#it has cardboard wings... absolutely no other wings under that cloak for sure

[lexydakitten]

its a sandwing :D

Mostly yellow hivewing with a tail stinger in the scorpion den wearing a big cloak and pretending they are a sandwing. End of post

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[helliontherapscallion]

A Surrealistic Life (Adrenaline Junkie Part 17)

Part 1     Part 2     Part 3     Part 4     Part 5     Part 6     Part 7     Part 8     Part 9     Part 10     Part 11     Part 12     Part 13     Part 14     Part 15     Part 16

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: swearing, derealization, depression, grief, blood, mentions of death, nightmares, panic attacks

Word count: 3,385

                                          ✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

You cried in Philza’s arms for hours on end until you couldn’t cry anymore. Your head was left pounding and your throat scratchy from the loud crying, but you didn’t care. Nothing mattered anymore, without Arthur you were nothing. The past two and a half years just- just didn’t exist. Your mind was still reeling, the words ‘will you always be with me?’ echoing through your mind constantly filling you with guilt. 

With one last shuddering inhale, you separated yourself from Philza and wiped at the tears that had long since dried on your face. His eyes, vigilant as ever, scanned your form looking for any sign of distress. In his eyes, you saw pity and grief. This angered you, you didn’t need his pity; you were long past the point of pitiful glances. Well, you were, he wasn’t. 

You purse your lips as you watch his eyes flick between your wing and where your other wing was supposed to be. Sorrow flashes in his eyes before he looks back at you with a small, painfully fake smile. With one hand, he gently pushes your shoulder down back onto the bed and stands up. 

“I’ll be back, you get some rest.” 

With the slightest hint of a nod, you watched as he lingered in the doorway before hesitantly walking out of your room. After he left your room, you locked the door behind him. That door remained locked for weeks on end, every knock or attempt at conversation was never answered by you. Their words were nothing but background noise in the back of your mind. 

Instead of responding, you would lay in bed staring at the ceiling with unfocused eyes thinking about nothing but everything you’ve lost. Only occasionally you would leave your room to attend to your most basic needs when you were sure that everybody was asleep or out of the house. 

The days meshed together as your thoughts consume you in a whirlwind of unorganized messes. Several times, you’ve worked yourself into panic attacks and paranoia filled spiraling because you didn’t know what was real anymore. 

Being left alone with your thoughts was something that you always avoided by constantly tinkering with contraptions, your thoughts wandered off to places that greatly disturbed you. But now, you let those thoughts wash over you without a care. Your dreams reflected this; they were plagued with images of Arthur looking up at you with large puppy dog eyes and a large smile before he would be sucked into darkness screaming for you to help him, to do anything, but you were always glued in place leaving you to watch helplessly as he left you over and over again. 

Another common one you would have is Arthur getting lost in a bellowing snowstorm in the dead of night. You would be wandering through thick snow calling his name until you would come across a small, pale hand peeking out of an abnormal lump of snow; dread would always fill you during those dreams, it was a parent’s worst nightmare to lose their child.

Other dreams, though very rare, would be pleasant; whether they were about you and Arthur whistling a small tune as you both invented something or a small picnic on the cliff laughing freely into the air, you would always wake up in the mornings prepared to greet him and cook breakfast with him. It wasn’t until you moved your right arm and found that it had limited mobility that you realized that everything was a dream.

You hated those dreams, they always gave you a false sense of hope that everything was okay. Nothing is okay, absolutely nothing. 

You refused to believe that… whatever was going on didn’t happen; Philza had said that the last few years had been fake, something that your mind had made up as some form of coping mechanism, but who’s to say that this isn’t a hallucination as well? Both your experiences felt completely different from each other, this reality could be the hallucination for all you knew. 

The only thing on your mind was how you needed to get back to Arthur in any possible way you could. If Arthur didn’t exist in this reality, you didn’t want to be in it. You need him and he needs you, you didn’t want to imagine a reality without him. If you got yourself into this by dying, perhaps that was your ticket back to him. Perhaps there was a way to reverse this. 

You were going to get your son back, and you were going to die trying. 

