Thinking to yourself, the hunger that ran through your veins which yearned for the intoxicating compulsion of the confident redhead was strivingly eager, and the addictive stock that sold, was endless.

"W-what did you have in m-mind?" You wanted some clarification before you drowned yourself in an action that could exempt you from her clientele, even if she had been explicit, only leaving the details of prolific actions out from her spoken equation. The thumping of your heart beat within your ears, running through your bloodstream that was declining from a subsidised high, as you ogled curiously at the the woman with priceless leverage.

"We all have things we want y/n," she admitted vaguely before going into detail, "and I, in exchange want you to give me an orgasm." Her hands rubbed soothingly up your arms, her skin surprisingly cold upon your flesh. She could sense your nervousness, it was openly apparent as you shivered for both her touch and the calming rush that would absorb itself into your form.

"Okay." You spoke meekly, withholding how eager you were to persevere provocatively towards the mysterious woman. A coy smile weaved its route upon her defining features, causing your walls to flutter obscenely below where they were dressed. You'd always thought that you would be above soliciting yourself in exchange for anything, but it proved to show that you could never be certain on an agenda until you came to the crossroads of it.

Your tongue poked outside of your mouth, nervously grooming the indents and crevices at the corner of your lips, preparing yourself for what Natasha was expecting. It made you realise how little you truly knew about the woman before you, the name that she had given you to address her by may have all been a hoax, to conceal her identity from any enforcers whom bought the stronger stuff from ratting her out to the feds.

But in the predicament that you had stumbled obliviously into, you needed to be nothing more than acquainted, it wasn't love, it was just business derived from the figments of pleasure, and whilst you were allured by the pros and cons that weighed argumentatively in your mind, you couldn't help but give this instance a block from your overthinking mindset. "I'm glad to hear," she conveyed, causing a deep laughter within her chest to be released as she noticed how tense that you had become.

She liked to see you squirm, she had decided. And perhaps next time you would forget payment again, of course she wouldn't mind if your skills were up to her standards of course, and if they weren't, she would unshackle the bedroom nerves that you were enduring with her own set of amorous control. The air hung thick between the both of you as she strolled casually back towards the seat that she had already claimed prior to your arrival, sitting down and spreading her clothed legs wide.

"Come here, and make me cum." Her instructions were far too persuasive, and you couldn't refrain from doing as you were told, willingly you fell to your denim clad jeans, watching intently as Nat unbuttoned her own trousers. "I don't even need to tell you what to do." She verbally observed, pushing down the layers covering her bottom half, including her lace designed panties. Her actions served you with the view of her core, and the sight made you salivate.

A part of you felt dirty, but you procured it in an encouraging way, as this was exactly how she wanted to see you. The position that you were in made warmth flush between your legs, even more so when her drug dealing hand swept into your hair, pulling your face closer to her cunt with the harsh grip that she had. You glanced up to watch her lust drowning eyes, before you entangled your lips with her lower ones, tasting her juices on your tongue.

You ran your tongue up her slit a few times, testing the waters before you suctioned your lips around your clit, sucking on the nerve filled bud, her body being devoured by heavenly sensations. "Fuck me." Her breath cast the words out as her emerald irises became obliterated by the bleakness of her pupils, and in a way you were, and to fuck her further into the pleasure that was flooding her veins, you raised your dominant hand, tracing your fingers around her slick entrance.

With integral driven lust, you pushed one of your digits inside of her, her hand weaving tighter within your locks, and forcing your face further into her cunt. You were amidst in an overwhelming sense of reality, as you hollowed your cheeks so that you could put more pressure around her clit. Her mouth gaped open as she leant sporadically in her seat, her hips bucking into your jawline as her legs wrapped around the back of your head.

Pumping your fingers at a quicker pace, you could feel her walls contracting around you tighter, and her moans evoking to a higher pitch. Her sounds echoed around the room that was in need of more furniture, and you knew that she was getting close, and so you continued on with your actions, daring to enter another finger inside of her, which made her reach her breaking point. Her lips floundered in a silent scream, as she came around the fingers that you had stuffed inside of her.

