#the concoction is making me better at my job not worse so they can eat a dick about it

[carnageacorn]

.

actually in this space im going to say. in one scene early in infinite jest two brothers are talking about the way their mom has acted after their father's suicide. the first brother asks if she's even sad he's dead. and the other says: there are 2 ways to make a flag be half-mast. you can lower the flag halfway, or you can double the height of the pole. he says: she's plenty sad, i bet. anyway that bit has fundamentally changed the way i think about displays of grief.

[sebsallowapologist]

Little Bird || Part 2

A little jealous Sebastian 🤍

Sebastian Sallow x F! Reader • 7th Year • Friends to Lovers

warnings: cursing, feelings of insecurity

——————————

I must have made this damn potion eight hundred times. And each time it came out worse and worse. If I didn’t know any better I would say it looks like I was TRYING to do a bad job. Professor Sharp and the rest of the class had left a while ago, not willing to miss his evening meal over watching me struggle with something most students could grasp in their third year.

I stare into the cauldron of black, bubbling goo and contemplate just sticking my head in it, if I’m lucky it’ll boil my brain and then I’d never have to make another potion again.

“Oh yikes.” Garreth mutters, coming to a halt next to my table, the only one who stayed after class. I’m guessing to work on whatever his next concoction was. 

“Thanks Gareth.” I mumble, tossing in another spoonful of the ingredient closest to me, trying to make it look like I knew what I was doing and that I wasn’t some idiot staring back at her reflection in her cauldron. I stir the potion again, but this time my spoon doesn’t come back intact, the goo monster I’ve created eats away at the metal, so I’m left with just the handle. “Fuck.”

“Can I- would you like-“ he rubs the back of his neck and he tries to frame his question. “If you're offering help I’ll gladly take it.” I sigh, cutting him off. He doesn’t need to feel embarrassed, I was the one who wanted to crawl out of my skin. The quicker this potion was done the better.

“I am. Offering that is.”

“Thank god.”

I sit down on the stool next to the table and slump over as Gareth gets rid of my last horror show of an attempt. “It’s really quite easy...”

“So I’m just stupid?”

“I would never say THAT.” Gareth chuckles and starts preparing his ingredients, not even needing to look at the recipe. “Gareth, can you make me something that just fixes my brain so I understand these lessons? We’re barely at the start of term and I’m already lost. For Merlin’s sake- this is review!”

“Give yourself more credit, you missed the first four years of your education.” He said softly, not looking up from the cutting board.

“We can’t keep using that as an excuse for me.” I sigh and take off my robe. Anytime I couldnt figure something out, everyone loved using me being a late bloomer as an excuse. Magic manifested later for me, and it was like I was everyones broken doll, they all knew what happened in year five- being the hero of Hogwarts was a fluke. 

I simply hard a different magic than others- I wasn’t extraordinary, I was lucky. The shine of it had all work off a long time ago.

Gareth glanced over at me, then back and the cauldron, then back at me. “C'mon. You do the mixing, I'll do the measuring.” He pulled me up from the stool and stood me next to the cauldron, a fresh un-melted spoon in my hand.

“Bless you, Weasley.”

With his careful instructions we finally finish the potion and I tried to steadily pour it into the tiny vial, but I was exhausted, my hand was cramping from doing a hundred counter clockwise turns, and then a hundred more clockside stirs. My hand holding the tiny glass container won’t stop shaking. I take a deep breath and close my eyes, wanting to give up on the whole thing.

Garreth takes his hand and covers my own, helping me hold steady. I glance up and mumble “thank you”, before gently tipping my hand and pour the potion. Once I’m done I let out the breath I was holding out and looked up at Gareth. Before I can say anything someone clears their throat at the entrance of the classroom.

Sebastian is standing there, tie loose around his neck. “Bird, you weren’t at dinner.”

“Yeah I was busy failing potions.” I sigh and put the stopper on my vial. It’s about now when I realize just how close Gareth and I are standing. I blush and take a step back. “Thank you for your help. Maybe I’ll graduate this year.” I smile- walking over to the professor's desk to drop off my finished work.

“You could have found me for help.” Sebastian said as I walked over to him, grabbing my bag and cloak on the way. He runs his hand gently down my back in greeting. I shrug. Of course he’d be able to help. The ever- brilliant professor's son.

“I’m happy to help.” Gareth said. His voice sounded deeper than it had just a few moments ago. “Since you’re not in this potions class. You don’t know the coursework.”

“I’m taking private classes with Sharp.” Sebastian smiled. “Anything she needs help with I can pick it up.” Sebastian had a lot of those, the private lessons. After Sebastian worked to turn his shit around last year Sharp had taken an interest, impressed with Seb getting serious about training to be ‘the greatest auror the world had ever seen’ or at least that's what he said..

“Do you think they’re still serving food? I’m starved.” And tired of listening to this who’s better at potions battle. Men.

Sebastian breaks eye contact with Gareth to look down at me, frowning. “I think they’re all done serving. We-“

“I haven’t eaten either. I can accompany you to dinner. Somewhere in Hogsmeade maybe?” Gareth interrupts, looking down at me. I guess the contest wasn’t over.

Sebastian shoots him a look that could kill. I take a deep breath, closing my eyes. “That's nice of you- but I’m dead tired. I think I’ll head off to bed.”

“Right- right. Well. Goodnight then.” Gareth mutters standing there for one more too awkward second before ducking out of the classroom, leaving Sebastian and I alone. “You’re gone to bed?” he chuckles, knowing I couldn’t be serious.

I roll my eyes and grab his cloak, dragging him out of the classroom and toward the room of requirement.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Sensing my hunger the room had sandwiches, butterbeer and snacks laid out for our arrival. I grab a few things and walk toward my meadow. “Are you coming?” I ask Sebastian, who’s eyeing the candies the room put out.

“Sometimes I get overwhelmingly jealous of your room, you know if I ever come here alone I don’t get this kind of treatment. And Deek always gives me a look..”

“I’m glad.” I giggle “If it’s coming from Deek I’m sure you deserve it.” I walk through the door that leads me to my meadow, filled with Mooncalfs. Sebastian follows close behind.

“How were the beasties over the summer?” He asks, bending down to pat one gently on the head.

“Deek said very well behaved, but of course missed me terribly.” I conjure some treats and let all my little friends have dinner with us before settling in the grass to eat my own food.

“Smart little things.” Sebastian smiled and sat down next to me. As always we sat back to back, using each other's weight to prop ourselves up. Just like we did for hours and hours after everything that happened in year five. Facing away from each other, admitting what terrible things we had to do, those marks we carried on our soul forever. It got easier to deal with the farther away we got from it, but it was always there, the thing that always bound us.

“Thought for a thought.” I say and take a bite of my sandwich. A little game we played, passing back the things that flew through our heads.

“I'm very happy to be home.” I smile, starting us off. “I feel so empty, and lonely all summer.”

“You live in London.” He sighs. “I don’t understand how you can feel lonely there.”

Because you’re not there. Was the answer, but it was his turn to say a thought outloud.

“I’m very happy to not be alone anymore either." he mumbles, and I look down at the grass. I put my hand on top of his, curling my fingers in a comforting squeeze.

[dizzydancingdreamer]

“Corn Syrup, Like in Carrie” | The Mikaelson Boys

Hey my lovelies this is my fic for @hellotvshowtrash​ ‘s March Prompt Challenge— I hope you all enjoy and especially you, Ash! I literally wrote this in a few hours so I hope it isn’t terrible; I wanted to make sure I actually submitted this month though because you put a lot of hard work into making fun things for us. I haven’t written for these boys in a while so this was nice :)

Description: Y/n drags Kol into a plan that is more dumb luck than actual planning— is it even a question that he would be willing to help?

Pairing: The Mikaelson Boys x Female!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of blood and death but in a casual, funny way (sadistic but funny), this might be the grungiest thing I’ve written to date

Word count: 1.99k (it’s literally 1999k, I pushed this as far as possible)

Tags: Fluff, a lil angst if you squint (squint is used loosely here)

Prompt: “This plan of yours is going to get us killed. Of course I’m in.”

Kudos if you get the picture easter egg!

“You want to do what now?”

She huffs but the wicked smile on her face carves through the annoyance— of course she isn’t actually exasperated with him.

“You heard me Kol— I want to scare him!”

The brown eyed vamp rolls his eyes but his own grin is just as cunning. She can see the spark in his eyes, that little glint that lets her know everything she needs to know— lets her know that he’s in.

All in.

“You know that’s impossible darling,” he toys, his smirk too coy for a man over a thousand years old. “Klaus doesn’t get scared.”

She laughs— that’s what he thinks.

Kol’s brows push together, the glint growing alongside his smile, his sharp teeth poking into his lip. “I know that look— that look is never good.”

She meets him where he leans against the countertop, hopping up beside him and wrapping her arms around his cool shoulders. “Oh it’s good alright, Kol-y. I think you’ll like it very much.”

He turns towards her, running his nose across her jaw, peppering a few kisses against her skin before tilting his face up. “Well out with it then, darling— what’s the plan?”

She giggles, pressing her lips against his quickly before pulling back, pecking the vampire’s nose when he scrunches it. She shakes her head at his puppy dog eyes— easily distracted, that one is.

She leans down, whispering her idea into his ear, her chest blossoming with warmth when he shivers against her lips. She can’t tell if it’s because of how close she is or because he likes her plan— both, most likely. When she finishes speaking she nips his ear, tugging gently before releasing him. He groans when his ear meets the cool kitchen air, twisting to push between her legs.

He leans down, pressing his lips against her again. She can taste the mischief on his lips, tangy and sharp— someone has been eating blackberries again.

“You’re a menace darling.”

“Hmm—” she hums her agreement against his berry lips— “I learned from the best.”

He chuckles and this time she shivers, his lips trailing down her neck. “Is that so?”

She pushes against his chest, trying to regain some of his attention. This is important. She slips her fingers into his soft hair, knitting them between the strands and tugging until his baby browns meet her gaze. He sighs, his smile less menacing and more longing than moments ago. He raises his brow, his eyes flitting to her neck before going back to her eyes— are you going to speak or can I go back to what I was doing?

She huffs.

“Are you in or not, Mikaelson?” She grinds out as he tugs against her hand, just barely nipping at her sensitive skin.

He groans when she pulls her throat away from his ministrations, finally standing straight again. His hands slide up the sides of her neck, smoothing against her jaw, fingers hooking behind her ears.

“This plan of yours is going to get us killed, darling.” His soft grin sharpens as he speaks, the glint resurfacing in his eyes. To her it makes him look beautiful. It makes him look dangerous. “Of course I’m in.”

** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

“Alright,” Kol announces, his cheerful voice drifting from the entrance to the compound to where she lays in a heap next to the couch. “He’s coming down the street now— I can hear him on the phone. I think he’s talking to Elijah.”

She can’t see the vamp but she knows that the mirth in his voice is much too extensive considering what they are about to do. Oh well. She raises a hand— she can’t speak with the blonde who’s now on their street hearing— signalling for him to get into place—

—and for him to dump the bucket of corn syrup, red dye number five, and just enough of her blood to make it smell real all over her body.

It goes on warm and sticky, scarily similar to actual blood, drenching the t-shirt she has decided to sacrifice. It’s for a good cause, she has to remind herself. Her skin itches where the mixture clings to her and she has to keep from giggling, her shoulders shaking. This had better work.

Kol’s boot nudges against her butt, tsking as she swallows another giggle. “Get with it darling— he’s almost here.”

She nods, splaying her limbs out in a way she imagines a dead— or almost dead— body would look. She doesn’t have to imagine too hard.

“Good job,” Kol whispers. “Billy Loomis would be proud.”

She smiles quickly at the reference— part of her plan was making him watch Scream with her.

“He’s here— let’s do this—“

The end of his sentence is cut off by a yell— his yell. They have to cover the sound of her heartbeat somehow. She can only keep her heart so steady and she’s not trying to give herself away before the fun has really begun. Thank heaven Kol has a good pair of lungs— and that he doesn’t need to breathe.

“Yeah I just go ba— Kol?” Like with Kol, she can’t see Klaus but she can hear him and the way his voice falters in confusion.

“Brother—” the way Kol’s voice hitches at the end of the word makes her almost break character. Someone sign this man up for an Oscar immediately— “I don’t know what happened. I left to get some of that ice cream she’s always talking about and— and—”

Klaus doesn’t speak but over Kol’s scarily astute acting she can hear commotion on the other end of his cellphone. Elijah— jackpot.

A double prank.

“Elijah give me a minute— Kol, what happened?”

Klaus’ heavy boots thunk against the concrete, the vibrations radiating through her cheek where it presses against the ground. His steps are almost as thundering as his voice, both echoing through the open space.

Kol plays along with his brother’s anger, matching it with his own. “I just said I don’t know!”

“What do you mean you don’t know! Look at her and tell me what you see—” his words stop, the air punctuated by a loud crack, no doubt the sound of his Iphone shattering into a hundred pieces.

Oops.

Suddenly there are hands on her back, nudging her softly, pulling at the sticky fabric of her t-shirt. You’re going to have to do better than that to wake the dead, babe. His hands get steadily more frantic— and more slimy— dragging the blood concoction into her hair as he checks her scalp and neck for injury. She holds her breath as his hand wraps around her jaw, lifting her face gently.

“Fuck, Kol, why is she bleeding so much?”

Kol only screeches in answer— again, she almost loses it. Klaus must not like that answer very much because he curses under his breath. Well, under his breath is a relative term. She is sure the entirety of Bourbon street hears the F-bomb he drops. The word is accompanied by the sound of her shirt being ripped in two. Here we go.

She feels a whoosh of air against her now revealed skin, steeling against the shiver that creeps up her spine at the cold air. Soon there is another pair of hands on her, sliding down her slick arms. She can picture the dyed corn syrup staining Elijah's dress shirt and the glare in his dark eyes when he realizes she has teamed up with his brother to wreak mayhem.

“What’s going on? What happened?” His sultry voice is worse than the cold air— and much harder to stave off.

“I don’t know—” both Klaus and Kol speak in unison, Klaus taking over for the both of them— “but there isn’t time to find out right now.”

Before she has time to process his words her body is being flipped over, her back pressing into the icy, sticky concrete. It takes all of her strength not to squeal at the contact. She hears a noise much too juicy for her liking before a warm artery is pressed against the seam of her lips. Perfect!

“C’mon love, please—”

When her mouth fills with a thick, metallic substance she breaks, springing forward and coughing wildly, making sure to swallow a good amount before hacking the rest up. She runs an arm across her eyelids, trying to unstick them but only managing to coat her eyelashes even more.

When she finally manages to peel her eyes open, spitting the last of Klaus’ blood out of her mouth, she is met with the faces of two shocked vampires and one vampire who is laughing his ass off. Kol’s laughter is infectious— especially because she’s been holding back giggles since the start of their ruse— and soon she is joining him, laughing so hard she falls backwards again into the goo.

For a moment there is silence— only the sound of her and Kol’s laughter— before it gives way to Klaus’ deathly calm voice. “What the hell is going on here?”

She pushes herself up on an elbow, flashing him a scarlet drenched smile— she would give anything to see her crimson teeth right now. She runs her tongue over them to enhance the point.

“Did I scare you?”

His eyes flash with black. “Did you scare me—”

“Yes, you scared us!” Elijah’s red hands wrap around her forearms, hauling her into his chest without a care for his white shirt. “May I ask why?”

Elijah’s chest shudders, his arms curling around her waist. He wasn’t lying— he’s terrified. He smells like cooking oil and metal but she doesn’t care— he’s too warm for her to mind. His lips press against her forehead and she almost feels bad.

Almost.

A hand wraps around her hair from behind, yanking her back from his brother’s chest. “What Elijah means to say is can we demand why? Why you would try something like that?”

She dips her head further back, squinting up at the furious blonde. “Oh you already know why, love.”

He rolls his eyes, his jaw clenched but leaning down to brush his cheek against hers regardless. “Indulge me anyway.”

She tilts her head, skimming her tacky lips against his stubble. “To make a point.”

“Oh yeah? And what point might that be?”

“That I am fragile—” she pulls upright, turning in Elijah’s arms and dropping the cheshire grin— “that you can’t protect me all the time—” she pushes forward, crawling onto Klaus’ drenched lap— “that I need to be like you.”

He sighs, his forehead dropping against hers, his hands curling around her jaw. “This again?”

Her arms hook around his neck, fingers tangling in his blonde hair. “You know I’m right.”

Klaus’ shoulders slump, his golden eyebrows knitting together. “Does it have to be right now?”

“Your blood is already in my system.”

“You’re going to be the death of me, you know that?”

She smiles back at him, leaning in for what she hopes is one last human kiss. “Shouldn’t I be the one saying that?”

He only sighs, shaking his head as Kol laces his fingers with hers. She turns to the brown eyed vamp just in time to see him pass her a mischievous wink.

It is the last thing she sees before the world around her goes dark.

** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

She wakes feeling significantly less sticky than she had when she blacked out— and significantly more hungry. She can’t remember the last time her throat was dry like this. Is she catching a cold? She shifts slightly, her elbow piling into a pillow underneath her. The pillow grunts.

Not a pillow.

Kol rises beside her, pressing a hand to her chest until she falls back against the mattress and then rolling on top of her, sinking his face against her neck. The words he mumbles into her skin make her dead heart stop in the best way.

“I told you that plan would get you killed.”

[justkending]

Moral of the Story. Chapter Six.

Summary: Marrying too young out of highschool leads to a naive and failed marriage. Now 10 years later, word comes that the divorce was never actually completed. Bucky and Y/N have to come back together after all these years to settle what wasn’t all those years back. Passive attitudes, miscommunicated endings, and reminiscing of old loves and lives all comes back for the two.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Y/N

Word Count: 3700+

A/N:  Tags are closed for the rest of the series!! Please turn on your notifications if you want updates:) Also, this chapters a good one;)

Chapter Six:

That night, Y/N had plans with Wanda and Vis to go out and get a drink. However, when she called to double check, they asked if they could reschedule for another day. She told them that she was actually planning on staying a full week from Monday and that anytime that week would work for them. 

So she spent the afternoon hanging out with Chloe who came home in the late morning. They went shopping in the art district and caught up over coffee before going thrifting and heading back home before dinner. 

Once dinner was over, where Sherri, Thomas, Chloe, and Y/N hung out as a family, the parents went to bed early and Chloe went over to a friend's house to hang out again. Leaving Y/N by herself reading a book on the back porch. 

After reading the same page for the 10th time, she let out a huff from not being able to still her mind from the events of the morning. 

She looked over at the clock, seeing it was only 9:00. But in her head, it was six. She bit her thumb as she stared at the clock ticking away with each second. After about 14 tiks, she rolled her eyes before going upstairs and changing. 

Maybe a night in town by herself would be nice. She noticed there was a bar Wanda and Vis had mentioned that was next to where they planned to eat and figured she deserved a drink after today. 

So she put on a pair of nice jeans and a simple t-shirt with an old jean jacket that was twice her size from highschool. She fit into a little better now, but it was definitely still giant on her figure. Grabbing her dad’s car keys, she made her way to the mystery bar. 

______________

Upon arriving at the bar, she realized it was a Saturday night, so it was busier than she had planned. 

She found a seat at the bar and ordered a local beer before scanning out the place. 

It was nice. Not really a dive bar, but an actual nice bar. There was still a pool table and a little game spot to the side, but there were booths full of people eating and talking, and even a DJ with a small dance floor on the other side. 

It was a neat little place. Nothing special, but they seemed to know how to make a good drink given the reviews on the menu they proudly displayed from past customers. 

Y/N was going over the menu having finished her last drink pretty fast, but before she could even read the second option on the menu, a familiar voice sounded behind her. 

“Well, looky here. If it isn’t Mrs. Barnes herself.”

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows turning at the comment and instantly, her eyes widened. 

“James?”

“Hey, sweetheart. What are you doing here?” he sauntered to the empty barstool by her. She noticed a weird sway in his walk that helped her put two and two together that something was off with him. 

“I’m getting a drink,” she answered confused, lifting the beer bottle in her hand. 

“I thought you didn’t drink,” he slurred. “And a beer, hmm? I figured that if you ever did start drinking, it would be the fruity stuff,” he chuckled, leaning his head in his hand that was propped on the counter. 

She paid no mind to his thoughts and shot him a glare. “Are you drunk, James?”

He pouted his lips and shrugged with an ‘I don’t know, am I?’ look on his face. It quickly dropped and turned into a smirk as he readjusted in the seat. 

“You know, I hate that you call me James now,” he huffed, swiveling in his seat to face forward at the bar. 

“It is your name,” Y/N shook her head with a sigh. Lord this was going to be interesting. She looked around trying to find Steve or Sam even. “Are you here by yourself?”

“It’s only my name to people who don’t know me. My friends call me Bucky and you’re my friend,” he pouted again, but wasn’t looking at her. Only swirling the amber liquid in the glass tumbler she realized he had in hand now. 

“Friend’s a stretch,” she mumbled, taking a long swig of the new drink. He didn’t hear her though. She looked around a little harder and couldn’t find any sign of someone they knew. “Really. Are you here alone?”

“Yes, and so are you,” he noted, finally turning to her. 

“Yes, but I’m not plastered.”

“Give it some time and you could be,” he winked. 

She shook her head watching as he almost slipped from his chair. 

“Ja-”

“Please don’t call me that, doll. I don’t have it in me to hear you make me feel like a stranger,” he mumbled flagging down the bartender. “Can I get another one please?” He asked, raising his now empty glass. The bartender looked at him with a judging eye, and Y/N jumped in before he could possibly say yes. 

“A water. He’ll have water instead,” she smiled softly. “Please and thank you.”

“Got it,” the bartender nodded before going to get him a glass.

“That’s not what I asked for,” Bucky groaned. 

“We don’t always get our way, do we?” Y/N sighed, taking a long pull from her own drink. When she finally pulled away, almost emptying the glass, she noticed Bucky staring at her. “What? What are you looking at?” she said, slightly off put by the longing look he was giving her without even trying to hide it. 

He broke when he noticed her giving him a weirded outlook and stood up. 

“I need to go to the bathroom.”

Without a second for her to react, he stood up quickly and walked to the back where the restroom signs hung above.

The bartender came back a minute later and slid the glass of water across the counter in replacement to the empty tumbler that he took back. 

“You know that guy? Is he bugging you?” he asked, looking at Y/N who was now holding her head in her hands. 

“I do. He’s an old family friend,” she answered looking down. “Can I get another?” she asked, shaking the now empty beer bottle to the man with a small pleading smile. 

“I can get you something stronger you know? I feel like you may need it,” he said, and she noticed his tone had changed from just a server to something a little more flirty. His smirk giving away his intentions. 

I mean, he wasn’t a bad looking guy. He was a young, probably early 30 year old guy, who for sure made time in his schedule to go to the gym. He had a clean shave, showing his sharp features too. 

“Is it that obvious?” she chuckled, sending him back a small smirk of her own. 

“You look a little strung out,” he chuckled, going to get another drink made up without her having to say yes. 

“Saying it's been an eventful day, would be putting it lightly,” she sighed loudly. 

The guys nodded his head in understanding and smiled as he shook up a new concoction. He poured in impressively into a glass and placed a cherry and lime on top before handing it off to her. 

“On the house for that one then,” he winked. She smiled, adding a hint of flirtatious eye contact to the man, might as well. She was single… Kinda. “Hey, we make a mean batch of shredded chicken nachos too if you're hungry. I might be able to get you a discount.”

“Oh, I’m actually-,” she started, but was quickly interrupted.

“She’s vegetarian,” Bucky practically growled at the man behind the bar as he took his seat back. 

“Oh,” the guy said, taken aback. 

“He’s right, but thank you for the offer,” she smiled politely before sending Bucky a glare. Unfortunately he didn’t see it as he was sending a glare of his own to the man on the other side of the counter. 

Knowing Bucky would make matters worse, she decided to move on from the bartender for the moment. 

“I’m so sorry about him,” she scoffed, placing a hand on Bucky’s shoulder to bring his attention back to her and deter his evil stare from the innocent person. “I think I’m going to get him home actually.”

“I’m not going home yet,” Bucky spoke up, being ignored by the two anyway. 

“Probably a good idea,” the mystery bartender man nodded before looking back at Y/N with that flirty grin again. “Listen, I don’t know if you’re here very often, but I’ll be on shift tomorrow the same time if you wanted to drop by. Maybe I can get you some of our famous fries instead,” he winked, leaning more her direction. 

“That actually sounds nice,” she began.

“Well, I hate to break it to you sir, but she’s married,” Bucky said with a deep voice almost perfectly sober now. 

Y/N shot him wide eyes and saw that any form of drunkenness was hidden in that moment. He had become a big alpha male right there and was showing he was not one to mess with. Was he seriously jealous? Of a man offering her a drink and fries?

“James!” Y/N smacked his arm. 

“What? Am I wrong?” he responded, a hint of anger in his response to her as his eyes showed pain when he made eye contact with her finally. 

“Yes! Very!” Y/N responded. 

“On the contrary, I’m not,” he said, taking a step closer. 

The two were now chest to chest as he looked down at her and she looked up at him. The tension high and their eyes staring into the others soul. Anger and hurt in both their stances and stares. 

“I need to go help another customer,” the bartender spoke up awkwardly. 

Y/N broke from the stare down and sent him an apologetic look. Bucky was still looking at her as if his eyes were magnetically attached to her face. 

“I’m so sorry,” she paused looking for a name tag and seeing Bradley inscripted on a metal plate pinned to his shirt. “Bradley. I don’t know why,” she hissed looking at Bucky for a second who rolled his eyes at her before she turned back. “He’s acting this way.”

“It’s fine. You guys have a good night,” he waved off with a kind smile before sending Bucky a weary look and going back to his job. 

Y/N took a deep breath before turning to Bucky who was still inches from her and looking down at her. His face was stoic and grumpy. 

“How did you get here?” He didn’t answer her harsh tone. “James, how did you get here?” she said, this time leaving no room for silence as she gave him a death glare. 

“I drove,” he answered deeply. 

“Give me your keys,” she laid her hand out in front of him. 

“No.”

“Stop acting like a literal child and give me your keys.” The stubbornness between the two only grew as the other refused to break. “Fine, don’t give me your keys. I’m driving you home either way.”

“I’m not ready to go home,” he slurred some. His facade of trying to cover his drunkenness was fading as he eased up on trying to intimidate someone now. 

“Well, I say you are. Come on,” she rolled her eyes, taking his hand and dragging him to the door. 

“Hey!” he fought back, but she was walking too fast that his alcohol soaked brain was only focused on not tripping and couldn’t work on stopping himself. 

“God, you are a mess. Can’t do anything without fucking supervision,” she mumbled once they were outside.

“You have a mouth on you,” he said as he crossed his arms and waited for her to fish out the keys.

“Yeah, well, some of us have changed since college,” she retorted.

“I’ve changed,” he said softly. 

“You sure as hell aren’t acting like it,” she said through her teeth, frustrated in not finding the keys fast enough. 

“Do you only remember our bad moments? Is that all you allow yourself to think of?” he shot back, but she ignored him and opened his door before moving to the driver side.

The car ride to Bucky’s shared apartment with Steve was filled with tension. Bucky sitting like a scolded child on the side while Y/N was the parent furious with him for causing a scene in a public place. 

“That Bradley guy flirts with every girl that walks in there,” he mumbled about 5 minutes into the drive. He didn’t get a response. When he looked over to see if she had reacted at all, all he saw was a bitch face on her that was focused on the road ahead. “He’s kinda a dick from what I’ve heard the girls say about him that go in and out.”

“Are you there that often that you know the waitstaff's dating profiles?” she sassed. 

“No, I’m just saying from what I know, he doesn’t deserve you.” He had said the last part so softly, that if the car wasn’t as awkwardly quiet as it was, Y/N wouldn’t have been able to make it out.

She turned to look at him finally and saw him with his head propped against the glass of the window. He was avoiding eye contact and had opted to watching the city lights pass by for the rest of the car ride. 

Y/N wasn’t sure how to respond or if she even should. What was the point anyway? He wouldn’t remember any of this in the morning and she wasn’t supposed to care… At least that’s what she told herself. 

She was able to get to the apartment after Wanda sent his and Steve’s address thankfully. 

“Ok, we’re here,” Y/N parked in the front of the apartment. 

It was one of those buildings that looked like a house in a neighborhood where all of them were side by side going up 3 floors. But in their case, each floor was a different flat/apartment. It was updated and in the nicer part of town, so clearly he and Steve were well off. 

From what Wanda had said, Bucky was on the top floor and Steve was renting out the middle floor within the next month. So he had been crashing at Bucky’s until the lease for the current tenant was up and the space was open. 

“Thanks,” Bucky groaned. He had sobered up some from the drive, but considering how far gone he was earlier, he couldn’t be that much better. 

He opened the door and sloppily got out of the car almost tripping on the curb and stumbling to the steps.

Y/N groaned leaning forward and hitting her head on the steering wheel by her hands. 

“Don’t do it Y/N. Don’t do it,” she repeated, but when she looked back up, he was sitting on the middle of the steps with one hand rubbing his temple. “And you’re going to do it…”

She got out of the car and came to the front of him. Her anger had dissipated some and now she felt pity for the poor guy. 

“You good?” she asked, and he looked up with her in surprise. 

“I got a little dizzy,” he answered before going back massaging his head. 

“Need some help?” she sighed, offering her hand. 

He slowly raised his eyes to look at the gesture before looking at her.

“Why are you being nice? I’ve only been a drunken dick to you tonight,” he groaned, taking her hand anyway. “I’m surprised you didn’t dump me off and speed away.”

“Yeah, well. We’ve all been dicks at some point. Doesn’t mean we don’t deserve a helping hand here and there,” she nodded as they walked up the steps. “What button do I push?”

“Last one on the right,” Bucky said, putting his head back down as he stuffed his hands in his pockets and leaned on the door for support from the world spinning around him. 

She did as told, and the button let out a blunt ring as it called the floor above.

“Hello?” a voice replied. 

“Steve? It’s Y/N,” she answered. 

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” Steve asked in shock. 

“I’m delivering you your drunk best friend. Mind ringing me up?” she answered in a tired tone. 

“Uh, yeah, yeah! One sec.” The bell sounded, giving the two access to the unlocked door now. 

Bucky rolled away from it as Y/N opened it for them both and they started their way to the nice elevator off to the side by the stairs. 

Once the doors shut, Bucky looked over to Y/n who had been avoiding eye contact the entire time. He finally took in her presence and noticed she was wearing one of her favorite jean jackets from highschool. One that he had actually gifted to her. He chuckled a little at it as it still hung loosely on her even after all these years. 

“What are you laughing at?” she asked.

And when he met her eyes, he didn’t see the harsh bite back that he had received most of the evening. Instead, there was a small sense of amusement in her question. 

“Nothing, just the jacket,” he pointed. 

She looked down as if she forgot what she was wearing and then it registered. 

“Right, you gave me this for one of our anniversaries,” she chuckled some. He hadn’t heard a genuine laugh from her this entire day. Sure it was the smallest and diluted chuckle ever, but It sounded nice. 

“Still have the patch?” he asked. 

She pulled it away from her body some and looked in the breast pocket, nodding. 

When he had got it, it was nothing special but an older, worn out, and thrifted jean jacket. But to make it special, he found a little iron on patch of the world to put inside the pocket. He had told her that she always had the world in her pocket with the light that she was for it. She would and could do just about anything to make a room and this entire planet light up just by smiling. 

Bucky couldn’t help the goofy smile that came across his face knowing she didn’t rip it out in spite at some point in all these years. That jacket had a little more meaning to them then just being a shield from the brisk air. 

Once the elevator reached the floor, Y/N motioned Bucky out. 

“I don’t know where to go from here, so I hope you’re sober enough to point me the right direction,” she smirked playfully. 

Bucky returned it, not wanting to chance taking away the civil actions happening in the moment. 

“Right,” he agreed, coming out and making his way down the new hall. “Steve,” he shouted loudly. Lucky for them, they had the whole floor to themselves. 

Steve’s head poked out of the door less than a second later. 

“Hey,” he said with a confused face that was attempting to be covered by a kind smile. 

“I’m going to go inside before I made more of a fool of myself,” Bucky mumbled, pushing past Steve who moved to the outside of the hall. “Thanks for bringing me back, Y/N,” he said with a tight embarrassed smile. “Sorry for being a dick again.”

Not that Y/N would have said anything back, but even if she had, he stalked away with his head low and disappeared into the apartment before she would have a chance. 

“Do I want to know?” Steve sighed. 

“Uh, even I’m not too sure what went on tonight,” Y/N responded, putting her hand in the jacket pockets and rocking on her feet. 

“Do I need to apologize for his actions?” Steve chuckled, looking down at her bashfully. 

“He’s a big boy Stevie, he can take responsibilities for his actions,” Y/N chuckled back. 

“Right. You would think he would act like the grown man that he is, but it looks as though we were both thrown for a loop tonight.”

“Guess so.” 

“Hey, Wanda told me you’re here for the week now. Your travel plans changed. Are the rumors true?” Steve asked, moving the subject away from the awkward one. 

“Uh, yeah. I was going to text you tomorrow morning, but looks like I was beat to the punch.”

“Well, we’ll all have to hang out soon then. It’s been too long,” he winked. The two gave each other a quick hug, but Steve didn’t let go and looked down at her. “How are you doing? Clearly the other part of this equation isn’t doing too hot,” he noted, looking in the open apartment door before back at her. 

“Seems we are handling the second part of this divorce a little different than the other, but I can’t say it’s been fun,” she responded, following his eyeline. “Uh, listen. I hate to see you for like two seconds after all this time and split, but I’m kinda beat from the day.”