Until then, you just have to wait out your family. They’d just stop you in the end and you couldn’t have that. You’d have to put on an act that you were perfectly fine and that would entail inventing everything over again, but you were fine with that; if you made it once, you can make it again. 

With a newfound sense of purpose, you searched your closet for your old cloak but then you remembered you got your cloak weeks after your first death. Groaning to yourself, you settled for your old bomber jacket. The slits in the back of it wouldn’t cover your nub, so you awkwardly tucked it underneath the fabric of the cloth. It shot pain down your spine, but you shook it off; the pain was something you could handle, you’ve had worse. 

Without another thought, you quietly left your room with only one destination in mind. 

--------------------------------------------------

You softly padded down the basement stairs towards your workshop. When you arrived at the bottom of the stairs, you paused and looked around. The walls that were once covered with sloppy sketches and words written in two different handwritings, both equally as messy and rushed, were barren for the most part; you forgot that the walls were painted an off white color. Your filing cabinets were gone, replaced with cardboard boxes containing old clothes and toys with thick layers of dust sitting peacefully on top of them. The crafting table sat in the corner of the room wasn’t worn, in fact it looked brand new, not a scratch could be seen on the surface. 

Everything was wrong. 

You numbly walked over to your desk and picked up the paper that laid on it, holding it up to the light. It was the first draft to your TNT launcher. The sight of the crude, minimal sketches made you cringe, it was far too messy; you had no idea how you could make out what your sloppy handwriting pointed to or what materials were supposed to go where. 

You dropped the paper and let it flutter to the floor without a care. Your eyes flickered over the desk and eyed the notebook sitting on top of a stack of spare papers. A spark of hope ignited inside of you, this was the notebook Arthur so often doodled in with different ideas of what could be invented. 

You snatched it and flipped the front cover over with haste. A wide smile stretched your lips when you caught sight of the small handwriting that littered the page. It was yours, but you had given it to Arthur so that he could learn and copy from your early years. It was perfect for a blueprint template, neat and organized. 

However as you flipped through the book, your smile dropped and the little hope that flared in your chest was snuffed out. You stared at the blank page as frustration built up inside of you. Before you knew it, you threw the notebook at the opposite wall as hard as you could. You were left standing in the middle of the cold basement with your chest heaving and your teeth gritted. 

Everything was so wrong. So, so wrong. 

You heard footsteps thunder down the stairs before they came to a stop behind you. Hesitant footsteps made their way over to you, you didn’t even have to turn around to know who it was. 

“(Y/n)? Is everything-”

“Nothing is okay, Tommy,” you gritted out, “absolutely nothing about this is okay.” 

He said nothing as he walked around you and put his hand on your clenched fist, his fingers curling around yours and opening your hand. Your palm stung slightly as you glanced down at it. Four small, crescent shaped cuts were imprinted on your skin slowly starting to glisten with blood. 

Huffing, you ripped your hand out of his grasp and glanced at his face. You caught yourself doing a double take as you saw just how innocent he looked. No sign of hidden pain in his shining blue eyes, no scars littering his skin, and the bags that once made him look years older was nonexistent. He was your annoying, gremlin of a little brother again. He was Tommy again. 

You watched as his eyebrows furrowed and his head tilted slightly, “why are you looking at me like that?” 

“No reason,” you breathed out before you shook your head trying to rid your mind of your frustrations, “no reason at all…”

He awkwardly coughed and nodded slightly, “right…”  

You cleared your throat and glanced off to the side at the book laying on the floor. Tommy’s eyes followed where you were looking and went to pick it up. You felt a twinge in your heart as he started to flip through it much like you did earlier. He looked up at you with furrowed brows, “why’d you throw this? What’d the book do to you?” He jokingly asked you. 

“It didn’t do anything and that’s the problem,” you mumbled out before you snatched the book out of his hands and tossed it into the trash can. 

“Why are you acting so weird? I know you just died and all, but you never let that notebook out of your sight and now you’re just tossing it into the bin!” Tommy fished it out of the trash can and haphazardly placed it back onto your desk on top of the stack of unused paper. You could feel your eye twitch at it’s placement before you threw it away again. 