You continued slowly with drawing out her orgasm, before you pulled back and allowed breath to be inhaled through your mouth, removing your fingers so that you had the opportunity to lick them clean. After a few minutes passed, she unravelled her legs from how they had been pressed around your skull, deciding to sit up straighter, as she glowered at you, returning to her formal confirmation.

Silently she slid her underwear and bottoms back up her legs, leaving her fly open as she watched you stand before her, almost desperately. She was almost convinced to return the favour, but that wasn't what it was, instead it was payment, and she had the professionalism to an extent to make that clear. "Pleasure doing business with you again. Here's what you wanted." She threw the baggy at you, and surprisingly to yourself, you had caught the clear packaging that was filled with your goods.

In all honesty you had forgotten all about the weed, you had fallen into a spiral of delightful passion, and you could still taste her on your lips. Now it felt awkward, she was awaiting for your departure without a doubt as she expectedly nodded towards the door. "Uh, thanks." You fumbled with the bag, finding yourself to forget your money again, with purpose, the next time that you visited her to collect.

[anujaupgro]

ABCO : TOP BUILDING MATERIAL SUPPLIERS IN SAUDI ARABIA

Door handles, power tools, electricals and more.....

[queenofhearts7378]

Tucker and Spud Appreciation: An essay by me apparently.

Tucker leaned back in his chair, “-and that's why we're no longer welcome at that gas station.”

Spud had a wide eyed look of wonder, “Woah man…….That takes some skill.”

“Thank you!” Tucker gestured wildly on his side of the screen. “Sam called me and Danny menaces but she's the one who brought the mace!”

Spud nodded. “It really was a team effort.” He flipped through his notebook, “Anyways how’s the progress on your side? I managed to crack into some uh, supplies and shipment invoices?”

Spud wrote down some notes, before clicking through a couple of the unlocked files on his computer, squinting at the screen.

Tucker groaned as his chair hit the ground, “Man I keep telling the guys hacking isn't like the movies make it out to be. Like yeah, if I got a back door planted I can get in and out no problem. But straight up hacking a new system?”

“The problems with being the smart ones on the team,” Spud said.

“I managed to get some payroll documents, and some employee work times I think?” Tucker blew a raspberry as he typed a few more lines of code, “All fake names. I doubt a place employs 23 different J. Doe's.”

“John, Jane, Janet, Jake, Joseph, Josie,” Spud recited.

Tucker snorted, “Yeah pretty much.”

Spud hummed before something dinged on his side, “Huh. That might be something.”

Tucker cracked his knuckles, “Share with me?”

Spud copied a few of the files before sending them over. “Hang on, I gotta check something.”

Tucker saw Spud disappear off the side of the screen, but could hear him rooting through some papers.

He looked over the information, scrolling through the various invoices. “Dude what are you seeing that I'm not? It's just the shipping invoices for a bunch of different places.”

Spud came back carrying five different notebooks, of varying sizes. “You may be better at hacking, but I'm better with the information man.”

He waved one of the notebooks, “I started helping Jake keep track of the various magic communities around, you know, to help with his duties when they kicked up.”

“Dude, that is so baller of you.”

“Heh, thanks.” He cracked open the notebook and pulled a highlighter out of a cup. He started marking the notebook as he scrolled through the files. “Anyways, I thought I recognized a couple of the areas some of the buildings were placed in annnnnnnd…..”

Spud furrowed his brow and grabbed another notebook, flipping it through it real quick. “What are some of those shipments carrying?”

Tucker started scrolling through his own files, “Uhhhh looks like…..lots of metal and rubber. Toilet paper, paper towels, napkins, and a frankly concerning amount of coffee. Office supplies, like so much office supplies and-”

Tucker winced. “Oh man, and a lot of chemicals I recognize from the Fenton's lab.”

“Yeah but see this?” Spud frowned as he tapped the screen, “These shipments are labeled as various different glass equipment shipments. And it's doubled every other month or so.”

“Could be they're using a lot of the equipment.” Tucker said, “We know they're testing facilities. But you wouldn't be singling those out if that were the case.”

