#its been hours since then and I’m off to snack on cereal and read | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kurohoely · 3 years

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target (msby 4)

👁👁 what happens if MSBY 4 got stuck in Target after closing hours haha pure brainrot (some osamei if you squint real hard)

the chaos beginsー

genre: sfw, crack

cw: cursings

wc: 1.2k

It was Atsumu's idea to get a midnight snack from Target while they were having a friendly in the states (thanks to Iwaizumi). He’s been blabbering non-stop about THE Target of America since the MSBY team got the match offer. Being the chaotic himbo duo, Bokuto and Hinata thought Tsumu was really cool for knowing shits about the US (we all know he saw only the target vine once).

Sakusa wasn’t impressed the slightest and thought it was a dumb idea and just wanted to feel the new, fresh cleaned hotel sheets asap but how could he? Especially not after seeing Hinata’s eyes, filled with the wonders of the awesomeness of the American experience.

“Cmon Omi-kun~ dya know that they don’t have antibacterial soap?”

Sakusa was SHOOK. He needs to see this with his own eyes. How can there be no such thing?

After getting direction and a few snacks recommendations from Iwaizumi, they went off to the nearest Target from their hotel. It was about a 15-minute walk there. What Iwaizumi forgot to tell them is that Target closes a bit earlier than Walmart. waaaayyy earlier. But he trusts them. They’re not THAT dumb and besides, Sakusa is following them. At least we got some brain cells in the pack. Boy how he underestimated them. The four of them entered the 3-story corner lot Target. They took the trolley and started to wander off to the food section.

They tried to find Eggo and Pop Tarts as Iwaizumi told them but then Bokuto spotted Cheetos and instantly grabbed them without a breath to spare. Hinata was wandering around the aisle and just crossing the breakfast section, his eyes widened. He tugs Bokuto’s shirt.

“Bokuto-san! THEY HAVE OREO CEREALS HERE!!!”

Bokuto gasps. And then their eyes wandered the 5 tiers of cereals stretching the aisle. Fruity Loops, Honey Oats, KRAVE!!! They thought the chips were hard but CEREALS WERE EVEN HARDER. Hinata dumps the Oreo cereal into the trolley.

“Hey guys, since Target is HUGE, wanna play hide and seek?”

Tsumu texted the group chat. A notification lighted up from the group

Omi-omi: Are you a kid?

BOKUTO: I SAW TENTS! I CALLED DIBS!!!

Tsumu: what's the point then if we know where you are? Loser gonna buy winners snacks until we go back

Tsumu tried to reel in Omi. Saving money and having Tsumu as an errand boy? Nothing sparks the fire in Sakusa’s eyes than that.

“Fine.”

He replied. By the time Tsumu began begging Omi to play, Hinata and Bokuto already off to find the spots and left Tsumu and Omi to decide which of them would be the seeker.

Omi-omi: Since it was your idea, try to find us then

Tsumu has no objections. He said exactly the clock hits 9PM, the hunt begins. What sheer dumb luck befalls on the time.

Tsumu wanders around since he has 6 minutes. He tries to find what Iwa asked.

“How tf should I know what a Tostitos looks like”.

The timer buzzed, the hunt begins. As Tsumu slides the timer off, the lamp turned off as well. He was weirded out. He thought his phone could control the lights. In awe, his brain cells connected: “shit its closing time”. He speed-dialed Osamu and screams

“SAMU I'M STUCK IN TARGET HELP ME OUT”

“How am I supposed to help. I’m in Japan ya idiot. Get out yourself.”

What Osamu forgot was that he’s Facetiming Meian on his laptop. He picked up the call and put it on speaker but Meian heard it.

“WHAT THE FUCK ATSUMU”

Meian screamed but Osamu didn't tell him about Meian to Atsumu so he hung up immediately. Tsumu was bewildered. Was that the capt voice just now? Capt with his brother? Oh God. He texted the group fast but his battery is down to 6% after the call. He cant use the flashlight or else he can't get to anyone.

Hinaaataaaa: AHDUS!/),7/‘-$;&shdjsj HMWAYBHAPPENED

Tsumu: calmed down Hinata, wru?

Hinaaataaaa: im at the fitting room.

BOKUTO: im at the tent outside the fitting room.

Now, only Omi left. Knowing him, he probably wanders around the cleaning supplies to see if the soap was true or not. Tsumu picks up Hinata and Bokuto and starts finding their way to Sakusa. “Atsumu-san, are we going to jail, or are we gonna live long enough to see jail before Iwaizum-san killed us?” Hinata questions. At this point, Tsumu feels jail is way safer than Iwa’s wrath.

Bokuto’s hair droops as he was sad the game didn't even start. And he lost the Fruit Loops cereal somewhere (poor baby). Omi didn't text back. Three of them just wanders around the cleaning aisle, hoping to spot the tall masked man. And there he was indeed.

Sakusa’s face was blank. There was no reaction when Hinata's phone flashes the phone onto him. Tsumu was getting worried if he had a phobia in the dark or something. Tsumu creeps in closer and shakes Sakusa’s shoulders.

“Hey Omi, ya okay?”.

Sakusa turns his head slowly to face Tsumu.

“I saw it. It was real''

Hinata was trembling and the lights went all over the place. Bokuto’s hair was straight again, shivering down his beefy back spine.

“Omi, what did you see...”

Bokuto asked. There's no ghost in America, right...? Sakusa’s eyes started to show confusion.

“The soap. They don't have it. How is this even possible...”

“Omi can ya read the situation a bit better next time?”

“I thought I might need new pants...” Hinata added.

“Omi, we’re stuck inside. Can you call captain? Since you’re the only one that has the sim card. Don't call Iwaizumi-san”

Sakusa shrugs and pulls out his phone, only to find 10 missed calls from Meian. Sakusa called their captain back and put it on speaker.

“Hey capt-“

“I LEFT YOU GUYS FOR 30 MINUTES AND THIS HAPPENED?”

Meian screams. He felt like his height is going to get shorter by day if he keeps needing to carry the chaos of the four of them.

“I’ll bring Iwa with me. Just stay near the entrance. We’ll call in and see”

They waited but before anything, they checked out the well-lit fridges to grab more food to bring back to the hotel. They searched for microwavable ones. Hinata is still scared and he was holding on to Bokuto the whole time. Bokuto pats Hinata’s back gently, trying to calm him down and there will be nothing scarier than the scariest thing he had. Kageyama’s face flashed instantly. yeah, there's nothing beating that. Sakusa’s phone vibrates again. Meian texted that the store owner is gonna come in 5. They all went back to the front door and waited.

There stood Meian and Iwa, waiting for the four dumbasses to be out of the store. They apologized to the owner and felt bad as 4 grown-ass adults got stuck inside. The owner smiled and said it's okay since they're not from around here. They hurried back along with the snacks from Target

“AAAHHH”

Tsumu screamed. Iwa turned his back and to see what's up.

“I FORGOT THE EGGOS” he screamed.

At this point, let's just say MSBY 4 became 3 whenever they went outside.

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honeypirate · 3 years

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This is pro hero AU. Everyone is aged up and in my mind like all 23/24

Event Masterlist

Kirishima x fem reader, best friends to lovers, smoke sesh

Summary: monthly get together with your hero friends from high school, but you’re most excited to see the man you’ve been crushing on since graduation. Friends to lovers with happy tears bc weed makes me want to cry with joy sometimes and I know that Kirishima would be so sweet if his love was reciprocated.

Warning:! It’s a little suggestive at the end!! Kiri gets a boner!! Weed makes people horknee

You put your car in park outside of Kaminari’s apartment, excited to see your friends after a long hard month. Nerves are twisting around in your belly, anxiety from being able to finally see the man you were secretly in love with.

Since the end of high school you’ve all been amazing friends, bonding in your last year over smoking weed and having a tradition that stuck even now.

Once a month you’d smoke together and have a sleepover in someone’s room(but now apartment), always rotating rooms/person who brings the weed. This month you were in charge of the drugs and Kaminari was in charge of hosting.

You knock a few times on the door and several voices yell ‘come in’ making you think of high school and bringing a smile to your face.

“Hey guys!” You say when you walk inside

“Y/n!” Kaminari yells

“Y/n’s here!” Sero says and hops from the couch to come hug you

“Who’s here?!” Shinsou shouts somewhere deeper in the apartment

“Y/n Is!” Mina says excitedly as she gets up from the couch with Hagakure who both run to hug you after Sero lets go.

“Hey y/n” Shinsou says with a head nod as he exits the kitchen

Bakugou grumbles a hello from his place on the floor, back against the couch as he plays a switch game “can we finally get this show on the road then? I’ve been stressed all damn day and looking forward to this stupid shit” you walk over to him and ruffle his hair, he had new undercut and it looked nice.

“Good to see you too Kacchan” you say and he rolls his eyes gently pushes your hand away even tho his cheeks were a little dusted in pink. Oh how you loved to tease him.

“Is Kirishima here?” You ask, hoping your voice sounds calm cool and casual

You hear some things falling down in the kitchen and the sounds of scrambling before your favorite redhead comes into the living room

“I’m right here!” He says with an embarrassed laugh before he envelops you into a big hug, pulling you to his large chest as he holds you tight. You laugh and wrap your arms around him as much as you can, burying your face in his chest and hoping when you pulled away your cheeks wouldn’t be too warm.

“Glad you could make it” he says when he lets you go and you smile “me too” you say softly, your eyes sparkling

(Not pictured, the rest of the room staring like “I swear to god if they don’t get together soon...” and bakugous envious eyes)

You reach in your bag and pull out the black glass jar you use to keep your weed in. Your thumb brushes over the golden sunshine that was on the side of the jar and you smile, remembering when Kirishima gave it to you. You pull off the rubber lid and pull out a few joints you already had made, the smell of strong weed escaping the jar and filling the space around you.

You sit on the floor beside Bakugou and Kirishima sits on your other side, legs out in front of him and one arm behind him as he leaned subtly toward you. Sero sat next to Kiri, Kaminari next, then Shinsou, Hagakure, and Mina to round out the circle all lounging on the couch.