“Leave it there, I don’t want it. I won’t need it anymore anyways,” you murmured under your breath. 

“Why wouldn’t you need it- wait, don’t tell me you’re quitting working with redstone. Cuz I’ll have you know that you’re going to be the best goddamned inventor this gods forsaken world has ever known and-”

“I’m not going to quit,” you interrupted him, “trust me, I’ll need whatever I can make. I just… don’t need it anymore, I already know exactly what I need to make.” I can’t stand the sight of Arthur’s notebook so empty and blank your mind supplied yourself. 

He tilted his head slightly, “even without the bluepri-”

“Even without the blueprints,” you curtly nodded and automatically turned to look at the bulletin board hanging above your desk only to sigh when you once again saw that it was barren. “I made these things thousands of times before, I know what I’m doing,” your gaze zeroed in on the half finished blueprint for your automatic crossbow, “I’ll just make them again.” 

Tommy once again looked at you with furrowed brows and inquisitive eyes, you could just see the curiosity and confusion swimming around in his baby blue orbs, “what do you mean, you literally only have one prototype of everything on here.” 

“You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you, so just drop it.” You hadn’t meant to snap at him like that, but the frustration was just too overwhelming to ignore. Just as you could see him start to get dejected from the corner of your eye, you made quick work of changing the subject.

“You know, I could hear what you said when I wasn’t awake. I really appreciated the music, it was a nice change of pace.”

He tensed before his eyes were drawn to the empty space over your shoulder. His breath hitched slightly as a sorrowful look appeared in his eyes. Looking back at you, he grabbed your shoulder and pulled you into a tight hug. You didn’t struggle against him despite your frustrations, you knew he needed you right now. You could still remember how broken he was when you were unconscious. The way his lip wobbled slightly before he hugged you reminded you of Arthur. 

You gently hugged him back and wrapped your wing around him. He gripped you tighter, his breath shuddering as wetness started to hit your head. You said nothing as you started to hum and run your fingers along his back tracing out patterns without a particular one in mind. 

Eventually, he pulled away from you and chuckled sardonically, wiping his tears away with a fist, “you’re the one who died and I’m the one being comforted. Gods, it’s pathetic.” 

“It’s okay to feel emotions, Tommy. You should never bottle them up, it sounded like you needed a good hug anyways. I’m happy to give you that,” you softly told him.  

He said nothing as he crossed his arms and shifted on his feet, avoiding your gaze. For a moment, your tall brother was replaced by a short, red haired boy wearing that same expression. You purse your lips in thought, your previous frustrations completely gone and replaced with an urge to comfort him or at least distract him. Though a deep sadness dragged your body down at the thought of Arthur, Tommy just reminded you too much of him. It was eerily uncanny in your opinion.

Ideas swarmed your head as you thought back to how you comforted Arthur when he fell down. Besides talking to him, you would always teach him something; knowledge to Arthur is- was like a sponge absorbing water. It gave him a distraction to whatever got him down, maybe that would work for Tommy as well. 

Wordlessly, you walked over to your desk and gestured for him to follow you. You plopped him into your office chair and pulled one of the cardboard boxes up to the desk. In the process, you grabbed your gloves, goggles, and everything you would need to set up a simple timed piston. The smallest spark of happiness flashed inside you as you saw that your resources were fully stocked. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Well, Tommy, I’m going to show you how to set up one of my favorite redstone mechanisms. Put these on,” you handed him the gloves and goggles and watched as he put them on. The goggles were a bit small on him, but besides that, everything fit him. 

“Now, you’re going to want to…”

--------------------------------------------------

Hours passed as you both worked together on the contraption. Slowly, you could see Tommy loosening up and making more jokes, successfully distracted. However, you didn’t expect yourself to follow suit. Laughter came easier to you whenever Tommy would joke around, your troubles long forgotten. 

It took a little longer than you were used to, but eventually Tommy started to follow along with the precision you’d expect from a beginner. Slowly but surely, with many mistakes along the way, there was a working piston system sitting on the desk. 