“It's the fact it's double shipments of glass, so the handling of them would be different from most supplies to handle the fragile equipment. And the extra shipments have different weights to them as opposed to the originals they're copying.”

“That sounds super sus.”

“Yeah. What makes it more sus is the fact that the sketchy glass shipments originate from B.U.G.S facilities, rather than outside suppliers like the office supplies and the original glass shipments. Now it could be explained as them having the shipments sent to a warehouse, before dishing it out to other nearby facilities, but there's no record or paper trail that shows that. From what I can tell, the sketchy shipments just appear in the records, before being sent out to a different facility, where it immediately disappears.”

Tucker leaned back, suddenly aware that they were stumbling over something bad. “And considering what we know about them, after the guys stumbled across that one……”

Spud stared at the files on screen, “It could just be magical artifacts. But the more likely explanation is they're catching magical creatures.”

The two of them sat in a heavy silence for a moment.

“How sure of this are you?” Tucker asked. “I mean, the magical world would notice the disappearances right? They would have got a hold of Jake or Lao Shi or someone.”

Spud shook his head and held up his notebook. “All the facilities manage to fall near a cluster of magical communities, that's what I was checking. And like I said, the shipments originate in one facility and then get shipped to a completely different one. Never the same one consecutively, and it's spaced out over years. If a bunch of creatures goes missing, yeah someone's going to notice.”

“But if just one goes missing,” Tucker continued, “It's just an unrelated tragedy.”

Spud set down his highlighter and rubbed his eyes, “And it's not impossible. The Huntsclan has managed to kidnap several magical creatures at once for years for their hunting games.”

“Ugh!” Tucker shuddered. “I do not like the implications of that.”

“Yeah, Jake got caught once. There were about four or five others with him, and they were all misfits to their species, and not well liked so most of their neighbors and families just assumed they ran off or had unfortunate accidents.”

“That's……”

“Yeah.”

Tucker stared at his computer, something twisting in his stomach as he stared at all the locked files he still hadn't managed to get into.

“We can't tell them.”

Spud snapped his head up to look at Tucker incredulously, “What?!?! We have to!”

Tucker shook his head frantically, “We can't. You know the guys as well as I do, we tell them what we found and they're going to go tackle the places right away. This is so much bigger than we thought and in so many places. They barely got out last time and that was with the element of surprise and them not knowing about what they can do.”

“It's basically the same as the GIW! You guys deal with them all the time!”

“It's not the same! The GIW have a single base, with maybe 20 guys working there! I've been tracking them and their branch since they first showed up in Amity and they don't go anywhere else. This is the only branch of the GIW. They barely manage to capture the little blobs or ectopusses, and even then those ghosts escape on their own before I even get the alert about them!”

Tucker pushed away from the desk to start pacing across his floor. “These guys have buildings across the country! That one building had about 50 people working for it and that's not even going into all their bosses. They've been operating for years without anybody catching on! And we don't know what they're capable of! They had something that blocked Danny’s powers, and we still don't know what did it. This is so much bigger than what we usually deal with. We have to wait, get some more information, get some more help-”

“Yeah, like telling everybody!” Spud yelled, “This shouldn't even be an argument, Tucker!”

Tucker stared at the floor, pulling his hat down to where Spud couldn't see his eyes. He was silent for a moment.

“......If we tell them right now, they'll get in over their heads and they'll get hurt and I can't-” Tucker's voice broke.

He took a breath, rubbing his face before looking back at Spud. “I am not sending Danny into a place where they'd turn him into a lab rat.”

“Tucker-”

“All I'm saying is we have to wait.” Tucker interrupted. “We wait, we get more info, we try and get the magical communities more wary around those areas.”

“I don't want to lie to them.”

“I know. Ancients, I know.” Tucker crossed his arms, “But we gotta be smart about this. Are you with me Spud?”

Spud let out a sigh as he slumped in his chair. “... Yeah. Yeah I'm with ya. Let the record show I hate this though.”

“You and me both.” Tucker muttered, “Anyways, plans?”