You hand the first one to Bakugou and he snatches it, placing it in his lips as you smile, holding out a lighter and he leans forward keeping eye contact as the end lights, sending your heart into a frenzy with his smirk. He knew how hot it was and abused his power, it’s why you could never fall for him.

He takes a long inhale and holds it “that’s nice” he croaks with eyebrows raised and a smile, holding in the smoke for another moment before letting it out. He takes another hit before passing it to you, Mina sliding open the window behind the couch.

You take in a lung full of the acrid smoke and hum, your eyes closing as you hold it for a moment then let it out with a satisfied sigh. “Yeah” you say and take another hit, passing it to Kirishima who winks with a shy smile when the joint leaves your fingers.

Him on the other hand. He was handsome and adorable but he didn’t abuse it. He was a good man and what mattered most to him was helping people and being a good hero, how could you not fall in love with his kind eyes and heart? Or the way his jaw tensed when he swallowed or the way his high smile looked, the way he texts you periodically through the weeks to make sure you’re doing okay, or the way he...

you pull your gaze away from Kirishima’s profile with a shake of the head and warm embarrassed cheeks. You were feeling just a little bit high and we’re staring and zoned in to just how much you adore Kirishima and how much joy you feel when you’re around him. get it together y/n.

You make eye contact with Bakugou and he raises his eyebrows with an accusatory look and crosses his arms. You laugh softly and cover your cheeks with your hands, looking away and pretending nothing just happened. Bakugou scowls but eventually gives in to the relaxed state the weed gives him, accepting that you wanted Kiri and not him and that it was okay.

After the joint makes its way around you pull out your puff puff pass card game and shuffle them before placing them in the middle of the group, the three on the couch sinking to the floor so they could reach as the joint finds Hagakure

“Kacchan.” You say “First hit equals first card”

he rolls his eyes before leaning up and snatching the card and reading it out loud “name all the cereal brand mascots” he reads and then flicks the card back down, it spins as it flies across the circle and he chuckles when it hits Kaminari.

“Uhhh” he says as he sits up straighter, taking the joint from Hagakure and pulling a hit as he thinks “tony the tiger” he says with smoke as he exhales and takes another quick hit, handing the joint to you and you tap the ash into the top of an empty soda can as he continues.

“The leprechaun fucker. Snap crackle pop. Toucan Sam. Trix are for kids bunny.” He continues to name them all easily and you are staring at him in shock for a moment before laughing

“nice one Kacchan” you say as you take a card yourself.

You take a nice long hit with a smirk as you hold up your card that says “puff” and Kirishima laughs, taking the joint from your fingers as he leans for a card “lucky lucky y/n” he says and then looks at his card, reading as he takes a drag. “Go in a circle naming colors until someone messes up”

he chuckles and starts off by saying “blue” the game ends when Bakugou says “Skobeloff” and you laugh so hard against Kirishima’s shoulder you can’t think of any more colors.

But what you can think of is how your stomach flutters and your skin is on fire under Kirishima’s large hand resting on your back, holding you close as you both laugh together.

The game goes on for an hour and a half until all the cards are gone and everyone is just high and chill, someone is playing soft music through Alexa and all the windows and balcony doors are opened, cool night air coming up as you talk and eat snacks that were brought out earlier.

“Come with me” Kirishima says and hooks his pinky into yours when your conversation with Mina ended.

“Lead the way” you say with warm cheeks and hooded eyes as he guides you to the empty balcony.

“It’s such a nice night don’t the bugs sound beautiful?” You sigh as you lean on the railing, looking up at the moon, the bugs in the park below seeming to sing to you.

“I’ve missed you so much” he admits with a shy laugh and when you turn to look at him his cheeks are flushed and his eyes are on the floor as he scratches behind his head.

“You have?” You ask, unable to hide the happiness and smile in your voice and he looks up as you walk slowly up to him.

“So much” he says with a shaky laugh

you wrap your arms around his neck, standing on your tiptoes as you pull him close.

“Oh Eijiro” you say breathless into his ear, your heartbeat racing and body feeling like you’re spinning as his arms hold you tighter to him “I’ve missed you too” you admit and he sighs in sweet relief as his shoulders relax.

“I don’t want to go a month without seeing you again. You’re more to me than just a high school friend or pro hero college. Through school and now when we work together I just, I couldn’t help but catch feelings for you. Your wonderful personality and your kindness shines through every part of you and you are such a beautiful person inside and out”

He’s saying all this as he hugs you, less flustered without having to see your face and your heart is soaring. You feel your eyes well up in happy tears and you pull back, cupping his cheeks in your hands as he looks down at you with worry in your eyes.

“Y/n what's wrong?” He says and you laugh with a smile as he wipes your tears

“Eijiro,I’m sorry.” you say with a smile wiping your cheeks “Ive been in love with you since graduation and I guess it’s just overwhelming with the drugs” you say and laugh softly, your eyes burn from your makeup as you get it together.

he feels his own eyes well up with tears and he looks up with furrowed brows and eyes screwed shut trying to stop them

“Really?” He asks and his voice cracks a little

you take his hand, leading him to the couch on the balcony, sitting him down and sitting in his lap, straddling his legs and running your fingers through his hair. He sighs softly in relief, your fingers sending extra tingles down his spine with every pass through his hair.

“I love the way you treat the community like they’re your friends and family” you say and kiss his cheek “I love how you always remember the little things about me, things I never even realized I mentioned. Like when you brought me lemon iced tea” you kiss his nose and he chuckles softly, his cheeks turning pink and his eyes looking into yours as a few happy tears escape his eyes

“I love when you laugh, your nose twitches just a little bit and it’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen” you kiss between his eyebrows

“I love so many things about you, Eijiro. I’d love to spend as much time as it take telling you every one of them” you cup his cheek and kiss away his tears

“I love you so much” he whispers, his voice cracking again from the tears and he chuckles at it

You lean down and brush your nose against his, his eyes fluttering closed as he sighs happily “Eijiro can I kiss you?” You whisper and he nods excitedly as he cups your cheek and connects your lips.

His lips were soft, softer than you originally thought they’d be. His other hand rested in your hip and squeezes lightly as he bit your bottom lip between his sharp teeth.

You gasp softly then laugh when your body floods with tingles from his action.

Your tongue licks at his as he deepens the kiss, his hold on your hip tightening and your hands burying in his hair.

Your lips tingle in the most amazing way, your head was light and you felt like your whole world was spinning and falling through space as your tongues and lips moved in tandem.

You aren’t entirely sure how long you’ve been kissing him, your sense of passing time fucked with how high you felt, but when you leaned back you sucked in a big gasp of air with a smile and a breathless chuckle.

Your thumb runs over his bottom lip as you gaze down at him, his lips were swollen and you’re sure your lips match. Your chin felt like you got a burn from his stubble but you didn’t care.

“We should go back in before they come looking and find us sticking out tongues down each other’s throats” you say and he chuckles, his fingers carding through your hair and his hand on your hip had at some point moved to be on your back, his thumb up under your shirt with his thumb rubbing across your skin slowly as he held you pressed to his chest.

“I don’t want to” he says quietly with a chuckle

“Come on love, don’t tell me you haven’t been missing some down time with Kacchan” you say, his face brightening as you remind him about his other best friend.

“Okay maybe I want to a little bit but .. uhh” he looks away embarrassed, his cheeks flushing “I need a moment or two” he says, voice rising a few octaves at the end, hoping you understand what he’s saying.

You look at him for a beat before you feel something pressed to your thigh “Oh!” You say, your heart hitching and cheeks immediately warming “okay” you say and lean forward, kissing his cheek before getting off his lap carefully and sitting beside him on the couch.

You lace your fingers together and lay your head on his shoulder as you look up at the stars “it really is a wonderful night” he says as the cool night air blows.

You give his hand a little squeeze and sigh softly with a smile “yeah. The best one had in a while”

#kirishima fluff #ejiro kirishima x reader #kirishima x y/n #kirishima x reader #kirishima x you #bnha kirishima #tw drugs #tw suggestive

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katblu42 · 3 years

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In Pieces

This little thing was trying to distract me the whole time I was writing my Easter Tag fic! It is 4am. This may not have been adequately proofread!

There was no mistaking the tone of the raised voice emanating from behind the closed door, even if most of the words were muffled. Scott didn’t dare attempt to get any closer than the safety of the doorway of his own bedroom to hear more. Seeing John’s cautious approach to the bedroom in question, Scott caught his brother’s attention and beckoned him over.

“What’s going on?” John whispered.

“I’m not sure, but there’s no way I’m going in there to find out.”

“. . . not the first time . . . How many times, Virgil? . . . need to be told?!” The few words they could make out were enough to tell them how much trouble their brother was in, and a potential reason why. “. . . in pieces! . . . priceless antique . . . family heirloom . . . know you are never to touch! And . . . in my office to begin with!”

The two boys stood silently behind the partially closed door to Scott’s room, ready to push the door to at the first sign of their father’s exit from the room on the other side of the hall. Neither of them wished to be in Virgil’s shoes at that particular moment, nor did they wish to catch their father’s attention when he was in this kind of temper.

“. . . going to do with you? . . . how to deal with this . . . if your mother was here!” Scott winced, and John sucked in a long gasp. That was a low blow so soon after the loss. “. . . you ever learn?! . . . even look at you right now.”

Not once did Scott or John hear a voice other than their father’s. In fact there seemed to be very few pauses for any kind of response during the five minute tirade before all fell silent. When the door across the hall began to open, Scott’s door was swiftly and silently closed. They were able to hear a murmur in the hall, and John suspected it to be an instruction to “stay in there until further notice” before the door was emphatically closed.

Jeff didn’t exactly slam the door on the way out, but he made sure it was most definitely firmly shut! His blood was boiling. The boy had been repeatedly told he should ask before pulling something apart to “see how it works.” Certain things were off limits. Especially when they resided in his office, which the boys were never supposed to be in unless he summoned them there. And this particular item was priceless and irreplaceable. When he’d seen it broken down into dozens of clockwork pieces spread out across Virgil’s bed he had felt himself shaking with uncontainable anger.