Tommy triumphantly laughed into the air as he watched the pistons work in tandem with one another. You laughed alongside him and ruffled his hair, “nice job, Artie! I knew you could do it!” 

Tommy completely stopped and looked at you in confusion, “‘Artie’? Who’s that?” 

You completely froze in place, you hadn’t meant to call him Artie. He was Tommy, he was your blond little brother, not your ginger son. Tommy was his own person, he was Tommy, not Arthur. You mentally scolded yourself for constantly mixing the two up. 

“Artie is- well, he’s just… Arthur is my old friend,” you stammered out after tripping over your words clumsily. Tommy couldn’t find out about Arthur, nobody could. That’d just ruin your plan. 

He snorted, “sure, ‘old friend’. You know, if Dad finds out that you’re dating someone he’d ground you for life.” 

“I’d never date anybody, you know that,” you scolded him with your nose wrinkled in disgust. “He’s just an old friend and you remind me of him.”

“Well, old friend or not, he sounds amazing if I remind you of him!”

You smiled sadly as your mind flashed to images of Arthur at various points in his life, “he really was, you would’ve loved him, Tommy. He might’ve been the best person I’ve ever met.” 

“Why don’t you tell me about him? I can preen your wings-” Tommy abruptly stopped himself and looked like he’d just accidentally kicked a puppy, looking at you with wide eyes and red tinted cheeks. 

Just as he started opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water, you chuckled at his expression, “you’re fine, Tommy. It’s just going to take some time for you to get used to this,” you shifted your wing and cringed at the uncomfortable feeling. You haven’t preened your wings since before you left for the cave nearly two months ago, and your wing was a mess of bent and loose feathers. “I’d… actually like a good preening, are you sure you know how to do it?” 

“Please,” he scoffed before pushing you to sit down in your desk chair, “I’ve seen you and Dad do it to each other thousands of times, I think I know what I’m doing.” 

“That isn’t how that- you know what? Just go ahead. Make sure you get any loose feathers and straighten them out,” you stretched your wing out and hoped for the best. Tommy surprisingly did a decent job of straightening out feathers, he just had to work on distinguishing loose feathers from intact feathers (you were now missing a couple of smaller feathers). 

The entire time, you were telling him how amazing your boy was. Sure, you might’ve overexaggerated just a little bit, but Arthur was certainly someone that deserved the praise. That kid was something else, truly a prodigy at both redstone and compassion. Leaving out the fact that Arthur was your adopted son and that he was ten years old was a little hard, but you managed to avoid that. 

You could tell that Tommy knew something was different about you, but you guessed that he just assumed the changes were because of your death and not because you were technically two and a half years older than you physically are. 

When he was done, you looked at your wing and you were pleasantly surprised at how well he did; sure there were a few loose feathers and they were partially crooked, but you could tell that Tommy did his best with them. 

“Thanks, Toms,” you smiled at him after you tucked your wing back in, “I really appreciate you doing that, it was starting to bother me.”

“It’s no problem,” he puffed out his chest in pride, “I told you I knew what I was doing.” 

“And I’m sorry for ever doubting you. Who knows, maybe Dad’ll let you do his wings next.” 

“Oh gods no,” Tommy shuddered slightly, “his are massive and he has two of them! If doing yours took me an hour and a half, I’d hate to see how long it’d take me to do his.” 

You cringed, remembering the last time you preened his wings. Though you were experienced, it had taken you two full hours for each wing. “Yeah, his wings are huge. Gods, I hope my wing doesn’t get to be that size.” Though they grew to be nowhere near Philza’s wingspan when you were in that reality, you weren’t sure if yours was going to be larger or smaller than what they were. 

Just as Tommy was about to open his mouth to respond to you, Wilbur’s voice echoed down the stairwell, “Tommy, dinnertime!” 

“Well c’mon then, let’s go. I’ll race you there,” was all Tommy said to you before he bolted up the stairs with a booming laugh, skipping every third step. You could feel your heart stop when he almost tripped on one of the stairs because he skipped too many. Rushing after him, you shouted at him, “Tommy, walk! You’re going to break your neck if you keep running up and down the stairs!”