Steve pulled away and patted her back nodding. 

“No, no. I completely understand. I know from experience, drunk Bucky isn't an easy one to take care of. Plus... Everything else on top of that.”

“Yeah...”

“You go ahead and head home. I’ll call you later to set up a time for the team to meet and catch up. Sound good?”

“Sounds like a plan, Cap,” she winked. 

He rolled his eyes with a smile before waving her off. “Want me to walk you down?”

“Nah, I parked right out front. I should be fine,” she shook her head as she headed back for the elevators. “Um, his car is still at the bar by the way. You may need to go pick it up tomorrow. I didn’t want him driving home, given his state.”

“Thank you for that. I’m sorry again,” Steve grimaced. 

“Don’t apologize, just uh… Just get him some advil and lots of water. I’ll see you later.”

“Will do. Bye, Everest!” he bantered back with her own nickname. 

“God, haven’t heard that one in years,” she laughed before the elevator doors shut. 

With a heavy sigh and lots of thoughts on her mind, the car ride home felt like it never happened. 

Tags are closed for this series. Please turn on notifications if you would like updates:)

Moral of the Story Taglist:

@taylormobley @ximaginx @vicmc624 @leyannrae @lonerlovescompany @jessyballet @angstysebfan @tita127 @semistablecentenarian @im-a-light-child @alyssahowden @studiesinspanish @natyvwe @rebekahdawkins @fanfictionjunkie1112 @millennial-teenybopper @scotlandasshole @aquariusbarnes @shinykoalacat @wayward-river @buckyswillows @natdrunk @caxtainamerica @iloveangstposts @fanngirl19​

Marvel Tags:

@thejourneyneverendsx​ @death-unbecomes-you​ @heyiamthatbitch​ @lizzymacy555​  @srrymydood​ @xa-dia​ @redhairedfeistynerd​ @morganclaire4​ @connie326​ @captain-asguard​ @mollygetssherlockcoffee​ @teenagedreams-bucky​ @shower-me-with-roses​ @pham-tastical @livstilinski​

My Lovelies forever:

@natura1phenomenon​ @lauravicente​ @kakakatey​ @traceyaudette​ @notyourtypicalrose​  @laneygthememequeen​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​ @sandlee44​ @thorne93​ @thefaithfulwriter​ @essie1876​ @greyeyedsmile14​ @capsiclehan​  @xostephanie​ @averyrogers83​ @awesomenursingstudent​ @gh0stgurl​ @cs-please​ @carls1022​ @jjlevin​ @rainbowkisses31​ @anise-d-castle6​ @deannotmoose​ @their-bibliophile​ @kitkatd7​ @willowbleedsonpaper​ @mariaenchanted​ @snffbeebee​ @couldabeenamermaid​ @rebekahdawkins​ @alyispunk​ @princess-annna

Bucky Barnes Tags:

@chloe-skywalker​ @charmedbysarge​ @jbarness​ @bellamy-barnes​ @katiaw2​ @aikeia​ @stopjustlovethemcu​

[legoshi-plz]

Pretenses Part 2 (Louis x Reader)

Summary: Part 2. Louis is a spoiled prince and you are a clumsy maid. Prince! Louis x Canine! Dog! Reader.

Part One

////////////

The next time you woke up there was sunlight streaming through the room. Great, now not only had you failed to ever return to the kitchen for your nightly duties of helping cook for the Carnivore staff, but you’d also missed reporting to your regular morning kitchen duties at dawn.

You sat up in the Prince’s plush bed and stretched. Never in your life had you slept on such finery, it almost felt wrong to sleep on such a soft surface.

“Finally awake, sleeping beauty,” Prince Louis sighed and your head instantly snapped in his direction. He was already dressed and ready for the day despite not sleeping in his own bed which was currently occupied by you.

“Here, you’ll be needing this,” Louis shoved a folded fabric towards you which you realized was a new maid uniform. You suddenly remembered that he had ripped your own and grasped the luxurious sheets in an attempt to cover yourself.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Dog, I have better things to do with my time than leer at a lowly maid. Now get dressed and get out,” Louis snapped before storming out of the room.

You immediately switched into the uniform he gave you and scurried out of his chambers.

///////

Things changed after that. At first it had seemed he was actually done with his torment of you. There were no more useless, unnecessary trips back and forth from the kitchen, his guard he had follow you around to watch you had relaxed his hold, and he eased up on his demand of petty, time-consuming requests. It was almost like you had a regular job again. Almost.

You still had to go through his grating beratement day in and day out, one act of kindness hadn’t changed how he viewed you or your species and he wanted to make sure you knew that.

He also still required you to stand next to him while he ate his food, just in case he needed something or wanted to make another revision.

Which I where you found yourself today. He was eating in the east wing drawing room in front of its giant windows. The sun flooded the room and you could see the entire front grounds from here. You could even see where you used to work, the cobblestone entryway being scrubbed tirelessly by your fellow domestic canines.

“Grateful you’re not with them?” Louis asked in a condescending tone when he noticed where your line of vision focused.

“I-” your response was interrupted by a loud growl emitted from your stomach. The Prince’s ears perked at the sound.

“Bring me another lunch exactly like mine, don’t make me have to tell you twice,” Louis growled and you knew better than to disobey.

You returned with tray in hand and presented it to him as you usually would.

“Great, now eat it,” Louis said without even looking at you.

“My liege, I’m not supposed t-“”

“Do you ever just shut up?! You’re not even using the word right, you imbecile! That’s not the proper way to address the crowned Prince of this kingdom! Now I gave you an order, you’d do well to see it through!” Louis snapped and you physically shrank back at his verbal assault. No one could make you feel worthless quite like Prince Louis, he was an expert in that field.

You sat quietly and ate without another word, not even looking in the Prince’s direction. He was obviously very temperamental today and there was only so much you verbal abuse you could take in a day.

Once you were done picking at the food, you stopped and stared at the ground. Louis noticed and cleared his throat.

“You’re dismissed, now clean this up and get out of my sight.”

~*~

It was harvest time in the kingdom which meant the castle would be harboring fellow royal guests from neighboring kingdoms to display their wealth and abundance as well as harbor good relations. This meant that with more guests to abide by, more mouths to feed came with it which effectively doubled the work of the kitchen staff.

Your only reprieve was that during this time, the Prince was required to take all his meals in the dining hall with the King and his guests. You’d been free of his cruelty for over a week now and despite Stallworth running you into the ground in the kitchen, you were still thankful. You’d take physical exhaustion over verbal beratement any day.

“You seem a little too eager today, Pup. You can’t be that happy to be back,” One of the Gazelles spoke suddenly as you were happily kneading a glob of dough.

“Probably just thankful she doesn’t have to wait on the Prince hand and foot anymore,” another one said in reply. Even when they were taking about you, the Gazelles tended to just talk over you to each other seeing as you were the runt of the kitchen heightwise. You didn’t mind, after the initial hostilities of the kitchen wore off, you found it quite easy to get along with your new coworkers. Most of them weren’t too bright and could talk on and on about nonsense all day which actually made it easier for you to stay quiet and blend in. As much as you could anyway.

“I don’t see the problem in that, I’d wait on him any time any place anywhere,” The other Gazelle swooned. Prince Louis was extremely popular amongst the Herbivore staff.

“Sheesh you obviously haven’t met him, I heard he can be a real pain in the ass,” a third one scoffed.

“He could be a pain in my ass anyti-“

“Get back to work! And Y/N why are you still here?!” Stallworth said entering the station you and the other group of Gazelles were currently occupying.

“M-ma’am? I was completing the task that was written on my chart?” You checked your task chart every morning diligently and followed it to the letter.

“Clearly you haven’t checked in the last hour, there’s been a change in staff duty. You’re on the serving crew now,” Stallworth gruffed which only furthered your confusion.

“B-but ma’am I don’t know how to serve?”

“Well I hope you’re a quick learner. Lunch starts in twenty minutes,”

////////////

You had half a mind as to where that mysterious change in staff order had come from as you found yourself lining the walls with the other serving staff in the royal dining hall, conveniently located right across from Prince Louis. It was as if that man lived to torture you and this was just another new concoction of his to achieve that goal.

You were clumsy and had a poor sense of equilibrium by nature, as was the fate of a dog, but having his eyes glued to you waiting for you to make a mistake only served to double your nerves, a fact you were sure he was well aware of.

To make matters worse, you were shaking like a leaf the entire time. You squeezed your hands together in little fists to try and calm the shaking only for the Gazelle next to you to nudge you. Her gaze lowered to your hands and you immediately knew what she meant and let them fall by your side limply. You were still a Carnivore, you couldn’t be seen showing signs of aggression, even if that was not your intention.

You hated it here.

////////

Louis was angry. That was an understatement considering he was always angry. But this anger was different. This anger was more of a resentment than anything else. That resentment geared towards his father of course.

He had noticed upon entering the dining hall for supper that you weren’t there in your usually position. He scanned the entire room but there was no sign of you. He turned to see his father watching him, a knowing look in his eyes. He was responsible.

After dinner he had caught Louis on his way out, walking beside him in what would seem a natural exchange between father and son. Louis knew any exchange between him and Oguma was anything but normal.

“Missed your entertainment during dinner,” Oguma mentioned offhandedly. Louis felt his blood run cold.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,”

“Really? I thought she’d be hard to miss, seeing as she’s the only Carnivore in this entire wing of the castle.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” Louis said in a bored tone. King Oguma was the last person he wanted to have this conversation with, or any conversation for that manner.

“Don’t play coy, I spoke with Peak. I know you put her there.” Oguma said sternly as the two of them reached the end of the corridor.

“What’s your point, father?” Louis asked ready to make his exit in any direction that was the opposite of the King.

“You allot more attention to her impending failure and pathetic nature than you do our own dinner guests. I was unaware I raised such a cruel child but your torment of that poor creature ends today. I sent her back to her regular duties permanently.” Louis felt his blood boil at his father’s words. How dare he meddle in his affairs?

“As you wish. I’m sure there are much more interesting forms of entertainment among the castle. One beautiful royal guest in particular.” Louis contended bidding his adieu. He was alluding to the daughter of a visiting Duke. She was a couple years older than Louis but the Duke was not above championing her off if it secured his favor with the Royals. Louis could not be more disinterested. There was only one animal that held his attention and that was a certain disoriented maid.

This may be the end of your dining servitude but Louis was far from through with you.

///////////

You were currently bustling down the corridor on your way to the gardens to retrieve fresh herbs. They had failed to bring the morning rations from their harvest and of course if there was anybody in that kitchen they would send all the way across the palace for a few hunks of scented leaves, it was you. The kitchen didn’t even actually need it, they had enough spices to hold them for weeks but life seemed set to punish you in one way or another.

Though grateful to be back in your normal position in the kitchen, having been evicted from your dining position so suddenly by Madam Peak herself (especially after she had just been the one to assign you) was a bit of an embarrassment, one that Stallworth did not take lightly. She saw it as you weren’t working hard enough and decided to double down on her discipline of you.

It won’t be an easy job, you’ll do all of the grunt work and you will not be treated as an equal.

What she said to you upon your first meeting still echoed in your mind. She has meant every single word.

You rounded a corner a little too quickly and almost ran right into none other than the Prince himself. Luck really was not on your side today.

“Oh, it’s just you, Dog,” Louis sneered, his eyes still wide from the shock of the almost collision. Like a deer caught in-

“You look as horrible as ever,” he said appraising you. You were way too tired tired to feed him new material to beguile you on so you merely bowed and then made to go around him.

“And where do you think you’re going?” Louis grabbed your arm and easily spun you around but one look at the utter exhaustion in your eyes seemed to say it all.

“I see... Follow me,” the Prince commanded as he started walking, not waiting to see if you were behind him. You trailed after him wordlessly. Though you were already under orders from the kitchen, he was still a royal and his authority outweighed theirs ten to none.

The two of you arrived to his chambers and he only stopped walking once he reached his bedroom. He turned to you and the same as last time grabbed your waist, lifting you onto his bed to place you at its center.

“M-my liege I-”

“Didn’t I tell you to stop using that,” Louis grumbled as he grabbed your ankle to take of your shoe, then proceeded to take off the other.

“My Prince-”

“Shhhh, enough with the formalities. Or speaking in general. Just go to sleep before you pass out again.” He drew the covers back and held them open for you. You stared at him as if he’d lost his mind.

“I can’t-”

“I won’t tell you again. I gave you an order, Y/N. Follow it.” Louis said sternly. You hesitantly obey as he tucked you into his bed. And he was calling you by your actual name? This had to be some sort of trick, even that basic level of respect towards Carnivores was beneath Louis. Why would he ever respect a group of animals he deemed the scum of the earth.

The moment your head hit the pillow, you were out like a light.

///////////

Louis watched your chest rise and fall in rhythm as the glow of the evening sun illuminated your fur. You looked just as beautiful today as you did any other day and yet it was a sight he never grew tired of.

Your sleeping in his chambers during the day had become a regular occurrence over the past couple of weeks. There wasn’t much Louis could do in terms of apology (at least not much he could do that wouldn’t draw attention) for how he’d been treating you but he could allow you at least a small portion of all the rest and recuperation he’d stolen from you over the past months.

You began to stretch and yawn, your leg twitching vigorously as your tail wagged in tandem. This little stretch of yours was the marker than you were waking up so Louis did as he always wouldn’t this time: turn in his chair and open his book to a random page while pretending like he hadn’t been gazing at you for hours.

“Good Afternoon, my Prince,” you hummed happily as you rose from his bed. Louis felt his stomach do somersaults at the term. It was what you always called him but hearing it fall from your lips in such a soft and tender way, as if the two of you were lovers and you’d just woken up in his arms- no. Louis immediately pushed such thoughts from his mind, there was no sense in daydreaming about such foolishness.

“Is it? It’s nearly dinner time. You overslept,” Louis said in a bored tone. Of course you had overslept, you were tired all the time and he had selfishly refused to wake you simply to get an extra bit of time to look at you. Risking getting you in trouble to fuel his own ridiculous fantasies, how pathetic of him.

“Oh no,” you scurried out of his bed and rushed to the door, peaking your head out to make sure no one was out there to see you leaving. You then slinked away like a theif in the night yet he hated to admit the only thing you’d succeeded in stealing was his begrudged affection and a few extra hours of sleep.

Louis sighed as he watched the place on his bed where you had been sleeping peacefully not even ten minutes prior. You had snuck away as if you had never even been here in the first place. Most maids he had taken to his bed to use for his own whimsical pleasure would stroll out of his chambers with pride and arrogance, too stupid to even realize they’d been used for their virtues and thrown away. But not you.

You found yourself in his bed for a completely innocent and inane reason: a nap, nothing more nothing less. Oh if given the chance, Louis would ravish you in bed. There wasn’t an inch of your body he wouldn’t utterly worship and adore.

He thought back to the day you’d fainted in his study. How he had to carry you to his chambers, so light and fragile in his arms. The exact opposite of everything he thought Carnivores to be.

He had never really harnessed a true hatred for Carnivores. Sure he loved to treat them as if they were simply dumb by nature but he knew the truth. They weren’t allowed the same quality of education in this Kingdom but they held the same capacity for intelligence as a Herbivore or Omnivore. The same could not be said for Herbivores and their capacity for strength. If given the chance, Carnivores could be just as intellectual as Herbivores all the while maintaining physical dominance. But that simply wasn’t the system put into place and with the way the Kingdom was run now, the powers at be would see to it that it never would.

Even Herbivores as strong and revered as his own kind, who possessed towering statutes and muscular builds, were no match for a determined group of intellectual Carnivores. So the Kingdom minimized their education as much as they could without infringing on their animal rights then set them off to work at an early age.

Louis’ mind once again circled back to you. You were the same age as him yet you had been working for years and he had never so much as picked up a broom. Even if he wasn’t royalty, he would still be pursuing a higher education at this age, not working himself to the bone like you did. It was a horridly inequal system and despite the guilt that subconsciously nipped at him, he doubted there was much he could do to change it when he inevitably became King. As domineering as his father was, even his power as King had its limits. His council had the final say in every decision and they were the last set of people anyone would want to have as an enemy.

“E-excuse me, my lord,” you voice rang through the room shaking Louis from his thoughts. You were standing in front of the door with a tray in your hand.

“I noticed you were missing your regular scheduled dinner so I thought I’d bring it to you, in case you were hungry, sire,” you said approaching him. Your concentration, as always, was focused on the tray at hand to ensure you didn’t drop it. You missed the slack jawed, lovestruck expression of the Prince before you.

“You...,” Louis’s voice trailed off as he watched you set down the tray on a small end table next to where he had dragged his chair.

“You’re still not using that word right.” Louis said turning from you. He felt his fur bristle at the kind act and his heart was nearly beating out of his chest.

“My apologies,” you bowed, turning to take your exit permanently this time.

“Wait,” Louis stood, regretting it immediately. Why was he standing? He tried to brush off his awkwardness and return to his normal curt behavior.

“Your presence is required in my study. 2 a.m. sharp.” Louis said it as an order when in reality he could feel his stomach in his throat.

“B-but I have.... other duties at that time, your highness. There is a nightly maid staff should you need anything, sire,” Your held a certain kind of fear in your eyesthat struck a nerve in Louis. Were you afraid of him? Or of missing those repugnant ‘duties.’

“This was not a subject up for discussion nor debate. You’re dismissed,” Louis watched your shoulders fall as you slunk out of his chambers.

His eyes then fell on the tray you had brought him containing his dinner. The act had been so genuine, and so very much like you. His heart fluttered at the thought of you doing something like this special for him and him alone but he knew that notion was as far off as could be. You were a simple maid just trying to do her job and he selfishly took advantage of that. You already were forced to spend an ungodly amount of time in his presence during the day and now he wanted to consume your off duty time as well.

Technically, you were never actually ‘off-duty’ as a maid of the castle however there were scheduled shifts for the staff for a reason. They were put into place so certain lines wouldn’t be crossed but Louis could honestly give less of s damn about those lines. He had already trampled over them, restricting himself from you now was pointless. There was a small part of him that wondered if he even could stay away from you. It seemed as if the more he surrounded himself with you, the more he craved you. There was something about you that drew him in more and more each time and he could hardly find the strength to fight it anymore.

He was falling headlong into his obsession with you and couldn’t find it in himself to care.

[mysmegrace]

Hey! I noticed your masterlist is a bit empty, can i fix that? Haha. Maybe you could write some headcanons with Saeran (and if you do more characters), Jaehee and Jumin having a cooking date with mc? Like maybe cookies, or browniesor cake! Idk haha. Sorry for the long ask. ☺️

Hey 👋 Haha yeah my master list isn’t doing so well right now lol. I love your ask, it’s so cute, and it’s not long at all! I didn’t see this until right now so forgive me if this is late lol!

Cooking Date with Saeran/Jumin/Jaehee 🥘

Saeran (Normal Ending)🌹

Staying indoors all day wasn’t fun in the slightest. Fortunately for you and Saeran, the coronavirus hadn’t reached the island you inhabited yet

Given that didn’t mean you guys were entirely safe, so you two had to follow the safety measures just like the rest of the RFA had to do back in South Korea

That meant you had to forget about your vacation to Greece you had planned for to go explore the European country and discover it’s beauty

You two definitely weren’t happy about that as you both were incredibly excited about the trip, the cancellation of the trip caused your moods to tank this week

As if you two weren’t already down in the dumps enough, you woke up to loud rain drops banging on your window

When seeing the combination of strong rain and high winds, a sigh escaped your lips

Walking around the island and admiring the gorgeous nature combined with seas that surrounded it was the only thing bringing you two comfort in these rough times

But because of how messy the weather was today, you couldn’t even do that

Feeling upset, you accepted defeat from Mother Nature and laid back down in bed, cuddled up to Saeran

After resting another few hours, the weather had only gotten worse, contrary to what you’d hope it’d be

You could see the look of disappointment that came across Saerans face as he looked outside the window

Nature was not just a pretty sight to Saeran, but a much stronger comforting sight to him, so you understood completely how this made him feel

The entirety of your early afternoon contained of just you and Saeran laying down focused on your phones

Nearing dinner hours you got a sudden yet welcoming motivation to get up and make something out of this horrible day after seeing lots of inspiration online

After a lot of thought you came to the conclusion that a cooking date sounds like something you two could use right now

You surfed the web until you came across the perfect recipe, Moussaka for dinner and Loukoumades for dessert

Two Greek dishes served frequently around Greece, maybe trying your hand at making these dishes could lighten your moods

This sounds like a great idea not only because it’s delicious food, but also because it could give you and Saeran a feel of Greece far away from the country

With everything planned and making sure all ingredients are in stock, you approach Saeran with your plan

He isn’t too enthusiastic when hearing your idea but with the puppy face you’re giving him, he found it hard to deny your offer

So he eventually agreed and you two were off to work

You turned on some calming music while you and Saeran began cutting up the vegetables needed for the Moussaka together

As time went on, you noticed you began getting happier as you two were cooking and making conversation

Your plan seemed to be working incredibly

After all ingredients were done and assembled correctly, you two gave it all time to cook

While it was cooking, you started talking about the future and about your dreams, you could tell his mood was lifting

You grew increasingly open with each other in discussing your wants and dreams, then a sudden but very welcomed kiss from Saeran touched your lips

It was only a little kiss, but that little kiss turned into another little kiss, and eventually it wasn’t just a little kiss anymore

You thought back to the days in Mint Eye, you could never see you and Saeran coming so far, but here you were now making out on the couch you shared

His hand laid gentle on your cheek as you two sat there enjoying every piece of each other and this amazing feeling

You both snapped back to reality once the timer rang loud through the home

Getting up disappointed because you two were interrupted, you walked over to take out the dinner with Saeran following you

Once you sat it down to cool, a giggle left Saerans mouth as his eyes laid on a trace of honey he left on your cheek

You returned his chuckle as you attempted to wipe the honey off with a towel

His hand stopped you from doing so as he turned your face towards him and wiped the trace of honey off with his thumb

“Thank you” you replied to his actions accompanied with a blush

“No need to thank me, it’s my job” he responded

You gave him a loving smile as you turned around to grab plates

You served the meal blown with a kiss on top as you two got to eating

Satisfied with the creation, you both had a loveable conversation and got a little piece of Greece in your home while missing out on your trip

After dinner dessert was served and you could’ve sworn you gained 30lbs from that delicious food

You both realized as long as you two are together, there’s no excuse to be upset about something that can always hold off until a later date

Jumin💎

The front door opening got your attention as you laid on the couch waiting for Jumin to arrive home

An hour ago he had run out to the grocery store to pick up some essentials and ingredients you two would need tonight

You both had planned cooking a meal together this afternoon and enjoying it over a candle lit table

Having a dinner date inside the home to relax and spend time together was something you definitely needed

It was perfect to make you feel even more loved and great for Jumin to lift stressful things from his mind

After an exhausting week of almost working himself to death, he brought up the idea to you

You didn’t even need to think before you agreed

Knowing Jumin, he was going all out

You swore the table cloth alone costed more than your rent for your old apartment

While he was sliding off his shoes with his arms holding many bags, you walked up to him and placed a short but sweet kiss on his lips

After you both brought the bags to the kitchen and got them unpacked, you got to work

You decided on stir-fry and lava cake

With Jumin focusing on the vegetables and chicken, you got to work on the sauce

Every time he passed you to get to the fridge, his hands wrapped around your waist for a brief minute as he placed a soft kiss on your temple

A light blush always came over your cheeks whenever he did loving actions like this, even after 3 years of marriage

You both were getting into conversations about life

About Elizabeth the 3rd, the next RFA party, plans for C&R, the current political climate, and much similar

Jumin was such an interesting man, how he could talk for hours about topics regarding the economy and fail to make you bored is beyond you

But you liked that about him, along with many other attributes of his

You always felt loved and protected in his presence, a feeling you’ve never felt throughout your childhood

As your conversation slowly shifted and you two starting getting more depth with your discussions, he expressed how much love he felt for you everyday

He never thought he could love someone this much, he can’t even imagine how much more love he’ll have in his heart when/if you two create your own family

While talking, you added the stir fry sauce to his concoction of vegetables & chicken on the stove, along with adding in noodles

You stirred the mixture carefully, making sure not to spill

An unexpected hand came on top of yours and joined you in stirring the mixture

You took those few minutes when he was directly behind you to take the situation in, to just breathe out and relax in his presence

Your stir fry was cooked perfectly as you turned off the heat and let it to cool a bit

While cooking, you both got to work on the lava cake

It was a quick & simple recipe that Jumin had never attempted to make before

He usually had his chef cook for you both so this entire experience was a special occasion to him

You both continued where u left off in your conversation

The look in his eyes as he spoke passionately, the way his lips moved along with his words, god you loved this man

You still remember the days when Jumin seemed like such a cold man to you at first

But when getting closer to him and hearing him open up to you, you realize how broken he’s been from childhood

He deserved better

Your thoughts were cut off the loud timer going off

As Jumin went to take out the cake, he told you to go get dressed

You were confused but listened, he had an outfit already laid out for you on the bed you two shared

He really was over the top somethings

After getting the gorgeous dress on, you walked back out to the kitchen to meet him

You were met with a well set table already prepared and a lit candle in the centre of you two

He took your soft hand into his and led you to your seat, pulling your chair in and out for you

He joined you seated at the table and you two became to eat

The dinner tasted great, better than you both expected

It wasn’t to his chefs level, but it was great for a non-chef

The rest of your night was spent in each other’s arms drinking a glass of wine on the couch

you two may or may not have had a shower after to clean yourselves off together and did some things 👁👄👁

Jaehee 🧁

You arrived at Jaehee’s apartment around noon

You two had planned to bake some cookies and donate them to the orphanage to give to children

Jaehee had her cooking supplies ready before you even arrived, she’s incredibly good at being prepared

You both got straight to work and had decided on chocolate chip and raisin cookies

Jaehee turned on some music to listen to in the background

She did the chocolate chip, you did raisin

A song came on from her playlist that you loved, you knew the dance to it and everything

You started dancing as you mixed the batter, singing along to the songs

That earned you a quick look of confusion from Jaehee

You stopped mixing and sat down the bowl as you stretched your hand out to Jaehee, offering her to dance with you

She stared for a minute before hesitantly agreeing after you told her to let loose a little

You started off slow, making sure she got a hang of the moves

Then you began gaining pace, building up speed

You saw a smile creep onto her face as she moved along with you

The song came to a short and after a short laugh you both got back to work

Hours passed of you making cookies before you were done, covered in a mess

You wiped your finger into the flour you had on your apron

You gave Jaehee an unexpected surprise by swiping the flour on her nose

She quickly returned your action back and you were soon in a flour war zone

After coating each other in the white powder, you two decided to call it quits for the day as you removed your apron

Looking at the cookies on the counter, you both grabbed one and cheered them together, making a toast

“To us”

I hope you enjoyed! I apologize if Jaehee’s seems rushed in any way, it’s almost 3am right now and I’m not functioning properly lol. Plus I’m not the best at writing with Jaehee. Thank you for your request!

REQUESTS: OPEN

[whump-town]

Shattered Hearts, Fractured Lungs

(Chapter Four; Warnings for: school shooting, violence, language, and heart failure; you can find the first chapter here, the second here, and the third here)

Emily Prentiss just wants to do her job but a messy case sends her sprawling into the arms of a dying man with a toddler and his weird, broken family.

“What kind of milkshake do you want?”

He’s looking through the assignments his replacement at the elementary school has the kids doing. Replacement is a generous term-- it’s some fresh out of college kid that he thinks he might have met once but really only knows by association. The point is that his kids were writing their names and common words when he left them… what the fuck is this other kid doing wrong so that they’re now struggling with their ABCs?

Being mad has good and properly distracted him from the rest of the week’s plans. Their plans had slipped from his mind. The milkshake especially. Right, his chest floods with warmth, and his cheeks grow hot as he looks up to see if Dave’s watching him. The older man had given him hell about his “little smiles” every time he gets a text from her.

 “Vanilla,” comes his quick response. 

“Why are you smiling at your phone?” 

Emily ducks as Morgan wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her to his chest, trapping her. She wiggles and caves, going limp instead of fighting this futile fight. Leaning back against him she smiles down at her phone, “I’m leaving early tomorrow. Just making sure my plans are still in place.”

He pulls her tighter, the two of them grappling for her phone. He wins the battle and his face splits into a mischievous grin. “Oh,” he says, “you’re talking to Aaron.”

She pulls her phone back quickly, “yes. I’m talking to my neighbor.” She pulls the phone back in and sends him a text confirming things. “He’s in the hospital, Derek. I’m being neighborly.” It’s past that. She knows it. Derek knows it. Hell, the whole block knows it.

“Mhmm,” Derek hums, shaking his head. “Neighborly,” he repeats with a smile. God, she’s a mess. “And what would you say if I said I needed your emotional support tomorrow, princess? Would you leave me for this guy?”

She tries to fight past the heat pooling in her cheeks but can’t. She wiggles out of his arms and firmly but without looking him in the eyes says, “I made plans, Derek. I don’t like to break plans.”

Morgan laughs. He throws his whole body back as he chest dances with his amusement. “You do like him!”

She’s gone before he can repeat himself any louder.

In the first week of taking the synthetic adrenaline, he does start to feel better. The wheezing and pressure start to go away and being in the hospital mean that he can manage his pain better. The food isn’t as bad as he pretends it is but there’s a whole roll of repercussions each time he can’t finish the food they give him. The staff can’t seem to understand that he wasn’t eating a whole meal for breakfast each morning as a healthy adult man-- let alone a dying one.

“Chin up, my boy!” Dave comes into the room unannounced. He kicks the door open and Hotch scowls from where he’s still buried under his blankets. It’s seven-thirty in the morning, visitor’s hours haven’t actually started, and not only has he not had anything to eat yet, but he’s also exhausted. “Guess who’s coming today?”

It’s not as purposeful or dramatic as he’d like but Hotch turns over in the bed, putting his back to Dave. He pulls the blankets up over his head, grunting rather than engaging the older man in conversation. Hotch still has about half an hour, hopefully, to get a decent nap in before the nurse ratchet brings in the drugs and his day starts. And, besides, it’s too early to deal with David Rossi.

Dave just keeps talking. 

“Come on, take a guess. Don’t be a killjoy.”

Rolling back onto his back, head tilted back to look at the ceiling he grumbles, “I don’t know. Who’s coming?” His voice is thick with his aggravation and sleep-deprivation… it does not get better at the sight of the nurse making morning rounds that comes in a second later.

The room is silent as she works, Hotch’s focus solely on her measuring out countless medications. Her hand is steady as she leads the needle into the port in his hand. He winces as she pushes the plunger down, the cold pain he’s learned to associate with the concoction of pain meds, and whatever else they’re always changing and telling him will “help”. What he does know is that it hurts. 

He has to turn his head as she prepares a second dosage of-- whatever. This time, he clenches his teeth and the heart monitor above his head gives a little protest.

“Mr. Hotchner?”

Well, it’s not supposed to feel like that. 

He’s fighting the fluttering feeling in his chest when the heart monitor really starts to go crazy. He can hear it. In the back of his mind, he’s aware of the heart monitor but he can’t breathe. Two hands-- Dave-- grab him by the collar and pull him upright. The change in position allows a momentary relief.  

“Hurts,” he wheezes out, chest impossibly tight. His eyes roll back into his head and he falls limply into Dave’s chest. 

He opens them a second later and he’s on his back. He’s shivering without his shirt to cover his goosebump covered chest. The entire room has been shuffled around. 

It wasn’t just a second.

There’s a tube down his throat, he winces as he swallows around it-- choking, even if he doesn’t mean to. His chest is killing him and he can see them putting the defibrillator pads away. Oh, he thinks, fighting the exhaustion pulling him back down. He turns his head, looking to the other side of the bed for Dave.

He’s standing on the other side of a large glass window. His hand anxiously moving through his goatee. 

Hotch smiles around the tube and offers a shaky thumbs-up.

Dave sees it. He shakes his head and gives Hotch a thumbs up back. This kid is going to kill him.

It had taken the nurse a moment too long to understand what was happening. Hell, Dave only knew because he’d seen it happen so many times. He was up and out of his chair in a flash, grabbing Aaron by the collar of his shirt and pulling him upright.

For a moment, Dave could hear the difference in his breathing, and then Hotch’s hand had grabbed on to the back of his shirt and held tight and Dave knew-- “He’s not breathing!”

He’d stood there by Aaron’s bedside as they tubed him, Hotch’s foot kicking out and the softest noise of protest leaving him as the cold metal had slid down his throat. Dave’s eyes had teared up when they filled his lungs a moment later and Hotch’s entire body just went limp.

It’s hard to watch. It’s infuriating that Dave can’t do anything to protect Aaron from all of this but it’s even worse when things like this happen. When Dave has to watch over and over as Aaron’s body fails him. 

Then to be ushered from the room as his heart starts to skip-beats, starts to give out. All for what?

For Aaron’s shaky little thumbs up. 

What happens when… Dave swallows thickly, his adam's apple bombing uncomfortably in his throat. What happens when, one day, Aaron doesn’t give him that thumbs up? 

When there’s no “okay”. 

By Sunday, the day immediately following the one where she agrees to see Hotch in the upcoming week, she’s added to a group chat. She picks up, quickly, that they have this sort of shaky schedule to make sure that Hotch isn’t alone for too long. Of course, the complication is-- Emily isn’t sure she’s earned her place in this little group.

When she enters the hospital she sees them immediately. With her worry lying with the milkshakes she’s smuggling in, she carefully pins them in the tote bag she has-- praying they don’t tip over and spill in her bag. The distraction causes her to hear things she’s not meant to.