His grandfather had given him the curious Clockwork Marvel with the little figures of woodsmen and their axes, saws and hammers, and the little mountain climber at the back. Jeff had been intrigued by it every time he had visited with his grandparents as a boy. He’d seen it in motion a few times, but not since he was Gordon’s age. Even back then the moving parts had been deemed fragile, so only Grandpa was ever allowed to wind it up and get it going. It had been given to Jeff when his Grandpa had passed away and Grandma had explained that it had belonged to Grandpa’s father, and had been handed down to him from an uncle who’d been a clock maker. Jeff’s boys had only ever seen it up on a high shelf behind his desk. Jeff had never wound it up to show them the movement – in fact he wasn’t even sure he knew where the winding key was. Virgil had never shown any great interest in the thing, so why now?

His 12 year old son had stood silently staring at the carpet the whole time he’d been talking to him – well, lecturing him to be honest – and it had only infuriated him more. Virgil had nodded in acknowledgement once or twice, so at least he knew the boy had been listening, but he was still not sure the message had sunk in. After all, so much of what he’d just said had been said before. Virgil was old enough now to know better, and Jeff didn’t have the patience to deal with repeating old lessons in appropriate behaviour. Lucy would have handled this better. Hell, maybe if she were here the boy would have had something else to occupy his time. But she wasn’t here. He still had to keep reminding himself of that.

He needed a drink.

That evening when the family gathered around the dinner table there was a notable absence. It wasn’t unusual for Virgil not to come down for dinner right away. He would often get so caught up in what he was doing that he’d just forget about meals until the growling of his stomach became too loud and insistent to ignore. Even then sometimes the need to “just finish this little bit” before stopping was enough to override the growling. No, the unusual thing was that their father didn’t mention the absence.

“Where’s Virgil?” Gordon asked around his first mouthful of food, spitting crumbs onto the table.

“I’ll go find him,” Scott volunteered, rising from his seat.

“No,” their father said, firmly.

“No?” Scott could barely believe what he’d heard. His brothers stopped and stared, Gordon with his mouth hanging open, Alan only because John had stopped chopping up his chicken for him. “But -”

“You heard me,” Jeff reiterated. “He is to stay in his room.”

The subject was closed. The boys knew from his tone, his expression, the subtle shift in his body language that there was no point in saying more on the matter. The steel that had been in Scott’s eyes and the set of his shoulders took a moment to soften, but soften it did, and the others turned their attention back to their plates. The mood around the table remained subdued throughout the rest of the meal. It wasn’t silent. In the Tracy household mealtimes were never silent affairs, but Scott and John spoke only in response to their little brothers, and Jeff said nothing.

As soon as dinner was finished Jeff disappeared, as was his habit lately, probably to his office. The boys had all but given up looking for their dad in the evenings. They cleared the table, Scott took Alan upstairs to get him ready for his bath while John and Gordon argued over who’s turn it was to wash and who’s to dry the dishes. And the normal night-time routine ran its course without anyone hearing a peep out of Virgil.

Without Virgil to help with getting the youngest two bathed and into pyjamas, forcing them to brush teeth and get into bed, and reading stories those duties kept Scott and John busy. Once Alan was asleep and Gordon had reluctantly agreed to let Scott read instead of Virgil, John went up to the attic nook to unwind with the relaxing familiarity of his telescope and the stars.

By the time John came down from the attic Scott was already sequestered away in his room. Not yet asleep – John could see the light under the door, which probably meant Scott was trying to catch up on homework before turning in. He didn’t think much of it as he headed for the room he shared with Virgil, which also had light leaking from beneath the door.

He opens the door to find Virgil still dressed, tinkering away at something on his desk, a few bits and pieces still laid out meticulously on the bed, and completely oblivious to John entering and crossing to his own bed. There’s no reaction to John moving about the room and getting into his pyjamas.

“Virgil?” he quietly prompts. “You okay?”

There’s a sigh and a slump of shoulders, but he doesn’t put down what he’s working on or turn around.

“I’m fine.”

“You know it’s almost midnight, right?” John knows that will make little difference to his night-owl brother. There is no response, so John tries again. “You missed dinner. Do you want me to get you a snack or something?”

“I’m not hungry.” There’s a ratchety clicking sound and Virgil finally puts the object down and turns towards John. “Thanks though.”

John can see there have been tears at some stage. The smile that Virgil tries to offer him is weak, and the spark is missing from those gentle brown eyes. John isn’t sure how to fix what’s wrong and he almost decides to go and fetch Scott, but changes his mind at the realisation that the smile is for his benefit – so he won’t worry about his wounded brother.

“We can talk about what dad said -”

“No, it’s okay.” Virgil turned back to the desk, picking up a tiny screwdriver and adjusting something. “I screwed up. But I can fix it. I’m okay. I promise.”

John doesn’t have to hear the sniffle to know there are more tears. He closes the gap between them, bare feet padding on the carpet. He’s surprised to see the little mechanical woodsmen Virgil is tinkering with. He never realised just how complex their dad’s clockwork ornament really was when broken down into its many parts, but then he’d never been this close to it before. It was more than half reassembled and he instinctively understood Virgil’s focus. He placed a hand on Virgil’s shoulder and gave a simple squeeze.

“Anything I can do to help?”

Virgil shook his head, as John knew he would. This was something he needed to do by himself.

John left him to it, went to the bathroom to finish getting ready for bed and returned to find Virgil had turned on his desk lamp and angled it away from John’s bed. When John flicked the main bedroom light off Virgil was cast in silhouette against the soft glow of the lamp. John watched him for a moment before sliding himself beneath his bedcovers and whispering goodnight. Virgil was too engrossed in his repairs to respond.

Despite the late hour at which he’d dragged himself to bed, Jeff was up in a timely manner the following morning. Scott was already helping Alan with his breakfast in the kitchen, and Gordon was making a mess of pouring cereal into his bowl. He stayed in the kitchen long enough to say good morning, make himself a coffee and grab a piece of toast before retreating to his office.

The events of the previous afternoon were still playing on his mind as he set his coffee mug down on the desk. His eyes were drawn up to the high shelf where his clockwork woodsmen should be . . . and there it was. The marvellous little ornament that he’d last seen in so many tiny pieces all over Virgil’s bed the day before was whole again. It seemed to sparkle and gleam in a way that he didn’t remember it having ever done before. Intrigued, he carefully lifted it down off the shelf and placed it on the desk. Neatly slotted into its hole in the back of the base was the winding key. He knew that had been missing for some time.

Suddenly it twigged. Virgil must have found the key. His mechanically curious boy had somehow figured out what the key fitted into and needed to know what it did. One thing would have led to another from there. Jeff knew the old machinery was not working well back when he was a boy, so if Virgil had wound it up he would have seen something was amiss. The innate need to know how it worked – or how it should work – would have been the driving force behind taking it apart.

Now that it was back together Jeff could see in his mind’s eye how each piece had been laid out in painstakingly ordered fashion on Virgil’s bed. He should have trusted the boy. Since he was four or five years old he had never failed to put pack together whatever he’d pulled apart. (There were a few mishaps with the reassembly before then, but not since.) But this was by far the most complex, the most finely detailed piece of machinery Virgil had ever attempted.

Hardly realising he was doing so, he wound the key. Once, twice, three times, just like Grandpa used to do. Tiny clockwork gears and motors clicked and whirred as the miniature woodsmen swung their axes, beat their hammers and push-pulled their saws. The little, tiny mountain climber worked his tiny pick. And tinkling metallic chimes played music. Music! He had never even known his Grandpa’s clockwork machine was meant to play music.

Tears ran down his cheeks. Many childhood memories of gazing at this fascinating ornament in wonder came flooding back. This was more than he’d ever seen the machine do, more than he’d imagined it could do. And his talented little boy had done all this in less than a day, brought new life to an almost forgotten antique.

He ran up the stairs, startling Scott, who tried to ask if something was wrong. Ignoring the inquiry he flung open the door to Virgil and John’s room with a thud of doorknob on wall that woke John, but not Virgil.

“Dad?!” John’s voice was laced with concern, but Jeff didn’t even register that he’d spoken. He dropped to his knees beside Virgil’s bed, ran his hand across the back of the boys shoulders as he slept on his stomach, gave the far shoulder a squeeze, and a firm, but gentle shake.

“Virgil? Son, wake up.” The boy stirred, mumbled incoherently and tried to roll over. Jeff took the opportunity to sit the boy up and wrap him in a tight hug. “Virgil!”

This time something in his father’s voice registered with Virgil and he blinked his eyes open. Seeing, and feeling his father’s tears, and being wrapped in his embrace, Virgil’s heart leapt into his throat.

“Dad?! What’s wrong?” His dad was crying and hugging him, something really bad must have happened. Again.

Jeff pulled back from the hug, gripping Virgil’s shoulders and looking into his son’s eyes, immediately regretting the fear he saw there. Something else to feel guilty about.

“Son, I’m so sorry!” His hand reached up to stroke unruly dark locks. “I don’t know how you did it. I don’t know why I doubted you could, but . . . I,” he faltered, his voice cracking. Virgil stared, dumbfounded. “Thank you. For fixing the woodsmen.”

Virgil was enveloped in another hug, and he hugged back, still a little bewildered. It felt good to have his father’s arms wrapped around him. It had been a long time since they’d had a moment like this, and yesterday had felt so horrible.

“There are still bits that need fixing,” Virgil tried to explain. “Some of the cogs have broken teeth, there are parts that are just loose because they’ve been worn down. It should work better now it’s all clean, but it’s not perfect.”

“It works better than I’ve ever seen it.” He smiled at his son, beaming with pride and pure childish joy. “I had no idea it was supposed to play music. I’ve never heard it do that before.” Virgil’s eyebrows raised. “You did an amazing job, son. Thank you.”

#thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds fandom #thunderbirds #jeff tracy #virgil tracy #john tracy #scott tracy #young tracys #angry jeff #grief

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melofanish · 3 years

Text

Clumsy Your Way Into My Heart

@carlosreyesweek Day 6: AU!!!

Summary: When Carlos first volunteered to go grocery shopping for the station, he didn’t think he would be overthinking it as much as he is right now.

Cereal box shenanigans and loads of blushing later:

Carlos finds that he’s much calmer than he’s ever been since he got here. Maybe overthinking about food isn’t as bad as he thought it would be.

Tags: Carlos Reyes, TK Strand, Mentioned Owen Strand, Mentioned Paul Strickland, Mentioned Marjan Marwani, Mentioned Mateo Chavez, Mentioned Judd Ryder, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Grocery Store, Clumsy Boys, Firefighter Carlos Reyes,, Police Officer TK Strand, Pre-Relationship, Flirting.

Warnings: Blushing and clumsiness.

At the moment in which I'm writing this, this fic has been started less than 24 hours ago and was completed 10 minutes ago. My beta is going through it right now and I'm getting AO3 and Tumblr ready. As we've found out, AU is my kryptonite.

The hugest, and largest thanks and love to the one and only @lire-casander. The amount of love and support that I get from this woman is unbelievable. The help she's been on this fic alone is insane, let alone with everything else that I do. She's been a guide and a friend and this would not have happened without you <3

Read on AO3.

---

When Carlos first volunteered to go grocery shopping for the station, he didn’t think he would be overthinking it as much as he is right now. And yet he keeps remembering how Marjan can only eat halal food and Mateo is lactose sensitive, Paul likes spicy food but Judd can’t handle any. Captain Tommy -he still needs some time to get used to her not wanting to be called by her last name- likes white bread while his own soon-to-return Captain Strand won’t eat anything that isn’t full-grain. So he keeps getting more food, and more food, and more food.

He started out shopping like he usually would, keeping in mind the slight dietary restrictions; a few vegetables and fruits, several dairy and soy products, some poultry. And then he came to the realisation that it would be better if he bought food for more than one day’s meals. And then his brain supplied the wonderful what if I want to make a dish and I can’t find canned peeled cherry tomatoes, which he knows is not only highly specific but also highly unlikely. And yet he now finds himself dragging a cart on the verge of overflowing. And he’s still got seven more aisles to go.

He's so focused on studying the displayed boxes of cereal that spread across half an aisle, holding two different brands in his hands and moving right and left to compare them with others, that he doesn't notice a whole other human being on the way until he’s being run over by flesh and bones.

They immediately get into a fumbling battle, legs somehow holding up. The boxes in Carlos’ slip, so do the other person’s. Carlos manages to catch two cartoons, the faint recognition that one of them is sugar flakes -which he didn’t pick- runs through his mind before he focuses on yet another cartoon making its descent through the sky. He steps forward, and so does the other person. They crash in the middle, chest to chest. And this time, they all come crashing to the ground.

Carlos lands on a knee, hands already going out to hold onto the boxes, when a body slams into his. He drops the box, holding onto the waist person that’s half splayed on him now. He follows the flat chest, taking note of the APD logo on the side of his shirt and the rainbow pinned next to it, to the bare beginnings of a stubble, up across thin, pink lips and a sharp nose, to end at mesmerising green eyes.

It takes all of his will power not to gasp, but he can't stop the dropped jaw. The man is beautiful. There's no other way to describe him. His light brown hair lays a mess on top of his head, his green eyes sparkle with a mix of shock and surprise, and his teeth seem to find relief in sinking into his lower lip.

He feels movement around him, and then a hand makes its way between them and lays on his shoulder. He feels the pressure on his chest give way, manifesting as an exhale from the man. Carlos realises that he’s been holding his breath too, and sighs, his exhale mingling with the man’s inhale. And then a cart crashes behind them, and they realise they’re sitting on the floor of a grocery store in the middle of the day. Their bubble crashes.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so clumsy I can’t believe this happened!” The man says as he fully pushes off Carlos, eye contact breaking to pick up the dropped boxes. The apology finally breaks through Carlos’ hazy mind, and he let’s go of the man’s shirt, coming to a stand as well as he picks up the remaining boxes.

“Oh no, no! It’s my fault, I wasn’t looking,” he states, finally straightening up. "Good save, officer,” he adds as he steps back before he can even think about.

The man's eyes snap back to him, widening in shock before his face breaks into a small smile and then his head falls forward, chuckling and shaking his head. Carlos finds himself snickering as well.

"I can say the same to you, firefighter," the man says, nodding his chin towards Carlos' own AFD shirt.

Carlos looks at his own shirt before he looks back at the man. He feels like he knows him, he's seen him before, but he can't remember where or when. But the green eyes bore into his very soul, so he looks down at his hands instead, finally noticing the box of organic multi-bran flakes.

"Uhh, these are yours? I'm guessing?"

The man looks at Carlos' hands, eyes and mouth opening is recognition. "Yeah, those are my dad's. A disgrace to the very idea of flakes," he adds as he glares at the box.

“They’re not that bad,” Carlos laughs, and the glare redirects itself from the box to Carlos. Which makes him cut himself mid-laugh, only to dissolve into chuckles again when the man cracks the smallest of smiles.

“Are you just saying that or have you actually tried them?”

“I’ve tried them, my captain back at the station likes them,” he replies, moving a step back to drag his cart closer. “I even got a box here,” he gestures to the cartoon laying on top of the mountain.

“Pfft, and I thought my dad was the only one crazy enough to like these. Good to know there’s someone else like him in here,” he shakes his head in amusement, a sentiment Carlos shares. Of everything he was imagining when he moved states to join the 126, he wasn’t expecting to be talking to a cute officer in the middle of the grocery store, discussing cereal of all things.

The man takes a few steps back, reaching behind the corner of the aisle and dragging a cart up next to him. Carlos extends an arm to him, handing over the box, which he takes and drops into his cart.

Carlos can’t help but sneak a peek into it. There’s a very obvious mix of junk food and snacks, and healthy organic and full-grain foods. It reminds him of his new Captain. He hasn’t interacted with him much, the man getting injured a mere day after Carlos got transferred. But the rest of the crew has given him a list of all the dietary preferences, Captain’s included.

He looks up at the man, finding him alternating between looking at the ground and the shelves. Carlos has noticed that he already has three boxes of cereal, he couldn’t possibly need more. He looks like he wants to say something, or maybe he’s reading it wrong and he wants to move away. Either way, he decides to take a plunge. He’s already moved half-way through the country in a leap of faith, why not take another one?

“I’m Carlos, by the way,” he extends an arm to the man, “Reyes, of AFD.”

The smile that he receives tells him that it’s the right choice. The other man extends his arm, hand wrapping around Carlos’ in a warm embrace. If this is how his hand feels, Carlos can’t even imagine what a hug would feel like.

“Hello, Carlos, I’m TK,” he gives their hands a shake. “Strand, of APD.”

Carlos is so enamoured with the man’s -TK’s- eyes and smile that it takes him a moment to register the name. But once he does, he can’t help the quick and rapid blinking he does to clear his mind.

“Wait, did you just say Strand?”

“Uhh,” TK blinks back at him, turning his head to a side as his eyelids flutter in confusion. “Yeah?”

Carlos doesn’t pay him much mind though, what are the chances of this happening?

“Is your father Owen Strand? Captain of the 126?”

“Yeah, that’s my dad, how did you know that?” All of the confusion that was mildly visible on TK’s face is now showcased a full one hundred per cent, both in his facial expressions and tone of voice.

“He’s my captain!” Carlos exclaims. “I work with the 126 too!”

It seems to take TK a moment to come to terms with what Carlos is saying. But the moment drags on so long that he begins to think he just got this awfully wrong. He’s about to disentangle their still bound hands when clarity finally shines on TK’s face and he breaks into a wide grin.

“You’re the new guy from New Jersey,” he says around a smile. Carlos is confused for just a second, wondering how he knows about his previous state of residence when TK continues talking. “My dad told me all about you! He can’t wait to get back tomorrow and work with you again. Said he only had to see you on one call and he knew he made the right choice asking you to join the 126.”

Carlos feels the blush rising up the back of his neck and into the highs of his cheeks, but he can’t really stop it. He knows he’s good at his job, he knows he’s a decent firefighter. But having the son of his Captain relay what said Captain said brings a sense of belonging and validation he didn’t think he’d get a mere three weeks on the job.

“He… he said that?” he asks. He needs to know. He’s been worried, stressing himself out of his mind in fear that he’s not showing the best of his abilities. Not only did he travel 1.5 thousand miles from one border of the country to another, he also took a job with a team that’s already well-formed and perfectly working without him. They didn’t ask for him because they needed him, they asked for him because they just wanted to. And he’s constantly aware of that whenever they’re on a call and everyone is on top of what they need to be doing.

“Yeah, man, he did!” TK says. He then takes another look at Carlos, and he can only guess that he can read minds. “He said you’re sharp, careful and smart. You think twice as hard and act twice as fast. He said you carry the job like it should be, with respect and responsibility,” he smiles at Carlos, closing the step between them and bringing a hand up to run the back of his fingers across the logo on his shirt.

Carlos brings his own hand up, covering TK’s -one of many things he’s done before his consciousness can think it out today. TK’s eyes glance over their hands before they stare up into him, the faint emerald greens ripping his insecurities and uncertainties into shreds with each passing second.

“Thank you,” he whispers. He can’t talk any louder when they’re this close. “I needed to know that.”

The smile he gets in reply is worth the distance he travelled. TK drifts his gaze down Carlos’ face, and he copies the action. He finds TK’s lower lip hidden between the bite of his upper teeth, and he can’t help but imagine what they would feel like holding onto his own.

“Excuse me!”

Carlos snaps his head to the side, a woman with bright red hair standing there glaring at both of them. He sneaks a quick glance at TK, both of them stepping back as she steps forward, reaching between them to grab a box of cereal before she dumps it into her cart and moves along. He follows her until she turns the corner, no longer in his visual field, before he turns back to a blushing TK.