                                         ✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

Taglists (if your name is italicized, it means I couldn’t tag you. Comment with the taglist you want to be tagged in if you want to be tagged :D):

General (tagged in all fics):

@crybabyjabby  @izzybobizzy13  @goldenstarofthunderclan  @bunnyz-pxstel  @averytiredfanfictionwriter  @dcml04  @sparkling-gayyyy  @bbigbbrainn  @thaticecreambish  @kiinokochii  @satansphatass  @bxkubitch @bxmentchildxx  @roxy3457  @montygator17  @feverish-dove  @the-fictionwriters-hairdo  @jichuuchaeng  @404rynnotfound @luluwinchester  @laura--444  @the-cult-classic-bitch  @youngstarfishdinosaur  @nottheotheruser  @ohworm-writes  @localwolfanon  @realitycanbeajerk  @v10dw4lk3r  @esylwen  @seraphsema  @boiled-onionrings  @smolgreenybeany  @louistommosnesquickmilk  @hyacinthrosearsha  @ryxjxnnx  @autumnpleaves  @ravennightingaleandavatempus  @0ton1n  @self-righteous-dumbass  @a-simp-for-block-people  @fortunatelylazystranger  @m1lkmandan  @mirios-sunflower  @ahmya-4  @shinipii  @noyasblush  @auroraskyfall  @cryptocry  @hee-hee-haw  @blackstar-gazer @serendipityryn

Gender neutral reader:

@totem-awooga  @parkeepingparker @whatislifebutlemons @kittymaniacz

SBI:

@afifaj

Adrenaline Junkie:

@acecarddraws  @dirtydiavolo  @yeiras-world  @immadatmostthings  @hee-hee-haw  @jackalopedoodles  @vanhakirja  @im-a-depressed-gay  @coolleviauchihadreamerlove  @questioning-sanity  @camisascam  @bongwaterflavoredgatorade  @kakamiissad  @jayistrash4  @lifestylesleep  @speedymaximoff  @sun-shark-tooth  @appetiteofapeoplepleaser  @lestrangenymph  @kinismanditory  @dragons-lurk-here  @rinzyx05  @the-wandering-pan-ace  @angelic-scent  @dont-hug-me-im-a-fander  @izzydimensional  @used-avocado  @wing-non  @lovely-echoo  @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual  @mysteryartisticwriter  @momo-has-a-gun  @misfortunatem00n  @w-0-r-n-n  @v-kouya @kusuinko  @cheybaee  @dulcedippers  @jaciahbabes  @prlan  @hummingbird-lightningstrike  @pog-sad-muffin @mystyxmess @thegeekisheere @solar-idiot  @yummychicknnugget @aikochan4859 @lofiisoul @deadroses2021  @iamsunshinesnowflake @xxtwizztedxx @izuruamme @reeeeeeeeeeeeeee @insanitybuff 

[a-writing-bear]

[AmeriPan] Chapter 1: The ‘Hell on Earth’ Task Agency

Ao3 Link:

http://archiveofourown.org/works/13286367

This Has been cross-posted onto Ao3 under Aliases: BearBooper

You can read this Fic on tumblr under ‘Keep Reading’

Fandom: Hetalia Axis Powers

Main Pairing: Alfred F. Jones & Kiku Honda (America & Japan)

AU:  Demon AU/HellTaskAgency!AU - Demon!America & Businessman!Japan

Age Rating/Mature:  Teen And Up Audiences (12+ due to mentions of mature themes as well as swearing)

Trigger Warnings: None in this chapter (Future addiction to mention themes such as crime, murder, corruption etc.)

Summary: The ‘Hell on Earth’ Task Agency is a project run by the Underworld offices in hopes of integrating localised haunting and corruption on earth by assigning Demons a human identity in order to get closer to their victims- err…persons of interests, thus creating a more sustainable and longlasting reign of chaos over mankind.