“So…” Penelope’s eyes swell with tears. She pulls her hand to her mouth, “so if there’s a heart…”

Dave nods solemnly, “he’s not going to get it.”

Emily had told Morgan about coming to visit. He’d given her hell about her ‘dying, hot ass neighbor’. Well… she supposes Morgan was a little too right, this time. 

He’s really… he’s really dying. 

“Emily!” 

She pulls on a shaky smile, “Hey guys.”

Dave pulls her in for a hug and maybe her mind is playing tricks on her but it feels like he holds her tighter. “Here to see Aaron?” 

She doesn't want to nod. She doesn't want to say yes and end up seeing him however he is. It can't be good— this much she knows. No matter what, it can’t be good.

Dave pats her back before releasing her. He cups her cheek before looking away and releasing her completely. “He’s down the hall,” he informs her with a nod of his head. 

She doesn’t want to go.

She falters in the doorway there for a second. He already looks dead. He’s so pale and still hooked up to all the machines that it’s alarming. It’s… distressing and it’s hard to see him like this even if… even if sick and dying is the only way she’s ever known him. 

What exactly would he look like healthy? She can’t imagine him without his pale skin. He’s a jogger though, he’d told her that. “If I get a new heart… I just want to jog again.” And she’d told him she’d start running with him. They could stay in shape together…

That doesn’t seem like it’s going to happen now.

He moves, just a fraction of an inch as if he senses a presence and turns his head. His groggy eyes find her and when they do, he smiles around the tube. His throat hurts from the tube but it’s better than the suffocating pressure of being unable to breathe. He manages to lift two fingers in a small wave. 

She can hear his voice in her head and she smiles as she imagines what he’d grumble out if he were able. “I brought you the milkshake,” she says, stepping into the room. Glancing over her shoulder she settles down in the visitor’s chair and shows him. 

He gives his head a little shake but stops when it pulls on his mouth too much. Instead, he smiles and she can see the way it pulls his entire face down with his exhaustion. “I bet you could really use this now, huh,” she whispers, looking down at the milkshake in her hands. She’s not in the mood for her own, that’s for sure.

He taps the bed underneath his hand. It makes the softest sound but she looks up at him. He motions with his hand for something to write with.

“Uhm,” she sucks in a breath through her teeth, looking through her bag. She’s got paper but no-- pen! “Here,” she places the pen into his palm and smiles when he places it on the paper. Her heart is pounding, squirming with the chance to get back to their normal routines. 

She leans closer, watching him scowl with concentration. 

“You really want to know about work,” she asks just before he’s finished. She’s assuming he won’t mind the interruption given just how pissed he looks at his inability to produce neat, even letters on the page. 

He raises an eyebrow.

“It wasn’t bad,” she defends. It doesn’t cross her mind how she just knows what he’s saying when he’s not actually saying a thing. Could she do this with Derek having known him for years? Just a look from him has her shaking her head, “I’m not lying.”

He raises both eyebrows and looks back down the paper. She leans close again and-- it’s a good thing there’s a machine doing most of the work for his poor lungs because his heart does this stupid little flipping thing when her hand moves his so she can see what he’s written. And then she doesn’t move her hand.

His heart can not handle that.

“You’re pretty sassy for someone who can’t run if I want to get back,” she threatens playfully. 

But he can’t think past where their fingers are touching on the bed.

“Work is fine,” she sighs, pulling her hand back to her lap. “It’s a bit boring.” She grimaces, “well, probably, not as boring as here.”

It’s boring as all hell here but he’s tired of thinking about here. He’s tired, barely holding on but he’s more than willing to fight through the fog to stay here with her a little longer. 

She laughs at what he writes: “Here has drugs, though”.

Dave stops when he hears that sound. Laughter. He steps into the doorway and smiles at the scene before him. Despite the horrid sound of the hissing ventalior, they’re both smiling. Emily’s talking, her hands moving as she tells Aaron something about her day or… or maybe about drugs, if he’s not mistaken? 

But she’s laughing and he’s smiling and Dave feels hope. With a shake of his head, he leaves them to it. 

Love, he thinks with a smile, comes at the oddest of times.

[moonlightwinterdxxix]

MOONLIGHTWINTERDXXIX! Ready for another request attack!? 🤣 I'm here for Sutabaa Zaimoku identity shenanigans the SEQUEL! 😎✨ Somehow Kara's weird nice guy habits had actually worked?! He got on the good side of a visiting Sutabaa's overseas higher up by sheer luck and when they arrive to Sutabaa for whataver they mistaken Totty as Kara. Will Totty abuse this chance for nepotism to rise from his janitor position? Or will customer Kara unexpectedly arrive in all his glory and threaten this ruse?!

@yisongye For #make Karamatsu smile—the Bullied boys now have time to shine outside TVV xD

For those who are new, this is the continuation of this fic here.

~~~

Leaving its slanted position from the angle it was creating from the floor, Todomatsu raised the mop vertically and glared. “Stop laughing.”

“Pfft...! Okay, first you told me to stop talking,” Atsushi confirmed through snorts, shoulders rocking, “now you want me to stop laughing. What do you want me to actually do, Todomatsu? Make up your mind.”

“Leave. Go home. I don’t want you in here anymore. You’re making it a billion times worse.”

“Alright, come on. This is the thing, Todomatsu,” Atsushi said, resting his elbows on the table and raising a smug eyebrow that made Todomatsu want to punch his face so badly. “It wouldn’t have been so bad if you were being casual. Just a casual joe that’s cleaning tables, mopping the floors, doing his job, basically. But wearing your brother’s tacky sunglasses while working is what made you a sight more painful than him himself.”

“It’s his fault this all happened!” Todomatsu exclaimed, spreading a hand. “You have absolutely no idea what he said to the manager, and if you did...! If you were in my shoes, you’ll live with embarrassment for the rest of your life! He told me everything! I didn’t even want to wake up the next day after what he told me!”

“You’re overreacting,” Atsushi said, taking a sip from his latte. “I’m sure it wasn’t so bad. If he was pretending to be you, he couldn’t have possibly broken character enough that he’d make you look like a painful—”

“Then the sun, that glorious sun! Oh, it was the rose’s guardian angel, sending it a spirit for life and the will to fight forward! Oh, and it would now attract all the butterflies that followed a path so similar to it’s!” Todomatsu mimicked, posing with Karamatsu’s flair and voicing the lines with the lowest his voice can drop. Dramatically.

Atsushi burst out laughing.

“H-Hey! Shut up!”

“You’re right! It’s embarrassing!” Atsushi guffawed.

“Oh, wait until then!” Todomatsu snapped, resuming his work as he cleanly ridded the spot where a baby had spilt its mother’s drink. “The time will come when the same humiliation will happen to you. Don’t think that just because you have money and riches your life will be all fine and dandy. I promise that you will find failure soon. Just you wait.”

“Ooh, scary,” Atsushi drawled. “Doesn’t help that you’re wearing his glasses though. Why are you even doing that? To hide your identity? Everyone in the Ward knows of that face belonging to a sextuplet NEET, Todomatsu. That does nothing to your case.”

“Better safe than sorry. It’s better than having my own identity out in the world. Have Karamatsu instead—he’s the one most associated with failure.” He blew a raspberry, rolling his eyes. “You’ll eat your words soon, dumbbell,” Todomatsu vowed, grabbing a water bottle from his belt and spraying the floor. “I swear to Cod, you’ll eat your words and—”

“Todomatsu Matsuno?”

Someone suddenly was in front of the employees’ door of the establishment against the wall, and both Todomatsu and Atsushi were stunned to find a beautiful girl standing there, her eyes shining like those of the universe, all planets aligned and the sun at its brightest.

She had long, wavy brown hair that touched all the way to her waist, a bangs that brushed her eyebrows before parting at the sides, overlapping her ears. She had a large bust, which grabbed their eyes, but she also had long legs that they could see through her khaki pants. A notepad peeped out of the apron of her Sutabaa work uniform.

“Todomatsu Matsuno?” the girl echoed, smiling faintly, almost relieved. “Was that you? Oh, I never thought I’d actually see you! I heard snippets of your interview the other day, and I didn’t think I would be able to see you again. Anyway, I think I need to introduce myself formally to you. My name’s Sen. And I’m gonna be a co-worker of yours for the entire month.”

Todomatsu did nothing else but look at her, cheeks reddening as the sunglasses went askew on his nose.

“I’m the Sutabaa manager from Paris, see? But still a Japanese native,” the girl—Sen, went on. “I recently decided to take a trip back to Japan so I can see how the employees do their tasks here. And I was just in time too. A made a recent notice of the lack of appeal in customer service and entertainment, but I can associate the opposite of that with the fanfaronade you put on. At least, what I just heard right now and the other day. I assume that really was your interview, wasn’t it?”

“Y...Yeah,” Todomatsu breathed.

“Great! Because I think I might be considering lifting your position off being a janitor if that was the case,” Sen told them, taking out her notepad and pen. Her fingernails were decorated with fancied stickers of the Eiffel Tower. “With your flow of words, we might be able to attract more customers to the establishment. Imagine being talked about as that cashier man with a Shakespearean dictionary in his vocabulary. Wouldn’t that spark interest?”

No. Yes? Perhaps? Todomatsu didn’t think a Karamatsu persona would’ve sparked any interest from anyone or anything? Not even an ant’s or a cockroach’s.

And yet...If this meant not being a janitor anymore...

“Of course, only if you don’t mind,” Sen said, jutting down on her notebook. “If you aren’t willing to act so in front of customers, we won’t force you too. But your gentlemanly manner when you speak might make some progress in this building when it comes to getting people to come. It’s a suggestion I’ve already spoken to your main manager about. Now I want to ask you! Are you willing to do it, Todomatsu-san?”

“E-Eh?!” Atsushi squeaked, and Todomatsu continued to stare at her.

Then he blinked beneath the sunglasses. Then his lungs refilled with air, and his imagination lit up with his proud-to-behold Todomatsu Matsuno wisdom. He smirked, transferred the mop to his other hand, using his free one to touch his hairline with two fingers. “Of course, my dear! And I’d be happy to perform more Shakespearean might you give me the opportunity to! After all, I am Todomatsu Matsuno, master of the fine art, a man of theatre through-and-through!”

“Oh!” Sen expressed (cutely to the mens’ eyes), eyebrows rising.

“EEEHHH?!! O-Oi! Todomatsu! What the hell are you doing?!” Atsushi demanded, rising slightly from his chair.

Dropping the mop, Todomatsu slid over to Sen, a finger-gun following the shape of his jaw as he grinned narcissistically. “My, what ever is the problem, Atsushi? Can you not see that I’m being as normal as I can be? I am flattered by this woman’s suggestion, and all I want is to make her feel welcome in these crowded, sorrowful Tokyo streets. You are quite a foreigner yourself, in a way, are you not, sweetheart?” He knelt down, grabbed her hand. “I apologize for the inconvenience, dear. You make my heart melt.” He kissed her hand—it was so soft. Like, so, so soft that it was impossible for something to be that soft.

She chuckled.

Atsushi sputtered.

And Todomatsu wanted to as well. Because he wanted to scream so badly and yank his soul out of his body for the stupid idea he had concocted. Because...Because...BECAUSE LOOK AT THIS! He was posing with that stupid grin of his stupid brother while wearing those stupid glasses and was talking in that stupid accent all because Karamatsu had ruined Todomatsu’s chances for work with a stupid mistake because of his stupid brain and—!

Okay, keep it together, Todomatsu. Look on the bright side. He was a janitor, he was cursed with this hex of Satan since the day Karamatsu left the womb. And this was unacceptable, more than being a baby brother that everyone looked down on! This woman...She could change that. Hell, she could turn him from a lowlife into the manager himself! If Todomatsu followed her guidelines, matched her standards, made himself the appealing man she wanted to view...Yes, this was going to be his debut as the boss of his own life!

And so what if Karamatsu was the key to that?! Karamatsu was the key to success, and no one cared for Karamatsu’s own failure! These NEETs were selfish bastards after all!

Heck, Todomatsu was that desperate! Yes! Yes! But he didn’t care, for everyday he was already dying with the thirst for change! Change in his life, change in his pathetic, why-am-I-alive existence! He had no friends—only acquaintances who would never stay longer than twenty minutes! His life was littered with five matching levels of garbage, sharing his bed and face that made him look as terrible as them! But he wasn’t! And he wasn’t going to be defined like that any freaking more!

Yes! Hell yes! This was the true form of this Todomatsu-sama, the one who will be the first of his NEETy brothers to find love alongside work! So what if he was a cursed janitor?! He was an official graduate from the status that had once colored him at the bottom of the caste system, and this woman was going to be his diploma! Hell yes, he won!

And there was even a plus. This girl was into this, and if he continued this painful persona he might have a chance to actually keep her. No more virginity for this youngest dirty monster, because he was going to be able to smash her and make her his by acting his part as the best boyfriend she could ask for! So what if she was a princess?! A lady of romance and theatrics and the arts?! She was still an unattainable woman who any of these stupid NEETs would pine for for ages! Lifetimes! A keeper to the max despite maybe bad taste in vocabulary, but that was besides the point!

Todomatsu could keep her. Hell, he can keep her. If he was this perfect cashier, he can keep her. Beat the hell out of his brothers, and become the true role model that Choromatsu and Osomatsu were far from being! All because he was a loser, therefore there was no one else he could grab! Because Iyayo and Chibimi were plastic dolls and Kinko was a woman of true culture...Because Totoko hated them like scum and Homura was in love with someone else...!

Hell yeah, there was so much he could gain, this baby demon of the Matsuno hellhole...All he needed to do now was act the part. Act the part.

What would Karamatsu say, and how can it be said for this woman’s attraction? Hm, he needed to summon his inner Karamatsu, if there even was one. Because just like the rest of his brothers, having an inner Karamatsu was like saying that they had a tree growing over their heads. It was impossible. Because having an inner Karamatsu was one of the things they as NEETs did not want to have.

But this woman. She wanted a Karamatsu.

Todomatsu smirked. Fine. For her, he’ll play the part.

“Have you always been a theatrical one, Todomatsu-san?” Sen asked, tucking a few collective strands of hair behind her ear after hiding her notebook and pen again. “Or is this a new thing after graduating?”

Hmm, how was he going to answer this? Should he be honest and tell her that the only thing he’s ever done involving theatre was dunk bird turd on someone’s script, or should he go with the Karamatsu flow and tell her that acting has always been a hobby since the day he could walk? What would this woman want to hear? Todomatsu pondered, forced his brain cells to click and tick and turn their gears...Hmm...

Then—

Todomatsu posed, raising an arm and bending another. “I had no plan!” he announced.

Sen’s mouth formed a tiny circle. Atsushi face-palmed.

“Heh, I’ve always went with the flow of my own wind, dear beautiful Sen,” Todomatsu enumerated smoothly, dropping the octaves of his voice, which wasn’t so hard. He was already gifted to have a deep voice whenever he yelled (something Choromatsu once mentioned to him, that rising, fapping loser), and so mimicking Karamatsu’s original tone wasn’t that difficult as an activity. That, and this woman had never met Karamatsu in person, so he had the safety of a thousand nets and trampolines to catch his sky-high fall.

“Theatrical arts, drama, cherry blossoms in the wind, a heart of blue.” Oh god, Todomatsu wanted to slap himself so hard, wanted to slice his tongue with a cleaver and haul it into the mouth of hell. Speaking Karamatsu was speaking the language of agony. If this was what being the childhood best friend of Karamatsu resulted in, then maybe it was better if none of that ever happened at all. “It was my mind, cured with the peacefulness of my being, that opened my existence in a fantasy worth exploring. The unknown. Skies and trees that breathe the air of purity that is being wiped from this earth. It tears my soul and rips my being into shreds.”

Atsushi snorted, turning away. That goon, Todomatsu was gonna deal with him later.

“Ooh, how poetic,” Sen commented, her hair bouncing as she tilted her head. “How did you gather your vocabulary?”

How did Karamatsu gather his vocabulary? How did Karamatsu gather his vocabulary? HOW DID KARAMATSU GATHER HIS VOCABULARY? When they were freaking kids, Karamatsu wasn’t even able to determine the differences between ‘limbs’ and ‘limbo’! How the hell did he come from that turd of an idiot into a man with a dictionary built into his throat?!

“Heh, by being myself,” Todomatsu answered painfully, trying not to reach over to wipe the sweat pooling behind his ears and running down his nape. “I’m a natural at my strengths, the best of my kind. Because I’m a loner, but at the same time I have my own hands to support me might I fall. Heh, I’m a tower of storms.”

“You definitely are. Very destructive too,” Atsushi chortled, eyes directed elsewhere but the killer’s promise of a glare on Todomatsu’s face.

“Wait a minute,” Sen said, a finger touching those beautiful lips of hers. “Todomatsu-san, have I seen you before? I thought you looked familiar and remembered that I saw someone looking like you yesterday. Were you at the park yesterday taking a swim in the river dressed in a yellow baseball uniform?”

Todomatsu flinched so hard that his soul felt like it had just poked the waves of an ocean made of lava. “No, that wasn’t me! It was a stranger, surely! I hate baseball, always have!”

“Only since today,” Atsushi muttered. Todomatsu was internally sending him two of his middle fingers which tips had holes for bullets.

“But the other day, I thought I saw you too?” Sen asked. “Wearing red this time. Playing at Pachinko? And you had a very large bruise on your face while you left the parlor crying. I assume you lost the gamble after getting into a fight?”

Shit! Damn you, Osomatsu! “Nope! Pachinko is not my turf in the slightest!” Todomatsu lied, puffing out his chest because he felt like deflating into an airless blob of rubber.

“Yet you won yesterday,” Atsushi stated quietly behind his hand.

“And also, in the mixer? I saw someone in pink looking like you leave it recently,” Sen followed up, crossing her arms. “Well, not to defy you or anything, but are you the mixer type really, Todomatsu-san? With your flair and all, your humble personality, I don’t think you need a mixer to determine your acquaintances and your friends.”

“Heh, fret not, my queen,” Todomatsu schmoozed, wanting to stab himself for each ‘heh’ he had to gag out. “This man here is still as packed with friends as a man can be.” Which was half true and half lie. Todomatsu was one with peers, but Karamatsu was a member of the trash gang. Meaning, friends were flies, and peers were the dirty streets that only cats were willing to walk because they too were stupid enough not to understand anything in life.

Sorry not sorry, Ichimatsu.

“Oh, alright then,” Sen said, then bowed. “I guess I was just thinking about your successful interview too much then.”

“Oh, it is quite fine,” Todomatsu fibbed, planting very sweaty hands against his hips. “I am alone in my features—there’s no one else like me at all. If there was, it’s probably a doppelgänger signaling death that looms over me. Therefore I am the one and only, Sen-chan. Todomatsu Matsuno.”

Atsushi turned away, shoulders shaking.

Sen chuckled. “If you say so, mister Matsuno. So, are you up for it, Todomatsu-san? Would you accept my invitation to be a cashier instead of a janitor?”

“Yes, my sweet! I am glad to oblige!” Todomatsu hollered, spreading out his arms. “I shall prepare myself for all the hi’s and hello’s I can offer to any passersby for this fine establishment! Give the word and I shall motion with the swift energy of lightning!” Smirking painfully, he posed, spreading his legs out, resting one of his elbows over his other hand, and he flicked his bangs before sending Sen a finger gun. “Like lightning. Bang.” He inched his fingertip.

Atsushi exploded into full-on laughter.

“Alright then,” Sen said, nervously cutting Atsushi a look as she slowly retreated into the staff room. “I’ll let them know, so wait here. Let me make the arrangements for you, alright?”

“Heh. You are the true Samaritan, dearest Sen,” Todomatsu gritted out with the flawless character of his brother.

Then waving, Sen closed the door behind her.

Todomatsu snapped.

“What the hell is wrong with you, you turd-hole?!” he yelled, gripping Atsushi’s dark collar and shaking him with the mercy of a madman. “Stop making me look as transparent as I already am! It’s bad enough that I need to be that stupid-as-hell brother in order to win back my pride, moron! And don’t question how I can impersonate the goon, and I too want to straight-up murder my past self for ever thinking that being friends with that painful Shittymatsu was a good idea! So shut the hell up!”

“Yo, Totty!” Atsushi called out, still smiling through the force shoving him back and forth. “Why didn’t you just tell her no? You don’t have to put up a Karamatsu everyday if you don’t want to! Be a janitor in freedom! It’s still worth it!”

“And let myself still look like an effing NEET in the process?! Not a chance!” Todomatsu fumed, releasing Atsushi and pouting, folding his arms. “You won’t understand. You have everything already. Why not just be a comrade and let me have this? I know it sucks and it hurts and it’s painful as fu—!” Pausing, he doubled over, and he vomited a waterfall of glitters onto the floor. The Karamatsu was really getting into him.

“I’m not telling you anything,” Atsushi said, shrugging casually as Todomatsu straightened up again, wiping his lips. “If you want to or not, it’s your choice. You’re the only one balancing on your own lifeline. Each choice you make affects you, and there’s no one else that can do anything about it.”

“Meh, I guess that’s true.” Finally, Todomatsu had the urge to pull Karamatsu’s sunglasses off his face to look at. Just the blue of them reflecting the light from the restaurant made him want to snap them and toss them out into the Bermuda Triangle. “Still though. If it makes me get more than what I already have, Imma be up for the challenge. Time to be Karamatsu-niisan.” He returned the shades. “I dunno how long I can pull this off—if I do at all.”

Atsushi snorted. “Wish you luck. How long you can keep this up will color me curious as well.”

~~~

One week. It was one entire week of painful dialogue and flamboyant posing. It was one week with Todomatsu being responsible for those awful sunglasses that Karamatsu had been looking for whenever they came back home after days under Akatsuka Ward’s sun. It was one week of heh’s and hm’s, and each time Todomatsu wanted to throw a fit and dump on a table the same way Ichimatsu would. He was angry, he was embarrassed, he just wanted to end his suffering with a knife to the chest or whatever lame shtick.

“You’re doing great, Todomatsu-san,” Sen would tell him, and it was kind of true. Customers did seem very satisfied with Karamatsu’s dialogue floating to their ears, and it made Todomatsu question humanity in its intelligence. It was either he was dumb or the world was dumb, and he voted for the latter due to his excessive pride. That, and he needed reassurance of something, because working as a cashier mimicking his older brother didn’t deduce the NEETiness he felt like was still sewn into his system.

He didn’t answer any questions from anyone else though. If it were Aida and Sachiko that were close by in their shifts, Todomatsu would be able to cut away the sheets of Karamatsu’s ghost long enough for him to be normal, the same Todomatsu ‘Totty’ Matsuno that the two baristas knew. As for his brothers, he was always mopey when taking orders from them if they ever came, and they always left Sutabaa with knowledge only on the purchased drink rather than the persona that broke loose with other customers. Todomatsu was glad of the stupidity of Jyushimatsu and the lack of comment from Ichimatsu.

And then...The day came.

“One strawberry latte for Nishimiya,” Sen announced, scribbling the name on a large cup with a black marker.

“Heh. Blueberry cheesecake for Shimizu,” Todomatsu added, wanting to let a large portion of glittery vomit escape his throat again. “Kindly help yourselves to table four, my dear. You wait there for the meantime—your hunger will be satisfied momentarily.” He lowered his sunglasses, winking. And when the customer smiled at him in appreciation, it was obvious she didn’t notice how much pressure Todomatsu had to put into his muscles just to make himself appear his way.

“Right, Totty, right?” Sen left the table, handing the cup to him. “I’ll be on my break now. Can I leave it to you?”

“Heh. If that may assist thy fatigue, I’d be willing to move mountains for you.” Shoot, shoot, SHOOT! Just kill him already, Akatsuka-sensei so he didn’t have to do this bullhooey anymore! But this ‘bullhooey’ seemed to deem him fine for now as Sen bobbed her head, entering himself into the opposite room as she closed her door.

The bell above the Sutabaa entrance chimed.

A sigh.

Time stopped for Todomatsu, and for a moment there was nothing he could do but transform into a frozen block of ice. But his recovery was swift, and before notice Todomatsu took off his sunglasses as a pair of leather-sleeved elbows propped themselves on the counter.

“Good morning, Todomatsu,” Karamatsu said, smiling sadly at his brother. Sadly? Why sadly? Shoot, that meant he was going to blow up into painful monologuing territory that will be sure to either end his life, or Todomatsu’s. Bullsh—“I’d just want a coffee, please. Extra sugar, maybe?” Karamatsu went on, devoid of joy.

Todomatsu gulped. “Ah, right. Wh...Why are you here, Karamatsu-niisan?” His gaze darted through the area, hoping for no familiar faces to question him and his conversation with his lookalike brother. Thank goodness the timing had Sen leaving for a while before anything else bad could happen, because Todomatsu swore to Cod, bad stuff was indeed going to happen.

“Need a little time to think, perhaps?” Karamatsu said, lowering his own blue sunglasses. It was a fun thought, Todomatsu imagined, to continuously rid Karamatsu of any of his glasses by breaking them in half or tossing them into a gorge, but a spare would always find themselves on his face the following day. Wonder how many he had tucked in their closet? His entire allowance, most likely. No wonder he has only his 10% chances of winning in pachinko.

Karamatsu continued, “Because there was this very beautiful woman, and for a while I might’ve called her mine, but...” He gripped his elbows with opposite hands, fingers sinking into his sleeves, “she rejected my confession,” he squeezed out.

Todomatsu remained unfazed. Alright. So? Todomatsu didn’t give a dang about Karamatsu’s tragic love story. “So you thought that coming here to mope would be a good idea? Why not just follow Osomatsu-niisan in Pachinko or go fishing with Choromatsu-niisan?”

“Heh. They had their own activities planned for this lonely afternoon,” Karamatsu told him, and Todomatsu felt the horror of old English penetrating through him. “And is it wrong that I wanted to spend time with my dear littlest brother? I missed days where we trekked the world solo. I guessed that maybe time with him again would lift my soul from the pits in where it has fallen into. Crammed with skeletons...O-Oh, Totty! My heart is weeping, my brother!” He extended his arms and tightened them around Todomatsu, pulling the younger man towards him before sobbing on his shoulder.

Todomatsu went rigid, praying to everyone in the skies listening not to have anyone barge in during this absolutely humiliating moment of Todomatsu’s probable fall from grace.

“And she was a delicate flower too!” Karamatsu wept, clinging to Todomatsu with all his might. Cod, the counter edge was digging into Todomatsu’s stomach...! “Beautiful and compassionate and oh! Such an ideal diamond, brother! And yet I was not anything to her!” He wailed, breathing jagged as he mashed his face onto Todomatsu’s collar, letting it absorb his misery.

“Ugh! Keep it down, Shittymatsu!” Todomatsu hissed, prepping his hands over Karamatsu’s chest in preparation to push him away. “I’m at work, for crying out loud! And what kind of idiot customer walks up to the cashier to cry? Are you that stupid?”

Thankfully preserving the need for Todomatsu to do the deed himself, Karamatsu released his younger brother, leveling Todomatsu’s gaze with confusion setting as the emotion in his tear-filled eyes. “Umm...Cashier? I thought you were a janitor?”

Oh, Cod-damn it. Todomatsu cringed. Karamatsu didn’t know yet, couldn’t know, will never ever know...! If he knew who knew what kind of shtick Todomatsu will have to put up with and what kind of life he will forever be living with regret and—!

The staff room door opened. “Totty! I think I forgot my wallet here and—” Sen paused, staring at the brothers before flinching. “Oh! Sorry! I didn’t think there was a customer! Please, carry on, sir! You...!” Her eyebrows furrowed as she trailed off, gears clicking in her head. “...look exactly like Totty. Are you brothers? And he’s got a leather jacket and...Huh?”

Karamatsu blinked, thick brows curved questioningly. “Yes, I’m his brother. And are you...? Totty, are you alright, my dear brother?”

Holy crap! Cod, crap-crap-crap! Todomatsu felt his blood run dry. “Ah, yeah! Karamatsu! Sen-chan! I, um, heh!” He suddenly grabbed Karamatsu’s wrist and dragged him off, not waiting for anything else as he led Karamatsu out the Sutabaa door and outside the building to its side. Behind a wall, where no one sale might see them. Might. Because no one important was going to need glancing at a pair of brothers that looked closest to being members of slavery in the caste system.

Which they were, mind you. But not Todomatsu, if Karamatsu decided not to screw things up.

“Huh? Todomatsu, what’s going on?” Karamatsu asked as Todomatsu parted his grip on Karamatsu, massaging his temper and tingling veins for tranquility that didn’t want to come.

“Look. I can explain some other time, but for now, just effing follow my lead, got it, niisan?” Todomatsu ordered lowly, cautious for stares. Sen, the manager, Aida, Sachiko, or any of their foolish brothers. “I am the cool one, you’re the same loser as you always were. Picture yourself when you were eighteen, or just think about your heartbreak. You’re a goner from life. And you have no idea how to speak with your normal, flashy speech patterns.”

Karamatsu was nothing but confused. “Eh?”

Scoffing irritably, Todomatsu snatched the glasses from Karamatsu’s face and put them on himself, then proceeded to take off Karamatsu’s leather jacket from his brother’s body. That stupid shirt had the painful man’s face on it...! Alright, he can find a way around that. All he needed to do was be creative. Karamatsu was already an actor of some sort, so there was no need to...! Bah! Freaking heck with it! Making up stories was never difficult when you grew up as a liar!

Todomatsu flipped the leather jacket over his own shoulders and lifted his chin at Karamatsu.

“Todomatsu?” Sen called out. “Are you two over here?”

Just in time. Todomatsu elbowed Karamatsu’s gut, and after a grunt from him, Todomatsu said, “Follow. My. Lead. Or I’m going to burn all of your clothes before you even blink again.”

“Eh? Uh, ‘kay,” Karamatsu hesitantly agreed.

“Totty? Ah, there you two are.” Sen made herself visible as she stepped out of the corner turn. And being able to now see them openly, she stopped walking, for good reason. “Um, is this a bad time?”

“No, not at all,” Todomatsu said, speaking with an impression of his brother as he tried to wave a hand with dismissal. Cod, he could already smell the cologne. “It’s my brother here. It’s not much, but I find it quite unruly of him to root through my clothing without my permission. I’m just trying to set him straight for it again. Apologies, Sen-chan.”

“Eh?!” Karamatsu half-gasped, only faltering when he saw the stiletto aimed at him in Todomatsu’s glare. “Ah, yeah, sorry about that,” he said lightly, timidly. “I was, uh...Going through a phase? I wanted to be, uh, like him.” He pointed at Todomatsu limitedly. Todomatsu jerked his head slightly. Doing great, you lame actor. Karamatsu-niisan.

“Ah, I don’t think I should be here then,” Sen amended, backing away from them with a light flush and an apologetic smile. “If this is something personal, the last thing I want to do is walk in on your talk.”

“Heh, we’re fine, my dear. Kindly decrease your pressure on our situation,” Todomatsu soothed in a baritone, Karamatsu’s jaw lowering beside him as his eyes dilated. “We will report back to the main cafe shortly. My brother here, must only receive a brief scolding. We will be fine, such as we always can be. Right, my dear brother Karamatsu?”

Karamatsu sniffed, taking his palms to the corners of his eyes. “Cod, you’ve adapted so much...!” he sniveled proudly, and defeatedly, to Sen’s ears. “I’m so proud of you, Totty!”

Todomatsu felt a vein bob under his skin. When they were alone, he was going to kill this man.

But for the meantime, he said, “Oh, do not weep, brother! Forgiveness is always a virtue in our bloodline! I will not hold your prejudices against you! Instead, come into my arms as I will blanket you with comfort that will leave you spellbound in my affection!” And as much as he didn’t want to do it, Todomatsu spread out his arms, which were immediately touching not the air anymore but Karamatsu as he threw himself against Todomatsu’s chest.

“You sound like me! I’m so happy!” Karamatsu cried, though gratefully softly enough for Sen not to hear.

“Can it, niisan,” Todomatsu hissed in reply. “If you mess up the act none of us will be able to walk this earth again without regret dragging our ankles. Just continue being this emotional and we’ll be fine. Make me look cool here.”

“Okay, brother. I...Wait...If you’re acting like me and telling me to make you look cool...” Karamatsu hiccuped. “Does that mean you think I’m cool?” he sobbed out desperately.

Todomatsu choked, his entire body warming as his face fell red. “N-No! You’re not cool! There’s a reason for all of this and I—!”

“I’ll just leave now,” Sen said, wagging her hand as her shoes planted themselves on the ground behind her. “You two sort yourselves out. I’ll be glad to cover you for a bit, Totty, if you need time to settle things out.”

“Your heart truly was mantled from Hephaestus’s golden chamber,” Todomatsu rasped, his body and mind matted with sequins on wounds.

Karamatsu buried his head in deeper, squeezing Todomatsu tighter as Sen dipped her head and vanished from sight. Only then did Todomatsu grind his teeth together and shove Karamatsu off him, making the older man stumble back and catch himself by a pillar, blinking wetly at Todomatsu.

“Okay, enough,” Todomatsu said tersely, eyelids weighing down unamused as his arms interlaced parallel to his torso. “Karamatsu-niisan, can you please not tell anyone of this, ever? I’m gonna tell you everything, but swear to me that all this is to be kept between us. If anything comes out, your head will be what our brothers will see at the dinner table later tonight.”

“Of course! If there’s a secret, I promise of sealed lips that I would take with me to my tombstone!” Karamatsu vowed, a fist connecting to his left breast. “Reveal all you need to, my brother! I await your words.”