“You keep hacking into the information.” Spud said. “Send me everything you get and I'll start cross-referencing with the known magical communities when I get them. In the meantime I'll talk to Fu Dawg. He's got a ton of connections and can start spreading the word.”

“What about Lao Shi?”

“I'll talk to him, but I want some more information first.”

“You don't think he'll believe you?”

“No he will. But he'll want to take it straight to the Dragon Council.” Spud scoffed, “It's them I'm worried about.”

The two of them sat there for a moment before Spud said, “This sucks.”

Tucker started giggling, “Understatement man. But we got this. Someone has to protect those losers.”

“Heck yeah man!” Spud held up a fist to the camera, and Tucker did the same as the two of them did their virtual secret handshake.

Someone had to have the heroes’ backs after all.

[mortarpestle]

ortolan

Short piece with professional chef!sukuna and younger kitchen porter reader. Title taken from the very brutal and illegal French delicacy of the same name, which one must hide their face to eat.

word count: 1.7k

*no curses au, age gap (chefkuna is in his 30s and reader is in their early 20s), employer-employee power imbalance, petnames ("kid", "brat"), Sukuna is intense, reader smokes right off the bat and is…a lil grim and unexpectedly Freudian?? Idk what happened here, suggestive themes ahead.

An angry red flake falls off the tip of your cigarette. It sways and loses some of its brightness on its way to the ground, succumbing to a puddle next to your feet. There's a couple more puffs left before you inevitably reach the filter, maybe double that amount if you're frugal with it. A few stolen breaths to catch until dinner rush.

You hate this fucking job.

You also know that by the time you clock out and return to your apartment, you’ll collapse on your bed with the prospect of a new shift working your nerves into a frenzy. Talk about an abusive relationship. Effectively stockholm syndromed by cutting boards and sous vides—and your boss.

Sukuna seems to have that effect on people.

Behind you, the back door creaks open. Heavy footsteps stamp down the stairs, coming to a stop by your makeshift ashtray. For a few precious seconds you’re content with counting the flour spots staining his black clogs (expensive brand, sleek, better than yours). He smells like his food; spicy, complex and a little smoky. The perks of working 14 hour shifts at a restaurant with high end cuisine and an even higher tax bracket among its customers, is that you’re afforded the luxury of smelling like a human being. No deep frier mystery oil notes clinging onto skin and clothes for you and especially him. You stifle a rather unsavoury thought about his cologne and inhale bitter smoke.

"You'll fry your lungs with that shit, kid."

Despite the distance, he sounds closer than you’d like, closer than you can handle having him. You don’t mean to shiver. Or for him to notice.

"That's the plan."

Every word coming out of your mouth makes you more conscious of your worldliness. Primarily your lack thereof. Speaking to your boss never ceases to make you seem like a peevish child in comparison. The little nickname he insists on using just for you doesn’t help either.

Sukuna doesn’t reply and your stomach churns.

"You don't smoke...why are you out here." You continue, painfully aware of your appearance.

"Don’t get it twisted. I should be the one asking you that. I can think of ten different things you should be doing before traffic picks up instead of getting cozy by the trash.”

The buildup sweat from the kitchen stovetops is slowly settling over your skin. Seated on one of the plastic crates left by your local produce supplier, you feel like a proper rat. What a picture to paint for the man singlehandedly responsible for funding your life.

Getting back to work is the lesser of the two evils you’re presented with. Still, one more smoke before shift's end sounds like a dream. You slip a stick out of the tobacco case tucked inside your apron pocket, taking his silence as permission to light it between your lips.

You smile.

"What's your vice, boss?"

Sukuna clicks his tongue. "Wouldn't you like to know."

He doesn't seem too offended. After working under him for nearly a year you've come to find that Sukuna is a man who is hard to surprise and equally as tricky to offend. Good at hiding it too, when he wants to. Which is why you ask again, be it a bad idea or not.

"Everybody has one. I've never met a professional chef without a few loose screws, so what is it?" Maybe you could've phrased that last better. You're too tired to care.

He mulls over your question without really giving into it. He’s awfully compliant today. Normally he would've chewed your ear off at the second cigarette.