He provides a small, pained smile, and Carlos laughs at the expression he’s presented with. They’ve been caught in two of these situations so far, and they’ve only met for minutes. Carlos supposes it would be embarrassing if it wasn’t for the pull he feels towards the man. The pull that has both of them stepping forward again, until there’s barely a foot of distance between them.

“So, you’ve been here for three weeks, right?” TK asks. Carlos knows TK knows the answer. Captain Strand sprained his shoulder on Carlos’ first day here, and that was three weeks ago. He nods anyway.

“So, I’m guessing you haven’t seen much of the city yet?”

A twinkle of hope starts to bubble in Carlos’ chest. He has a faint inkling of where this is going, but he isn’t sure. He can only wish and pray.

“No, not really. I’ve been to a couple of places with the crew, that’s it,” he answers, pausing for a moment to take a breath. “I haven’t found a tour guide yet.”

TK chuckles at him, the sound sending waves of happiness through Carlos, even as TK shakes his head at him. “Well, then, I have a proposition for you, Firefighter Reyes.”

Carlos is playing into it without a moment to think. “Oh, do you now, Police Officer Strand?”

TK is nodding back at Carlos before the words are even out of his mouth.

“How about this: I’ll be your tour guide.”

Carlos looks up at the ceiling of the store, rubbing a hand through his chin and humming as feigns thinking. “What would your payment be?” he asks.

“You let me take you out for coffee,” TK says around a smirk. All pretence of a game falls through shambles immediately, and they’re back into an intense round of gazing into each other eyes. Almost as if they can read each other through them.

“Can I bargain for a cheesecake?”

The question seems to come out of nowhere and throw TK off his track. His eyes widen for a moment before he’s bursting into laughs. The loud, booming kind with the head thrown back and hands bracing his own chest. Carlos smiles at the sight, the closed eyes, the exposed neck, the sound that carries absolute joy; it’s a view he wants to see for the entire rest of his life.

“Ahh, that can definitely be arranged,” TK says once he manages to stop laughing.

Carlos doesn’t reply. Instead, he takes his phone from his pocket, opening the contact app and handing it over. TK takes it, types a few buttons and gives it back. Carlos looks at the screen to see that he’s calling a number. A number that’s been saved under TK Strand Grocery Officer.

A phone ringing has him lifting his head, just in time to see TK pull out his own phone, decline the call and press a few more times on the screen. He then turns it around showing Carlos his own number saved as Carlos Reyes Grocery Fire.

“I think there should be a fighter in there,” he comments, much to the amusement of TK.

“Naaah. That might be your job,” he replies, looking Carlos up and down. “But you’re straight fire.”

As if on command, said fire burns through his face as he blushes yet again. This time he doesn’t resist the urge to hide his face, lifting his hands to cover the warmth he can feel spreading to the tips of his ears. He hears a chuckle he knows is TK’s behind his shield. He doesn’t know how this happened, but he’s sure he’ll be able to recognise the sound out of a crowd of a hundred people.

He feels hands touch his fingers wrapping around his palm as they pull away from his face. TK then rests a hand on his cheek, and Carlos leans into it, eyes locked onto each other.

“I need to go. Call me?” Tk asks, voice flowing like butter.

“You can arrest me if I don’t, officer,” Carlos replies, voice just as soft.

TK nods as he takes a deep breath, the smile never leaving his face.

“That’s a good idea. After all, I do where you work”

From anyone else, that sentence would sound creepy and send Carlos running. But from TK it sounds like a promise he doesn’t want to lose. “Okay.”

With a final glance, TK steps back, breaking all contact they have together. Carlos misses the touch half a second after it’s gone. He moves back, grabbing his cart. He slowly steps forward, moving towards the registers. As he passes Carlos’ cart, he stops to peek into it before he turns back to him.

“Buy my dad cashew nuts and you’ll be his favourite tomorrow.”

As he moves away with a final smile thrown his way, Carlos finds that he’s much calmer than he’s ever been since he got here. Maybe overthinking about food isn’t as bad as he thought it would be.

#carlosreyesweek2021 #Day 6: AU #Carlos Reyes #TK Strand #Tarlos #Tarlos fic #Alternate Universe #Alternate First Meeting #They're clumsy boys your honour #911 lone star #911 lone star fic

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harrysgoldenshe · 4 years

Text

That Bloody Damn Pasta Bridge

Harry hates disciplining his children. He hates it so much that there's an unspoken rule in your marriage where you always have to be the bad cop and he gets to play the very loved role of the good cop. However, he has his moments where he has to raise his voice and though he always feels guilty afterwards, he knows his kid won't make the same mistake twice.

On this particular night, your eldest son, James, was testing his limits with Harry. You're away on a business trip and you won't be back until 3 more days. Harry, of course, does not mind having some alone time with your two kids. In fact, he was over the moon happy when you announced you had to leave for an entire week. In Harry’s mind, you being away meant he got to do things with the kids that you wouldn't normally allow. Him and James had already spent an evening binging out on some snacks until it was nearing 3 am. Harry even went a step further and decided that your daughter, Evelyn, should skip her usual nap time to go to the park one afternoon. Even though he immediately regretted that decision, Harry lived for moments like these with his kids because he knows its times that they’ll remember forever. In Harry’s mind, you leaving meant that he and his two kids were going to have a blast.

Harry did not plan for your son to come to him on a Thursday night after he had just put his younger sister down for bedtime, telling him that he needed his help with a school project. Harry, also, did not plan on working on this project the night before it was due.

“I cannot believe you let yourself not do a single thing until this last minute,” Harry scowled at his 13 year old son who stood beside him, reading out loud the criteria for the project. “You’ve really gone and screwed yourself over,” He went on. “I shouldn’t even be helping you with this bloody damn thing! You have no idea what you’re doing and I sure as hell don’t! Have fun explaining to your mum why you’ve failed this,” His accent getting thicker as he grew angrier.

“Dad, please. I didn't know it was due tomorrow, I thought I had another week!” James tried to reason with his father

“Another week,” Harry scoffed. “Says it right here when it’s due!” He grabbed the page out of his son’s hand and waved it around. “Due date, June 4th! Make a bridge that will support as many textbooks as possible! Use time in class to prepare! James’ a pillock! A goddamn twit!” Harry went on reading from the page, making the two last statements up

Your son, hating the fact that his dad was not only angry with him but furious enough to start calling him names, grew more annoyed and frustrated.

“You’re not helping!” James told Harry

“Course not, this isn’t my problem,” Harry reminded his son. “Now tell me how you’re going to make this bridge mate? I’d really love to know,” He asked him

“I-I don't know,” His son answered

“You know what? I was considering helping you but not anymore. I want you upstairs in your room and I better not see your face until tomorrow morning when you leave for school empty handed,” Harry raised his voice as he pointed to the staircase.

“Can I work on the bridge in my room?” James questioned

“The hell you can!” Harry exclaimed. “There are consequences to your actions, James, and you are going to learn just how much you're going to have to work to obtain a proper grade once you've had a zero. I have never been so disappointed in my entire life, I cannot believe you,” He shook his head.

Now this is what caused James’ breaking point. Having his father be angry with him and call him names barely hurt him but hearing that Harry was disappointed in him cut sharply. James works hard to make both of his parents proud and he knows he’s in the wrong about this project but his father’s words rang in the back of his mind.

The 14 year old inhaled sharply as he felt his eyes tear up.

“You can’t do this to me!” He replied to his father. “I’m calling mum,” He quickly added before stomping up the stairs.

Harry let out a sigh as he walked to the staircase.

“Go ahead and call her! I would love to see how she reacts to you not doing a project! Please be my guest and tattle on me,” He called after his son

The only response he got was a door slamming that quickly followed with Evelyn calling out for her father.

“Now he’s gone and woke his sister up,” Harry huffed as he marched up the stairs.

He debated going into his son’s room and arguing with him some more but he decided that they both had enough. Harry went into Evelyn’s room and stayed with her until she fell back asleep which luckily didn't take too long.

Harry let out a sigh as he gently closed the door to his daughter’s room as he noticed that the light was off in James’. Harry went into his own bedroom where he took a quick shower and got ready for bed. He climbed into his bed, phone in hand. The only text from you was one he saw a few hours ago when you wished your family a goodnight before you headed to bed yourself.

Content that James didn’t actually tattle on him, Harry laid back and closed his eyes, getting ready for sleep to overtake him. However he found himself tossing and turning.

The next thing he knew, he was downstairs leaning against the kitchen counter with his eyes glued on his computer screen as he searched up the best methods to build a bridge.

“Linguini noodles, really?” He questioned himself.

After reading different articles, he found that the pasta was a frequent method used.

Harry got up from his seat and went into the kitchen to retrieve a few boxes of the noodles before going into the laundry room to find your hot glue gun.

“Okay, let’s do this,” He said as he sat back down.

Taking a few noodles out of a box, Harry glanced back to his computer screen to make sure he was about to do the right thing.

“I guess… I just… A triangle… Right right… Makes sense…” He mumbled to himself as he started to break the pasta in pieces.

Harry started to glue the pasta together to form a triangle, since his source said that triangular trusses would work better than rectangular ones.

He kept building from there, only stopping to check his source to make sure he was doing it correctly. He gave himself one break where he chugged down two cups of coffee in order to help him stay up.

Harry glued the last piece of pasta onto the bridge, his eyes feeling heavy. He let out a content sigh as he laid his head on the table, telling himself he’ll rest his eyes for a moment before cleaning up and heading upstairs.

“S’not even that late,” He argued with himself as he closed his eyes.

The clock on the stove flashing 3:43am would argue otherwise.

***

Harry abruptly woke up to someone shaking his shoulder. He rubbed his eyes and looked at his surroundings, completely confused as to why he was being woken up in his kitchen to James holding Evelyn in his arms.

“Wha’s going on?” He asked his oldest

“I, uh, woke up and found you snoring at the table so I go Eve ready and make us breakfast but now I need to get ready for school,” James told his father

Suddenly the memories of arguing with his son over a school project became clear in Harry’s mind. He glanced at the bridge he built which still stood where he had left it. Clearly James had seen it.