Alfred and his brother had been assigned to this new department of hell after a small disagreement with his higher-ups. Now tasked with pushing a Japanese businessman to screw over a major tech company and overall commit a huge betrayal to the human’s friend, Alfred discovered humans are more complex than just souls ready to commit sins.

“Hah, The landlord tried to flirt with me.” the door behind him slammed, pushing into the room he flopped onto their new blood red couch, “She even called me ‘devilishly handsome’! If she only knew.” His company who was busy fixing up their new home let out a chuckle himself. It seems to be that people of late, have severely forgotten that the power of seduction was genuinely a tool of the devil; which by all means is an incredibly worrying thing to forget. Of course, the lowest setting a demon could maintain was a great amount of attraction that he could naturally elicit from any passing victim - Alfred, being the good rascal he was, tried not to draw too much attention to his otherworldly skill, or at least attempt to not use it to sway over his new human companions. Now that he thought about it, Matthew could have made it easier for the both of them if he had just flirted with the real estate agent…but of course his twin’s attempt to ‘get used to mankind’ got in the way of easy living, as if creatures like them could be apart of this whole ‘humanity’ thing.

It just didn’t make sense to have demons residing on Earth.

Not that he wasn’t used to earth, he had been overloaded with useless duties and tasks of tricking people into convoluted sins before, however whispering into a teen’s ear to lie or persuading a priest to lust was entirely different to actually interacting with their former victims. There would no longer be any more retreats back to the underworld.

“Why the FUCK did we agree to this again?” he groaned out to his fellow being who had been mulling over their belongings. Matthew had sighed, answering uninterested as he unpacked a cardboard box which had bluntly been labelled ‘Ritual Candles’. “ I didn’t agree to anything. You got us stuck up here. If you hadn’t complained about our last assign-” Alfred whined once more, his new body heaved in a grumpy manner. Ruffling his new golden locks of hair he lamented his past decision regrettably.

He didn’t mean he found things boring, he had only complained to Arthur that hovering around unemployed youths and deranged psychopaths was…too easy. His brother and himself were young demons capable of changing the world, of creating more chaos! And his complaints absolutely did not mean transfer the duo to the Hell on Earth Task Agency (HETA for short). The green-eyed devil who had been their handlers decided that this ‘small complaint’ of his deserved unfair treatment - a sentence to a 200 year assignment based in the worst conditions: Living among man and playing pretend human to conduct more research into integration programs. Recently the underworld has become open to the idea of placing task forces onto earth long term in order to proceed with mischief in a localised constant area - HETA was notorious for making talented demons die of overwork as it seemed that to create long-term issues through small factors was apparently harder than people thought.

One thing that was strange about working with HETA was they weren’t allowed to use cloaking anymore and instead were given human forms to fit in - no one would trust horned winged monsters if they saw one anyway. It was fitting that he and Matthew looked similar, ‘twins’ even in these bodies, but the differences were more prominent in the new forms - while he had been clad in a bomber jacket the other was given a red hoodie, his brother was given a pretty shade of strawberry-blonde hair while his shone like gold in light, both charming in their own ways. Honestly, Alfred felt guilty as he had dragged his brother into this mess and could hear the clear disgruntled murmurs of ‘I miss my wings’ or ‘Fuckin-why did they give us glasses?’ but they had always been a duo. It didn’t make sense for them to be split up so Arthur had allowed the request for both the boys to be transferred.

As if a miracle (Did God even grant miracles to demons?) Alfie had struck solid luck as his assigned victim- er ‘Research Candidate’ was a 24 yr old Japanese man destined to ruin betray his friend’s business. Sounds fun. According to the profile given, Kiku was not exactly innocent but not clearly sinful to the point where he had already been given a ticket to hell.

You Have Been Assigned to:

Name - Kiku Honda

Age - 24

Sexuality - Unconfirmed (Pending)

Summary -

Business and Tech Grad, Recently moved to America to work with his friend’s expanding company, HyperTech. Has conceived thoughts of deception and thievery via betrayal, Set to go. Quiet and reserved.

Task -

Assist Honda to claim control of HyperTech within 20 years in order to allow for corruption scandal in year 2XXX.