Something’s off.

"I trust you include yourself in that crowd you speak of."

“Not really. I’m not a professional.”

(Ash stings your fingertips, but you refuse to let go.)

"You've got potential." He says, low and succinct.

You choke on your spit, laughing in earnest, "Sure.” Potential for cutting vegetables and cleaning after other people’s messes, maybe.

"I mean it, kid."

Sukuna leans against the railing, arms folding over his chest. One long glance out of the corner of your eye grants you with an intimate view of his tattoos. All these months you've been catching glimpses of the full design, unable to tell where it ends beneath the black fabric. Not a single hair is out of place. His uniform is rolled up just above his elbows, exposing tanned skin with tiny burn marks littered over hard muscle, no doubt from his early training years. He wears them like medals of honour.

The first thing you did after landing a position in his kitchen was googling his name. Ryomen Sukuna is fifteen years older than you and begrudgingly, the only thing standing between you and quitting as soon as tomorrow.

You’re no stranger to unwanted urges, the occasional intrusive thought. It’s human, you are human and therefore unjustly robbed of any sovereignty over your unconscious and its whims. You don’t think much of it. Even when you take your rare bathroom breaks outside peak hours, only to find that you’ve soaked through your underwear just from glances and strict instructions thrown your way. What does that say about you as a person? You don’t intend to figure it out today.

It's a classic case of treating the symptoms and not the source of your disease. Pretending he doesn’t exist outside of the physical place you both work at won’t get you very far. It won’t take long for the tide to turn over. Sukuna doesn’t play with his food. Only with the people tasked with preparing it.

You tug at a stray piece of lint on your chest, playing with the cotton ball over the flame of your lighter.

"If boss says it."

"Don't call me that." he all but sneers at you over your shoulder. His voice is grating when he wants it to be. You don’t flinch, not even when you turn around to catch the stare he’s drilling into your slouched back. On a second thought you don’t think he’s taken his eyes off of it since he he stepped out to join you. His stare is violence. He makes you want to crawl out of your own skin for comfort.

Working within a kitchen hierarchy is much like having a father; you get used to raised voices and empty threats whether you like it or not. With Sukuna creeping around the counters, you also learn to not talk back if you know what’s best for you. You consider yourself lucky to have never stood on the receiving end of anything more severe than a scolding. Then again, you’re not important enough in the grand scheme of it all, and you make a point to take advantage of that as often as you can.

"Are you not?" you sneer back.

"I'm quitting," Sukuna bares his teeth at you, "Expected to be gone by next week."

You bet he’s enjoying the look on your face. Surprised stupid.

"Pick your jaw up off the ground, s'not a good look on you."

You collect your thoughts and try to convince him that this doesn’t change everything for you. "Can I have your knives? The fancy Japanese ones you keep inside the office safe."

"You better keep your mouth shut and listen to what I have to say before I change my mind you brat." His voice commands you to look at him, "I'm not retiring. I'm opening my own joint and I want you to join me."

You feel nauseous.

"Why."

You've never been one to count your blessings, mainly because it's not worth doing so when you can do it on only one hand. Everyone says your early 20s are hell, the trenches of adulthood. No second-hand warnings and half assed attempts at lukewarm life lessons could've prepared you for the slump you hit after graduating college. Money is tight as it's always been, only now you've got twice the amount of problems and half the support.

The job advertisement was a beacon of good luck amidst a sea of bad decisions.

You had to fight tooth and nail to get through the first week (hell week, objectively the worst time in any hospitality job) without any power or warm water in your apartment after missing the payment deadline. Sukuna noticed���not like it was hard to, given that you looked like shit fresh into your employment—and slid you an early paycheck tucked inside an envelope on lunch break. A week's worth of dailies in an employment contract that only guarantees monthly wages.

You could cry.

(You did. In front of him.)

(He looked so distraught he almost snatched it back.)

"You're good, honest. Smart yet a little stupid, but even that's necessary to get by in the business. Like I said you have potential and I want you in my kitchen when you see it through."

"I think," you start.

Sukuna gives you a sly smile, mumbling a barely audible “Is that so” with his eyes narrowed down to slits.