“Cod, that’s so painful,” Todomatsu wheezed, then cleared his throat afterwards, lowering the sunglasses for solid eye contact. “I was given the chance to become a cashier because they thought I was you. Or at least, you were me, but I think you might have an idea. They really liked your speaking patterns from the interview, and wanted that to be the first thing that customers heard when entering Sutabaa. So assuming I was you, and wanting to rise from a crappy janitor, I pretended to be you so that I can achieve that higher position. It’s my rise in the caste system, honestly. It’s all I ever wanted.”

“T...Totty...” Karamatsu breathed.

“Iya-ya, it’s not much,” Todomatsu promised, gesturing for emphasis. “But I thought it was the only shot I got. I understood you enough that it wasn’t really hard to be like you, so that was the least of my problems. But of course, it was painful as hell, since the entire week had me trying to be someone I’m not. I guess I...I...” Then the realization, for the first time, hit him, and he wrinkled the leather jacket in his hands, smacked it to the ground, and turned to walk away.

But then there was a hand clamping around his wrist, and Karamatsu had stopped Todomatsu from going any further with his promising hold. “Oi. You aren’t going without finishing that sentence, Todomatsu,” he said sternly.

“They like you more than me,” Todomatsu spat out brokenly.

Karamatsu’s reply was his muteness.

“Think about it, niisan. If it were just you trying to be me before, it would’ve landed me as nothing but a plain old janitor if nothing at all,” Todomatsu blabbered, a finger pushing up the shades as he averted his gaze to his feet. “But when you broke into you, I got the chance of being a cashier again. And now the only reason I’m keeping the job is because I’ve been trying to be you. If I were being me, what would I even be contributing to society? Nothing. Maybe that’s why I lost the job in the first place.”

Karamatsu was still holding him firmly.

“Never mind. I’m babbling nonsense you won’t understand. Sorry, Karamatsu-niisan.” Todomatsu used his free hand to rescue his eyes from the blue lenses that were casting his surroundings in aqua. Then he took Karamatsu’s other hand and pressed their surface on them, securing his fake identity with its true owner once again. “I’ll just return to work now. Pretend that you finally won over me so that they don’t ask why I’m me instead of you.”

“Totty.”

Todomatsu exhaled softly. “Hm?”

“Is that why my glasses have been disappearing all week?”

“...yes.”

“So I guess...It’s best you have your own pair, right?” Karamatsu chuckled, handing back his sunglasses. “You still need to pretend to be me, right? And I still need to pretend to be someone else?”

Todomatsu inclined his head, surprise painting him. “Eh? What do you mean? I’m giving you back your identity, you dimwit, trying to live with mine. Are you so agreeing that it’s better I fake myself instead? Is that how much I suck to you?”

“Far, Todomatsu,” Karamatsu stated steadily. “It’s because I learned before that you can learn when you pretend to be someone else. By being in someone else’s shoes, you come to realize how much there is to love about yourself. Is that not true? Is my painful personality not something you cannot stand? It is, and that’s why you even think of yourself as better than me. The last thing I want is you to think of yourself so lowly because of my accomplishments.

“Todomatsu, you were sick the day I came to the interview as you. But remember, that was the second interview. Sutabaa managed to accept you once, and was willing to do so again after you dropped out when we humiliated you. If they had seen you for who you truly were, then I’m certain that they would still be ready to welcome you again as the real Todomatsu Matsuno as you are.”

“Then...Why did you want to give me these...?” Todomatsu gasped out, trailing his thumbs over the dark blue lenses of the shades.

“I wanted to teach you that lesson,” Karamatsu said, shrugging casually with a small smirk. “But I just explained the mechanics in my agenda, so there’s no use for that now. I think it’s best you just return to Sutabaa again as yourself instead of a clone of me. Because, brother. You’re surprisingly good at it.”

“Gee, thanks,” Todomatsu said, his heart finally softening free from whatever claws had once gripped it. “I’m sorry I threw your jacket like that.”

“There’s always the laundry. Don’t worry about that.” Karamatsu laughed. “Come now, brother. I still have my coffee in the waiting, do I not? Please treat your brother to something to warm his insides from the Antarctica waters in which it has drowned.”

“Ugh, fine,” Todomatsu said, but not harshly, before looking down at the shades. “Are these really mine now though? I think they match your face better than mine. And I think they will miss you if they were gone.” Grinning, he hung the sunglasses from Karamatsu’s top, then stood back with satisfaction, hands pressed to his waist.

“Heh. Thank you, Todomatsu,” Karamatsu said, chuckling.

Then together, they went back to the entrance of Sutabaa, opening the door as Todomatsu cried out, “Sen-chan! We’re back! And we have a coffee pending for—!”

“Oh hey, you two!” Osomatsu greeted, hands in the pocket of his hoodie as he stood in front of the counter, Sen at the other side. “I was actually gonna ask where you were, Karamatsu! I heard you were working here in Sutabaa and I was curious to know if it was true!”

Todomatsu and Karamatsu gaped in unison. “Eh?!”

“But I guess I was wrong,” Osomatsu said, rubbing his nose with a finger. “Totty’s wearing the uniform. Now you make me wanna ask about the rumors: why was I hearing of a Sutabaa cashier who uses Karamatsu slang every time he gets an order? I didn’t wanna believe it, and I still don’t, but maybe I should be realizing that since it’s both of you involved! Of course Totty would have the best impersonation other than Jyushimatsu—you two were besties as kids, right? So it’s safe to say that you were looking up to Karamatsu for a while, Totty!” Osomatsu laughed.

Todomatsu’s stomach coiled. “B-But—!”

“Is that true, Todomatsu-san?” Sen asked, frowning a little.

“It’s gotta be, right?” Osomatsu continued. “Totty would do anything to get what he wants. If being a ‘Karamatsu’ would help him in his salary, then he’d do it. Just like he’d lie to other Sutabaa employees that he was from a university so big when all he was was a NEET. It’s simple—he’s a demon for a reason.”

“Wait,” Sen said, frown deepening. “Does this mean that it wasn’t Todomatsu at the interview? But Karamatsu?”

“Hah? Totty never went to any interview,” Osomatsu exposed obliviously, unaware of the jaws on the floor from the two brothers standing next to him. “Ha-ha! Sen-chan, right? You’re making me laugh here! Don’t tell me you mistook Karamatsu for Totty! I mean, I might, but they’re brothers, so identity thief shenanigans is a thing and so cheating is not hard!”