Alfred hummed contently, his target appeared relatively interesting, not to mention the photo of the guy was good-looking, although the report’s statement in terms of the man’s preference was a blur. That didn’t matter, sometimes if lust couldn’t convince then greed surely coaxed humans into silly games. Besides, this man was a typical businessman….yawn. Had he to follow an overzealous money muncher? Did Matthew get a better pick?

“Yo Mattie, who did Artie assign you?

Nonchalantly Matthew recalled the info from this folder: “A banker and his personal assistant. Siblings too.”

“Yikes. What’s your end goal? I’m guessing it’s not petty thievery..”

“Nah they’ve committed that already- the brother has contemplated murder, his younger sister’s also in the same boat. Apparently, it ties into your case.” Alfred looked at his brother in awe, envying how he had been given 2 targets with a higher chaos rating, way cooler than his pitiful 1 target corruption. Tutting with annoyance he got up from the woven couch and assisted his brother with unpacking their materialised goodies they had brought from the afterlife.

Mornings- contrary to popular belief- always sucked, Nevermind the fact it was an unusually bright clear New York city morning. Usually, Kiku was organised enough to leave his apartment full on a good breakfast and a mind ready to sit down over paperwork his fellow co-workers dumped on him yet today was just not vibing well with him. He wondered if he should just call in sick, deciding not to as he realised Yao would skin him alive for trying to lie (they’ve known each other long enough to tell when one is acting). Call it the ‘friday spirit’ or whatever he managed to get up. It took every ounce of motivation to roll out of bed and change into a pressed suit for an early morning meeting. Leaving his clean and immaculate apartment, The Japanese man had fumbled into the hallway with distracted disinterest over a handful of business documents. Bumping into a tall yet less than a graceful figure who had been carrying a heavy box, they had both been caught off guard.

Just as the Asian nearly fell face forward to almost crumpling his nice suit, the mystery man had grabbed him by his satchel, quickly pulling him back before he touched the hallway floor. Kiku turned to say a polite thank you, only to find what must be the biggest and goofiest grins he had ever witnessed. Introducing himself, the American man, now known as Alfred, explained he was to be a new neighbour along with his sibling and that he would expect to ‘see each other around’. Kiku hoped his monotone face and his friendly hum in reply would suffice as he was already running late. Yao was gonna kill him.

Hastily he bidded farewell to the new occupants and made his way to the elevator, dusting off his shirt and readjusting his satchel. it was only then he realised his cheeks were warm. There was something interesting about Alfred. Shaking his head, Kiku huffed and somehow got to the office with five minutes to spare. A small smile and slight of the head towards the secretary, he entered the meeting room just in time to face his childhood friend, rival(?) and boss all in one.

“ おはようございます, Yao before you interrupt me: Yes I’m later than usual. Not Late though.”*

That teasing smug face melted into an expression dipped in familiarity. The Chinese man always looks incredibly different in a western suit, as if the red tie was the only thing that reminded Kiku of Wang Yao’s Chinese heritage. Pre-meeting conversations such as plans for the weekends, or that co-worker’s new promotion bored him but his respectful nature kept the black haired male nodding, feigning interest as Yao spoke about his new intern he was mentoring. Suddenly out of nowhere someone had asked about his morning - clearly not aware of his unresponsive behaviour this morning.

“Got new neighbours. Hoping they aren’t loud, they look quite young- like those millennial types.” he answered quietly, Yao stifled a laugh before commenting on how Kiku could accidentally be mistaken as an old man if he kept describing them like that. Finally, the meeting began, along with his drifting head which was not in tune for a morning discussion.

Offhandedly, towards the end just as he was packing up to leave back to his office, the Chinese man reminded Kiku: “Don’t forget on Monday you’ve got people coming in, you need to interview them for that personal assistant job soon.” Grimacing, he did not look forward to that. He worked well alone. Looking on the bright side he considered that at least he’ll have someone else to deal with schedules and admin work, this could be a little bit of a break- It’s not like it could be that bad.

Besides, there would be hell to pay if Yao had drafted any annoyances for the job.