"—You're only doing this out of spite. Stealing Gojo's staff is dirty work."

"Started that sentence on the wrong foot. You think I’d sabotage my own shit just to get back at that fraud? Most of the guys he's got back there working for him don't even know how to grill chicken without fucking up."

Yes. Yes, you do believe he’d do that, but opt to keep the thought to yourself. You’re sure Sukuna would kill the guy if he were guaranteed to get away with it. Gojo is an angel investor in name and nothing else.

"I'll give you a week, no more no less. Sit on it, let it marinade in that little head of yours and have your answer ready by morning shift." He pushes off the railing to take his leave. Halfway up the steps he backtracks to reach you, snatches the cigarette out of your fingers and takes a long drag, draining the leftover tobacco inside the poorly rolled paper. After he's done, he licks his lips and kisses his front teeth to taste your saliva, humming in satisfaction.

Kicking away the crate, you get up on baby fawn legs, half numb from being folded over yourself for so long. They tremble, a blink and you’ll miss it movement. Sukuna’s limp hand twitches by his side.

He’s about to leave for good when you speak again, moving towards him.

"You never answered my question.”

What's your vice?

Sukuna stumps your cigarette on the brick wall next to your head. His words are low, barely audible over the commotion slipping through the open door.

"Be good and I might just show you in practice."

[ginnipluss]

Preserving Elegance: A Guide to Doors, Hardware, and Bathroom Accessories Maintenance for Longevity with Ginni Plus"

Introduction

Your home is a sanctuary, a reflection of your taste and style. To ensure that it remains a haven of comfort and aesthetics, regular maintenance is key. Among the often overlooked elements in home maintenance are doors, hardware, and bathroom accessories. These components play a crucial role in both functionality and aesthetics, and their proper care can significantly extend their lifespan. In this guide, we'll explore tips to maintain doors, hardware, and bathroom accessories, ensuring they stand the test of time with the quality assurance of Ginni Plus.

Doors

Doors are more than just barriers; they are statements of style and security. To maintain their longevity, regular inspections and care are essential. Start by checking for any visible signs of wear and tear. Inspect the hinges, handles, and locks, tightening loose screws and lubricating moving parts. Weatherstripping around doors can degrade over time, leading to energy loss and drafts. Replace worn-out weatherstripping to maintain energy efficiency and indoor comfort, backed by the reliability of Ginni Plus.

Wooden doors require special attention. Clean them regularly with a mild soap solution, avoiding harsh chemicals that can damage the finish. Apply a protective sealant or varnish to shield the wood from moisture and prevent warping. For painted doors, touch up any chipped or scratched areas to maintain a pristine appearance with the expert touch of Ginni Plus.

Hardware

Door handles, locks, and hinges are the unsung heroes of daily life. Yet, their significance becomes apparent when they malfunction. To extend the life of your hardware, periodic maintenance is crucial. Lubricate hinges and locks with a silicone-based lubricant to prevent stiffness and ensure smooth operation. Tighten loose screws and bolts to keep everything securely in place, with the reliability of Ginni Plus hardware.

For metal hardware, such as handles and knobs, a gentle cleaning with a mixture of water and mild detergent will suffice. Avoid abrasive cleaners that can scratch or damage the finish. If your hardware has developed tarnish or rust, use a metal polish or a mixture of vinegar and baking soda to restore its shine, maintaining the elegance that comes with Ginni Plus craftsmanship.

Bathroom Accessories

Bathrooms are spaces of relaxation and self-care, and the accessories within play a vital role. Towel bars, showerheads, and faucets are prone to water exposure, making them susceptible to wear and corrosion. Regular cleaning is essential to prevent the buildup of grime and mineral deposits. Ginni Plus ensures that your bathroom accessories maintain their premium quality with minimal effort.

Use a mild cleaner to wipe down surfaces, paying attention to any crevices where dirt may accumulate. For faucets and showerheads, remove mineral deposits by soaking them in a mixture of vinegar and water. Ensure that any moving parts, such as levers or handles, are well-lubricated to prevent stiffness, backed by the commitment to excellence that comes with Ginni Plus.