“Right right, go on then. Thank you for taking care of yer sister, I couldn't sleep last night. Didn't mean to fall asleep here,” Harry said.

James handed his sister to his father and raced up the stairs without saying another word. Harry glanced at the clock and saw that there was 20 minutes left before James had to leave for school.

“How’re you this morning princess?” Harry asked his daughter who made herself comfortable on his lap.

“Perfect! James made me cereal while he cleaned up noodles from the table,” His daughter answered. “Why were you playing with noodles at night, daddy?” She questioned him.

Harry let out a laugh.

“I wasn't playing with them baby, was helping your brother with something and fell asleep before I could clean up,” He told her. “Don't you go telling mommy that, y’know how much she hates it when I leave the kitchen dirty,” He quickly added, knowing that his youngest would tell you everything that happened once you came back home.

He learned that he had to ask his daughter not to tell you certain things or else his secrets would be out.

“Pinky promise,” Evelyn agreed, locking her finger to Harry’s

“Thank you baby,” Harry kissed her cheek. “Now go on and play in the kitchen while I talk to your brother,” He said as he let her down from his lap once he noticed his son walking down the stairs.

Evelyn listened and skipped her way into the living room.

“Sit down,” Harry told his son.

James wasted no time to take a seat next to his father.

“I want to apologize for what I said to you last night, wasn't nice of me to call you names even if you were driving me bloody mad. I'm sure you’ve noticed the bridge I built last for ya last night and I want you to know that just because I've helped you out this one, I won't always be bailing you out like this. You’re about to start high school, James, and you need to learn responsibility. I’ll always want to help you with projects or help you figure school work out but I can’t be putting in more effort than you mate. This is the one and only time I will ever do one of your assignments by myself and the only reason I did build this damn bridge was because I couldn’t bear the thought of you failing a project. That and your mom would absolutely murder the both of us for letting that happen,” Harry said, earning a laugh from James during the last part of his lecture.

“Thank you dad and I’ve learned my lesson. Assignments are important and waiting until the last minute won’t do anything but bring you anxiety,” James replied.

“You're telling me,” Harry mumbled. “You should head to your bus stop, bus will be here any minute,” He said.

James nodded and leaned over slightly to grab the bridge. He gave his dad a hug and thanked him again before making his way to the front entrance to grab his backpack and put on his shoes.

“Oh and James?” Harry called out as his son paused in the doorway. “That bridge should be able to hold at least 22 books, better come back home with a perfect grade,” He said

“Only 22? I feel like you built it to be stronger than that, how about 27?” James suggested, earning a cheeky smile from his father.

They exchanged goodbyes one last time before James left.

“That bloody damn pasta bridge,” Harry shook his head once the door closed behind his son.

#harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #dad!harry #husband!harry #Harry Styles #family!harry #harry #styles #imagine #blurb #fanfic #fanfiction #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic

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the-ace-with-spades · 3 years

Text

(3/6) the best is yet to be

five times someone realized Ronan and Adam were basically married and one time they actually were

Part 1 │Part 2 │Part 4 │Part 5 │Part 6

Read on ao3

Tad had been living on his own since his parents sent him to a boarding school when he was twelve. But being in high school now had its perks — he had his own credit card that he could buy whatever he wanted and never had to eat that awful cafeteria food they served in the dorms.

He usually ate out because it was the fastest and the most sociable but he tried to keep the dorm room and communal kitchen stored with pre-made meals and snacks in case he didn't want to socialize. Eating out alone wasn't really an option when someone has so many friends that go eat in the same places.

The frozen meals didn't always work and he had burned two pans already. The stuff you just have to put in the microwave was far easier.

Henrietta was a crappy small town and there were only two actually big supermarkets near the school. It was already quite late when he decided he wanted onion rings with chilli sauce so he drove a couple of streets and stared around the frozen goods alley, realizing it was probably too late and most of the good stuff was gone.

It was also unbearably hot, since the first heat waves just started to settle in for the summer, and the crappy supermarket AC wasn't working, so standing in the frozen goods alley was the only option, now that he was there and didn't have the energy to leave.

"Come on, we don't need a list," some guy said, way too loud. The voice seemed almost familiar in a sense that Tad had heard it before but he couldn't place where because it reminded him of someone but didn't sound exactly like someone.

It came from behind the alley with toilet paper and Tad couldn't see exactly who it was and wasn't exactly in the mood to go back into the non-heated area.

Maybe it was better. Next, he heard another voice but it was quiet to the point that Tad could only recognize that this someone was speaking something sharp and judgemental.

"I didn't forget it, I just think we could use going wild once in a while."

There was more hashed words in answer to that and if Tad had to guess, it was the wife. In his experience, wives had a tendency to be hysterical about the slightest misbehaviours — his dad had had four of them and every single one of them would argue with him about stupid stuff like why they didn't have a jacuzzi in the house, or why the pool wasn't cleaned twice a week instead of one, or why there was no grill in the kitchen. In Tad's experience, a wife wasn't worth the trouble. Not that Tad even wanted to have one.

"I could pay, I'm going to use up most of the stuff anyway," the man said, obviously fed up now.

He was met with even more sharp words. Tad knew how it worked — his dad often used quiet but pointed words and silent looks and it always felt even worse than being yelled at.

"Babe," the man said, trying for a softer but still frustrated tone.

There was no answer so that was the moment for silent, disappointed looks. If he didn't know that the guy chose to be with — or probably get married to — whoever he was talking to, Tad could almost pity him.

"Fuck, okay, just wait here, I'll go for the shitty list to the car."

And there was back again that annoyed tone with no fake sweetness. It definitely sounded more familiar now.

Tad hated married couples. They would always argue in the middle of the store — or any other place, to be honest — and were always loud and spend weekends in supermarkets or Home Depot like they were their regular date spots and take way too much time to decide about basic stuff like which color of a carpet they should use. He had yet to see a married couple that wouldn't argue about everything that should be casual in life.

This was exactly why he was never getting married.

The stamping sound went away with the guy leaving the store, hidden by the shelves and drawing away, further to the entrance. He was most likely pissed off, even though this was probably some stupid reason to be pissed off and grumbling to himself about his stupid wife. Tad knew the type — rural town couples that hated each other but pretended otherwise because they already spent the money on the wedding or already had a kid together.

Tad heard a deep sigh behind the shelves.

Married. Couples.

Maybe there was enough cool air in the milk and yoghurt fridges alley.

The store was mostly deserted, except for him and that married couple he still hadn't seen, he noticed only a small group of teens from Mountain View next to the chips and a woman with a sleeping baby at the checkout.

The fridges with milk were warm. Henrietta was a crappy town, and this no-name, locally owned supermarket was even crappier. The AC didn't work and the fridges felt like someone was turning them off and on every couple of hours.

The noisy sliding door opened again when he was contemplating buying vanilla milk, and the angry stamping could be heard, becoming louder and stopping in the cereal alley nearby. Tad was ready for the next argument, really, it was like the cheap version of reality tv. At least the baby at the checkout wasn't crying.

"I got the fucking list."

And the next quarrel was there.

There was silence and the cart in that alley moved — it was just a couple of seconds before it stopped again with a horrendous screech.

"Come on," the guy said. "Don't give me the silent treatment, it was just a stupid list."

There was a longer, even quieter monologue that was just as exasperated.

"Fuck, I know," the guy said, now giving in. "I'm sorry."

Tad didn't hear anything at all but there had to be an answer because the guy said, "You asshole."

This didn't exactly sound like something you should call your significant other just after a fight but Tad wasn't one to judge.

The cart moved again and Tad pretended he was busy choosing between vanilla and chocolate milk and not at all eavesdropping.

From around the corner of the shelves, Adam Parrish, leaning heavily on the handlebar, pushed the cart closer to the wall with the fridges. What made Tad freeze at once was Ronan Lynch, with his chin hooked over Parrish's shoulder and arms wound around his waist, hanging onto him like a leech. Really, this just ensured that his opinion on Lynch was right and Lynch was a parasite that fed on people who would otherwise make great friends, like Parrish or Gansey.

There had been different rumours about Lynch in school. Some said he was dead in a ditch. Some said he was in rehab in some private clinic in Florida. Some said he left with his brothers for DC. Some said he fucked off and became a farmer. None of those ideas seemed realistic but Gansey was adamant about not answering any questions and no one had seen Lynch in almost two months so the imagination was flowing wild. Personally, if he had to choose, Tad would bet for the second option.

"Parrish," he said, because he really didn’t know what else he could.

His eyes were still going up and down the weird fixture that was both of them, practically glued to each other, when Adam answered.

"Carruthers."

Parrish was wearing a black jean jacket full of tears and patches and pins and with slightly too long sleeves — too expensive to be his — and it looked completely out of place on him, Tad had only ever seen him in that crappy secondhand school uniform. Underneath he had the coveralls, tied low on his hips, faded out and stained with oil. If anything, Tad felt hot just looking at him.

The brightness of Lynch's shirt was almost as unexpected, because he had never seen him in anything but the school uniform, or black clothes — it was a red Coca Cola t-shirt, a little too small on him.

Tad made a step closer, reaching his hand for that weird handshake-high-five that Gansey and Parrish often did. Parrish took a step back and that step meant he was hips-to-hips with Lynch who was clinging to him. Instead of moving out of the way or yelling at Lynch to move out of the way, Parrish just stood there, ignoring it completely, like this was something normal.

"So," he began, pointedly ignoring Lynch. "What are you doing here?"

"Grocery," Parrish said and when Tad didn't find anything to reply with for a minute, he added. "We ran out of toothpaste. And some other stuff."

The we there was very explicit.

"You want something, shithead, or can we do our thing without your stalker eyes on us?"

Lynch was pleasant as always.

Maybe Tad should ask Parrish if he was blackmailed into, well, whatever that was. Maybe Parrish would finally realize all the hints Tad had been giving him and realize that he had options other than Lynch.