Sen stared. So did Karamatsu. Todomatsu felt his entire body burn into ashes.

~~~

Todomatsu’s butt slammed on the sidewalk from the force of the hands that had previously shoved him out of the building.

Karamatsu immediately went to his side. “Totty! Wh-What did they tell you, my brother?”

Todomatsu clicked his tongue. “I got fired.”

Karamatsu’s face fell.

“Welp, all in a day’s work, right?” Osomatsu said, spinning his heels and going ahead. “Hey, I won a bit in pachinko, by the way. Wanna try using that in some of the races? We might get half as much if I use my detective brain again to read between the lines!” He laughed. “Just like I did with you two idiots.”

Todomatsu ground his teeth. He really was surrounded by demons.

[thevengeanceuniverse]

Truce? Ch.1

Summary: Someone leaked the video from December 16th, 1991 to the world, resulting in mass uproar of the Winter Soldier’s murder of Iron Man’s parents. When things take a turn for the worse and the public starts to demand for the Winter Soldier’s head, the most unlikely candidate of them all comes to Bucky Barnes’ rescue.

Honestly, when Steve called to ask for Fury’s help, he wasn’t thinking that Tony would be playing boyfriend to his boyfriend.

Disclaimer: This was meant to be crack with the depth of a donut hole. If it ended up with the depth of a pound cake hole instead, well that was entirely unintentional

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

“Just smile for the nice people holding the cameras, Barnes—no, not like you’re going to eat them,” Tony hissed out. God, he knew it took time before people adjusted to the media attention enough to have a press-ready smile, but surely Barnes could do better than the teeth-baring grimace that was marring his face. Instead of looking like a man in love, he looked like he was in imminent danger of explosive diarrhea.

“I’m not a performing monkey, Stark, you get what you get,” Bucky grunted back. He stood stiffly next to the billionaire at the press event that was supposed to be their “coming out” to the world. The public relations had concocted some story about how he and Tony had connected on a shared history of kidnapping, torture and nonconsensual body modification that had led to a whirlwind romance that they kept secret from the world.

They had been taking their time letting others “know” because though Bucky had been awake for various shifts over the last seven decades, Steve walking around in khakis for months on end had given the public the perception that super soldiers adjusted to the turn of the century very slowly.

Thanks Steve.

“I have no qualms about abandoning you and your freeze-burned friend to the sharks,” Tony grated out, smiling widely at the cameramen and throwing in a cheeky wink that had a woman swooning.

The only reason Tony had agreed to the whole charade was because Pepper, in all her boundless wisdom, had convinced them both that the public infighting between the members of the Avengers put a nice juicy target on their back—one that practically screamed that they were uncoordinated and vulnerable to attack.

“I don’t know about you but I’m not fond of the idea of dealing with another world-invasion right about now—or a delusional take-over the world scheme.”

“Fine,” Bucky melded his face into something less resembling a scowl, trying to convince all the people hounding them that he was in love with the billionaire beside him even as he struggled not to flinch from the hand that wound its way around his back to land on his hip.

Bucky didn’t understand how they didn’t see through their thin act. He knew next to nothing about Tony Stark other than the fact that the man hated him for killing his parents and hated Steve for keeping it all a secret.

They might have all been living in the same building for the last several months after the battle in Siberia (to try and mend the fallout from the Civil War fiasco), but the various floors could be entirely different galaxies for the amount of times they interacted. Tony stayed strictly in the penthouse or his lab, refusing to interact with any of the team other than Bruce or Thor, both of whom had the excuse of being off-world when the big throwdown happened. To this day, he hadn’t spoken a word to Steve.

Thankfully, after a few more pictures, Tony made some quip about getting his lover-boy home so he could treat him right with a home-cooked meal and the crowd ate it up like kids at a candy shop. They slid into the limo to take them back to the Tower, Tony sliding as far away as he could get the moment the door closed and sealed them in the dimly lit interior courtesy of the tinted windows.

Falling back into the watchful gaze of the sniper, Bucky observed the twitches that revealed Tony’s discomfort, knowing that if they wanted to play this dating charade well enough to fool the skeptics, they would need to do better.

“I feel a spiritual affinity for turtles.”

Tony turned around to look at him like he had gone mad—which, not fair, Bucky’s grip on sanity had been loose for decades, but he was finally getting a handle on it.

“I like strawberry cake more than chocolate or vanilla,” Bucky continued when Tony said nothing. “The pink is pretty and I like the fact that it’s just sweet enough.”

Tony’s brows screwed up in confusion. “I know you’re speaking English, but I’m not understanding what you’re saying.”

“I’m helping you to get to know me,” Bucky clarified, shrugging. “I don’t think we’ll make a very convincing couple if we don’t know anything about each other.”

“I disagree,” Tony contradicted. “I’m an excellent actor.”

“You may be, but I’m not and I’m never going to be comfortable at your side until you feel less like a stranger.” He didn’t move when Tony faced him fully, fury twisting his usual congenial features and flashing through his whiskey eyes.

“I have no interest in getting to know you,” Tony spoke coldly. “We are not friends. This is a job that will have an intense—but brief—moment in the spotlight and then after a few months we can have a quiet break up, go our separate ways and never have to speak outside of Avenger situations.”

“I know you want nothing to do with me,” Bucky acknowledged softly, watching as Tony drew back at his frank words. “And I don’t blame you for that because I cannot just wash away the pain that my actions resulted in. But I’m trying to get better and move forward. I already know you won’t forgive me, and that this enforced proximity will do nothing to change your mind.”

“But this is more than just us,” he emphasized. “I may not fully understand the scale of social media influence in the modern world, but I sure as heck remember propaganda during the war and know that this is no different. A good bluff can win the day just as much as a frontal assault, and I need your help to make sure our bluff is airtight.”

Tony’s eyes narrowed in a glare. “As much as it pains me to admit it, you’re right.”

Bucky held out his hand, “Truce?” Tony rolled his eyes, but he took the metal hand without hesitation and shook firmly. He showed no discomfort from the feeling of the metal, nor any fear of having the arm, which was basically a weapon attached to Bucky’s body, near him.

Instead, he actually gifted it a longer inspection then he had bothered to give Bucky the entire time they’d been in the car, thoroughly looking it over with undisguised interest before letting go and retreating back into his corner.

“So, what’s your spirit animal?” Bucky invited, hopefully.

Tony snorted, but after a moment where Bucky didn’t think he was going to answer, he did. “I think most people would argue that I’m more like a prideful peacock strutting all over and displaying his tail feathers than anything else.”

“Those people are idiots,” Bucky disagreed. “If anything, I’d think you’re like those meerkats from the Lion King.”

“Scurry, dig, freeze?” Tony raised a skeptical brow. “I think I preferred the peacock than an animal that’s afraid of its own shadow.”

“It was only afraid because it had the awareness of the world around it,” Bucky countered, just a shade defensively. He liked the meerkats. “They had knowledge of the threats that exist that could destroy their world. Yet at the same time, even when knowing destruction might be imminent, they spent all of their time creating, building, improving on what they had and industriously dedicating themselves to the future. Not unlike you.” His words came out less joking then he planned, ending up somewhere close to tender and Bucky tensed in preparation for Tony reacting to what he might take as condescension.

Tony said nothing, just stared at him for a moment and absorbing Bucky’s words.

“Did they give you a silver tongue with that metal arm?” he finally retorted, but the meanness that was there before was softened, no longer jagged with the intent to cut.

“Unfortunately, the silver tongue came with the package,” Bucky dared to tease. “Luckily enough for you enjoy, oh love of my life, fire of my loins.”

He savored the sound of Tony’s shocked laughter.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25622497 (theres a second chp out)

[writersrealmbts]

A Natural: Part 3

Description: Hybrid!Taehyung x Reader: You’re a single mom, and your son is your entire world. When you take him to get his first hybrid, his choice is pretty bewildering, until you realize that he was picking out a dad.

Warnings: 

Posted: 06/11/2019

Tags: Taehyung, Hybrid Taehyung, Human Reader

Wordcount: 2,497

A/N: Here it is, the post everyone’s been waiting for. I have no regrets and no plans for the next part. 

Theo pouted a bit. “Will he be back to read me a bedtime story?” “I don’t know, honey,” you replied, looking over his shoulder at the homework he was working on. “Do you need help with this?” He nodded, going through one problem as far as he could and then obviously guessing at how to continue. You explained it to him again, grateful it was an easy subject, not telling him exactly what to do next but trying to guide him to find the answer within his own knowledge. You knew he knew how to do it, Hoseok had been telling you about how good Theo had been doing in this topic. You figured he was probably just a little tired and distracted. His face lit up when you told him that he was right, and then hugged your neck. “Thank you, mommy.” You pressed a kiss to his head. “You’re always welcome, baby. Dinner will be ready in a bit. Do you want to finish homework before or after dinner?” “Before. I can do it, mommy.” He grinned up at you, then went back to work with the tip of his tongue sticking out of his mouth as he concentrated. You felt really proud of him, working so hard on his homework, learning so well. Your baby was growing up. Oh god, your baby was growing up. You kept glancing at him as you finished preparing dinner, watching the way his brow furrowed with concentration. How the tip of his tongue stuck out the corner of his mouth when he hit a particularly hard part. Then the way he beamed at you and waved the paper when he had finished. “I did it, Mommy!” “Good job, Theo. Go wash up. We can eat at the bar tonight.” “Yes!” He hopped off of his chair and raced off to do as you had asked. You smiled after him and then plated up dinner. He came racing back in making a whooshing sound like he was flying. “Hey Mom? When can I play with Uncle Jimin again?” “He’s coming over this weekend to play soccer with you and Taehyung.” He grinned. “Yay! I like uncle Jimin. He’s fun. He tells me lots of stories about my Appa.” “Appa?” He nodded. “Uncle Jimin says that’s what he and Appa called their dad. So, I thought I could call him my Appa since Uncle Jimin said that Appa probably would have taught me to call him Appa.” You bent and kissed the top of his head. “That sounds like a very special connection to him.” He grinned up at you, then hugged your legs before scrambling into his seat at the bar. “Mr. Jung said that I could be his helper after school tomorrow and that we were having a sleepover at his house with Mr. Kim.” “You are. I have something for work and Tae had some work as well, so we thought you might like playing with Mr. Jung instead of being bored around here.” He bounced a little. “I don’t mind! But the sleepover will be fun! Mr. Jung is awesome and Mr. Kim said we could do music-y stuff!” “That does sound like fun. You want me to cut up your chicken or do you want to try?” “I’ll try first.” He took the plate. “Thank you!” You sat down beside him, looking over his math homework like you always did. You didn’t know how well you’d fare helping him with his homework as he got older, but you figured if he struggled you could always take him to a tutor that knew what they were doing. For now, though, you were happily able to assist him and help him understand. As for the work both you and Taehyung had, well, it was more like the two of you were working on your relationship. You flinched when the front door slammed open. “If I yell, run out the back door and go to Mrs. Dribak’s,” you instructed Theo quietly He nodded, eyes huge. You went into the entry cautiously, then inhaled sharply at the sight before you before turning on your heel. “Theo, go eat in your room. Everything’s okay.” He nodded, taking his plate and hopping from the barstool, trudging to his room. You went back to the entry and a sheepish looking Taehyung. “Sorry,” he slurred. “Jinnie can really drink.” “And you, obviously, cannot.” You grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet. “Go clean yourself up. I’ll clean this up.” “Sorry.” “Oh, you will be,” You promised. His ears went back and he stumbled off to the bathroom with a slight whimper. Jimin cleared his throat. “Sorry, he’s pretty lightweight. Especially compared to Jin. I have them in my car right now.” You looked at the puke on the floor. “I’ll handle it. Get them home. Pour coffee down their throats. You ever show up like this and I revoke visitation.” His eyes widened. “Y/n…” “I don’t want Theo around this, Jimin. You know why. Go. I have a mess to clean up.” He nodded, looking away. “Right. See you.” You closed the door and got your cleaning supplies, grateful that after having a kid you didn’t really have a gag reflex anymore. Once you were done with that, you checked on Taehyung (still puking in the bathroom) and then went to Theo’s room. He was sitting at his desk, coloring but looking up anxiously as you slipped in. “It’s okay, honey. Your uncle brought Taehyung home because he had something that made him sick to his stomach. I didn’t want you to get sick from the smell.” You stroked his hair, watching him relax a bit. “Is he okay?” “He will be, but right now he’s feeling pretty crummy and he’s going to have a really bad headache tomorrow.” “Like the ones I get?” “A little, except I might get upset with him. He knew it would make him sick and still consumed it.” “What does consume mean?” “To eat or drink, another word for that would be ingest,” You explained, watching as he silently sounded out both words, smiling when he looked up at you with big questioning eyes. His father’s eyes. Bright and lively. “Ingest is spelled I-N-G-E-S-T.” His tongue peeked out between his lips as he wrote it down. “I bet Aaron has never heard these words. Can I practice using them? He said I wasn’t as smart as him.” You hummed. “Is he picking on you?” “No, he just talks a lot. I can handle it. I know I did better on my tests than he did, but I didn’t say anything to him. Daddy told me that Aaron needs to feel smarter than the rest of us because he’s hurting. So I’m not going to say anything about it, I’ll just use good words and hope that maybe he’ll stop talking so much around me.” You smiled a little. “Just let your teachers know if things get worse, okay?” “Yes ma’am. Does that mean I can practice using the words?” “Yeah, you can. Want me to take your plate?” He nodded. “Thank you, mommy. I’m going to brush my teeth and read in bed so you can take care of him better.” You kissed his waiting lips. “I’ll be back to tuck you in at bedtime.” He grinned up at you. “Okay. You take care of daddy.” You kissed his forehead again, then headed out and down the hall to check on Taehyung. He was curled in the fetal position on the bathroom floor, an almost silent whimper emanating from him. His head turned toward you as you came in. “Hi…” You sighed, crouching beside him and sitting him up. “Never again.” He met your gaze, looking apologetic. “I mean it, Tae.” “We were just—” “Theo’s father died because of a drunk driver,” You told him, getting a cold wash cloth and wiping his face in the following silence. “The other driver survived, while Theo’s father and Brody took all of the injuries. I’m surprised Jimin can even be around drinking. I’ll go get you some water and something to help you detox.” “I didn’t know,” Tae rasped. “I’m sorry.” “I know you are. Here, this should help.” You put the cold cloth in his hand and exited the room. You made the sober-up and hangover concoction that Theo’s father had taught you for when he made stupid decisions in college. You’d always opted out of drinking because you used to have migraines like Theo got (you still did sometimes) before you were pregnant and didn’t think drinking was a wise choice. You’d gotten drunk and hungover once, and buzzed three or four times and found out that not only do you get hangovers like none other, you also got weepy when you’re even a little buzzed. You’d given it up by the time you were well into your relationship with him and he had only taught you how to make those for after he had drinking nights with his buddies. You took a deep breath and grabbed a gatorade, water bottle, and the truly terrifying concoction. Taehyung had the cloth over his face, but he peeked out as you came back in, quickly clutching the cloth to his nose. “What is that?” “Something you’re going to drink. It’ll help you remove the toxins from your body, and is a tried and true sobering and hangover agent. Drink.” His nose scrunched. “But it doesn’t smell like something good for you…” “And copious amounts of alcohol does?” You countered, raising an eyebrow. He winced and took the cup, making a face even as he brought it to his mouth. You excused yourself a while later, making sure you were clean before going into Theo’s room. He was already half-asleep, with a book open on his chest. He smiled a little more. You pressed kisses to his face, tucking the blankets around him tighter. “I love you, baby.” “Love you, mommy.” “Sleep tight, sweet dreams,” You murmured. He nodded. “You too. Tell Daddy I love him.” “I will.” “Don’t be too mad at him.” You sighed softly. “I’m not angry, baby. I’m more upset because he knew it would make him sick. And other things. Besides, he interrupted my time with you.” You pressed another kiss to his face. He laughed sleepily. “I’m going to sleep now, mommy.” “Okay, I love you. Your alarm set?” “Yes, Mommy. I can get ready on my own tomorrow if you’re too tired.” “I’ll be up, baby. But we’ll have probably have cereal for breakfast.” He nodded. “Can I have cocoa puffs?” “Sure,” You agreed, stroking his hair from his face. He nodded off shortly after. You took the book and set it aside, and turning the light off. You exited the room, closing the door to just a crack. You spent most of the night tending to Taehyung, finally getting to sleep sometime around one in the morning. Waking up early in the morning because Taehyung was groaning and heaving again. You were awake when Theo got up, nursing a cup of coffee when he stumbled out, almost fully dressed, but with his socks in his hands instead of on his feet and his shirt buttoned incorrectly. You got him some cereal and fixed his shirt. He was fully awake by the time Hoseok got there to pick him up (another part of the arrangement). You thanked Hoseok again at the door while Theo was getting his backpack. “It’s really no problem. Thanks for having him ready earlier than usual. Did he have breakfast?” “Some cereal. I gave him a bigger snack.” “I have to pop through someplace and get my breakfast. I’ll get him a hashbrown or something as well. And I can handle a headache if he gets one, so don’t worry. I’ll only call if he needs you. Speaking of, heard the boys were stupid yesterday.” “Mmm, Taehyung’s very hungover. I doubt if tonight will be anything like we had planned.” You sighed leaning against the door. “But I have to get ready for work.” “Call in sick, you look it,” He suggested, brow furrowed slightly. “Getting my own headache. Thanks for taking Theo for tonight, Hobi. He’s really excited.” “I’m ready!” Theo called happily as he raced down the hall and hopped into Hoseok’s awaiting arms. “Today is going to be so cool! Are we doing our spelling bee today?” Hoseok chuckled. “We are. I’m sure you’ll try your hardest. Say goodbye to your mom.” “Oh! Bye, mommy, I love you.” “Be good for Uncle Hobi. I love you more.” “I love you most.” You smiled and kissed him. “Have a nice day at school. Talk to you later, Hoseok.” “Tell daddy I love him too!” Theo wrapped his arms around Hoseok’s neck. “I will, baby.” “See you, y/n,” Hoseok said, heading toward the car. You waved one more time then closed the door and headed in to where Tae was dozing. You called in sick and texted Yoongi that you did so that he could help cover for you. He owed you that. You then slept for a good few hours before you woke up to someone covering you with blankets. Tae froze when you looked up at him. He swallowed hard, but it looked like he had showered and like he was feeling better. “Hey,” You murmured. “Hey, sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.” You shook your head. “It’s fine. Feel better?” He nodded, head hanging. “I’m sorry about yesterday too. Are you still mad at me?” “I’m not mad at you. I’m just making sure you understand that it better not happen again. I don’t mind you getting buzzed somewhere safe, like their apartment, but coming here so drunk…that’s not acceptable. And maybe I’m overreacting, actually, I probably am. But I can’t handle thinking that someone I care about is reckless with their life like that. It dredged up memories that I didn’t expect.” You sat up and hugged your knees to your chest. He sat next to you, pressing his forehead to your shoulder. “I’m sorry.” You sighed. “They weren’t bad memories, not all of them. I don’t know. I just need to rest a little more, I think.” You shifted and tucked yourself under his arm, resting your head on his shoulder. “I called in sick to work and made sure Yoongi covered for me as well.” “Okay. Let’s nap, then.” The two of you cuddled and napped for a good portion of the day, still dozing late in the afternoon when your phone started ringing. You groaned softly, and Tae growled in annoyance. “Hello?” You answered without looking. “Y/n, there’s been an accident,” Namjoon’s voice sounded frantic over the phone. You sat up, feeling Taehyung go rigid beside you as he heard as well. “We’re at the hospital.”

Masterlist.  ~  Previous Part.  ~  Next Part

[lavenderboneswrites]

Heart Over Ice

***please read the tags*** ***trigger warning***

Chapter 3 has been updated! Also available on AO3

Chapter Summary:  

Shizuo tries to take positive steps to move on with his life, which would be a hell of a lot easier if Izaya wasn't in it. Shizuo finds drinking plus Izaya leads to bad decisions and even worse consequences.

Tags: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Attempted Murder, Sexual Assault, Attempted Sexual Assault, Non-Consensual Drug Use, drug induced paralysis, Medical Procedures, Trauma, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Discussion of Rape, Discussion of sexual assault, Discussion of Death, discussion of trauma, Triggers, discussion of triggers, Panic Attacks, explicit descriptions of panic attacks, Canon-Typical Violence, aka Shizuo typical violence, Protective Heiwajima Shizuo, Shizuo-centric, Binge Drinking, Angst with a Happy Ending, Minor Kishitani Shinra/Celty Sturluson, minor original characters, Minor Character Death, Eventual Smut, eventual consensual smut, Eventual Romance, Eventual Happy Ending, Pre-Relationship, First Aid, Mentions of Yakuza, Drug Dealing, Thoughts of Self-harm, Self-Harm, Torture, Disassociation

Chapter 3 - Over Active

If Shinra didn’t have a fully stocked bar, Shizuo doesn’t know if he’d actually be here.

It had been a few days since the nightclub incident, and Shizuo is determined to put everything behind him. He starts by trying to take a little better care of himself. He’s forcing himself to eat, three meals a day, and he’s trying to cut back on the smokes.

Shizuo had also taken up jogging, thinking that maybe if he exhausts his body he’ll be too tired for insomnia and nightmares. There is something nice about the anonymity. In his exercise gear no one seems to notice him, the citizen’s blissfully unaware of the infamous monster of Ikebukuro running around the neighbourhood.

He still feels anxious, still sees Izaya being assaulted when he closes his eyes and hears those thoughts of self-harm … but he tries his best to ignore them. It’s not an easy feat. Though thankfully, there haven’t been any more of the really violent flashbacks like in the alley. Probably something to do with not being around Izaya. Leave it to the flea to be the one to set him off, he was aptly skilled in that department after all.

The running helps, but Shizuo finds his mind would wander too freely even though his body was occupied. So he got some headphones and signed up for Spotify, trying to replace any risky thoughts with music. He doesn’t really know much about music, and he follows Kasuka for guidance. Shizuo finds his tastes are varying and wide, from rap to obscure indie; he isn’t fussed and more importantly, it helps. He’s enjoying it.

This new self-care routine also dictates he reach out to his friends, which is why he found himself unable to refuse an invitation to dinner at Shinra and Celty’s.

They greeted him at the door cheerfully, Celty in a pink frilly apron over her black catsuit and Shinra already a drink deep if his glass was an indication.

The apartment was warm, with a delicious smell was wafting from the kitchen. Celty quickly left them to get back to preparing her feast, leaving Shizuo to cross the room and jump behind the bar.

“What are we drinking?”

It was just the three of them, which Shizuo was secretly thankful for … he didn’t think he could deal with huge crowds of people right now. Just the thought of anyone accidentally touching him had Shizuo wanting to scratch off his own skin.

Shinra sat down on one of the stools at the counter, answering lively. “Whiskey!”

The same kind the colour of Izaya’s-

Nope, don’t go there.

“Gross,” Shizuo shot at Shinra, who scrunched up his face in response.

“Then make me a drink, oh wise bartender-sama,” Shinra sniggered into his drink.

“Shut up.”

Shizuo pulled down various bottles from the shelf, lining them up on the benchtop. “My, my, looking to get lit, Shizuo-kun,” Shizuo shot a disparaging look at Shinra and his use of the word ‘lit’. Where did he come up with this shit? “We’ve got vodka, tequila, gin, Cointreau, and even white rum!” Shinra tapped each of the bottles on the lid as he named them.

“Some of these aren’t even opened, this bar is wasted on you shitty doctor,” Shizuo grumbled, looking for lemon juice and sugar syrup.

“What can I say, I’m the only one who can drink … do you expect me to clear out all these bottles by myself?”

“I think you’ll be flat on the floor from just one.”

“You’re soooooo meeeeaaaaaan~!” Shinra wailed dramatically.

“Lightweight.” Shizuo added with a grin. For the first time in a long time he actually felt not terrible. It was nice, seeing his friends, bantering with Shinra and getting drunk. This is what he needed.

“Where’s your ice?”

“Kitchen-, no,” Shinra held up a hand to stop Shizuo who had turned to head just there. “Don’t think I’ll let you go and steal my chance to have a moment alone with Celty!”

“Just get the ice you dumbass.”

Shinra giggled as he ran like an idiot to the kitchen, Shizuo rolling his eyes at the lovestruck fool.

“Lemon too!” Shizuo called out as an afterthought, but he doubted it was heard over Shinra’s squeal of ‘Ceeeellllltttttyyyyy~!’

Thankfully the door swung shut on the doctor’s wails of love.

Shizuo pulled out a silver cocktail shaker out from underneath the bar, setting up all his tools and ingredients in a line with two glasses on standby.

It shouldn’t take more than thirty seconds to get ice, yet Shinra had been gone at least a couple of minutes.

Yeah, Shizuo really didn’t want to know…

The kitchen door swung open, giggles and black smoke pouring out. Shizuo half wanted to roll his eyes and half couldn’t help but think Shinra and Celty were kind of cute.

I’ve lost my goddamn fucking mind.

Shinra basically fell out of the kitchen door, his cheeks rosy red, ice in one hand and a chopping board with lemon wedges in the other. “I will miss you every moment you are not in my presence my love~!”

Black smoke pushed him out the door, motion belaying Celty’s mortification at Shinra’s frankly embarrassing behaviour.

You horny fuckers.

Shizuo could only shake his head as Shinra skipped back to him and dumped the ice try on the counter.

“You’re disgusting.”

“Huh?” Shinra said aghast. “My love is beautiful and pure, Shizuo-kun!”

“Like I said … disgusting.”

Shinra chuckled as Shizuo split the ice between the glasses and cocktail shaker and started measuring out shots

“This drink actually has all five of these? Are you trying to kill me?”

Shizuo gave a mischievous grin, “step up your game, shitty doctor … I thought we were getting ‘lit’.”

“Ugh,” Shinra groaned. “Why are you in such a good mood anyway?”

Shizuo shrugged, pouring shots over ice. Maybe it was the self-care, or maybe just good food and good people. Whatever it was he would take it, if only for tonight.

“Hmm,” Shinra had a shrewd look on his face, like he was suspicious. “Celty’s theories on alien imposters might not be far off…”

“Piss off.”

Shizuo finished adding the various liquids into the cocktail shaker, before capping the lid over the top and picking it up.

“It’s a shame you know,” Shinra said as Shizuo started to shake the cylinder over his shoulder, “you’re really good at this, you should try and get another bartending job.”

Shizuo snorted, careful not to lose his cool and send the cocktail shaker into the mirrored shelves behind him. “What? So I can get fired from that too? Anyway, I have a job.”

A perfectly fine one, thank you very much … and if Shizuo didn’t bring up why he got fired from those other jobs, well, whatever.

“But this suits you, you seem…” Shinra trailed off, like he couldn’t quite think of the word to describe Shizuo. “Content?”

Another half shrug, Shizuo placing the shaker back on the bar and hitting the sides of the metal lightly. Very lightly. He’d exploded his fair share of these shakers when he had first been learning to tend bar. The ice caused the container to get cold and expand, making the lid stick; the tapping helped pull it off easier.

“You have a lot of control when like this!” Shinra sounded fascinated as Shizuo grabbed the strainer. He didn’t really think about it to be honest, but he could see where Shinra was coming from. Personally, Shizuo thought Shinra would be equally fascinated if he were to crush the entire bar instead.

Shinra gave an over the top ‘oooh’ when Shizuo flipped the strainer one handed, doing a spinning trick with it between his fingers before placing it over the rim of a glass. Heh, he’d have to show Shinra some more tricks later, maybe when Celty was around to watch.

“Maybe you should be the one to take up the knives! You’re plenty dexterous.”

Shizuo made a face at that, somewhere between revulsion and disgust “don’t be gross Shinra.”

The doctor just sniggered in reply.

Shizuo split his creation into two glasses filled with ice. For final touches he topped the drinks with cola and a lemon wedge each. “Here you go, one long island iced tea.”

Shinra took the drink Shizuo slid across the bar, looking down at the black-brown concoction. “You really are trying to kill me.”

“Hah!” Shizuo laughed, pulling his own drink to his lips and inhaling the scent. “Weak.”

“Not all of us have a superhuman tolerance! Why would you even choose to make this?” Shinra sounded plenty aghast yet he still drank all the same.

“Alcohol tastes like shit…” Shizuo said as if that explained anything.

“So you make this five shots abomination!?”

“Doesn’t taste like alcohol.”

“That’s what makes it so dangerous! Jeez Shizuo-kun, you’re such a sadist.”

Shizuo only smirked over the rim of his glass. Taking a sip, he gave a noise of satisfaction at the way the drink flooded his mouth and rushed down his throat.

It was smooth as hell.

“Still got it,” Shizuo said more to himself than Shinra. To which the doctor only groaned in reply.

“Izaya’s right, you are arrogant.”

Shizuo immediately felt his pleasant mood snap.

Izaya kicking him, threatening him. Izaya’s dead eyes. Izaya’s jerking head. A dark stain on denim.

“I’m warning you Shinra … don’t fucking bring him up.”

Shinra sighed, “you guys really need to come to some sort of truce, I’m getting tired of the constant fighting.”

Shinra was tired? Well Shizuo was fucking exhausted.

“Fuck off Shinra … never gonna happened.”

Shinra didn’t answer, just took small sips of his drink, looking thoughtful.

“By the way, how are you doing with all that?”

“With all what?” Shizuo snapped, his gut clenched uncomfortably.

Shinra gave him a deadpan look, as if he knew Shizuo was being purposely dense. “I just meant … it was pretty traumatic.”

Shizuo slammed his glass down with more force than necessary. “I'm not-”

-Not what? Not traumatised?  

“I mean … just-just shut up Shinra.”

Shinra looked at Shizuo calmly, only the slight raising of his brow to show he clearly thought differently. It was the same kind of patronising look Shizuo saw on the flea. The doctor obviously had a death wish or something, because he was silent for only a moment before he opened his big fat mouth again.

“Izaya is acting like he’s not affected, but I think he was really shaken by it all.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“What do you mean you know?”

Oh shit, fuck, now Shizuo was the one who couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

“We had a run in, he was…” Shizuo tried to think of a sufficient way to describe the flea’s almost manic behaviour. Though compared to Shizuo’s own, it was probably a lot less pathetic. “He was pissed.”

Pissed was putting it lightly, raging lunatic more like it. Which was ironic as hell considering Shizuo’s own anger issues.

Shizuo himself was still furious at the fact the little bastard had kicked him and then almost gouged out his eyes.

Fucking psycho.

Shinra made an exasperated sound, “he won’t talk to me at all! He keeps leaving me on read … why, oh why did I choose the two most difficult people in the country to be my friends?”

“Sounds like a blessing in disguise to me … you should take this as an opportunity to ditch him once and for all.”

“Shizuo-kun!” Shinra admonished, though he sounded a little entertained. “No! Stop changing the subject! How are you? Are you eating well? Sleeping enough?”

“What are you, my mother?”

“Celty would want me to ask these questions about my friends!”

“Ah, so you’re doing her dirty work.”

Shinra made an ‘oh shit’ face. Of course Celty had sent Shinra to do some digging, seeing how Shizuo had been purposely avoiding her. It was only right she was worried.

Shizuo took a longer sip of his drink, finishing the entire last half in one gulp. Really, he was just buying time.

“You can tell her, yes, I’m eating. Three meals a day and all.”

“And what about your mood? Have you got a good sleep pattern going?”

“You’re about to fucking see my mood, Shi-n-ra!”

Shizuo and Shinra managed to get one more drink in before dinner; yuzu hachimitsu sour, weak. After all, he didn’t want to actually kill Shinra, not really. They moved to the dining table, a veritable feast laid out on the table. Shizuo tried to ignore the way his mind went to memories of Izaya laid out on his own table.

“Wow Celty, this looks amazing.”

It was like a huge order at an Izakaya, with lots of individual dishes. Shizuo could spot edamame, karaage, yakitori, and takoyaki … just to name a few.

Shinra was hanging off the Dullahan, singing her praises. “My Celty is a MasterChef~!”

“Mm, more like Iron Chef!” Shizuo added, feeling pleasantly buzzed two drinks deep.

Celt’s smoke merely puffed in that flustered way of hers. [Stop it, both of you!]

Shinra and Shizuo only laughed, Shinra exclaiming how cute she was when embarrassed.

It was only when they were all taking a seat at the table, about to dig in, that there was a knock on the door.

“Hm, who could that be?” Shinra asked, standing up as Shizuo’s brows furrowed.

Apparently, no one good.

Shinra was only gone for a few minutes before he returned, “look who I found!”

Celty’s black smoke exploded, almost like one giant explanation point. Shizuo on the other snapped the flimsy wooden chopsticks in his hand clean in half.

Standing in the door, in all his shitty glory, was the fucking flea.

“I told you Shinra I’m not staying-,”

“-Nonsense!” Shinra flapped his hands, as if waving Izaya’s protests off. “There’s plenty for all of us, and you could do with a good meal, you’re skin and bones!”

“What are you, my mother?”

Shizuo growled as Shinra let out a high pitched laugh, no doubt remembering Shizuo exact same expression from earlier.

“What’s so funny?” Izaya snapped, looking far from pleased with the situation. His eyes caught Shizuo’s, narrowing in a look nothing short of hatred.

Next time, come at me like you want to kill me.

Shizuo’s hand gripped the underside of the table. Shadows were immediately tugging at him gently, and Shizuo realised he had stood without thinking.

Shizuo growled, slumping back down into his seat. It had been established long ago that Shinra and Celty’s apartment was a neutral zone, Switzerland if you will. Though it was less a decision on Shizuo’s part and more the fact Shinra and Celty were sick of having their furniture thrown through their walls after missing a certain slippery bastard.

Hell, Shizuo was going to need a hundred more drinks before he even thought of letting the flea have dinner with them.

At least this time he wasn’t threatening to cut out Shizuo’s eyes. Or drugged.

He still looks like he’d try and skewer me given the chance.

“No way Shinra … get rid of him.”

“Yes please Shinra, ‘get rid of me’,” Izaya parroted back, raising his fingers to do mocking air quotations. “You know I think I might actually stay now.”

Izaya sat down in the chair opposite Shizuo with an infuriating smirk. “Watching a beast eat in its natural habitat, a video of that is bound to fetch a high price.”

“Izaya,” Shinra warned as Shizuo threw his broken chopsticks across the table at the flea. The bastard merely leaned to the left and avoided them with a gleeful little laugh.

[Please don’t throw things]

“Sorry Celty,” and now Shizuo felt guilty.

[Don’t be sorry, I don’t want him here either!]

“Why do I get the feeling Courier-san is not writing anything too kind about me, ne?”

Celty pulled her PDA close to her chest, like she was afraid Izaya would try and take the device from her and read it.

“Because no one likes you, shithead.”

“I do.”

“Shut up Shinra.”

“Yeah, shut up Shinra,” Izaya mocked, once again copying Shizuo.

“Can you not be annoying for more than five minutes?”

“That depends, can you not be a beast for more than five minutes?”

“Argh!” Shizuo wanted to flip the table but then all Celty’s hard work would go to waste.

“How fascinating, the language of Neanderthals…”

“Give it a rest, both of you!” Shinra’s words did not match the amusement in his voice or the way he was trying to stifle his laughter. “You’re ruining my Celty’s wonderful dinner!”

[Ah Shinra- it’s fine]

“I want a drink-“

“-Oi!” Shizuo yelled as the flea reached out and snatched away his drink. “Get your own, you damn parasite.”

Izaya took a sip and made thoughtful face, “this is good … a little sweet for my taste but the sour really cuts through it. I’m amazed someone without a head is such a capable chef, well done Courier-san.”

[Oh…]

Shinra burst out laughing, collapsing to the floor in hysterics.

“What?” Izaya snapped, glaring at Shinra who was struggling to pull himself back up through his laughter.  

“Oi, oi, oi...” Shizuo could feel a vein throbbing in his temple.

Shinra wheezed as his head popped up, tears of laughter visible in his eyes. “Celty didn’t make that.”

Izaya looked down once at the drink in his hand, then once to Shinra, who had collapsed again in a fit of giggles, and then to Shizuo.

Shizuo watched as the flea’s eyes widened in realization and something akin to horror, before narrowing in distaste, “…gross.”

“Fuck you, you just said it was good.”

Shinra was howling.

“I lied, it’s called being a good guest … you should try it, Shizu-chan.”

“Bullshit!”

Izaya answered with a smirk, taking another long sip of Shizuo’s drink and then spitting it all back out.

“What the fuck flea!?”

“Want your drink back now?”

[Are you children!?]

“You couldn’t pay me to drink your dirty flea backwash.”

“You couldn’t afford my backwash.”

[How is this conversation happening?! Shinra, do something…]

Shinra was however too busy cackling on the floor, as if this was the funniest thing he had ever witnessed.  

[Shinra!!!!!!!!]

*

Dinner had been nothing short of hairy. Shizuo barely managed not to leap over the table and throttle the flea. Shinra was wasted, though he finally managed to pull himself back into his chair after much amusement at Shizuo’s and Izaya’s expense. Celty just raised her arms to where her head should be, as if holding it in her hands and crying.

The food was amazing. Though Izaya found ways to sneak in those backhanded little comments every now and again. He would also contradict Shizuo at every turn. If Shizuo would say he really liked a sauce or the karaage, Izaya would say he wasn’t a fan and make some slight criticism of it.

‘It’s too salty’, or ‘I’ve had better’.

Though every time he did Shinra would vehemently defend Celty’s cooking and admonish Izaya’s manners or lack their off.

Now that had been satisfying. Especially the way Izaya’s nose would scrunch up in that annoyed way of his, like he almost felt betrayed by Shinra.

That was until Shinra told Shizuo to stop antagonising Izaya. Like, what the fuck? Shizuo was doing no such thing. It was all the flea! He had said as much anyway.

After dinner, which Shizuo was honestly surprised hadn’t turned into a full on food fight (which had happened many times before), they had moved back into the living room, Celty suggesting drinks and desert.

Though Shizuo had imagined she had tea or coffee in mind and not more alcohol.

“I want a desert cocktail Shizuo-kun~!”

“Mm,” Shizuo agreed as he and Shinra headed to the bar.

[No! No more alcohol!]

“Let’s put on some music.”

“Yes! Impromptu dance party!”

[Shinra you’re drunk!]

“I don’t think they’re paying attention Courier-san.”

Celty slumped into an armchair, apparently giving up all hope of calling any of them to heel.

Shizuo once again slid behind the bar while Shinra scrolled through his phone. “Any requests?”

“Rock.”

“Pop.”

Shizuo and Izaya spoke at exactly the same time, then proceeded to glare daggers at the other. Shizuo quickly opened his mouth again but it seemed Izaya had a similar idea.

“Rap.”

“Punk.”

Son of a bitch was just doing it on purpose now.

“I wanna listen to WAP!”

“Shinra no.”

“Shinra yes.”

Shizuo couldn’t help himself, if Izaya said pop Shizuo said rock, if he said punk than Shizuo said rap, and if Izaya said no then he had to say yes.

Maybe Shinra had a point and they were both as bad as each other?

No way. Shizuo might have his flaws, huge gaping ones, but compared to the flea he was miles ahead.

He is the worst.

Izaya looked extremely affronted at the music starting playing out of the small portable speaker next to the tv. Shizuo merely grinned, feeling victorious as he mixed together something sweet and smokey.

“Yeah, you fucken with some wet ass puss-,” Shinra made a muffled noise of protest as Izaya clasped a palm over his mouth to stifle his singing.

“I can’t believe you’ve done this,” he said deadpan.

“What the hell carl!” Shinra yelled back. Shizuo frankly had no idea what language they were talking anymore. It must be some weird flea-Shinra code only discernible to their ears.

“You’re going to scar your girlfriend for life, and me,” Izaya said as he and Shinra wrestled over control of the music. “What is this, YouTube? Shinra you heathen, where is your Spotify?”

Shinra replied by wrapping his arms around Izaya’s neck and hanging off him like some sort of tree monkey. “I don’t have it” Shinra sobbed.

“Yes you do it’s right here … wait,” Izaya snapped a wicked smirk onto Shizuo, “you’re following this neanderthal?”

Shizuo huffed, topping off two golden yellow drinks with a cinnamon stick each. “Shizuo-kun has really good taste Izaya … here I like this playlist.”

“Hmm,” Izaya hummed thoughtfully, scrolling through the list as if he was searching through dirty laundry. Just what secrets did he think a fucking playlist held for fuck sakes.

“Oi, Shinra.”

The doctor was quick to drop his attentions of Izaya and bound over like an excited puppy. “Oooh it looks so cool Shizuo-kun!”

“Ha, wait for it,” Shizuo pulled out his lighter, Shinra letting out more sounds of awe as he lit the ends of the two cinnamon sticks. They caught fire quickly, before simmering down to a small smoky ember. “My twist on an old fashioned.”

Shinra clapped happily, meanwhile Shizuo could see Izaya glaring from over the doctor’s shoulder. Bitter fucken flea.

“It’s goooooooodd! What is that? Maple?”

“Yeah.”

“Ooh I’m getting hints of citrus too!”

“That’s the orange peel.”

“Celty, you’ve got to try this!” Shinra ran over to his girlfriend with his drink outstretched, seemingly forgetting she couldn’t taste without a head.

Shizuo took a satisfying sip of his own drink, the end of the cinnamon stick still smoking lazily. His eyes met Izaya’s over the rim of his glass, the flea looking down his nose at him with that same scrunched up look again. With a sigh he selected a song, throwing Shinra’s phone to the couch before making his way over.

Shizuo stilled his breath, body tense as if awaiting an attack. It would be just like Izaya to try and kill him to some jaunty pop tune.

“I want a drink.”

“Haaah?” Shizuo would say he was appalled at Izaya’s lack of manners if he hadn’t know the bastard for nearly a decade. The flea sat down in front of him, looking up at him with an expectant smirk. “I’m not wasting a good drink on your dirty backwash.”

Izaya rolled his eyes. “Something bitter.”

“Like you need it.”

“So quick-witted, don’t hurt yourself, Shizu-chan.”

Shizuo was half tempted to pull the cinnamon stick out of his drink and shove it up Izaya’s nose. “Fine, you want a drink … I’ll making you a fucking drink.”

Izaya only looked entertained as Shizuo started grabbing bottles with a rough fury.

“Celty let’s dance!”

“Ugh, they’re so precious it makes me want to vomit,” Izaya mocked as Shinra started trying to twirl Celty around the room, much to Celty’s protests.

“I think they’re cute,” Shizuo snapped, unable to not contradict Izaya.

“That’s disgusting Shizu-chan,” Izaya looked like he was one step away from trying to wash Shizuo’s mouth out with soap. “I shudder to even think about what you consider romantic.”

“Then don’t think about it.”

“There’s some new gorilla’s at the zoo, maybe you could attract one with your beastly wiles.”

“You really never fucking shut up.”

Though Shizuo could vividly remember a time when Izaya had been silent. Unmoving.

Don’t.

Izaya put a finger to his lips, but the action was ruined by the way his mouth turned up at the corners, as if he wasn’t even trying all that hard not to laugh. Shizuo took in the way his eyes danced with playful amusement. It was a good look on him, much better than-

-don’t think about.

“Of course you’d pick this trash song, matches your shitty personality.”

“Oh?” Izaya leant back on stool, balancing on two legs before falling back to four. “Isn’t this your playlist Shizu-chan?”

“I’m deleting it,” Izaya just had to go and get his flea stench all over a goddamn song of all things. Shizuo would never be able to listen to it again without thinking of him and that was just too gross to think about.

Izaya let out a peal of laughter, similar to the way he had laughed at Shizuo in that alley. “Your single cell brain works in such mysterious ways, it almost makes me sick … but here’s hoping I can ruin this playlist, nay, music entirely, for you.”

Shizuo had half a mind to spit in the bastards drink and then force it down his throat … but annoyingly enough he was pretty proud of this creation. “There,” Shizuo slammed the almost black drink down in front of Izaya. “The Flea.”

“Should I feel honoured? To have my own genuine beast of Ikebukuro creation.”

“I hope you choke.”

Shizuo found himself staring as the flea smirked over the rim of the martini glass. Amaro Arvena, an Italian liqueur, bitter and black, infused with herbs and with a slightly red tinge to it. It matched Izaya perfectly, brought out the crimson in those mischievous eyes. Shizuo watched, captivated, at the flash of pink as Izaya’s tongue poked out of his mouth just before he took a short sip.

Shizuo felt like his body was starting to warm, like pleasant fire burning low in his gut. He couldn’t help it, the way he watched Izaya like he was almost prey, eyes drawing to the pale expanse of his throat when he swallowed. The flea’s eyes were hooded and the way he licked his lips was downright sinful.

��Mmmm,” Izaya made a sound of approval, “not too bad, Shizu-chan.”

Fucking hell.

“You’re a goddamn pest,” Shizuo spoke into his drink. He was way too sober for this.

Izaya gave a shrug, a sly look on his face as he downed the entire glass in one go.

“Oi, you’re not supposed to skull it.”

“I’m catching up, you and Shinra had a head start after all,” Izaya placed the glass back down and slid it back over to Shizuo. “I’ll have an expresso martini next.”

“You’ll get whatever scraps I feel generous enough to give you, louse,” Shizuo growled, ideas for his next creation already coming to mind.

“Your customer service could do with some work.”

“Shizuo-kun!” Shinra arrived in a flourish, slamming down in the stool next to Izaya so violently that the flea was almost pushed off his own. “I need another drink!”

“Both of you are demanding fucks.”

Izaya gave Shinra a playful shove back, laughing as the doctor’s arma windmilled before grabbing the bar before him. Shizuo felt slightly winded at the carefree look on Izaya’s face. He doesn’t think he had ever heard him laugh like that before. Completely at-ease and genuine, with not a hint of deception.

Shizuo could watch him laugh like that forever.

Wait.

“Here,” Shizuo slammed a bottle of tequila and a shot glass down in front of Izaya. “Catch up.”

Izaya answered Shizuo’s challenging grin with one of his own.

“Shots, shots, sh-shots, shots!” Shinra started singing.

“You will actually die shitty doctor,” Shizuo snapped a warning, but he was ignored in favour of Shinra trying to follow the glass with his lips, as if he could get a sip in before Izaya. It was surprising, Shinra was so handsy with the flea, and the flea actually allowed it … Shizuo thought maybe with everything that had happened maybe the flea wouldn’t like being touched so casually, Shizuo knows he wouldn’t, and yet the flea doesn’t seem to have a care in the world.

It was kind of infuriating, that Shizuo was so messed up and Izaya wasn’t.

Fucking shitty flea.

Izaya held a hand on Shinra’s face and pushed him away, quickly downing the shot before he could steal it.

Shizuo was once again caught himself staring at the flea’s throat.

“Dammit Shinra, go paw at monster girlfriend,” Izaya said batting the doctor’s hands away.

“She went to bed,” Shinra lamented, an ugly pout on his face. “You two have to entertain me.”

“Shizu-chan could try juggling furniture for you, if you want,” Izaya said with a condescending smirk.

Feeling a little buzzed, Shizuo met the flea’s smirk with a cocky grin of his own.

Careful not to shoot anything through the ceiling, Shizuo swung the bottle of Midori backwards. It flipped up and over his shoulder, and Shizuo raised an elbow to meet it as it came back down. With a flick of his arm the base of the bottle bounced off and spun once again, before he snatched it from the air with his other hand.

“Woo, go Shizuo!” Shinra clapped as Shizuo flipped the bottle in his hand and went straight to the pour.

The flea had a sour look on his face, like he was trying with every part of his being to not be impressed, because that would be too disgusting to even contemplate for someone like Izaya.. “It’s like watching a dog walk on its hind legs.”

“C’mon Izaya, even you have to admit that was pretty good.”

“Yeah Izaya,” Shizuo mocked with his best flea imitation.

“What exactly is this? It looks toxic,” Izaya picked up his new drink, raising it to eye level as if to inspect the contents.

“It’s green!” Shinra shouted, sounding thoroughly amazed at the lime colour.

Shizuo ignored the two idiots, taking a sip of his own drink. A burst of sour apple exploded on his tongue, zingy and tingling.

“Wow this is so good!”

“It taste like pure sugar,” Izaya complained.

“It’s like a dance party in my mouth,” Shinra added, slurping at his drink happily. Shizuo had to agree with the doctor, Izaya was just an ungrateful bastard.

“Too much for you flea?” Shizuo laughed. “Maybe you should slow down if you can’t handle it.”

Izaya’s withering stare turned into wicked grin that made Shizuo’s blood sing. He answered by knocking the entire drink back in one go. “Who can’t handle what, Shizu-chan?”

Never one to back down from a challenge, Shizuo answered by downing his own drink.

“W-wait for me!”

“Shinra no!”

“Shinra yes!”

Shinra, in his eagerness to catch up, ended up choking which had Izaya laughing in that same laid-back way as before.

“Y-you,” Shinra choked out, “you guys are going to kill me.”

Izaya only held one arm around his waist as he laughed harder.

Cutecutecutecutecute.

“Oh there’s a cherry in here!”

Just a little surprise at the bottom of the glass. Shizuo had unfortunately swallowed his whole when he downed his drink earlier.  

Izaya took a look down into his glass, as if surprised to see his own cherry there too. “Heh.”

Izaya looked back up and Shizuo was pinned with eyes full of mischief.

Ohshit.

“Wanna see a trick, Shinra?”

“Ooh yes!”

“Watch this.”

Shizuo knew he would never be fucking prepared enough as Izaya gripped the cherry by the stem and lifted it to his mouth. He was facing Shinra on the barstool, but he kept his eyes locked on Shizuo.

Whose mouth was feeling incredibly dry.

Izaya lifted the cherry above his mouth, opening wide as he dropped the fruit in. Shizuo was hypnotised, and he couldn’t think past anything but mouth, lips, teeth, and tongue.

The louse gave a crooked closed-mouth smirk as he chewed, eyes closing in concentration and Shizuo followed the way he moved the cherry around in his mouth unblinking.

Shizuo couldn’t stop staring.

“Aaah.”

“Whoa!”

Shizuo almost passed out right then and there.

Izaya had swallowed visibly and then opened his mouth, a cherry stem tied into a perfect knot resting on his stuck out tongue. Shinra spoke up, his voice childlike and wonderous, nowhere near the level of depravity of Shizuo’s thoughts.

“Wow! You’re really good with your tongue, Izaya.”

The glass in his hands shattered, shards exploding outwards and showering over them all.

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuuuuuuucccccckkkkkkkk.

Shinra jumped and fell off his chair, while Izaya absolutely howled with laughter. Shizuo could feel his cheeks heating up and he made sure to look anywhere but the flea. His hands reached for the broken glass, as if he could sweep this whole thing up along with the pieces.

“Ooowwweeeeelllllttttyyyyy~!”

Shinra’s groan of pain turned to delight at the appearance of the Dullahan. She was in pink pyjamas and cute fluffy bunny slippers. Celty fingers were flying as she typed on her PDA, holding it out for Shizuo, [What happened? Are you okay?]

“It’s fine, do you have a dustpan?”

Izaya cackled even harder and Shizuo answered by shoving him off his barstool. The flea landed next to Shinra, and they both took one look at each other before cracking up again.

Shitty, crappy, annoying, dam, flea.

Celty quickly helped Shizuo clean up the broken glass, both of them flat out ignoring the pair of drunkards rolling around on the floor.

“Sorry.”

Shizuo didn’t know if he was apologising for the broken glass or just the entire night in general. He might have gotten a little carried away, which he firmly blamed on Shinra’s bad influence. Also, Izaya’s shitty presence hadn’t exactly helped matters.

[It’s fine.]

[I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.]

Shizuo scrunched up his face. He didn’t know if would go as far as to say that … but the night hadn’t been a total letdown. It was hard to beat himself up too much about losing control when the alcohol had left him feeling warm and content.

Not to mention the heated look in the flea’s eyes.

Dammit, damn him. That shitty fucking flea was just too good at getting under Shizuo’s skin. Probably thought he had gotten away with the joke of the century on Shizuo. Shit, he had.

Whatever, Celty was an actual saint to put up with them all … especially Shinra, the lout.

“Celty my love~!” Shinra reached out with grabby hands as the Dullahan pulled him up and dumped him over his shoulder.

[Bed time.] Celty showed on her PDA, Shizuo merely raised his eyebrows in reply as the Dullahan turned and left.

“Kinky,” Izaya spoke over his shoulder.

“Ah!” Shizuo jumped, “don’t just pop up like that!”

Izaya snickered, moving back to the bar. He pulled himself up to sit on the benchtop, hands placed on either side of him so he could lean back suggestively. “Shinra is so getting pegged.”

Shizuo just groaned, rubbing between his eyes as if he could erase the images from his mind. He couldn’t help but notice the playlist had shuffled to a particularly sensual sounding song.

And now the flea has ruined The Weekend for me too…

“You’re disgusting.”

“Oh? You didn’t seem to think that before, far from it actually,” Shizuo looked over at the flea. Was he crazy or were his eyes screaming out ‘come here’?

Was the flea a mind reader? Could he tell Shizuo was thinking exactly about the way he could slot himself perfectly between parted legs with the pest sitting like that?

“F-,” Shizuo quickly cut himself off, no, don’t say fuck.

Izaya knew exactly what he’d been planning to say, if the devilish grin on his lips was anything to go by. The flea reached a hand for a small pot on the counter, whole body curving with the motion as he pulled out another maraschino cherry.

He’s a demon.

Shizuo quickly turned away, not wanting to watch Izaya put that damn thing in his mouth. Not seeing turning out to be even worse though, because now Shizuo was imagining all sorts of things.

Like taking that damn cherry out of the flea’s mouth with his own tongue.

Fuckingfuckfuuuuccck.

Shizuo was either too drunk or not drunk enough for the flea’s mind games. Either way, he was going not going to stick around to find out … and he definitely wasn’t going to fall for such a dirty trick just to have the louse laugh in his face.

“Im’ma bail,” Shizuo gave a half-hearted wave over his shoulder. “Stay out of ‘bukuro, flea.”

Shizuo had only just made it to the door when he was attacked.

Izaya grabbed him, swinging him around and slamming him up against the wooden frame. “Fl-,” Shizuo didn’t even get the words out, didn’t even get a chance to discern the flea’s expression before Izaya’s mouth was descending upon his.

Shizuo’s head was dizzy from the sudden movement, body struck dumb as Izaya twisted fingers into his hair.

What was happening? What the FUCK was happening!? Izaya was kissing him. Izaya was fucking kissing him. Shizuo. Shizuo who Izaya hated. Shizuo was being kissed by Izaya. The flea. What the actual fuck!?

Shizuo’s hands came up to Izaya’s shoulders, ready to push him away, “W-.”

He doesn’t even get the words out. Izaya taking advantage of his open mouth to shove his tongue inside.

He tastes like cherries.

All thoughts of confusion and protest vanish as instinct kicks in, and Shizuo can’t help the growl he lets out into the flea’s mouth. His arm moves down to Izaya’s waist, pulling him in flush against his body. The louse lets out an eager moan and he licks into Shizuo’s mouth in such a filthy way it makes Shizuo’s head spin. Shizuo grabs the back of his head, forcing him to turn so he can kiss back even deeper.

If Shizuo’s body had been hot before it was practically on fire now. Like his blood had turned to molten lava, coming to a boil in his gut before an eruption. Holding onto Izaya right now was like trying to hold onto a wild animal. He pulled Shizuo in by the collar of his shirt, and at the same pressed in even closer if that was possible, rubbing his body up against Shizuo’s with untamed fervour.

Shizuo groaned at the way Izaya’s hips slotted against his, the way their groins rubbed together. He moved a hand to Izaya’s ass, desperate to pull that friction closer to him, gripping so hard he was sure there would be bruises in the shape his fingerprints left behind.

“Fuck,” Shizuo’s forced to break the kiss, forced to come up for air. Izaya dives down to his neck, leaving a trail of fire behind as he licks and sucks at Shizuo’s skin. Shizuo’s mouth is parted as he gasps for breath, hand kneading at the taut muscle of Izaya’s ass. God, his fucking ass, it was perfect.

Izaya’s hands move from his neck to his chest, clawing at his clothes. He moves downwards, coming to the collar of Shizuo’s shirt. Shizuo’s not even able to take a breath before Izaya is ripping his vest and shirt open, the buttons flying off in several directions.

You-  

Shizuo didn’t have a chance to even get angry at the cocky smirk on Izaya’s face before the flea was diving in to lick and kiss at his chest, his hands roaming their way downwards to the top of Shizuo’s pants. Every point of contact searing.

Fuck.

Shizuo’s mind was catching up to his dick, coming to terms with what was actually happening right now. When Izaya’s tongue licked over his nipple, Shizuo quickly raised a fist to his mouth and bit down.

He could hear Izaya’s satisfied chuckle against his skin, mouth biting and sucking on the hardening nub. He swirled his tongue around the tip, and Shizuo couldn’t help but groan as his dick jumped in his pants, his mind conjuring the image of the tip of that tongue circling the head of his cock.

Shizuo was completely floored, Izaya’s entire mouth should be deemed illegal. Hell, he should be fucking arrested for crimes against decency and just-just fuck, that fucking tongue.

Shizuo could only pant into the fist in his mouth, hearting racing as he looked down at the top of Izaya’s head as he traced Shizuo’s abs with his tongue, slowly making his way downwards.

“Oh fuck.”

Izaya was on his knees, tugging Shizuo’s pants open roughly.

This couldn’t be reality. They were standing in Shinra and Celty’s living room for fuck sakes, and the flea was on his fucking knees, looking like a man starving.

“Fuck, Izaya.”

“Heh, I quite like this side of you Shizu-chan,” how the hell could Izaya still sound so dam smug as he nuzzled Shizuo’s clothed cock. “You’re making really cute noises.”

Shizuo whimpered as Izaya mouthed his erection through his underwear.

Fucking hell.

“Oh? You’re getting quite wet here,” Izaya pressed his fingers against a wet patch above the head of Shizuo’s dick.

“Fuck, Izaya!”

Izaya closed his eyes, as if savouring the pleading way Shizuo had said his name. “I could almost come hearing you sound like this.”

Illegal. That mouth should be illegal. The absolute filth that spewed from it. Shizuo felt his cock twitch, and if Izaya’s self-satisfied smirk was anything to go by, so had he.

I could almost come at the sight of you on your knees flea.

Shizuo’s hips jerked a little as Izaya pulled his underwear down, exposing his hard cock to the air.

“Easy beast,” Shizuo could feel Izaya’s breath brush over his cock, as the flea braced a forearm across Shizuo’s navel.

How the hell could Izaya make that stupid nickname sound so dam sexy? He said it like he was hungry, no, ravenous.

I wanna touch you too.

With a trembling hand, Shizuo ran fingers through black silky locks. Izaya was staring up at him with those hooded eyes from earlier, black-red amaro liqueur overtaking brown whiskey, just like the cocktail he had made him. Dark and bitter and hot.

He is stunning.

Without breaking eye contact, Izaya brushed his lips against the head of Shizuo’s cock in a chaste kiss.

Shizuo almost came right then and there.

“Fuck!”

Izaya laughed, the fucking tease. “That’s the idea, ne?”

And then Izaya swallowed his cock down almost down to the root, and Shizuo buckled at the waist, barely keeping on his feet. The moist heat that enveloped him was enough to drive him crazy, enough for him to want to grab Izaya by the head and fuck into that wet mouth with a ferocity only befitting a beast.

Izaya hummed, the noise a vibration against his cock. Shizuo’s hand was fisted in his hair, twisting so harshly it had to be painful, but the flea just looked back up at him with those eyes like dark Italian liqueur.  

“Y-you look so fucking good right now flea, with my cock in your mouth.” Shizuo’s is surprised the words come out, his voice low and filthy.

Izaya moans at that, palming his at his own cock over his pants at Shizuo’s words. Shizuo can’t help the way his hips buck at the sight, but Izaya’s arm holds him down.

Slick velvet heat moves up his shaft, Izaya tonguing at the slit before releasing Shizuo’s cock with a harsh suck to the head. “If you can still talk I must be doing something wrong.”

Shizuo brain was meanwhile leaking out of his ears from Izaya’s rough treatment. Izaya shoots him a wicked grin, a devilish turn of his lips that promises sweet, hot things to come.

The flea dives back down, Shizuo’s mouth parted and panting, unable to stop the moans as Izaya’s head bobs up and down.

His head jerking.

Wait, no.

Lifeless eyes.

Stop.

Rutting, grunting. The revolting sound of pleasure as a dark stain bloomed outwards.

No, no, no.

He can no longer see, thrown back into that hellish day. Shizuo is standing in the doorway, body frozen as Izaya’s lifeless eyes stare out at him. The body atop of his is grunting with its brutal onslaught, Izaya’s head forced to bob with each violent thrust, and Shizuo can’t move, can’t do anything but watch.

Watch as someone fucks Izaya’s dead body.

“What the fuck Shizuo!?”

Shizuo lashes out, against the horror of it all, throwing Izaya away from him with violent strength and fear. He can’t hear the sound Izaya’s body makes as it hits the floor, the huff of air that is forced from the flea’s lungs as he is winded by the force, it doesn’t piece through flashes of memory, through a mind trapped by terror, because all he can hear is the sound of groaning sick pleasure.

Shizuo hunches over, trying to put his softening dick back into his pants with shaking hands. His breathing is coming out in harsh gasps, and a small part of his mind thinks he might actually pass out from lack of oxygen. But none of that matters, all that matters is he has to get out, has to get away.

Izaya moves from where he had landed painfully on the floor, hands reaching out for Shizuo.

“Don’t fucking touch me!”

Izaya flinches back, Shizuo’s voice ripping from him like a physical blow.

“Shizu-chan...”

Shizuo can’t fucking breathe.

“Don't, just don’t.”

Get out, just fucking get out of there.

His mind was far away, still trapped in that apartment, that day, fear pushing his body forward.  

In a flash he was out the door and running, leaving Izaya on the floor wide-eyed and stunned, wondering what the hell had just happened.

[searchingforstarss]

irondad prompt: accidental poisoning, peter whump? pleeease? love your writing! hope you enjoy your time away!

hi lovely anon!! this took me a little longer to do because it kind of got away from me and turned out a lot longer than i was thinking! i hope you like it because it’s not as whumpy as i originally intended but as soon as i saw accidental poisoning i couldn’t get this idea out of my head so here you go. i hope you enjoy :)) x

---

Morgan’s gleeful yells are the first thing Peter’s greeted to when he arrives at the lake house on a Friday afternoon.

“Peter’s here! Peter’s here! I can hear him!”

The six-year-old barrels through the living room and out onto the front porch, excitement practically radiating off her in waves.