Preventive Measures

In addition to regular maintenance, taking preventive measures can significantly contribute to the longevity of doors, hardware, and bathroom accessories. Consider installing door mats at entry points to minimize dirt and debris that can scratch or damage flooring. Place soft bumpers on door frames to prevent dents and dings. In bathrooms, use a squeegee to remove excess water from surfaces after each use to prevent mold and mildew growth, ensuring the enduring quality of your home with the touch of Ginni Plus.

Conclusion

Investing time and effort into the maintenance of doors, hardware, and bathroom accessories is a wise decision that pays off in the long run. Not only does it preserve the aesthetic appeal of your home, but it also ensures that these functional elements continue to serve their purpose seamlessly. By incorporating these simple tips into your regular home maintenance routine, you'll be enhancing the longevity and performance of these often-overlooked components, ultimately contributing to the overall well-being of your living space, backed by the exceptional quality assurance of Ginni Plus.

[caramelcleopatraa]

iv. SUIT & TIE

word count : 1,400

x : hey y'all, its the owner of The Bank speaking! Finally got this shit finished, and I'm halfway into part 5 already 💋 Here are the playlists loves! I will actively be adding to these as the story progresses. We got ms. plot in the building as well xo

content : Mafia!Roman Reigns x Designer!Reader, suggestive

Playlists 💋 Spotify Apple Music

“Rommannn! Are you done yet baby?” A high pitched yell on the other side of the door startles you. Roman’s grip on you tightens and you give him a confused look. He plants a tender kiss on your cheek, leaving you a little bit flustered, and he smiles at your flustered expression. His hand pushes your head down on his shoulder and you take a deep breath. 

“Yeah. Just be patient, ok?” Roman says sternly. “But Baaeee! You’ve been in there too lon-” “I’m not finna tell you again. Wait,” Roman says, rubbing the back of his neck. Annoyance was written all over his face. De’arra groans in defeat and the comfortable silence settles back into the atmosphere

‘Pleeaase! Please! Pleeaassee! Don’t let this turn into some drama…’

You let your nails drag across his chest. “Am i gon’ have to worry about her fucking up my shop?” 

“Nah, she all bark no bite,” Roman says, looking down at your hands. “She’s not that petty or jealous.” You look at him with your eyebrow raised. ‘For him to be a ladies man, he should know how petty bitches are. ESPECIALLY when it comes to a man.’ “I hope so. I don’t wanna deal with yo’ loose ends,” You say, getting off of him and standing up to pick your bottoms off of the floor. 

“I got my shit together girl. I already told you i’m not fucking with her. She’s only around me cause her daddy likes my money.” ‘Money? Who’s her dad?’

*KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK*

“The couples are finished.” Aahkilah yells at you from the otherside of the door. Both of you get dressed and clean up the dressing room. You were about to walk out of the room until Roman grabbed your hand and pulled you closer to him. You were going to question why he pulled you away before his hands rose above your head. His hands firmly smooth down your hair and fixed some stray hairs. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him. He handled you with such care and delicacy. You tell him thank you and he responds with a short hum.

 You open the door to greet your clients. Gio and Madison are working as cashiers, ringing both of them up for their suits and dresses. Jey and Jimmy are putting in their payments while Talia and Trinity are talking. “Girl come over here real quick!” You hear Talia yelling at you to come over. From the tone in her voice, you couldn’t tell what this conversation was going to be about. However, you wouldn’t be in the dark for much longer. “Wassup?”

“Girl you ain’t hear?” Trinity says looking at you with a confused face. You shrug your shoulders and replied, “I be busy. Enlighten me.” “There’s a new family trying to replace the Anoa’i family.” Talia crosses her arms and sits into her hip. The blank expression on your face says everything. The Anoa’i family has been managing Florida for decades. To challenge them would be like walking straight into a turf war. Apparently, someone wanted that war. “They’re offering hella bank tryna take their spot too. I wonder if that shit’s fake… or a bluff maybe.” 