But then he realized — it had been Lynch's voice, back in the toilet paper alley, just unbelievably calm.

#trc #outsider pov #pynch #the raven cycle #my fics #my writing #TRC #Tad Carruthers

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blarrghe · 3 years

Note

"I called you at 2am because I need you" for... is it too indulgent to ask for Dorian x Anders?

never too much! Decided on a straight sequel to the last one, so here’s modern au resident!Anders and politician!Dorian after a long shift. --

He had three hours left in his shift when he got the text from Barb. He looked suspiciously down at his phone when it buzzed. Barb’s contact was in his phone with a little butterfly next to her name, to match the tattoo on her ankle and the bright and fluttery nature of her personality. He liked Barb, but she was almost definitely asking him to cover her shift, and he debated opening the message for several minutes before doing so with a reluctant sigh. Barb was going through some things; messy divorce, two little kids to look after all on her own, the pay they made here and the stress that came with it.

“Can’t find a sitter, can you take a shift?” read the first text, Anders was going to say yes anyway, but then two more came in, buzzing in quick succession. “unless you want to babysit? I’d give you my pay!” bright, chipper texting tone, accompanied by several hopeful looking emojis, “and brownies! 🍫” Barb did make really excellent brownies. He considered taking her up on the second offer, but he really wasn’t sure he had the energy for kids who weren’t bed-ridden or in need of medical care. He could turn on Fun Doctor Mode like a lightswitch for the kids down in pediatrics, but kids who wanted to refuse bedtime and stay up watching TV they weren’t mature enough to handle? He shook his head, half smiling over the offer of brownies, half frowning over the decision he’d made before he even opened the first message. Barb deserved to get the time with her kids, anyway.

“I’ve got you covered.” Kissy face cat emoji, knife and fork emoji.

“Lifesaver!!!!!” every single colour of heart.

He pencilled his name in on the clipboard for the next rotation, and began to regret the fact that he’d so quickly stuffed down the pastry Dorian had brought him earlier as he tried to remember if he had enough coins in the pockets of his coat for both a bag of pretzels from the vending machine and the bus home. He didn’t, but he’d have more luck charming the bus driver into a free ride than the vending machine into giving up its snacks, so he went to his locker and fished out the last of his bus money.

The rest of his shift went by in a blur of activity, up and down halls as his white-soled shoes squeaked and squawked along the linoleum floors, up and down stairs that were faster than waiting for elevators, thankless pages from doctors all across the sprawling hospital, avoiding his shift supervisor in case she asked about Barb. Then Barb’s shift was much the same, for the four and a half hours after that. It was nearing two am when he finally staggered out to the bus stop, and well past it by the time he arrived home — on foot, because the bus driver had not, in fact, let him ride for free. Just what he got for putting hope into the kindness of strangers. One kind act was, apparently, the extent of his daily karma allotment. Fair enough — he could still almost taste the honey of that pastry on his lips; either an uncommonly good morsel, or he was just drastically underfed. The latter, but the pastry-giver was certainly more than he deserved.

Shit. Dorian. He’d asked him to call. Anders looked blearily at the clock on his stove as he kicked off his shoes and plodded over to the cabinet to dish out some kibble for Ser Pounce. The cold tile floor was a welcome relief on his worn out feet, though the fact that he could feel it at all was a testament to the grave state of his socks. Ser Pounce pounced down from his perch above the cabinets to give some love and a swath of shedding cat hair to Anders’ legs, then nibbled at his food while Anders opened his fridge to try to figure something out for himself. He sniffed at the milk, decided it was probably still fine, and then poured it over a heaping bowl of sugary cereal. Yeah, he’d have made a pretty shit babysitter.

Anders took his bowl with him to his bed, flopping down on the lumpy mattress with a sigh that fully emptied his lungs, and pulled out his phone. He opened his message history and pulled up the conversation with Dorian. Not much there, but what there was made him smile. Mostly short, friendly messages. No emojis except for the one he’d stuck next to Dorian’s name in the contact page — a snake, not his first choice, but he’d embarassed himself by asking the man which one he’d like when he first scored his number, and snake was what he’d picked. Anders would have gone with the diamond, or the little tophat, or maybe the cat with hearts for eyes…

Anyway, then it had turned out that Dorian was a very formal texter. Proper punctuation and fully articulated words and all that. Anders had spent far too many minutes in their text-based conversations together fretting over how immature it would come off to use an abbreviation for laughter versus spelling out the words “haha”, or if even that was too juvenile. But he and Dorian were both all sarcastic humour and chastising bits of flirtation, and he also fretted about the tone of that without it.

“you up?” he wrote, then hovered his thumb over the send button for thirty or so seconds before deciding that it was worth the shot. Worse came to worst, Dorian would reply with a friendly apology and an offer to chat the next morning. He was dependable like that.

“Depends, is this a booty call?” came the almost instant reply. Alone in his room, Anders blushed.

Blushing emoji, monkey covering his eyes emoji, sweat-smile emoji… delete, delete, delete. “No, just miss you,” DELETE, definitely delete. He tried typing some other things. “Just got in, but thinking of you…” no. “You wish lol” haha? Neither. He erased the message and began again, but then the phone screen lit up with “Dorian🐍”, buzzing as it rang.

“The little dots were driving me mad. Did you just get in?” His voice was like honey, too.

“Yeah, covered for Barb.”

“Again?”

Anders leaned back against his pillow, closing his eyes as Dorian’s concern blanketed over him. “She couldn’t find a sitter.”

“You’re too nice for your own good.” Dorian scolded him gently through the phone, and it probably said something unhealthy about Anders that hearing Dorian admiringly call him nice made the whole last five hours of life-draining overtime and bitter walk home worth it.

“She offered me brownies,” he shrugged the compliment off, “what can I say? I’m a sucker for chocolate.”

“I’ll remember that.” Dorian purred, causing Anders to almost second guess his response to the idea of a booty call, exhausted or not. “So, not a booty call then?” Anders groaned inwardly, wishing it were, but no. Not unless Dorian wanted to talk to him on the phone the whole way over to keep him from falling asleep before he arrived, and even then.

“I just — uh…” he was going to say something about the book, but he hadn’t actually had time yet to look at it. His heart rate quickened with panic, he needed to find something to keep Dorian on the phone. “Thanks for the visit today.” Yes, because that warranted a phone call at three in the morning. “Sorry if I woke you…”

“Nonsense. I’m always awake at this hour. It’s a terrible habit of mine.” Dorian did indeed sound very wakeful. Probably also very disappointed in the grogginess of Anders’ own voice.

“Mm,” Anders muttered, his eyes closing under the warmth of Dorian’s voice through the phone again.

“But you sound awful.”

“Ran out of bus fare,” Anders explained, “had to walk… long day.” On a better night, Dorian might listen to his work gossip and share some rants of his own; they made quite a pair, both always seeming too short on time and too packed with stress to get out much, both always angry with their bosses — though Dorian was frustrated by beaurocracy constantly getting in the way of his efforts at world-saving, while Anders’ patients gave him fulfilment enough, it was just that his pockets were perpetually empty and all his managers were slave drivers.

“Why don’t you have a bus pass?” Dorian sighed at him. A bus pass was a hundred bucks up front at the beginning of the month, and with payday always landing two weeks after but every other bill needing to paid right then too… but he didn’t really want to explain that particular predicament to Dorian, who had a flashy suit for every day of the week and a car that cost about as much as Anders was worth in medical school debt. “Well, you can call me next time. I’d give you a ride.” he purred on that note too, having fun with his double entendres. Anders chuckled.

“I’ll keep you in mind,” he promised. Though the thought of begging his quasi-boyfriend for a ride at two am made him shudder. Still, not quite a lie; he always seemed to have Dorian on his mind at the end of a long shift.

“Since I have you, dinner?” The inflection of the question was a little high. Anders crunched on a mouthful of cereal with his eyes still closed and mumbled something unintelligable. “You’re off Friday, aren’t you? Do me a favour and don’t pick up any more shifts. I have a place in mind I think you’ll like.”

“Mm?” He thought about the kind of places Dorian would think were good spots for a dinner date, and was very glad that he couldn’t see the blue-tinted milk running down his chin.

“It’s a surprise.” Back to low purring, that nervousness or whatever it had been apparently gone again. Anders liked the warm flirtatious tone, but the little breaks into uncertainty were what kept him coming back for more. So much in common. “I’ll pick you up at seven?”

Anders “mm”’d through his mouthful of cereal in the affirmative.

“Amatus?” Even his pet names were classy. Anders would go with “love” if it weren’t so close to an unthinkable state of being, or “babe” if it weren’t for the fact that Dorian outshone that by a mile with amatus. His thoughts were all cat-with-heart-eyes emoji at the sound, and not much else.

Anders swallowed. “Yeah?”

“Get some sleep.”

“Mm.” Anders moved the bowl from his lap to the cluttered chair at his bedside, and leaned deeper into his pillow. “See you Friday, Dor” Dor, was that really the best he could do?

He heard Dorian hum contentedly on the other side of the line, “looking forward to it.” he said.

“Night, love.” Anders muttered, then very very quickly he hit end call, and shut his eyes tight.

#dorian x anders #modern au #my writing #my fic #I just wanted to write with emojis lol #late night phonecalls

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nite-shay · 4 years

Text

His Hero Part 3 -Kirishima Eijirou x Reader

AN: I am so so so so so sorry for how long this took! :/ I wish I had a valid excuse for this but I don’t… I hope ya’ll enjoy it!

Links: Part 1, Part 2 , Part 3

Also side note I know I’m messed up a few little things but I will edit tomorrow as I go through it. Its late D: But I promised myself I would post this today.

******

Two days…

Two long, boring desk duty days.

Kirishima sighed loudly as he signed and initialed what had to be the same form for the tenth time in the same case file!

Ah, bureaucracy of the hero world at its finest.

Now UA prepared him for a lot of things.

How to use his quirk fully, fighting villains, saving people, etc.