No matter how many times they try to explain to her that it simply isn’t feasible for Peter to stay with them any more than two nights a week because he has school in the city, she whines about how long he’s been away whenever he arrives, without fail. Today is no different.

“You’re not allowed to stay away for that long anymore, I miss you too much,” she declares. “Daddy can’t do the right voices when he reads Harry Potter to me either. You’re wayy better.”

Petter grins broadly down at her, about to open his mouth to greet her properly, ask about her week at school and whether she learnt how to do fraction multiplication like she had excitedly told him that she was going to during their Wednesday night phone call. He can’t even get a word in edgeways though because before he can, Morgan is babbling on again in her same gleeful tone that Peter adores.

“I have a surprise for you!” she announces proudly, tugging him up the creaky porch steps with her smaller hand tucked inside his.

“Whoa, that’s cool. What is it?” Peter asks. He tries to hide the apprehension from his tone, because Morgan’s surprises always swing one of two ways.

He’ll either end up trying to pretend he isn’t choking up when she presents him with a hand drawn-picture and note or craft project that she made at school during their art hour. Or, he’ll end up as a victim to one of her latest ideas, experiments and schemes. Last week it was her determination to teach Peter how to roller-skate on the cul-de-sac a few blocks over, which ended in Morgan clumsily pressing an excess number of band-aids onto his scraped knees. The month before he ended up as a human canvas to entertain her desire to learn how to face paint (that was all-around just as much of a disaster as it sounds like it would be).

“You can’t know what it is, silly!” Morgan sing-songs, “you’ll ruin the surprise.”

“Silly me, of course,” Peter deadpans, but he’s ignored as she tugs him through to the kitchen as soon as he’s dumped his backpack on the couch.

“Surprise!” she exclaims as soon as they’re both in the room. She guestures excitedly towards a few slightly sad looking lumps of something drenched in icing and severed onto sticks. There are sprinkles as well, which look like they might have been a nice touch to cheer the entire thing up, had the majority of them not ended up scattered around the surrounding bench space.

“Daddy and I made cookie pops! Well, I made them, he just helped me use the big scary whisk-y thingy. They’re for Katie’s birthday party tomorrow because we all have to bring something yummy to eat, and Daddy wanted to do regular cookies but I told him that was boring. So we made these instead!”

“They look great, well done you guys,” Peter praises. Secretly, he’s almost certain that Tony was onto something with his suggestion. Cookies would have definitely been the safer option.

“I want you to try one! I saved the first one for you because I’m the best sister in the whole wide world.”

Peter eyes the pink ball of cookie dough being waved in his face dubiously, but Morgan’s creations often look worse than they actually are so he bites the bullet and accepts the treat that she’s thrusting towards him.

He takes a bite, partly because he’s being watched expectantly by large brown eyes and partly because he’s absolutely starving. He’s had a long day. Decathlon practice in the morning, AP classes back to back all afternoon and then the drive up here. Plus, he really wasn’t planning on Spider-Manning today, but there was a gas station robbery on the side of Interstate 87 that he pulled over to break up on his way because the man was threatening the poor guy behind the counter with a gun for a raspberry slushie, a hot dog and two packets of cigarettes and Peter had to intervene because that was just stupid on so, so many levels.

The shopkeeper gave him a free hot dog in return which he gladly scarfed down before he disappeared back out to his car, but that’s all he’s eaten since lunch. So as he chews Morgan’s baked concoction, he figures that the cookie dough is crumbly, sure, and maybe they went a little heavy with the icing sugar in the icing but Peter is so hungry that he thinks anything would probably taste good to him at this point.

Footsteps thud down the stairs, and Peter hears Tony’s voice before he sees him.

“Morgan, I swear if you’re force-feeding Peter. Your dear old brother doesn’t want any of our atrocious attempt at baking-“

Tony rounds the corner, eyes falling on Peter, mouth full of icing and cookie dough.

“Oh, I’m too late. Great.”

“Hey, Tony.”

“Hiya, Pete. Enjoying your snack?”

Peter carries on chewing on the food his mouth. “Mhmm. Definitely. Good job you guys.”

Tony shakes his head. “Nuh-uh, not a good job, not at all. I just got off the phone with Pepper, turns out you actually have to partially bake the cookie dough first. It honestly just seems like a lot of extra work if you ask me, but she’s the boss.”

“You’re starting again?” Peter asks.

“Yep, and since you’re here you can actually make yourself useful,” Tony snarks but there’s a fond smile on his face. Peter nods willingly. “Don’t just stand there then, kid. Grab the flour from the cupboard would you?”

Peter grins and turns to grab the flour like Tony requested. He doesn’t even have to think about it anymore, he knows exactly which shelf to reach for with the same sort of instinct that he has in his and May’s apartment.

(Even with all three of their hands on deck, the second round of cookie pops only end up looking mildly more appetizing than the first, but at least all of Morgan’s tiny friends won’t have uncooked, crumbly cookie dough forced on them so Tony claims it as a win - he’s never had the patience to deal with other kids’ whining parents anyway.)

---

Peter sleeps in the next morning, and the house is silent when he wakes. The first thing he notices is the way he’s shivering, even in the balmy morning sun streaming through his windows. There’s nausea as well, constantly threatening to make its way up his throat as it sits at the bottom of his stomach, churning and rolling uncomfortably,

The second thing he notices is a note sitting on his bedside table as he fumbles out one arm to grab his phone and check the time. Peter recognises Tony’s scrawl immediately.

Morning, sleepyhead. Gone to drop Morgan off to her party. Be home soon. T

He’s content to lie there for a while and wallow in his own misery and how dreadful he feels while he’s all alone in the house until his stomach lurches violently and he’s hauling himself out of bed, sweaty covers pooling around his feet. The room around him is spinning, but the singular thought occupying his hazy mind is get to the bathroom, Parker. Just make it to the damn bathroom.

He does, even though his legs are shaky underneath him, and he just manages to stumble through the open doorway of the bathroom and drop to his knees in front of the toilet. He doesn’t even register the pain that shoots through his knees and up his legs as he slams into the tile.

A charming mix of gas station hot dog, Morgan and Tony’s tragic attempt at a cookie pop and the lasagna Tony made for dinner last night ends up swimming at the bottom of the toilet bowl.

Gross.

“Peter?”

That’s his name. It sounds like it’s coming from somewhere down near his bedroom. He tries to call back, but acid coats his raw throat and he can’t seem to get the words out. He retches again, before dipping forward to lean up against the ceramic of the toilet.

“Peter, oh, there you are-” Tony begins, but he drops off as Peter sees him appear around the corner of the bathroom door and take in the scene in front of him. “What’s going on?”

He blinks up at Tony through cloudy eyes.

“Think ‘m sick.”

“I thought you couldn’t even get sick?”

Peter tries to give a coherent answer, he thinks, but all that comes out is a whine. He looks up at Tony, eyes pleading. He’s not sure what he’s asking for, really. He just wants someone to make it better.

“Okay, okay, got it. That’s not really the point right now.”

Peter isn’t quite sure what he’s expecting as Tony hovers around the doorway. He wants comfort, he wants Tony, but he doesn’t dare to move far from the toilet.

“Oh, shit. Kid, you actually ate that garbage attempt of baking that Morgan gave you yesterday, didn’t you? There was raw egg in that.”

Peter just nods feebly, not entirely listening. His head is head still resting on the toilet seat. He doesn’t have the energy to lift it.

“I hate to break it to you, kid, but maybe Spidey is just as susceptible to food poisoning as the rest of us.”

Peter’s certainly listening now, his glazed eyes shooting open. Weak displeasure simmers within them.

“You poisoned me?”

Morgan’s surprise has now definitely landed on the bad side this week, leaning towards absolutely-fucking-awful.

“Technically, Morgan poisoned you. I just operated all the heavy machinery,” Tony says. Peter glares at him, but it’s so pathetic that Tony’s own stomach clenches in sympathy.

“You’re the adult-” Peter points out, feeble indignation in his voice before he cuts himself off with another round of heaving.

“Oh, Pete,” Tony sighs, stepping further into the bathroom at the sight. He lowers himself to the floor right next to Peter. A warm hand finds his back, rubbing in slow circles right at the base. A fraction of the tension leaves Peter’s body.

“You’re alright, bud” Tony soothes. His voice is gentle and calming, and Peter lets it wash over him. He’s always loved just listening to Tony talk. “You’ll feel so much better once it’s all back up.”

Peter finds that hard to believe because caught right in the throes of pain, shivering and feeling like a total and utter mess, he struggles to remember a time when he wasn’t wholly consumed by Morgan’s attempt to poison him.

There’s nothing left for Peter to bring up eventually, and he’s left gasping for air.

“Think you’re done?”

Peter nods, stomach still clenching painfully. He shoves himself away from the toilet, legs giving way underneath him as he slumps into a pile of shaky, sweaty limbs against the bathroom counter. This doesn’t seem to faze Tony though, and Peter watches through bleary eyes as he goes into Dad Mode. It all fades in and out in front of him, but he registers the corners of his mouth being wipes gently with a warm washcloth, the hair being brushes back from his sweaty forehead, a cool glass of water being tipped down his throat.

It was because of moments like this that after the snap, it took Peter a while to correlate his Tony with Morgan’s Tony.

His Tony had only ever cared from afar and he usually shied away from physical affection and comfort unless either of them were on their deathbeds. They always loved each other, but it was sort of a given. An undeniable fact with little physical expression. Now though? Morgan’s Tony tucks her into bed at night and smoothes kisses into her hair and lets her curl into his lap during lazy evenings on the couch with absolutely no reservations or qualms. He tells her he loves her at least five times a day.

It then took Peter even longer to realise that Morgan’s Tony wasn’t exclusively hers. He’s just Tony, softened around the edges a little with parenthood and settling down, but he’s Peter’s as well, still.

That’s evident in the way that instead of leaving Peter to his own devices once he’s taken care of him and cleaned up his mess, Tony just leads him gently downstairs instead, a warm solid hand wrapped around his forearm to make sure he doesn’t stumble forward and end up on his face.

Tony lies him down on the couch, before taking a seat himself. He lets Peter pillow himself against him, head buried into the soft cotton of his t-shirt. Tony’s hands trail along their time-worn path in Peter’s hair, the action almost second nature.

“I’m never eating anything you make me ever again, I swear,” Peter mumbles into Tony’s chest. His words are quiet, scraping against the rawness of his throat but Tony hears him loud and clear. He chuckles.

“Fair enough, buddy.”

---

Peter’s nap is only interrupted when Morgan bursts into the room sometime in the afternoon. He blinks slowly from where he’s resting against Tony’s chest, head tucked up against his collarbone.

Morgan has a goody bag clutched in her grip and a few flyaway pink streamers caught in her hair. She beelines for the couch.

“Petey, Mommy said that I need to apologise for poisoning you!”

Peter feels a deep rumble in Tony’s chest as he attempts to stifle a laugh. He can’t quite muster up the energy (and he’s far too comfortable anyway) to get up from his position resting against Tony to hug Morgan, so he just gives her the warmest smile he can manage.

“It’s okay, bug, I know you didn’t mean to. I forgive you.”

She beams up at him. “There was one cookie pop left so I saved it for you, see?” she says, rattling her goody bag around, which Peter presumes contains the cursed treat. “They’re really good, I promise!”

Peter’s stomach churns again at the thought.

“That’s really nice of you, Mo, but I think I might give cookies a miss for a while.”

[superfreakerz]

How about some nalu fluff where a l Natsu tending to and fussing over his sick mate after she contract the flu with his protective and territorial instincts acting up ? He could be eve more protective and territorial than he already is on account of he being hill. he also doesn’t want other people encroaching on time with Lucy it trust them enough to take proper care of her— save a select few . That said, he’s always quick to shower plenty of on affection on her.

“Sick Day”

Rated K.

Summary: Lucy’s sick and Natsu takes it upon himself to nurse her back to health the best he can.

Sick Day

The first thing Natsu heard when he woke up were faint sniffles. Sitting straight up, he focused on the sounds, finding it was coming from the bathroom. Gently getting out of bed so as not to wake Happy, the boy tiptoed towards the bathroom, slowly turning the doorknob and peering inside to find Lucy sitting on the edge of the tub. Her golden locks were tied into a messy bun while a blanket was wrapped around her. Her nose was red, her eyes watery as she sniffled.

Natsu opened the door fully, stepping inside.

“What’s wrong, Lucy?” he asked, his lips curled downwards into a concerned frown. He always hated seeing his girlfriend upset. “Why’re you crying?”

Lucy looked up at him, cocking her head to the side. “What? I’m not crying?”

“You aren’t?”

“No, I’m sick. It’s just a cold, nothing too serious.”

Natsu arched a brow. For someone with slobby behavior, he never got sick. He didn’t know if colds were fatal or not, and he wasn’t going to risk anything with Lucy.

“Do you want me to get Wendy?” he asked.

“No! It’s just a cold, I don’t want her to waste her energy on something small like this.”

“Here, let’s get you to bed then,” Natsu said, taking her hand. He grabbed a roll of toilet paper as well. “For your nose.”

“Ahh, thanks.”

Natsu gently nudged Happy awake. Lucy was sick, so she needed the bed, and he didn’t want Happy to get sick too.

“What time is it?” Happy asked, rubbing his tired eyes.

“Ehh, it’s pretty early,” Natsu answered. “Lucy’s sick. How about you and I go sleep on the couch?”

Without bothering to reply, Happy flew to the couch and passed out in seconds. Natsu ushered Lucy into bed, waiting for her to get settled before taking the blanket and wrapping her up like a burrito. Then, he pulled a chair up so that he could be at her side. Brushing some of the strands of hair that were stuck to her face, he smiled at her.

“You’re gonna be okay, Luce,” he said.

“I know,” Lucy replied, arching a brow. “It’s just a cold. Do you know what a cold is?”

Natsu shrugged. “Sick is sick. And I’m gonna take care of you.” His eyes brightened, an excited gleam glinting in his onyx orbs. “I’m gonna be your doctor!

"Oh boy, here we go,” Lucy muttered. She knew better than anyone that once Natsu Dragneel set his mind to something, he was going to follow through. And even though a simple day’s rest would’ve had her feeling better in no time, she knew that with him being this fired up about being her doctor only meant trouble.

“I’ll go make you some soup!” Natsu exclaimed, rushing into the kitchen. Opening the pantry, he looked for cans of soup. “Lucy, where do you keep the soup?”

“We don’t have any cans. You have to make it yourself. But I’ll be fine, Natsu! I don’t need any-!”

“Then I’ll make it!”

From her spot on the bed, Lucy squeezed her eyes shut. “Please don’t let him burn down the house, please don’t let him burn down the house, please don’t let him burn down the house!” Knowing that Natsu was a hazard in the kitchen, the girl tried to wriggle free from the blankets. To her chagrin, she was swaddled so tightly she couldn’t escape. “It’s no use. He’s going to burn this whole place down… Again.” At least she wasn’t still living in her old apartment.

Meanwhile in the kitchen, Natsu rolled up his sleeves, an excited grin resting on his face. He never made soup before in his life, but he was going to make sure it was awesome. Grabbing the ingredients he thought he needed, he lined them up. Carrots, celery, chicken.

With a shrug, he began his efforts of making soup, cutting up the vegetables and throwing the chicken into the oven. It took a while for the chicken to cook, but he was actually really pleased with how it turned out. The smell drifted throughout the small cottage.

“Okay, now what do I do with all of this?” Natsu asked himself, cupping his chin in thought. He had the chicken and the vegetables, but where was the soup? Taking a pot, he filled it with water and put it on the stove. Once the water finished boiling, he poured some of it into a bowl for Lucy before throwing in the chicken and vegetables. “Finished!”

With an eager grin, Natsu approached Lucy at the bed.

“Ready for your soup, Luce?” he asked, practically bouncing in place.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” the blonde replied. “I just hope I don’t get food poisoning on top of this cold.”

“Alright, then come get it!”

“Oh, I can’t. You swaddled me so tightly, I can’t get out.”

Natsu chuckled, setting the bowl of soup on the nightstand before rubbing the back of his head. “Oops. Wanted to keep you warm.” Grabbing a fistful of the blanket, he yanked on it with ease, pulling it off of her.

“Thanks,” Lucy said, smiling at him. She sat up and accepted the bowl of… Well she wasn’t sure what it was. Obviously, it was supposed to be soup. There was the chicken, the vegetables, but why was the soup so clear? Knowing that Natsu was watching her in anticipation, she scooped up some of its contents and brought it to her lips. She took a bite, her brows arching. “Natsu, is this water?”

“Yeah!” the boy replied, his grin growing. “How’d you know?”

“J-Just a hunch,” Lucy replied. Instead of making a broth, he actually boiled water and put it into the bowl and called it soup.

“Well? Go on, Luce! Eat up so that you feel better!”

Lucy swallowed thickly. She’d honestly rather starve than take another bite. But, seeing Natsu’s happy face, she pushed through.

Once finished, Lucy gratefully handed the empty bowl to Natsu, glad to be finished with his concoction. He went to put the bowl in the sink when he heard a knock at the door. Opening it, he found Gray and Erza standing outside.

“What’re you guys doin’ here?” he asked, arching a brow.

“That’s what we were wondering about you guys,” Gray replied going to shove his hands in his pockets before he realized he had somehow lost his pants along the way. “We were supposed to head out on a job but you guys never showed up.”

“There had better be a good reason for that,” Erza added, her features darkening as she glared at Natsu.

The boy held his hands up in surrender. “Oh! My bad, I totally forgot! Lucy’s sick, so I’ve been takin’ care of her.”

“Sick?”

“Yeah, she’s got a cold.”

“And you’re taking care of her?” Gray asked. “Poor thing is never going to recover now. Not with this idiot acting as her doctor.”

“What’d you just say!?” Natsu shouted, glowering at him.

“You heard me. What? Wanna fight?”

“Hell yeah I wanna-!”

“Shut up,” Erza interrupted, bashing their heads together like coconuts. “Lucy is sick. Quit your yelling and let’s go check on her.”

Natsu held his hand out, stopping them. “Nope. You guys aren’t allowed to see her.”

“The hell?” Gray asked. “Why not?”

“Because she’s sick and I’m supposed to be the one to take care of her.”

“Well I doubt you’re doin’ a good job so let us in already.”

Natsu bashed Gray upside the head as the other boy took a step towards his cottage. “For your information, I just made some awesome soup for her that she loved. I got this. You would just make things worse, so go.”

Gray rubbed the sore spot on his head, about to go in for a hit of his own when Erza grabbed his wrist.

“Alright,” the redhead stated. “We’ll be on our way then. Tell Lucy we said we hope she feels better soon.”

“Will do.” With that, Natsu closed the door, heading back to the bed. Approaching her, he found her peacefully asleep in bed, her mouth parted slightly as drool trickled out. She must not have been able to breathe through her nose with her cold.

Smiling, he sat at her bedside, watching her sleep. Despite being sick, she seemed so peaceful.

“Must’ve been the soup I made.”

The next morning, Lucy’s eyes blinked open as sunlight filtered through the cracks of the curtains. Sitting up in bed, she raised her arms above her head in a stretch. Glancing to her side, she found Natsu asleep while sitting in the same chair he’d been in yesterday.

A warm smile stretched across her face. He must’ve fallen asleep while taking care of her. Sure enough, her sniffles were gone, and she felt better than ever thanks to her slumber.

Hearing Lucy shuffling in bed, Natsu cracked a yawn before opening his eyes. Studying her, he found that her nose wasn’t red like before and she wasn’t sniffling anymore. She looked back to normal.

“How ya feeling?” he asked.

“Great,” Lucy answered.

“Yosh! I nursed you back to full health! I didn’t need Wendy after all!”

A giggle slipped past Lucy’s lips as she nodded. Grabbing Natsu by the scarf, she pulled him closer and planted a kiss over his lips. “Thank you for taking care of me, Natsu.”

The boy gave a lopsided grin, ruffling her hair.

“Anything for you, Luce.”

[scatter-the-stars]

Dauntless

Klaine Advent 2018

Day 11: Kidnap

Word Count: 4606

Rated: M

The rope around his wrists rubs against his already raw skin as he tries to loosen the binding.  There's no luck.  The rope somehow ends up tightening around his wrists.  But he doesn't give up.  The determination to get free not dwindling the slightest.

This is all his fault.  He had to go and defy his bodyguards and sneak out with his friends.  It was his act of rebellion his friends had been trying to talk him into for months.

It's not that he wanted to go against protocol and hang out with his friends.  It's that he wanted to do so without having someone hovering nearby making it impossible to let loose completely.  He's tried to do it before, to dance and drink and flirt, but having a bodyguard close by watching him like a hawk always made the experience awkward.  That's why he snuck out the bedroom window of the house he shares with his friends.

The plan was stupidly simple.  He's still surprised he managed to get away with it.  It's a plan any middle schooler could have thought up.  It was easy to sneak out and go hang with his friends.

"I've got eyes on a sexy subject."

Kurt snorts at Emily making fun of his bodyguard's talk.  "Who?"  He licks his lips and looks to where Emily nods her head.

Sexy is the correct way to describe the guy Emily points out.  With dirty blonde hair that is meant to look mussed up, but probably took an hour to accomplish, deep green eyes, a sharp jaw, and mouth with full lips, he's someone Kurt can definitely see himself with.  But there's something that holds him back from going over.  From introducing himself.

"He's cute."

"Cute?"  Emily looks at him like he's crazy.  "Kurt, that guy is smoking hot."

"Yeah.  I guess so."

Emily cocks her head the slightest.  "What is it?  Is it still Mr. Bodyguard?"

Kurt wants to lie.  To say that he's moved on from the ridiculous crush he's had for six years on one of the men on his detail team.  But it would be far from the truth.  In fact, he's positive his feelings for Blaine have intensified.

Meeting Blaine for the first time at sixteen irrevocably changed all future men for him.  From then on he compared every new guy he met to the one who always stood behind him.  It's why he's rarely dated.  And barely has had a sex life to speak of.

"Do you think I'll ever get over him?"

Emily gives a shrug of her shoulders.  "I don't know.  But the best way to start is to test the waters.  Go over to the guy.  Let loose and have some fun.  Forget about Mr. Bodyguard and have some hot sex with a even hotter stranger.  It's what you need, and deserve.  I know you haven't gotten laid in a long time."

Kurt hates himself for drunkenly admitting to Emily a couple of months ago that he hadn't had sex since his second year of college.  But at the same time, he can't ignore that she's right.  He does need to get laid.  Needs a good release to relax him.

"Fine!"  He stands and runs a hand through his hair.  "I'm going over."

The car going over a bump in the road, causing him to bounce up and hit his head on the top of the trunk, has Kurt moaning in pain.  The sound is muffled by the gag around his mouth.

As the car speeds up, jostling him around in the trunk, he tries to think about how he ended up where he is.  He recalls going over to the guy and accepting his offer to dance.  Remembers grinding up against him, and the guilt he felt that he was doing that with someone who wasn't Blaine, and following him outside, against his better judgement.  Remembers a hot mouth on his neck kissing and sucking at skin, and feeling uneasy.  The next thing he remembers is waking up in the trunk of a car sick to his stomach, panicking and tied up.

In all his life, he never imagined being kidnapped.  It's something that shouldn't have happened to him.  But it did and now he needs to figure out how to escape.

Calmed down since waking up the plan he's been concocting in his head is at a standstill since his first point is to get his hands free.

When the car comes to a stop all of sudden, Kurt starts to panic even more.  It grows when he hears doors opened and slammed shut.  The sound of footfalls are as loud as the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears.

Someone knocking on the trunk sends terror through him.  He scoots further back into the trunk.

"Wakey wakey!" a laughter filled voice says outside the trunk.

Another voice joins the first in laughing.

"What do you think we'll get for him?" the first voice asks.

"Maybe a couple mil."

Kurt squints his his eyes against the light that turns on when the trunk is popped open.  When his vision clears he sees two men standing above him. Men he's never seen before. Both look rugged and toughened from life.  Scruff covers the jaw of one of the guys while he other is clean shaven.  One guy stands a few inches taller than his partner.  Both of them have guns tucked into the waistband of their jeans.

"Man, he sure is prettier in person."

Kurt's skin crawls and he tries to move away when one of the guys reaches out a drags a finger down his face.

"Maybe I should get-"

The guy's words are cut off when a bullet pierces through his chest and he falls over on top of Kurt.

Kurt's muffled screams don't drown out the sound of a gun firing he hears.  It's followed by the sound of something heavy falling to the ground with a thump.  Scrambling to push the body off him, panic really sets in when he hears a new set of footfalls. But it dies away when the body is pulled off him and he sees Blaine standing above him.

Relief washes over him.  He thanks whoever it is that is overlooking him as Blaine undoes his binds and removes the gag around his mouth.

"We need to move," Blaine states in a serious, no bullshit voice.

After Blaine helps him out of the trunk, Kurt stops to breathe and looks around.  He sees miles of nothing in every direction.

"Move."  Blaine grabs at his shoulder and walks him to the black SUV that sits a few feet away.

A coat goes around his shoulders as he shivers and walks, doing his best to ignore the two bodies behind him.

Blaine helps him into the passenger seat of the SUV before going around to climb into the driver seat.

"Dauntless is secured."

Kurt hugs Blaine's coat tighter to his body.  The scent that covers it, Blaine's scent, a strong smell of pine and spice and sweat, fills his nostrils and is intoxicating in the best way.  It wraps him in a warmth and fills him with safety.  He refrains from burying his nose in the coat and breathing that scent in until they reach their destination.

"Understood."  Blaine's hard, even voice has him looking over.  He sees his eyes set with anger and brows furrowed as he continues to speak to whoever on the phone.  His jaw tightens at the same time his hand on the wheel does.  "No."  He gives a shake of his head even though the person he talks to can't see him.  "I know of a secure location.  I'll get Dauntless there and check in."  There's a few moments of silence as Blaine listens to who he talks to.  "Yes, Sir.  I understand."

Kurt quickly looks away when Blaine ends the call and begins to drive.

The tension in the SUV, thick like molasses, and the silence, loud like an explosion, leaves him feeling uneasy.  He isn't sure what to do or say.  Does he apologize?  Does he tell Blaine how grateful he is?  Or does he stay silent?

After half an hour into the drive, it becomes too much for him.

"Thank you."  The words come out small and low.  "For rescuing me."

Blaine's hand on the wheel tightens.  The knuckles going white.  "It's my job."  His words come out rough and angry.

Kurt doesn't have to wonder if he's angry at him.  That is a given.  To be the source of that anger has guilt eating at him.

"I'm sorry," he says, glimpsing at Blaine.  "I shouldn't have gone out without a bodyguard.  I know that now."

There's no reply from Blaine.  Instead, all he does is release a grunt that sounds annoyed.

There's so much more that Kurt wants to say, but he stays silent.  He can't endure more silence from Blaine.  So he turns to look out the window.

His breath catches in his throat and scared, small whimper leaves him when he catches sight of his reflection in the window.  The splatter of blood that covers his face, splotches of red that stand out against his pale skin, is a sight that terrifies him.  His breathing grows heavy and uneven as he stares at the blood and remembers being sprayed with it after one of his kidnappers was shot in the back.  The memory of the bullet piercing through skin and that heavy body falling on top of him, blood spilling out and coating his clothes, has him scared and shaking.  He feels like that little kid who was once so afraid of the boogeyman he crawled into his parents' bed every night until he was eleven.

Tears pool in his eyes and begin to fall at their own will.  Just like when he was younger, and scared, he wants his dad's comforting embrace.  Wants his voice reassuring him he's fine.

Head dropped down between his knees, pulling in deep breaths, Kurt tries his hardest to compose himself. The last thing he wants to do is fall apart and lose his cool in front of Blaine.  Even if it is justifiable.

But for as hard as he tries to pull himself together, it's impossible.  The tears come fast and hard as the realization hits him that things could have turned out so much worse.  That he could have ended up far worse than with some blood on stains.

As he cries, desperate for his dad, a hand gently resting on his back and rubbing soothing circles into it instantly sends that sense of calm and comfort he wants from his dad.  His racing heart starts to slow as his breathing does the same.  The tears begin to stop.

"It's okay."  Blaine's voice that was hard and held anger an hour before is now soft and filled with comfort.  "You're okay."

As much as he wants to say something, his voice is lost on him.  But he holds a sliver of fear that him talking will pull Blaine out of whatever moment they are in.

The hand on his back slowly travels up and comes to a stop at his neck.  Blaine strokes his thumb over the exposed skin of the back of his neck.  The touch, small and simple, manages to send a shock wave through him.

In the six years he's known him, Blaine has never touched him like this.  Yes, there were touches throughout the years.  But those, rough touches to pull him away from an area or person, were never like this.  This touch, this moment, is different.  It's softer and more intimate.

Although he shouldn't indulge himself, knowing it'll hurt more when Blaine pulls away like he should, Kurt allows himself several more moments of Blaine's hand on him before sitting up.  And when Blaine's hand slips away, when that warmth of his touch disappears, sending a chill through him, he misses instantly.

"Thank you."  His voice comes out slightly high and uneven.

Blaine says nothing.  A look at him shows he's back to the stoic, brick wall like before.

Upset by that, Kurt looks away and glances at the world that passes them.  Snow covers every inch of the ground.  The sheet of white stunning and beautiful, in a picturesque kind of way.

"Where are we going?" he asks when they pass a marker and realizes he has no idea where they are.

He isn't sure how long he was in the trunk of that car.  But he figures it was at least longer than six hours since the sun was barely starting to peak over the horizon when Blaine found him.

"A friend's place," Blaine answers in his authoritative voice.  "Storm is coming in and we won't make it back in time."

The place ends up being a house in the woods.  It's a two level, tall windows, cabin design house.

The cold is biting when Kurt steps out of the SUV and follows Blaine to the front door.  He pulls the coat tighter around his body and bounces on his toes as Blaine grabs a spare key from under a fake rock and unlocks the door.

He barely gets a look at the place inside before Blaine is pulling him upstairs and to a bedroom.

"Bathroom is through that door," he says as he opens drawers and grabs clothes.  "You probably want to get clean."

It's only at his words does Kurt remember the blood covering his body.  "Y-Yeah."

"Right.  Here."  Blaine holds out what looks like sweats and shirt.  "There should be towels in there.  Get cleaned and then you can call your dad."

Kurt takes the clothes and stands in the middle of the room for a few minutes after Blaine walks out.  The unfamiliarity of the place as he takes a look around, the bare walls and queen sized bed, have him missing the comfort and security of his room back home with his dad.

Standing naked under the spray of hot water a couple minutes later, everything hits him again like a tidal wave.  It's watching the swirling water at his feet red from blood that sets off the fresh wave of tears.  He covers his face and sobs as his body shakes with the force of his tears.

The blame he puts on himself is heavy and deep.  This is all his fault.  He was stupid to believe he could be safe.  That he could go out unprotected and think nothing would happen.  That he could be like any other normal college kid.  But last night has only proven that he's not a normal college kid.  He has no anonymity out in the world.  There are eyes constantly on him, watching and judging.  And worse: waiting.

Last night someone waited.  Waited for him to make a mistake.  And he did.  Like the idiot he is.  He made a mistake and almost paid his life for it.  If not for Blaine.

The thought of Blaine has his body calming.

Gratitude is only the tip of the iceberg for what he owes Blaine.  He owes him his life he saved.  Owes him everything.

After drying off and changing into the clothes Blaine gave him, grey sweats and a shirt with Columbia written across the chest, he goes downstairs and finds him in the living room crouched down and stoking the fire he started in the fireplace.

Dressed in all black, the material of his pants pulling over his thighs and showing off his ass, Kurt feels his cock stir at the sight.  He bites back a moan and drinks in the sight of Blaine as much as he can before he's discovered.

"Do you feel better?"

Kurt is momentarily surprised at Blaine knowing he's behind him until he remembers who this is.  This is Blaine, an ex-Navy SEAL soldier trained to be constantly on alert.

"Um...Y-Yes."

Blaine puts the gate up and stands.  He turns to Kurt.  When he does the gun resting on his hip catches Kurt's attention.  He looks to it, unable to forget what Blaine recently did with that weapon; of the two men he killed.

"I called your father."  At the mention of his father, he perks up; eyes go from the gun to Blaine's eyes.  "I briefed him on what happened and where we are.  He's expecting your call.  My phone is on the counter in the kitchen."

Kurt finds Blaine's phone exactly where he said it would be.

It takes him several minutes to muster up the courage to call his dad. But when he does, when he hears his father's voice, he immediately breaks down crying.  Through his tears he apologizes and says he'll never do anything like he did again.  His dad, the wonderful man that he is, tells him that while, yes, he's mad at him, he's more relieved that he's safe and unharmed.

"I love you, kiddo.  Don't scare me like that again."

"I promise, I won't."  Kurt runs a hand through his wet hair, wincing at the pain the movement causes in his still tender wrists.  "I love you too."

"I'll see you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"  There's surprise in Kurt's voice.

"This storm will be impossible to travel through.  And to be safe, I asked Agent Anderson to stay until it clears.  Which should be by mid-afternoon tomorrow."

Elation and dread fill Kurt simultaneously at the knowledge that he'll be alone with Blaine for a day and a half.

"Okay.  I'll see you then."

After hanging up a hand snatches the phone away before he can even think about calling his friends to tell them he's okay.  He looks up at Blaine, who looks at him like he knows what he was thinking.

"No more phone calls."  Blaine slides the phone into his pocket.  "No one needs to know where you are."

"Can I at least call to tell my friends I'm okay?"

"No."

For the first time that day anger at Blaine forms.  "Why?"  His voice comes out annoyed and pissed.

"Because I don't trust them."

"Well, I do."  Kurt makes a second mistake in the last twenty-four hours by attempting to grab for the phone in Blaine's pocket.  But he's no match for Blaine's speed and swiftness.  In a matter of seconds, he finds himself pressed up against the stainless steel refrigerator with Blaine pinning his wrists to the doors on either side of his head.

Pain shoots from his raw, sore wrists along his arms.  He fights back tears and focuses on his anger.

"Why does it matter if you don't trust them?"  He tries not to think about how close Blaine is.  How he can smell that spicy, pine scent that drives him wild.  "I do," he states again.

"Then you need to rethink who you trust."  Blaine steps closer, anger clear in his eyes.  "Because one of them betrayed you."

The words strike Kurt like a punch to the gut.  Surprise overtakes him as he tries not to justify Blaine's accusation.

It can't be.  None of his friends would ever do what just happened to him.  None of them want to see him harmed.  It's ridiculous.

"No.  They...They would never."

"One of them did.  Ask yourself how the kidnappers knew you wouldn't be guarded last night.  They wouldn't.  Unless they had inside information."

Although he wants to deny it, to tell Blaine he's being ridiculous, the facts Blaine lays out point to him being right.  One of his friends, if he can even call them that, betrayed him.

"W-Why?"  His voice trembles as pain slices through him.

"Because you're the president's son.  They kidnap you and ask for a hefty ransom."

Kurt rubs at his wrists when Blaine lets them go.

"I'm sorry," Blaine says.  "Did I hurt you?"

"No."  At least not any more than he's already been hurt.

Rummaging in cabinets a moment later, Kurt finds what he's looking for when he opens what has to be the liquor cabinet.  Bottles of alcohol sit there ready to be enjoyed.  He grabs the bottle of open tequila and a glass.

"I don't think that's a good idea."  Blaine covers the glass with his hand to stop Kurt from pouring.

"I don't care what you think."  Kurt forgets the glass and takes a drink straight from the bottle.  The alcohol strong and instantly warms him.  It sends a calm through him that stops him from breaking down, again.  At least momentarily.

A hand reaches out and easily takes the bottle from him when moves to drink again.  He glares at Blaine when he sees him holding the bottle.

"Give me the bottle!"

"No."  Blaine steps back and holds out an arm to stop Kurt from coming closer.  "I won't allow you to do this."

Kurt laughs like he heard a joke.  "You won't allow?"  He mocks Blaine's voice.  "You're not my dad.  Or boss.  In fact, I'm kind of yours.  You have do what I say."

"Unless what you want puts you in danger," Blaine replies.

"Danger?  All I want is to get drunk and forget this pain."  Unable to no longer hold it in, Kurt drops his head in his hands and cries.

The unfairness of his situation has him angry and upset.  Has him wondering if he'll ever be able to trust anyone ever again.

As his body shakes with sobs, not caring that he's crying in front of Blaine again, arms encircle him and pull him close to a strong body.  He presses his face in Blaine's chest and clutches at his upper arms as he lets go.

"It's okay."  It's the same words Blaine spoke to him in the car.  "It'll be okay, Kurt."

It's hearing his name spoken in Blaine's smooth voice that has the tears stopping.  He pulls back enough to look into hazel eyes.

There's a moment of silence between them as he stares at Blaine.

"What?"  Blaine finally says.

"You said my name."

The last time he can recall Blaine calling him by his actual name and not his code name was when he was seventeen.  So to hear Blaine speak it after all these years is like a jolt to his weakened heart.

Where he expects Blaine to pull away like he should, it fills him with joy, and hope, when he continues to stand there holding him.  The hand at his lower back presses in deeper as his lips slightly part.

This is wrong.  He knows it is.  There are rules and protocol that Blaine has to follow.  There can be nothing between them.  He's Blaine's job.  A job that is meant to protect him.  Not have them fall into bed together.  No matter how many times he's dreamed of it.

But as he stands there, Blaine's strong body pressed close to his, he can't find it in himself to care about rules or protocol.  This is what he's wanted for six years.

If there's any doubt to what Blaine may feel, it's erased when he feels his arousal against his hip.  And what he feels excites him.  The long, thick length sending a strong wave of lust through him.

After years of going through doubt and hope of what Blaine may feel to know Blaine wants him has his own cock growing hard.

"Blaine..."  His name falls from his lips breathy and full of need.

Blaine drops his forehead to Kurt's and shuts his eyes.  He lets out a deep breath.  "Fuck!"  He softly growls.  "I can't let this happen."

A fresh wave of pain runs through Kurt at the rejection when Blaine pulls away, obviously stronger than him.

Blaine turns his back to him.  Kurt can see it's tense.

"Blaine," Kurt touches a hand to Blaine's back.  He jumps at the touch and moves away.

"We can't let this happen."

"Why?"

"You know why."

Kurt does know.  And for those reasons he's ready to turn and walk away.  But instead of doing that something has him stepping in front of Blaine.

"I want you, Blaine."  The confession comes with ease and no nervousness.  "I've wanted you for six years.  From the moment I first met you."  Blaine looks away.  But he grabs his face and makes him look at him.  "I ache for you.  I miss you even though I've never had you.  I want you, Blaine, and I want you to do something about it.  Please.  Turn this day around for me."

He needs this.  Not just Blaine.  But this moment of happiness after the darkness he endured.  He wants Blaine to give him that.  To bring him joy and delight.

"Kurt," Blaine's voice sounds strained, like he's holding himself back, "we can't."

Kurt presses close to Blaine.  Brushes his mouth over his.  "We can.  Here.  For the next day and a half this can be our chance.  No one has to know."

Outside the wind howls as snow falls and blankets the ground.  The world still turns.  But inside, it stops.  This moment, here with Blaine, is all that exists to Kurt.  There is nothing else but them.

There's a moment where he thinks Blaine is going to refuse him when he pulls back.  But when a hand grabs behind his head and pulls him in, a mouth crashing to his, happiness erupts inside him.

They kiss like starved men given a meal.  They kiss like long lost lovers reunited and unable to control themselves.  They kiss like two men finally indulging in their greatest need.

Lifted up and set on the counter, legs parted and Blaine standing between his spread thighs, arousal slams into him as Blaine thrusts his tongue into his mouth while palming at his cock.

"Six years I wanted you, Kurt," Blaine admits as he slips his hand into the sweats Kurt wears.  "Six years of denying myself.  Six years of hunger."

Kurt gasps when Blaine's strong, callused hand wraps around his cock.  As one of Blaine's thumbs rubs over the head of his cock, the other he pushes past his lips.  He closes his mouth around the digit and sucks, eyes locked on Blaine's lust blown ones, as he twirls his tongue around the thick digit.  Blaine's deep moans go straight to his cock.

Hips undulate as Blaine slowly strokes his cock, using the dribbles of precum as lubricant.

"Fuck, Kurt!"  Blaine pulls his thumb away and presses his mouth to Kurt's in a fierce, hungry kiss, all the while still stroking him.

Kurt clutches at Blaine's shoulders.  The pressure in his balls building.  "I...Fuck!  I'm close."

Blaine stops, yanks Kurt's sweats off and wraps his hand back around him.  "Come for me, Kurt.  Want to see you come."

A few strokes more and Kurt explodes over Blaine's fist while crying out his name in pleasure.

His release is so strong it leaves him trembling for several minutes afterwards.  After he calms down, he smiles at Blaine in a blissed out state.  His cock gives a twitch when Blaine licks clean his hand.

The kiss they share taste of him.

"Want to feel you inside me," he desperately whispers against Blaine's lips.

Blaine growls and lifts him up.  "We have a day and a half, Kurt," he says, heading up the stairs while holding Kurt tight to his body.  "And I don't plan to waste one second of it."

Kurt's heart races in excitement as his cock pounds.

Can Blaine and him have forever in thirty-six hours?  He doesn't know.  What he does know is that this day is going to end way better than it started.

[florrickandassociates]

TGF Thoughts: 3x03-- The One Where Diane Joins the Resistance

Thoughts on this episode under the cut. I believe this is my shortest recap of the season even though it’s the longest episode ever of The Good Fight. 

I don’t like this episode title. It should be called “The One That’s An Hour Long” because that’s what I’m going to remember it as. This episode doesn’t feel padded-- there’s too much going on for it to feel padded-- but it does feel unnecessarily long.

A previously introduces Blum, again. I watched his antics three times last week; I can assure you I don’t need a reminder of what he’s like.

This is my second time through this episode, btw. The other episodes I’ve watched three times (morning of release, with my roommate, while writing these posts) but I told my roommate to go ahead and watch this one without me. Tbh, I’m not looking forward to sitting through it again. Y’all may be in for some nitpicking and ranting.

Lots of music this season: this ep starts off with a song about how 45 is hurting us with misinformation. This is the brilliant plan concocted by the resistance group Diane found while throwing axes. Diane thinks this video is terrible (she’s not wrong) but the rest of the crowd eats it right up.

Parts of this scene-- which satirizes liberals-- are funny. Other parts I’m not sure about. I can’t tell if the ASL interpreter is there because a gathering like this would, realistically, be inclusive or if I’m supposed to roll my eyes at how inclusive liberals are trying to be. I really, sincerely hope it’s the former.

Diane tries to ask a question and she’s overruled, but then some dude in the audience gets to ask a question. If I’m reading this right, they certainly got the sexism of liberal bros right.

The most accurate part of this satire happens next: an audience member points out that the video didn’t mention single-payer healthcare. The filmmaker, reasonably, says they couldn’t touch on every issue, but the audience member insists that single-payer healthcare is THE issue. Another audience member argues that THE issue is global warming. Then the entire crowd starts arguing. That is about how I’d expect this sort of meeting to go.

A middle-aged blonde woman taps Diane on the shoulder and asks her to follow. Diane does, as the entire crowd starts chanting “re-edit” at the filmmaker (which I don’t think would happen but whatever).

Outside, the blonde asks Diane if she wants “a mission.” “You have two options. You could go back in there and they’ll make you the co-chair of the subcommittee on bake sales [...] or you could do something. I’m looking for people who are sick of just bitching and moaning. People who are sick of screaming at the news,” the woman explains. She hands Diane a card with an address and walks away. (There’s no time on the card, but time doesn’t matter on this show.)

Roland Blum is back, and he’s fallen asleep on the RBL elevator. Lucca’s listening to a kid’s song (with no headphones!) when she notices Blum. Maia’s waiting in reception and tells Lucca that Liz wants to see her. Lucca worries she had a meeting scheduled and Maia goes to deal with Blum.

What if I just didn’t recap him? God, I’m tired of him existing.

Blum makes fun of Maia’s small, unassigned desk, which… can’t she just book a conference room for them? “Oh my fucking God, how can anyone take you seriously?” Blum asks. This is… one of the less offensive things he’s said, because it’s kind of true.

Blum notices that someone else has an office and asks Maia who it is. Instead of answering that she’s a co-worker, or with her name, Maia says “she’s a third-year too” which can only make the problem worse. Now it doesn’t just look like Maia works for a firm that’s pressed for space; it looks like Maia is one of the weaker employees at a firm that’s pressed for space.

Good lord. BOOK A DAMN CONFERENCE ROOM.

Lucca’s apologetic when she comes in for the meeting with Liz, but Liz says they didn’t have a meeting scheduled. Liz asks how matrimonial law is going; Lucca says it’s going well. Then Liz says she has a divorce referral for Lucca: herself.

“It’s a long time coming. We’ve had our tensions and, uh, barely even, uh,” Liz explains. That’s most of the explanation we get for why she wants to divorce. I wish we got a little more insight into what her marriage is like, but I don’t mind that much. Plus, we did see her husband being kind of awful with the client list in 2x10.

Also, Liz hasn’t yet told her husband she’s asking for a divorce.

Maia has found a conference room to use, finally. ASA Zschau walks in. He’s taking over the case for Matan and now I miss BrainDead. Also, Spencer Zschau has been an AUSA every time we’ve seen him and now he’s an ASA.

(Yes, I think it’s more important to note the change in Zschau’s job and that Maia found a conference room than it is to note anything plot-related in that scene.)

Liz asks her husband for a divorce the second he arrives home. Maybe not the best strategy. He does not take it well. Okay, I lied, I do want to know more about their marriage. Then again, I think that Ian’s sudden switch to BURN IT ALL DOWN mode (despite Liz’s plea to keep everything civil for their son) says a lot.

Diane goes to a creepy underground meeting spot and finds the Resistance. It’s full of white ladies, mostly around Diane’s age. It’s run by a Valerie Payser, who claims she worked in the Obama White House. All the white ladies eat her story right up.

This is another plot I don’t care much about, especially the second time through. My main comment on this scene is simply that it got New Rules stuck in my head.

Diane eats it right up. The Kings have mentioned that they considered bringing Alicia back for an episode where she and Diane meet at “the resistance” and if it was supposed to be this episode, I’m SO glad they didn’t. I don’t want Alicia back on the show. I don’t want Alicia on the show in a Diane plot (if she comes back it’s gotta be a Lucca plot). And Alicia would NEVER fall for this resistance bullshit. Diane I believe; she’s always been a little impulsive when she’s angry. Alicia? No.

LOL, I see we’re still doing the fake-but-could-plausibly-be-real-even-though-they-feel-like-a-hallucination news stories this season. (This one’s about cynaide in school lunches.)

Liz is no longer working with the DNC (Diane asks) because she was too radical. I thought that was exactly the reason they hired her?

To be fair to Diane, she does seem to want to check her sources on this underground resistance group; she says she wants to make sure it’s real. This is… not what she proceeds to do.

Maia has called a meeting of the name partners + Julius. “You told me last year that if I wanted anything at this firm, I have to ask for it. I want an office,” she declares. Go Maia! (Yes, I said that.)

“Uh, well, Maia, the issue here is space, and we wish we had more. We’re growing, and we hope that all associates, even second-years, will have an office,” Liz responds. Heh, Liz thinks Maia is a second-year and I see why she has that impression. Plus, does Maia’s first year really count since she didn’t do ANY work during it?

Maia corrects her. “I try not to make a fuss, but, Jenna Diamond. She was given an office, even though she joined the firm six months after me,” Maia argues. Well, is Jenna Diamond a more valuable asset for the firm? I’ve seen people at my company be promoted over others who have been there longer, and I don’t think that’s inherently unfair. Given how terrible Maia is at her job, I’m guessing that Jenna is just… better.

Or, as Julius explains, Jenna was on a big case and needed the space. This seems like a bad way to decide who gets offices. Why not hot desk the offices or give them for the duration of a case? Either base it off of performance/rank or don’t assign it permanently.

“And I’m working with Roland Blum,” Maia informs the partners. She informs the partners of this well after she deliberately causes a mistrial. So like, Maia’s now asking for an office because she didn’t ask for help or keep the partners posted on any development of a case they should’ve been looped in on AND she’ll now need to rework. The firm can’t be making much money off of this. If they were, Maia wouldn’t be handling it on her own.

I still don’t understand why Maia is handling ANYTHING on her own in the first place.

Maia says it’s embarrassing to work at her hot desk. Fair.

“She’s using Roland Blum to get an office,” Julius says after Maia leaves. “She still has a point,” Diane responds. “If we give her an office, we’ll have 20 other associates pounding on our door,” Julius continues. And that didn’t happen when they gave Jenna Diamond an office? This seems like a problem that would continue to happen if third-years are working cases without a second chair (or without being the second chair) but don’t have their own offices. Why not just have a few open offices you can hot desk in when you’re meeting with clients?

Liz steps out because Lucca’s got info from Ian’s lawyer. Ian wants to void the prenup, retain ownership of the house (which I think Liz got in her divorce from Adrian lol), and full custody. He also thinks Liz is hiding money at the firm. That escalated quickly.

He’s also going after Liz for adultery (it voids the prenup if she cheated). Lucca looks so uncomfortable talking to her boss about this!

Liz wants to know who Ian is accusing her of sleeping with. Lucca glances at Adrian’s office, but since Diane is still there, Liz initially thinks that Lucca is implying that Ian thinks Liz and DIANE had a thing. But no, he’s accusing Liz of sleeping with Adrian.

Credits! Is it me or did the opening of the theme music change this week?

Michael Sheen is credited with “special appearance by.” This gives me hope he won’t be in every episode.

Jenna’s office is now Maia’s, and I hope the partners understood what they were doing when they kicked someone out of their office for MAIA RINDELL. I don’t think they did, because Jenna’s left a note pad with the top sheet reading FUCK YOU on Maia’s chair. At the same time that I applaud Maia asking for things if she wants them, could she have worked out a deal with Jenna to use her office when Blum comes in?

Maia pastes the FUCK YOU note on the window-wall and smirks at Jenna. Yes, because what you really want to do when you’ve fucked over a coworker for funsies/because you’re entitled is to piss her off even more. I think we’ve established that Maia and I follow different logic.

Marissa-- who is not lacking in sass-- also disapproves of the FUCK YOU sign, but Maia doesn’t care. And then Marissa gets distracted by some resumes in Julius’s office and leaves.

Marissa walks into Julius’s office and says he’s running for a federal judgeship. She doesn’t ask, she says. She recognizes the campaign manager from one of her dad’s campaigns (I would LOVE an Eli cameo this season) and advises Julius not to keep campaign manager resumes out in the open. Good advice, but not immediately clear to me why Marissa is interested in advising Julius on how to successfully become a judge when she knows that he’s conservative.

Lucca, Liz, and Adrian discuss whether or not Liz and Adrian have recently had sex. Lucca is very uncomfortable and suggests that Liz hire another lawyer because of how personal this is becoming; Liz resists. Liz and Adrian insist it won’t get personal, then immediately begin whispering about the times they hooked up after their divorce (but before Liz’s second marriage). They’re not whispering quietly enough, which means that Lucca hears enough to look grossed out and I can hear enough to realize their dialogue ~what happened in the bathroom~ is very similar to Alicia and Will’s dialogue in 5x04.

Court stuff happens. Blum lies outrageously.

Maia praises Blum for lying outrageously in court.

Ian’s divorce attorney is the guy they didn’t hire at RBL last week. Wow, Ian isn’t playing around.

Marissa’s campaign advice is, as you would expect, great advice. And Julius wants more of it. Is Marissa doing this for free? Is she doing it because she wants to feel like she could do her dad’s job?

Ian had his detectives spy on Liz and Adrian so, yeah, I can see why that marriage failed. Liz and Adrian spent 3 hours together after Adrian was shot. Yes, so suspicious. The only thing they could possibly have done in three hours is fucking.

Adrian insists it was caretaking, not sex, and Jay is all, “for three hours?” Is it really so unreasonable that two people could spend three hours together and not fuck?!?!?!?

Maia realizes her client (and Blum’s client) are guilty. She’s stumped. Blum teaches her, yet again, how to make the facts fit the story. We get it. WE. GET. IT.

Also Blum’s story is so over the top no one would believe it. At least, I hope not…

Diane’s #Resistance decides to go after troll farms. Excuse me. They decide to go after a specific troll farm. But they only make that decision after an explainer song about troll farms. The troll farm song, actually, understand what this subplot does not: “we won’t ever beat ‘em ‘til we learn how not to feed ‘em.” Outing an office full of trolls is not going to shut down any of the other offices of trolls. It’s not even going to shut down this office of trolls. (Also, are troll farms literal offices? This seems unnecessary.) Teaching people to fact check and pressuring tech companies to prevent abuses of their platforms will do far more than whatever it is this #Resistance does.

(Of course, I get why Valerie thinks this is a good “mission”-- because she doesn’t give a fuck about missions-- but I don’t get why savvy computer woman, who would almost certainly know better, thinks it is.)

Blum is chilling in Diane’s office and they have a very long conversation about justice and politics and the necessity of lying and blah blah blah, these are not new themes.

The psilocybin is still in Diane’s desk even though we saw her throw it out.

Blum knew Jonas Stern. Oof. I buy that. I don’t necessarily think Stern (who I assume was liberal) and Blum were close, but I can see them being of the same era and even hanging out despite political differences.

Is Blum meant to be older than he looks? The people he mentions as his contemporaries are all way older than he is.

Diane calls Valerie and shares a brilliant idea we’ve only seen this show already do three to five times: CREATE THEIR OWN FAKE NEWS. WOWOWOWOW GROUND BREAKING.

Oh and the NSA nerds are back. This time they’re listening to Diane. Joy. Can’t we be done with this? Also, why did Valerie Payser, who isn’t real, get a cell phone registered to that name? She could just get a burner.

The White Lady Resistance (I think @Nikkaphon called it this first and that’s what it is) is having a great time making up fake news.

“Melissa Long” sounds so much like “Marissa Gold” that for a second I thought Marissa was volunteering to manage Julius’s campaign long before he asked.

Why does Jay think Liz and Adrian fucked?! He is like, very intent on proving this. I think he’s playing bad cop but it doesn’t sound like it.    

I’m not recapping every line of this-- mostly because I don’t have the patience to-- but the Liz/Adrian/Lucca plot was far and away my favorite plot of the week. It felt grounded, character-driven, and revealing… and it provided an excuse for Audra McDonald to sing!

(It’s a little strange having a character-driven plot in this VERY theme-driven episode of this mostly theme-driven show. It’s a reminder that I do tend to prefer character-driven shows to theme-driven shows. I prefer both to plot-driven shows, but I don’t think TGW or TGF will ever be plot-driven.)

I repeat: Audra McDonald is singing! I like that they have her sing in flashback so it’s not 100% clear if Liz has an amazing voice or if Adrian perceives Liz’s voice as amazing.

Isn’t this the same song that played over Cartoon Villain Rindell’s suicide attempt? Interesting choice. I am fully in support of reclaiming that song.

It’s fall in this episode but I think it’s meant to be spring. As I’ve said, this show does not care about time.

Blum misses court and Maia seizes a kind of shady opportunity to cut a deal that’s good for her client and bad for Blum’s client. Maia’s method involves tricking someone over the phone, which is the one thing Maia’s actually proven she’s good at.

Liz and Adrian’s innocent story works up until the point where a detective reveals he saw Liz buy the morning-after pill at Rite-Aid.

There are too many clowns in this season.

There was a riot at the troll farm and Diane jumps for joy. I’m kind of embarrassed for her.

Liz is in Diane’s contacts as “Elizabeth Reddick-Lawrence”

Diane calls Valerie to share word of the victory, but Valerie’s gone! The NSA is suspicious of Valerie’s disappearance.

It’s still storming. Melissa Long, Julius’s potential campaign manager, wants to charge him for an interview; Julus thinks that’s ridiculous. He then asks Marissa to run his campaign, and Marissa agrees. Next week-- or whenever we pick this plot up again-- can we please delve into her motivations for agreeing? I think right now it’s just that it inflates her ego.

Why did Liz buy the morning after pill? She didn’t want to have another child… with Ian.

Geoffrey Payton’s next attack is on RBL’s financials, specifically on the payments to “Reddick” in March. These are the payoffs for the women (four of them, which means there are actually at least five since Wendy wouldn’t accept payment) Carl assaulted, but Liz and Adrian don’t want to divulge that. It would ruin Carl’s reputation and, now, make the firm look bad (cover-up, not the crime), so Liz refuses to let this line of questioning go any further.

Lucca takes a minute-- and I really appreciate this-- to be disappointed in her hero. “I came to this firm because of him,” she says.

Liz demands full custody-- the one thing she’s unwilling to compromise on-- but gives in to Ian’s other demand to void the prenup. Poor Liz.

“I hate that he wins ‘cause of this,” Lucca says. “So do I,” Liz agrees.

The judge asks Adrian out. Curious where this will go.

Destroying the troll farm knocked two points off of 45’s approval rating. I don’t believe it. Valerie is missing and no one can find her. Diane says she’ll have her investigator look into it.

Diane sends Jay a text that says “no more texts” and contains sensitive information. This lands Jay on the NSA’s list. What is the point of a text saying no more texts? Just say you have something for him to work on, can you meet?

The NSA stuff isn’t bad, but haven’t we done this enough?

Blum is PISSED at Maia. He’s also being a hypocrite, but that’s the least of his character flaws. He growls and breaks Maia’s office’s window-wall with a laptop. Maia isn’t intimidated. She tells him off, and she actually had my support right up until she picked up the laptop (that is the property of the firm that employs her) and broke a second window-wall (of the firm that employs her and just gave her an office because she asked for one). I already thought her entitled ass was lucky to have a job, and now she’s going to go breaking her own firm’s property just to show her badassery? Just go back to the sunglasses, Maia.

Marissa gives her a look that encapsulates everything I just said, to which Maia responds, “The fuck are you looking at?” Okay Maia. Just because you’re a badass now doesn’t mean you have to be rude to your friends.

(As I’ve mentioned in past weeks, I’m just criticizing how terribly petulant Maia’s behavior is… somehow, I do think this is good character development for her. Maia turning into an entitled lying ball of resentment with a grudge against everyone who didn’t give her the world simply for existing is, in many ways, the natural place for her character to go. It doesn’t require her to suddenly become strategic, it doesn’t require her to become a brilliant legal mind, and it doesn’t require any rewriting of the fundamental traits of her character. I may not like or agree with new Maia, but likability is bullshit. If they can make this arc interesting, and justify its existence,  maybe I’ll even like it.)

Jay finds out that Valerie Payser doesn’t exist; she’s really a criminal who preys on rich liberal white ladies with lots of money. What a shock that a secret underground resistance of white ladies might be a scam.

Diane hallucinates/daydreams Blum singing “I’ll be there” in front of terrible green screen backgrounds and my only thought is NOPE.

Inspired by Blum and the strategy of LYING WORKS, Diane decides to fake an email (she is reading off a blank screen but she totally would’ve drafted this) from Valerie and let the White Lady Resistance continue.

Blum has Maia arrested for having hospice drugs. I assume he planted them recently, because if Maia had kept them around after Blum threatened to do exactly this last week, she’s even less bright than I thought.

Well, that’s over.

[moonlightwinterdxxix]

Your first Bits of my Brothers (acronym BomB?) anon here again! Could I request a pretending to be each other Zaimoku at Sutabaa or something? There's just not enough canon Zaimoku and sextuplets identity thief shenanigans in the anime! Maybe Totty is trying to get work there again but gotten sick or something and Karamatsu decided his beloved brother can't miss out on his chance to return~✨. Whether or not it'll end in brotherly fluff or Totty & Karamatsu butt monkey angst is your choice! xD

Hello again! I hope you like this one! It’s at 7K words and I didn’t want it to be longer than it already was 😅😅. Zaimoku is one of my favorite combinations (as I’ve kinda made clear in TVV), and I hope you enjoy this little drabble I’ve made of them. 💙💖😎😘