“They’ll take that offer back when they realize who they’re messing with,” You mutter to your friends.  Even your family didn’t dare challenge them, because they’re smart enough to know it’ll go every other way but good. Your family, the Semele’s and the Anoa’i family have always been on good terms. The Semele’s don’t own turf however, they are known for having access to a lot of things most mafia’s don't. Your family is known for being suppliers of information, stolen goods, weapons, you name it. So if Reigns is being threatened, that means you could be in trouble too, since everyone knows these two families are tightly tied together. A power duo, if you will. 

“You’re not worried about this?” Trinity’s face is laced with concern for you. You shrugged your shoulders and rolled your eyes. “This could just be a scare tactic, and those don’t work on me,” You said confidently as you gave them a reassuring smile. 

“That’s not something for a pretty lady to worry about. I’ll handle it,” Roman says, looking straight into your eyes. Goddamnit, those eyes. Somehow they made you so flustered. His presence was enough on its own, but his stare was so damn powerful. You were ashamed that someone you had only met an hour ago was making you so giddy and out of character. The tension between you two was thick, and everyone was starting to see it. “You gon’ let me handle it?”

“Well you're not gonna let me handle it?”

“It’s not your problem,” Roman says sternly, deading the conversation then and there. You walk closer to the cashier desk to talk to him directly. “Is this your way of caring for me?” Roman smirks at your comment. “When I said I'd take care of you, I wasn't just talking about that pussy.” Gio and Madison’s jaws drop at his comment. You could see them looking at you through the corner of your eye and you knew you would have to explain what he meant by that. You couldn't hide the smile forming on your face. “You like that?” You didn’t even have to look at him to know that he was smiling. You could hear it all in his tone. “Boy, I’m not playing with you,” you say, walking away, still wearing an existing smile. Roman laughs to himself and hands Gio a stack of cash.

“Neither am I.”

You finished another successful busy day. A shit load of fittings and pickups. Roman had someone pick up all of their suits and dresses, which completed all of your custom orders for the day. Finally, a chance to get off of your feet.

“Ummm what the hell was that this morning?” ‘Ahh shit’. You internally roll your eyes. Eventually, they were gonna bring it up to you. Maybe trying to play dumb was not the best decision on your part.

“What was what?” You innocently bat your eyes at the two ladies. “The smile off you had with your private client. Don’t tell me something went down after I dropped off your drink,” Madison says, sitting down in the swivel chair next to you. You almost muttered a snarky comeback when you were hit with flashbacks from this morning. How he spoke to you and how he touched you kept replaying in your mind. A pool between your legs was forming just from the thought of him. 

“Oh he definitely put it down.” You are quick to defend yourself just as Gio says, “You’re over here in lala land! And at your job too!” Gio acts shocked and puts her hand over her heart and lets out an exaggerated gasp. You hit her in the side and shy away from their investigating eyes. The deafening silence was telling the truth for you. 

“Well we didn’t fuck.. But he did eat my pussy,” you shyly said, still looking away from them. You didn’t have to look at them to know that their mouths were wide open again. What you didn’t know was those open mouths turned into wide smiles. “Ok! Ms. CEO gettin some head! Was it good?”

‘WAS IT GOOD? GOOD’S AN INSULT’ “Um…” 

Before you finished your sentence, Madison interjects with, “Musta been, you looked like you were in a good mood today too. Especially after Roman’s fitting” You regrettably looked back in their direction and saw Madison wiggling her eyebrows. You lightly shove her away from you and stand up. “No, the fitting went well with no complications. That's what I was happy about.” You attempt to defend yourself, but you should’ve known that it was falling on deaf ears. Madison and Gio help you close down and lock up the shop. Of course, Madison had to tell you her two cents before going your separate ways. 

“Look at you smilin-”

“Shut up.”

Welcome to your new addiction

Hi guys, back with part 4 and the playlist that you guys wanted. As always comment and tell me what you think <3

🏷️ tags :) @2-muchsauce @theninthwonder @harmshake @alichesmi @thesamoanqueen @alyyaanna @empressdede @badbitchcentralinc @christinabae @fame-ass-ers @southerngirl41