~~~

Whenever Todomatsu Matsuno was sick, he was more than just manipulative. He was manipulative enough to be entitled as the king of manipulation, besting Ichimatsu’s cruel authority might he be the only one in a safe spot outside feverish sensations and phlegm wanting release. No, Todomatsu treated all of them like butlers and castle servants, taking advantage of his vulnerable position to get them to do his bidding and bless him with their feeble-but-ultimately-needed-to-succeed attempts.

The common instance always left the rest of his brothers with a single prayer in mind: that Todomatsu never got sick. They vowed, each and every one of them, to move mountains for hell if it meant they were to be released from the shackles of Todomatsu’s superiority. But no matter the prayers sometimes getting sick was inevitable, and each time at least one of them would be willing to gamble his life off in the Pachinko parlor if it meant escaping Todomatsu’s ruthless jurisdiction.

And Todomatsu was always proud of it.

But today, he wasn’t. He was far from happy, very distant from it in fact. For when Karamatsu had returned from the shop with a can of warm soup, he had opened their shared bedroom door to find Todomatsu curled up and bawling on the futon. The call of ‘I am back with refreshments for your unwell soul, my star of hope!’ was transformed differently in a mighty scale as Karamatsu dropped the soup bag and raced to his brother’s side with a skipping, worrisome heart.

“Totty! What’s wrong, my brother?” Karamatsu asked, placing his hands on Todomatsu’s shoulder with all the gentleness his muscles could allow. “Are you feeling cold? Or warm? Oh, please speak with me through your unfortunate misery, my dear littlest brother!”

“Shut up! I...Cod, why does it have to be you? Cod, why does it have to be you?!” Todomatsu crumbled entirely, giving in to the cries that racked his body as he tucked his face off in the crook of his arms. “Where are the others?” he asked hopefully, his sore voice muffled with the fortress of cloth acting as transparent muteness.

“Ah, yes, about that.” The thing was, the rest of their brothers had surrendered. They’ve yielded into irresponsibility, wanting no relevance whatsoever with Todomatsu’s cruel behavior for this specific occasion.

Osomatsu had decided to spend his entire day at the races, regardless of a win or a lose. Choromatsu had resorted to paying a visit to the all-week international book fair at the end of the city, hoping to find something new out of his pathetic excuse in being alive. Jyushimatsu chose to spend all of his allowance on the zoo, specifically on dolphin shows to satisfy his mammal cravings. And Ichimatsu...Er...Well...

“I’m gonna jump off a cliff,” Ichimatsu deadpanned.

“Nooo~ Please contain your dark tendencies, my dear Ichimatsu!” Karamatsu wailed.

Then Ichimatsu had strangled him for a bit before leaving the house.

“Forget I asked. It’s hopeless anyway.” Todomatsu smacked his face into his pillow and sobbed openly, gripping his pillow with the force of a hundred rakes on the dirt.

Karamatsu let an apologetic breath leave his lungs, before blinking in confusion at the phone propped face-first next to his brother’s space. As Todomatsu resumed his dramatic storm, Karamatsu picked it up and swiped the screen with his two fingers, the password an easy input, before his pupils scanned through the message and his eyes went spherical.

“Todomatsu! You were supposed to have a Sutabaa job interview this afternoon?!”

“Don’t rub it in! Shut up!” Todomatsu yelled, carrying his body’s weight with his elbows and sending Karamatsu a glare that would’ve been knife-sharp piercing might it not be for his scarily flushed face and red-rimmed, teary eyes. “And yes, I was, if you really wanted to know. It was supposed to be a short one, maybe five minutes at most, but as if I can do that with this stupid fever crap, obviously.” His face crumpled, and he toppled back onto the futon. “Just leave me alone in my own problems, niisan. You’re gonna make it a thousand times worse.”

Karamatsu continued to stare at the text on the screen, scrolling upwards and back-reading. “Oh, my Todomatsu,” he sympathized. “I should’ve known that there was more information you had refused to share. And this has been...two months in the ready?”

“Karamatsu-niisan! Quit it!” Todomatsu pleaded. “I didn’t ask to get sick today, okay?! But how am I supposed to tell Aida that I wouldn’t be able to attend?! Cod, I can’t just say it to her face like that! It’s a huge blow to my pride and I...!” He whimpered, dropping to the futon with watery defeat. “Please, just...I can’t tell her. It’s too embarrassing. Can you call her up for me and tell her that I...? Bullhooey! No, I can’t have you of all people talk to her either!”

Todomatsu continued to break down on the futon, and Karamatsu tried his best to shush his brother to the best of his extent. But it made itself clear to him that there was no way to calm him down at this point, or at least calm him down enough that he was going to stop feeling so sad.

After all, the status of Todomatsu wasn’t difficult for Karamatsu to understand, along with the personality and character that came with it. He had made actual friends at Sutabaa, both being of the opposite gender—two pretty girls with kind personalities and proper standards—a miracle remaining unaccomplished by the five other roaches of their household. And for that alone, Todomatsu was in a position in life maybe more heavenly than heaven itself.

Yet of course, naturally...

Nothing lasts forever, is what Todomatsu had to learn next. Well, it would’ve, but when you had five older brothers who were careless, unreliable pieces of crap, then any ounce of happiness might as well be a disregarded atom of dust from a distant dream. For a few months, even lasting until effing Christmas, Todomatsu had lost communication with the girls because of his brothers’ lack of sensitivity. They had publicly made him strip naked in the mixer, dressed him with a pair of banana earrings and stained underwear, and made him strike a pose at the head of the table in front of a set of pretty girls who deserved better after a dance.

So Todomatsu’s hatred towards them was justifiable.

On the other hand, he shouldn’t have lied as well. To be a person once acquainted in one of Japan’s best schools wasn’t something that would up his ratings with females if it were far from the truth. Heck, he was a literal baby during their third year of high school, crying over spilt milk and reporting himself to the police as a lost child when Choromatsu had to take a trip to throw something in the closest garbage bin.

Truth hurt, yes. But it was unstoppable.

But...Todomatsu was right about one thing. Lying did make himself gain more respect, and saved him from a closed spot that would’ve dropped his person into oblivion. It didn’t last long, but...

Sometimes it didn’t have to.

“Aha! Todomatsu, an idea has been brought forth!” Karamatsu announced, straightening his posture with a finger raised theatrically towards their ceiling.

Todomatsu squinted at him. “Nope. I don’t wanna hear it,” he decided.

Karamatsu’s broad facade faltered. “Eh?”

“That’s a recipe for disaster,” Todomatsu explained, a normal tone bringing forward how awful his voice was. It was scratchy and wiped-out, more huffs in it than actual syllables forming his words. “Every time one of my brothers says something, all that happens after that is me wishing I crashed and burned on the spot. It never changes. And with you specifically trying to subside my torture, I think I’d rather let myself die on the spot than let my ear-drums break at your first sentence.”

Ouch. Karamatsu said, “Oh, you are too early to judge, my Todomatsu!” He laughed, emphasizing his breaths in order to mask his apparent hurt. “Please. Allow access first to the plan concocted in my mind. I assure you, you might eat your words once it is laid out for you. Your misery would at once be hurled into the distance, to become nothing more than a star that glinted before joining with its fallen brethren. Heh.” He tapped a finger-gun to his chin smugly.

Expression contorted in absolute disgust, Todomatsu recoiled. “If you tell me what it is, would you please stop talking in that stupid as hell fanfaronade?”

“It would be my pleasure.” He fluttered his dazzling, anime eyes.

Todomatsu made a hurling noise, slamming his fist against his chest before he deadpanned, “Just say it.”

“Hm. Todomatsu.” Karamatsu began twirling around in swooshing motions, swaying his arms in a slow, whipping circle before posing in a fabulous, dazzling stance. “I shall impersonate you and attend the job interview in your shoes!” he declared.

Todomatsu’s sanity dropped. “EEEHHH??!!”

Without warning, Todomatsu snapped up and grabbed Karamatsu by the neckline of his hoodie, shaking him without a pixel of mercy. “Are you effing kidding me, you piece of crap?! There’s no way in heaven nor hell I’m letting you do that! Are you literally waiting for me to die?! Heck, you’re even stupider than I’ve ever imagined—I’ve been too kind to misjudge you, Karamatsu-niisan! Because you’re so much worse and that idea is absolute garbage!”

“A-Ah! Totty, don’t yell too much with your sore throat!” Karamatsu stuttered out, smiling nervously. “Totty, it’s gonna work. I’m sure of it.”

“As if!” Todomatsu retorted, ignoring Karamatsu’s previous suggestion completely. “You’re gonna go out there making me look like an idiot! I’ve lost friends because of you and the others, and when I might be bouncing back you have to idle up to me all, ‘I’m gonna impersonate you and ruin your life more’—BULL!” He shoved Karamatsu down onto the futon. “What do you think of me—a fool?! You may be an actor during elementary but you’re out of your gosh-darn mind if you think you’re going to do good playing me!”

“How hard could it be?” Karamatsu asked, crawling a few spaces backwards with slight terror. “You have a simple personality, my brother! You have a phone, you can converse rather easily, and you have a light voice that makes you all nice and cute!”

Changing the rules of flavoring, Todomatsu’s grin was incredibly bitter. “You really have the guts to compliment me like that, don’t you? Forget it. Not gonna happen.”

“C’mon, Totty, give me a shot!” Karamatsu argued. “You said it yourself! I’m an actor, and with the hundreds of times we’ve spent together since childhood it won’t be hard to capture your essence! Give me a chance.”

“I don’t believe it,” Todomatsu said, rolling his eyes. “The childhood thing is a good excuse, but it won’t make the cut. Literally everyone in Sutabaa knows who I am, and like hell I’m letting someone like you of all people try to use some gosh-darn trickery on them. I’m not going to let you go out there pretending to be me, niisan. And that’s final.”

“But if you don’t get the job then you won’t be happy!” Karamatsu shouted, placing his hands on his hips. “Todomatsu, I want to be able to assist you as well. It’s what we do when we’re sick, isn’t it? We take care of each other? This is part of the treatment—it’s even better because we’re all identical brothers! Give me a chance. I promise I won’t humiliate you, or do something stupid. I’ll imitate you to the best of my abilities, change nothing from your usual self and keep your relationships as stagnant as you want them.”

“That doesn’t sound reassuring,” Todomatsu said, but he was contemplating.

“It doesn’t sound it, okay,” Karamatsu stated, “but I mean it. I really do want to lessen your stress over the matter. I’ll work to my skeleton if it means doing well in that job interview, Todomatsu. I swear, and Akatsuka-Sensei knows I do. Just...trust me, brother.”

Todomatsu narrowed his eyes, but his eyebrows didn’t follow. They shaped his expression over to consideration other than irritation, his body relaxing from its sitting position on their shared bed.

Finally, he said, “How about we make a deal? Since you’re the only one who stayed to help me with my fever—and I have to say that I appreciate that—how about if you do a good job getting me my old job back, I could be your servant the next time you get sick? I’ll suck up to all those painful demeanors of yours and stand it until you get better.”

“I...It’s fair, I suppose,” Karamatsu assessed.

Todomatsu’s grin was not reassuring. “Yeah? Think so? Sure, it could work out, won’t it? But if you make an absolute fool of me...!”

He stood up from the futon and marched over to their closet, pulling out his huge flamethrower and aiming its front at Karamatsu’s terrified face. “I’ll incinerate all your sequined pants and personalized tank tops until they’re nothing but ashes,” he completed viciously, grin worth jealousy from a sadist.

Karamatsu gulped, feeling uneasy with the top he was currently wearing underneath his hoodie. But he supposed it was a fair trade, with both of them receiving equal shares at each side of the bargain. And both their downs...It wasn’t worth a complain. Losing friends was just as bad as losing all of his wonderful, designed Karamatsu fashion.

Tilting his head down, Karamatsu decided. And it wasn’t even a minute before he reached out a hand and gave Todomatsu a worried smile. “I digress. I accept the terms of our deal, my dear brother Todomatsu. Turn all my clothes into smithereens might I annihilate your persona, Todomatsu. I accept thy conditions.”

“Good.” Todomatsu grabbed his hand and shook it, the resolution of their bargain firm. “This is my lifeline in your hands, Shittymatsu. Your clothes, and my lifeline. Don’t mess this up, or else.”

He wouldn’t. He hoped not.

~~~

With Sutabaa towering over him, it looked like the gateway to judgement. It was a taunting, expectant thing, half a thumbs up as it was a middle finger, and Karamatsu’s nervousness and anxiety sloshed in his stomach and burned his skin. His complexion was moist with his sweat, his hair that he had combed to perfection beginning to paste himself on his forehead, and Karamatsu rubbed it with the back of his shaky hand.

For his clothes, but more for Todomatsu’s reputation.

Shoving Todomatsu’s phone into his pocket and arranging his tie, Karamatsu let himself sigh unsteadily as he let his feet take him towards the doorway. He felt like he was dragging ten-thousand anvils behind him. But it was worth it, he decided, as long as he could finish the interview with a proper attitude and a selfless intention. This was for Todomatsu’s job, Todomatsu’s friendships, and Todomatsu’s reputation.

And his clothes.

But Cod, he hoped he would do well. He wished to say exactly what Todomatsu would say in his position, move with the accuracy of his little brother, and speak with a timbre close enough to the original that the term ‘identical’ made more sense than it had the past few years. But perhaps, he thought, as long as nobody who knew Todomatsu approached him, he would be absolutely, absolutely, without a feather of a doubt, fine.

“Totty? Is that you?”

Ah, shoot.

Karamatsu pulled up a kitty-shaped Todomatsu smile. He brightened his eyes and raised his brows from their thick, constant furrow. And as he spun his heel to face the source of the familiar voice, he tried to recap every single piece of information he knew about Aida as she came to him in her recognizable Sutabaa work uniform, her brown curls bouncing on her shoulders.

Aside from seeing Aida then while humiliating Todomatsu at work, and seeing Aida and Sachiko participate unsuccessfully at the baseball space tournament, the last thing Karamatsu remembered about her was she and Sachiko giving him dark, murderous death-stares on the bridge. That..didn’t seem like it was a good thing. Not then, and certainly not now.

He was so dead.

“Totty, there you are!” Aida said, stopping next to him. Cod, she was so pretty, no wonder Todomatsu was so upset to lose someone like her. “Are you ready for your interview? I hope you can get the job again—it was a shame you had to lose it last time. I have a hunch you’ll be able to do it now.”

“Ah-ha! Hopefully, yes! Thank you so much!” Karamatsu said, forcing his voice up from the low baritone that came with his genes. “Hello, Aida! I didn’t think you’d come from that direction!” He pointed. “I could’ve sworn you were in there.” He jabbed his thumb towards the Sutabaa entrance.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry about that.” She giggled apologetically, and Karamatsu felt his cheeks grow warm. “I wasn’t skipping work, I promise. I just got distracted a little, but it was only for a few seconds before I saw you. I was worried! I thought you weren’t gonna come anymore! It would’ve been so embarrassing to cancel last-minute on the manager.”

His gut plummeting, Karamatsu’s laugh came out less of a laugh and more of the sound of a dying hyena. “Well, I’m here! So you don’t have to worry about that anymore! I made it, so no humiliation whatsoever!” He was tempted to pose, but held back at the right second before he could crack.

Aida eyed him dubiously. “Are you alright? Your voice sounds very...breathy.”

“It does?” It did, and it was because Karamatsu’s voice wasn’t at its quality to accommodate a pitch and speaking pattern similar to Todomatsu’s. When he tried, the result came out very breathy, or if not, very screechy and...wrong. It would’ve given away his true identity so quickly might she be an expert in discerning him and Todomatsu from their brothers. So speaking with his normal, light pitch with added cheerfulness was the only way to match closely to the original source. He thought that perhaps it would be enough.

But apparently, it wasn’t enough.

“Ah, it does!” he corrected, rubbing the back of his head with a laugh. “Sorry about that! My throat really hurt this morning and I guess this is the aftermath of that!”

Except Todomatsu’s throat really did hurt that morning, and it continued so until this point. Hence, Karamatsu being here, in his shoes.

He was almost starting to regret doing this. But keeping his brother’s sad, weeping face in mind was plentiful to glue back Karamatsu’s determination. This was for Todomatsu. He had to remember: this was for Todomatsu.

And his clothes.

“It did? Oh, I feel so bad for you,” Aida said, sounding like she meant it, but Karamatsu’s anxiety told him otherwise. Drawing the line between reality and fiction was difficult when he was living in fiction, that fiction meaning, a world where he wasn’t himself. And he wasn’t, because he was Todomatsu. And ‘Todomatsu’ was talking to Aida...

He had to gather up his Todomatsu-ness.

“Would you be able to complete your job interview with that?” Aida asked.

“Oh, I’ll be fine, don’t worry about it,” Karamatsu reassured, flipping a palm. “As long as my brain works fine, I could accomplish what needs to be accomplished. And since I have experience, I don’t think I’ll do so bad, right?” He pulled up two peace signs and waved them energetically. “It’ll all be a matter of time though before we truly see. Heh-heh! So for the time being—” he put the peace signs towards his eyes “—all it takes is a little more determination! Yeah!” He posed, but it was overly cutesy.

Her smile was somewhere between amused and petrified. “Are you sure you’re okay, Todomatsu?” she asked.

“Never been better! Why would you question it?”

“I, well...” She reached to one of her elbows, rubbing it. Dang, she was so cute. “If you had a sore throat this morning, then I wouldn’t think you’d be okay so fast. And your...Oh, I hope I’m not offending you or anything, and I hope I could say this more politely, but have your eyebrows always been that thick?”

I knew I should’ve taken Totty’s word and shaved them a little. Karamatsu laughed again, but inside, he was screaming about his soul and how it could get ripped out of his body. “I suppose—I never really mind them! I hope it doesn’t bother you or anything!”

“It’s fine, I swear.” She tilted her head, her hair hopping a little. “Are you really Totty? He’s got five lookalike brothers, and I honestly won’t be surprised if you’re one of them. Not saying you are, but your behavior is a little strange. Or is that just nervousness for the interview talking?”

“I’m just nervous! That’s all it is!” Karamatsu lied, clasping his hands not out of the hopes to make himself mimic one of his brother’s cute gestures, but so that he could grab something before he combusted from her accuracy. Shoot, how did she find out?! Keep calm, Karamatsu. You’ve got this! This is for Todomatsu’s reputation!

And his clothes.

“But I’m so touched to know you’re so concerned,” he continued lightly, waving his peace sign again. Was he overdoing it with the peace signs? The last time he impersonated someone, he had made paw gestures and moved them with a tenderness like he were an actual feline, and that wasn’t something Ichimatsu would normally do. Or, maybe it wasn’t something he would to at all. “I really wish to get the job again, so we can hang out more often! I miss the regular days before me and my brothers messed things up.”

Because, duh. Todomatsu did have to take a little blame for the incident none of them asked for.

“Uh, yeah...I miss those days too.” Aida gave him a toothy grin laced with the same uncertainty. “Anyway, we’d better get going. You have that interview and I have my work, so we’ll see each other again later after, alright?”

“Yes, sure! That would be spectacular!” He’d actually hope he didn’t see her again later, not if it meant pretending to be Todomatsu for another round of cringe-worthy torture. But if that made Aida happy, he might. As long as he got a better hang of his little masquerade, then maybe he might offer her the opportunity.

It just needed to be at the extent that he would receive no beating once the day was over.

“Great. See you later...Todomatsu.”

Crap, what was with that hesitation? No, it couldn’t be. But the way she was so casually leaving, preparing to get inside...

He had to make up for it now, or else he was to expect an entire army against him and his feeble-sighted efforts! He shouldn’t let her leave with whatever impression crept beneath that hesitant farewell! No, he wouldn’t allow that! If anyone was ever to question any person involved in this mess, then it would be Karamatsu! So no, Aida-chan! You would not walk away with a remark hanging on your lips that left judgement over Karamatsu’s hapless impersonation of their darling star of hope!

“Aida-chan!” Karamatsu called out, grabbing her wrist before she could enter completely, and bringing Todomatsu’s phone out of his pocket. “Sorry for startling you, but, would it be alright if I got a picture with you? You know, before perquisite or calamity?”

Aida shot him a look, and Karamatsu winced internally, wanting to slap himself with the force of a Titan to a mosquito. Shoot, watch your choice of words, you stupid, second eldest! Todomatsu would never speak like that—he calls it out for how painful it was! You will ruin everything if you try that again, you crap!

“Sure, I don’t mind,” Aida said, settling herself by Karamatsu’s chest, her spinal cord parallel to where his heart reverberated in his chest in a wild, twister of patterns. He had a girl leaning against his body. A girl. Was this what it felt whenever Todomatsu hung out with them? This closeness, this wonderful emotion that made him want to laugh and cry at once? It had to be. It just had to be.

Suffering from his unbridled, unexplainable joy, Karamatsu lifted the phone above their heads, his thumb sliding against the selfie option of their camera. And when the camera flipped, he saw Aida and himself on the screen, the girl raising her peace sign with a smile, waiting for Karamatsu to do the same. But he stared at himself in his reflection, reading through the curves of his features and where he was going wrong. And it saddened him, when he looked at himself with the acumen of exposure.

He looked nothing like Todomatsu.

Because unlike Todomatsu, who wore a smile because it was part of him, Karamatsu wore his so he could be him.

But he had to remember: this smile wasn’t for nothing. It was for Todomatsu too. It wasn’t a selfish desire that had brought him into this spot, this tight corner, this unpredicted catastrophe of self-humiliation. He was doing this so that Todomatsu had a better life, one he deserved, after he and the other four cowards elsewhere had ruined it.

So he smiled at the camera, and as that smile illuminated his features, a small sense of the Totty he loved as his little brother and once best friend filled his face. His spirits left their corpse-like slump on the ground. “Say cheese, Aida,” he coaxed, his voice not leaving its lightness.

“Cheese!” Aida said, getting her peace sign into a good position, and as Karamatsu did the same, he snapped their picture.

The output was cute, he had to admit. Though the way his hands were positioned had added exaggeration than what Todomatsu would normally have in a casual photo with one of Sutabaa’s infamous baristas, this was still an image convincing enough to fool an outsider who knew nothing about their miracle of six same faces. Or Iyami.

“Alright! See you later, Todomatsu. Good luck with your interview. Just take a turn to that door at the left, and I believe the manager will be waiting for you.”

“Okay, thanks, Aida! I’ll see you as well!”

With that, Aida and Karamatsu exchanged a few waves, and Aida was out of his view as she let herself in before him, vanishing with her grace behind the employees door of the shop, her figure still leaving an imprint in his retinas.

But he shook it off. Entering himself, Karamatsu followed her direction and went towards the meeting door she indicated, stopping in front of it and taking a deep breath. This was for his brother, for Todomatsu who was sick in bed and unable to come. He needed to make this right, and beyond everything else, natural. So without further stalling he was knocking twice before pushing it open hesitantly.

When it was open, he let himself in, and bowing down, he announced, “Good afternoon! My name is Todomatsu Matsuno, and I am applying for a job here!”

Who must’ve been the manager sat up, eyebrows shooting upwards under his glasses. “Ah, Matsuno-kun! You’re here! Welcome! Please, take a seat.”

He indicated to the one in front of him, and Karamatsu followed his order and sat. Inhaling, the scent of coffee saturated his lungs, and the hunger he had that didn’t even know existed let itself be known as a tremor sounded under his blue suit. But praise the gods, it was silent enough for a pass. He had to do this. Todomatsu, his lifeline depended on what Karamatsu said in this one-one-one speech. He had to approach this correctly without error. He had this. Or didn’t he?

“So, I guess we already know each other, since you’ve been here before,” the manager said, arranging a set of papers by clicking their edges against the wooden surface of the table. “But it has been long enough, so how have you been? What have you been up to?”

Okay, so he wasn’t pissed. That was good. Luckily being absent from the mixer’s horrific presentation was enough to keep his perception on the youngest Matsuno well enough that anger wasn’t a visible option for him. Case in point: visible. Any anger or rage was easy to hide behind a mask of a smile, a knife easy to assume as close by and prepared for its session of stabbing. When it came to Akatsuka Ward, knives weren’t for chopping tasty or delicious portions for any lovely course. It was for chopping distasteful NEETs like them.

Thanks, Ichimatsu.

“Ah, I’ve been very well, thank you,” Karamatsu replied, stretching the muscles that wanted to pull up a whimper into a broad, toothy smile. “It has been quite some time. How have you been?”

“Great, really. Thanks for asking.” Interlocking his fingers, the manager rested his chin on them as he straightened his gaze collateral to Karamatsu’s. “I remember that article you once mentioned about the firefighter and the maiden. Thought I forgot about that? Nah, it was too iconic for the mind to sweep away so easily, Matsuno-kun. That was how funny it was! You do still laugh about that experience, don’t you?”

Karamatsu laughed out loud, and the manager flinched at the unpredicted. “Of course! I’m laughing right now! HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!”

You’re messing this up, Karamatsu, you idiot! Don’t laugh like the lunatic you are! You will massacre all of the chances granted for your brother’s probable forthcoming! Quit breaking Todomatsu’s person and show the decency he would when faced with the challenge of real-time communication!

Crap, Todomatsu! You stupid lovable little pice of garbage, why oh why do you need to be the type to camouflage so many secrets from your dear older brothers?! You bring tears to this gullible fool, wanting out of your social status but resumes the struggle just for you! You are loved, little star of hope! And in love comes the infamous, one-lettered word called trust! And by hiding your soul away, you—

“Heh, a bit excessive there, Matsuno-kun,” the manager observed, the waver in his grin a strong symptom to Karamatsu’s fiasco.

“Sorry, sorry! I’m just very thrilled to be here again!” Karamatsu amended. “Please go on. I won’t interrupt you if it means the interview gets postponed.”

The manager dipped his chin, not commenting any further.

Nice. Do more of that and do less of you, Shittymatsu.

“Alright then.” The manager cleared his throat, picking up a pen from the table and clinking it against the papers. “So, I just want to tell you that there are things I would no longer ask, since information regarding your background and education was already accounted for during your first interview under the Sutabaa name. This won’t be a long interview, Matsuno-kun. Just enough for us to decide over your return or permanent departure.”

Karamatsu sweat-dropped. “Oh, sure. That’ll be fine.”

It was now or never.

“Okay then. We’ll begin now.” The manager pressed the pen’s black tip to the paper, marking it with an inky dot. “I bet you recall crystal clear how you lost your job in the first place, Matsuno-kun. How about you remind me of the situation, and follow it with what you might be able to do to repent for the trouble.”

“Eh-heh, of course, sir.” Karamatsu cleared his own throat, summoning up the memory of the situation and picturing it with Todomatsu’s young, victimized eyes.

(But with his undeniable lack of backbone to keep all senses straight and alert, he had lost control over his own, painful words. And he was so naive, so stupid, to have missed it. Darn Shittymatsu, that’s what he was)

“It all began because of the mixer. I made the mistake of abandoning my brothers because of it when Sutabaa’s special glowing girls had gifted me with their invitation. Therefore I made myself look my best in front of them, that was until your doors were opened and my kin of older brothers summoned themselves in our divine territory. They were rather disgruntled with my behavior, and all my efforts to rid them from your wonderful establishment resulted in the turning of tables. Almost literally, as I might say so myself, since we were all so caught up in Matsuno shenanigans that resulted in spilt drinks and traumatized patrons. Sad to say, the mixer was almost as unfortunate, as humiliation had produced scowls and dusted trust. Aida-san and Sachiko-san were quick to strip me of my job the day following.”

The manager nodded, a cringe in his posture at Karamatsu’s theatrical choice of words. “I see you recall the experience as if you had taken it to heart. You sounded like you were out of a stage play, Matsuno-kun.”

Karamatsu blanched, his own blunder dawning on him. “Ah, yeah! It’s an experience that makes a mark on my person!” he alibied gaily.

“And for the repenting?” the manager asked, clicking the end of his pen as he prepared a paper. “What are your plans specifically, and how could you say that those contributions of yours would better the ratings of our business?”

Karamatsu gave himself a few seconds to think. Digging deep in the vault of his memories, Karamatsu pressed on imagining anything that Todomatsu might’ve done that related closely with coffee or anything that could better the antes of the Sutabaa chain. But each option that sprouted to mind gave Karamatsu difficulty, because why won’t it, really. How was tapping on a phone screen nor running some lame puns with Osomatsu going to help in any way?

Shoot, when was the last time Todomatsu even made them coffee? The only person who had come close to trying that had been Jyushimatsu, and Ichimatsu had been confined for three days straight out of food poisoning. So really, what contribution whatsoever would Todomatsu have? Basically nothing, as Karamatsu recalled. But for this interview to work, he had to use what he knew and warp around it.

“I’m skilled in promoting, if that’s what you need,” Karamatsu improvised, Todomatsu’s smartphone in mind. “Since I was gone I had a lot of friends on social media, and I’ve discovered a lot of new ways that could help with marketing. Promotional posters, digital editing, and brochures! I can make the products of Sutabaa stand out more than they normally would!”

“Hmm, I see.” The manager wrote down, and Karamatsu’s anxieties tingled. “Are you describing this as a part-time thing to working as a cashier? Because last time, that was your main job, wasn’t it? And to be a cashier was what Aida had mentioned when she stated that you wanted to reclaim your job here. Am I right?”

“Yes, sir. One-hundred percent.” Heh, if he was wrong about that, then Todomatsu’s career was over. He wished he was right.

“But what of your cashier skills, Matsuno-kun? How much in terms of skills would you say your improvement is? When you still had the job, you were a solid employee with proper manners and the right choice of speech, making our customers feel welcome. Would you say that you graduated into someone better than then? Or are you the same, and want to focus more on marketing than counting money and taking orders this time? Because it would contradict the information on my papers.”

“Uhh...” Karamatsu tugged lightly on his collar, gulping. Save Todomatsu. Save Todomatsu. “Naturally, I’d wish to continue my status working as a cashier. But your question revolved around what more my contributions would offer when it came to the establishment. That’s why I mentioned the marketing. It was merely a suggestion around my part. But if I was to resume as a cashier entirely, then I won’t fight against it. I would be happy with whatever job you offered me.”

The manager eyed him for a bit, the tension killing Karamatsu that it made his nape sweat. The manager then nodded, sold, writing the information down. “Alright. That’s good confirmation.”

Bingo. Nice save.

“So correct me if I’m wrong, but it seems like over time you have turned more adaptable than before. Would you think that’s the case for you?”

Was Todomatsu flexible? No, he was far from it. Todomatsu would never bother waiting for the shampoo at the bathhouse and snag a bottle none of them knew he ever brought with him. He was impatient when it came to his brothers, and very short-tempered when things didn’t flow like the rivers he dwelled in. So no, Todomatsu wasn’t adaptable. He was obdurate, and it was annoying.

But he was making Todomatsu look good here.

“Yes, I am,” Karamatsu lied, smile saccharine. “So if I needed my job here doubled in terms of stress or hard work, then I would be happy to oblige. Being an employee in Sutabaa really was something that I loved dearly, and to be able to comply with any requirement would make me very much grateful. That is, if you brought me back. Then I would go straight to business and work myself to my very core. That’s how much I love it here!”

Which was in fact, the truth. Todomatsu’s love for being in the Sutabaa was stronger, and could surpass any of Karamatsu’s lies by millions and billions of kilometers.

“Hmm, alright. I’ll keep that in mind.” The manager jotted down. “How about your pay? Are there any expectations for you when it comes to the income you will receive from working here?”

Karamatsu went rigid. “Pardon?”

“How much do you aspire to earn?” the manager clarified. “From your salary last time, do you expect to earn twice as much if you did multiple jobs, or are you going to be satisfied with the same amount as before? Or less? And no matter what answer, how much would it be, and what would justify it?”

Oh Cod, why. Why, why, why. Todomatsu never mentioned how much he ever earned working in this dumb establishment ever! And without experience whatsoever with this kind of stuff, how on earth was Karamatsu supposed to know?! He’d be making numbers that didn’t even exist at all on the number line! What was supposed to be the answer to this gosh-darn question if he had never even heard of these kinds of questions since the day his baby form came into reality?!

This was it. He was dead. Deader than a decayed corpse or an animal rolled over on desert roads. He was so, so dead.

“Since I was here before, I was surely satisfied enough with the pay I earned,” Karamatsu replied cautiously, “so I wouldn’t be surprised if you decided to give me the same amount. Most especially since I would—without a doubt—be receiving extra monitoring due to the impression I last left, even if the job was doubled. With that, it shouldn’t be a startle if a few of the workers were weary of me, and I’d accept that. So the money would easily follow the flow of that behavior.”

“Hm. Continue.” He was writing again.

“Not that I would get two jobs when it came to Sutabaa at all, it’s not a priority to extend the marketing. For me now, it’s just to get to work at the cashier again, to reclaim my old position. But when it comes to money—because of the establishment and name that Sutabaa has made for itself, one of the most important things I’d hope from it is honesty and a fair game when it comes to distributing my salary. No bias, but judgement based on my efforts and the way I had attracted patrons into the department. Plenty of agencies in the present are culprits of fraudulent funding, and I believe that Sutabaa follows none of that outlandish conduct. Therefore when it comes to my pay, I wish it to be the amount equivalent to what I have produced for you.”

“Which is?”

“Ah-Ah...” Dang, he was doing so well, he thought. He had no specifics in mind—what was he to say? He blubbered out, “T-The one...before...?”

The manager stared at him. Karamatsu stared back. The terrifying staring contest was getting unbearable, with a smile and the connection of eyes making Karamatsu want to just break away and crumble from insanity. He couldn’t take it anymore. He just couldn’t, he wanted to go home, to crash onto the roof and sing a soliloquy of his own pain and sorrow for the world to hear! He could bear no more of the coffee drifting in the air like a stab to the gut, a spear to the heart, a sword through the spi—

“Have you had any other jobs following the first one here, Matsuno-kun?” the manager asked, already glanced down over his papers again.

“Oh, I haven’t, sir.” There was under the Flag Corporation that one time, and that other thing when he switched with his brothers. But would those really be called jobs? Karamatsu didn’t think so.

“Okay. One more question, Matsuno-kun. What are your opinions on simplicity? Simplicity in a sense that you start small before evolving? Like, a chrysalis before it becomes a butterfly? That kind of evolution on simplicity.”

He couldn’t help it this time.

(Now, here’s the deal: Karamatsu was just plain dumb. Because any smart person would ask why a question like that was necessary at all, especially when it came to working at a cashier for a coffee shop, but this lunatic of a man went straight to standing and posing his arms like he were Romeo might he have broken his back while hunting for Juliet in a poor man’s excuse of a garage)

“The butterfly effect! Oh, how a concept like that just warms my heart!” Karamatsu extolled. “I do believe that simplicity goes in many ways! Plenty of opportunities might blossom like a rose, the sun strike it at the right moment, sending the rose into a mainstream for attention as a result of its beauty! But woe is the past, dreadful and sorrowful for what it contains, when it tears the heart and ruins the soul of its hopes and dreams! The rose, that poor rose, so bundled in its misery, to sit until its last few seconds, ready to fall into despair!

“Then the sun, that glorious sun! Oh, it was the rose’s guardian angel, sending it a spirit for life and the will to fight forward! Oh, and it would now attract all the butterflies that followed a path so similar to it’s! Yes, the simplicity of life’s evolution is a concept to be shared to all ages for the will to fight when life’s chains wish to drag you down! Yes, simplicity is a concept that as it mentions, is simple. And yes, simplicity is a perfect, perfect thing that—!”

“Alright, thank you for your time, Matsuno-kun.” The manager stood up and walked to the other side of the table, standing next to Karamatsu. His smile was anything but sweet, but an amalgamation of horrified, baffled, surprised, and furious. “We’ll send you a call if you get the job or not. Let me lead you out.”

He did, and when Karamatsu was at the other side of the door, he said, “See you then, Matsuno-kun! Have a nice day!” And he slammed the door shut.

Karamatsu stood there.

“Totty?”

Oops, that was Aida from somewhere in the shop he didn’t want to turn towards as his anxiety flopped and flipped and cartwheeled inside him. Nope, he didn’t hear her. And because he didn’t, he dashed out of the shop with speed faster than lightning and ran until the coffee establishment was nothing but a diorama behind him.

Todomatsu was going to kill him.

~~~

One week later...

“Okay, thank you.” Todomatsu lowered the receiver and returned to the main living room, expressionless, mouth a tiny line of nothing on his face.

“Hm? Who might that be, my brother?” Karamatsu asked, glancing up from his mirror.

“Sutabaa.”

Karamatsu immediately sat up with tension freezing his body to its very core. “Y-Yes? What did they say?”

“I have a job.”

Karamatsu’s heart fluttered, and he broke into a wide smile as his eyes shined with starlight. “Oh, my brother! I am so glad you managed to score a position in Sutabaa once more! Thank goodness of your good fortune, your luck be blessed by Akatsuka-Sensei himself! To return as the cashier was what you have wan—!”

“I have a job as a janitor.”

Karamatsu’s smile melted. “Ah, you...Eh?”

Todomatsu’s blank gaze swept over to him. “You turned me into a janitor.”

“I, uh...” Clearing his throat, Karamatsu put down his mirror. A thousand words wanted out for the sake of explanation, but none left him as he tried deciding if he should be apologetic or terrified. Maybe the right answer to this was that he be both. He had been the one to decide the fate of his brother after all, so if it meant feeling both of those things at once, then so be it.

Karamatsu laughed nervously. “You...You still have a job though?” he pointed out hesitantly.

Todomatsu stared down at him without anything in his eyes. “I’ll burn one of your clothes combinations,” he decided.

“A-Ah...! Oh...But would you still care for me if I was sick?” Karamatsu asked.

At first, Todomatsu didn’t say anything at all. Then putting his fingers to his mouth, Todomatsu made a dog whistle.

At first Karamatsu had no idea what that was for, when suddenly Ichimatsu leapt out of nowhere with a feral cat screech, grabbed Karamatsu’s mirror, and slammed it across Karamatsu’s face. Luckily it wasn’t strong enough for the glass to break, but it was enough to leave a burned mark on Karamatsu’s face as he reeled back onto the floor from the force of Ichimatsu’s slam.

Crashing onto the floor and clutching his cheek, Karamatsu doubled over with a yelp and a whimper, a sound of suffocation faintly stuck in his throat. Putting a hand to his cheek, there might’ve been a small wound that bled, now that he touched his face, and it hurt like...It hurt. It really, really hurt.

Karamatsu whimpered.

“I’ll fix that wound up for you, I’ll burn one of your clothes combinations. Can we be even then?” Todomatsu deadpanned, grabbing the mirror from the ‘claw’ of Ichimatsu’s hissing form, and tossed the mirror back onto the table.

“Yeah, that’ll be fine,” Karamatsu rasped.

So Todomatsu’s reputation was secured. As were his clothes.

Partly. Only partly.