But one thing they didn’t prepare him for was the amount of paperwork that came with his hero career.

Hmm… maybe that’s why they gave so much homework…

Sign. Initial. Sign. Checkmark. Checkmark. Sign. Date. Wait, was he suppose to sign here or there? Crap, is that the right date? Did he just date everything wrong?! No wait, false alarm, the date is correct.

His chair gave a loud creak as he stretched his back, glancing up at the clock. He’d been at this for hours now, and he still hadn’t even made a dent in the wall of folders on his desk.

His mind started to wander as he stared up at the clock hands that he swore he saw moved backward a few times.

I wonder how (Y/N) doing…

It was crazy how badly he wanted to call up to the hospital and check on you, but… he was nervous. The last thing he wanted was for you to think he’s some creepy ex stalker who you literally barely knew you.

He just… was worried about you. He wasn’t looking for another hookup! No, no, no! He just wanted to see how you were. He did care about you, not in a creepy way just in a general way!

Luckily he wasn’t completely in the dark about your condition, thanks to his green-haired bro. The morning after the robbery, Kirishima woke up to a thoughtful text on your condition. He even got an update on your son, who loved his news toys and played hard with them till he passed out in his mother’s arms.

God, he wished he could have seen it.

He sighed loudly before tossing the file in the ‘completed’ section while reaching for the next one. He blinked as he lifted up the hefty folder.

It was the toy store robbery.

Damn, this was going to be a long one—numerous villains, along with multiple injured civilians and a fair bit of collateral damage. This was going to take the rest of the day. Thankfully, though, Fatgum should be just getting back from lunch, and the store just had a damn good security system installed last week.

“Well, would ya look at that? I guess paper really does beat rock.” A slightly slimmer Fatgum chuckled as he walked in their shared office, arms full of takeaway bags.

“Ha Ha,” Kirishima laughed sarcastically, glancing over to the older hero. “Got enough food, Toyo?”

“I used quite a bit of energy yesterday on that emergency call. Gotta bulk back up.” He dumped the food on to the small table across the room. “Plus, we’re going to be here a while when those reports.”

“Yeaaaaah. Just got to the toy store one. Did the detective ever send the surveillance footage over?”

“Yeap, got it this morning. Check your email. I think you’re on it too.“

"Sweet. I’ll load it up.”

“And I got the snacks,” He grinned as he held up one of the bags.

After some quick furniture rearrangement, two sat side by side in their chairs, video buffed, snacks to side, pen and paper at the ready for notes. This was still work after all. They chose to use the blondes’ monitor since it was bigger. He had seniority, so he typically got the good stuff, which the redhead was cool with.

The first 20 minutes of the video was pretty boring so then ended up fast-forwarding until a familiar pair entered the frame.

It was you and your son. The two of you were slowly making your way down the sidewalk towards the store. Kirishima, who’d previously been slouched and looking rather bored, was not hyper-focused on the screen in front of them. Which didn’t go unnoticed by his mentor, who just snickered quietly to himself.

“Look! There they are!” The younger hero couldn’t help but smile as he watched the two you. You had a sly smile on while your son, who was looking rather frustrated, said something to you. He watched as your lips moved, but nothing came from the speakers. What were the two of you talking about?

Damn, he wished there was audio.

“They look pretty happy, don’t they?” Fat gum comment just as you pointed to the shop, the kids’ faces lit up like a Christmas tree. The kid wasted no time as he grabbed your hand and dragged you inside the store.

“Yeah, they really do.” Kirishima grinned as he pressed a key, switching the view to inside. The redhead beamed as the two of you bounced from isle to isle, your son getting physically more and more excited.

Something churned in him.

Something that’s been happening here a lot recently. He noticed it a few weeks ago.

How his gaze would linger on families he’d pass down the street or on Bakugou as he interacted with his daughter. He really didn’t know what it was at first and just tried to ignore it.

But when he ran into you and your son two days ago, those emotions were brought to the forefront. And these last two days of drowning himself in work wasn’t just to get you off his mind. It was to drown out his feelings.

He… wanted this…

A wife…. A kid… A family…

Not that he doesn’t have a family! He’s still got both of his parents plus his sister he talks to on a pretty regular basis. He’s also really close with his friends to the point where he thought of them as family. Hell, his literal best friend lives right next door to him. You’d think he has it all?

A loving and supportive family. Amazing friends. An awesome career that is literally his dream.

Sounds fantastic, right?

But sometimes, after the long hard days. His apartment just felt empty.

He was greeted with a quiet (Bakugou’s yelling is more like background noise to him now) home.

No one to greet him when he gets home after a long day.

No one to just cuddle and share thoughts with. Even the stupid or random ones.

No one to share meals with while they go over plans or talk about their days.

No one to have petty arguments with like who ate all the cereal and didn’t put it on the list, who left the cap off the toothpaste, not replacing the toilet paper.

No one but himself.

He had a few roommates for a while, but they all moved out to live with their s/o. He’d tried dating and even had a girlfriend move in with him once, but that ended badly. Hero life was hard. Being the significant other of a hero, well, that could be even harder some days. They broke up not long after, and he’d been single ever since.

He mentally sighed. Guess it was the bachelor’s life him…

He continued to watch the two of you browse another aisle as you made your way to the back of the store. From the angle of the camera, he could barely see you now. His hand itched to switch the view to the rear camera, but he restrained himself. This was his job; he needs to watch for the villains, not ogle you. No matter how beautiful you were. How soft and sweet your voice was. Or how quickly that demeanor changed when it came to the safety of your son. He knows first hand you don’t come between a momma bear and her cub. He wouldn’t lie, seeing you go into protective mode, just… damn.

Thankfully, before that thought could go any further, two figures walked through the front door and into the frame. It was the villains. They could only watch as the villains made their way over to the front desk and the shopkeeper.

The villains split up, the smaller one stayed near the desk while the larger one stalked around closer to the racks. He could see the villains and the shopkeeper talking but couldn’t make out what was being said. Lip reading wasn’t his thing. But it was apparent the villains were trying to intimidate the scared-looking man.

A flash in the corner of the screen brought his attachment back to you as you and your son moved closer to the front and ultimately closer into danger.

“No..go back…” Kirishima whispered under his breath as he watched the next bit unfold. The brute yelled something, gave his partner before giving the rack on end a hard shove. Toys and plushies tumbled from their metal shelves as the racking toppled over into the one beside it.

He already knew what was coming.

That rack fell into the next, which fell into the next one. Line by line, row by row. All the shelves dominoed into each.

His eye darted from the villain back to where you were, his body on full alert. Your head jerks to the side, no doubt from the sound of the loud crashing. With reflexes that surprised even him, he watched as you grabbed your son just as the shelf beside you gave in to the weight of the rows before it.

“Is there any other view on them?” He couldn’t stop himself from asking. Yeah they were suppose to keep their eyes on the villain's for the report but...

“Yeah, there’s one in the back.” Fat was already reaching for the keyboard as he glared at the screen, his food seemingly forgotten. The screen flashed for switching over to the back of the shop.

It was total chaos. Toys, plushies, and other items were scattered everywhere from the falling rows. And there in the middle of the disaster area was you and your son. Nearly all of you laid beneath the rack currently pinning you to the floor, save for your one arm and your head. Your son wasn’t in any better of a position; he could only see the top of his head. Suddenly the video stopped. Fatgum had paused the video before playing back the part of you, grabbing your son, right before the rack fell.

“Good reflexes.” The older man sighed in relief. “Little guy would have been crushed if he’d stayed .” Kirishima could only nod as they continued to watch. The video was back to where it was before, with the two of you being pinned under the rack. Even though he couldn’t seem much of you, he knew the two of you were scared. How could you not be? Damn, he should have gotten there faster!

If he’d been faster, maybe… you wouldn’t have gotten hurt as bad, or your son wouldn’t have been as scared. Though, to be honest, it was just chance they’d been in the area. Guess you could say it was a right place at the right time kind deal. The two heroes just finished their shift and were heading back to the agency. They’d gotten into a debate on food and made a wrong turn, which put them on that street. A loud crash caught the attention of a civilian across who called to them from across the street.

If they hadn’t been there, how long would it have taken for the call to come in? How long would you have been pinned there? How long would your son have to watch you suffer, alone, scared?

A shadow in the corner of the screen shook him from his thoughts. It was the bigger villain making his way towards the back of the store.

“Hide…” Kirishima mumbled as they watched the villain make his way over to you. You shifted, hiding your son further into the small hollow, but leaving you exposed and unprotected.

“The detective said in the email that a part of this was pretty hard to watch, I’m guessing that’s about to come up…” Fatgum muttered sadly, putting his snacks down on the table. They watched as the villain stopped in front of you. The man was clearly saying something to you, but you only kept your head down, shielding your young son. The villain tensed for a moment. Was it something you did? Or maybe you said? Whatever it was clearly angered him as he gave you a wicked grin before putting his foot on the rack above you. Before, the redhead wished there was sound, but now, he was grateful for the silence.

"That bastard!“ He saw red as he watched you scream from the man applying more force to the shelf.

"Easy Red, they’re both ok, that guy won’t be able t-.” The older man tried to calm down his partner, well, until the villain kicked you in the face. That made the older hero jump to his feet. “That fiend! Just you wait till we get there! You’ll regret that!” As enraged as Kirishima was, he couldn’t help but smile and chuckle at how quick his mentor’s demeanor changed.

After picking his char up off the floor, Fat sat back down, and the two returned to watching the video. It wasn’t long, for they saw the villain’s lip moves, still looking over for walking off-screen. You weren’t moving, and your face was now covered in blood.

Nothing moved on the screen for the longest time. Fat was just about to reach over and speed up the video when something caught his eye.

It was your son.

Kirishima’s heart broke as he watched the small boy pull himself out from under the wreckage. He was shaking, and his clothes were torn, but thankfully, he wasn’t hurt. Well, not physically anyway. How the kid managed to walk away from that unscathed was a miracle. (Y/S/N) looked in the villain’s direction before turning back to you. It was hard to see the kids face at this angle, but the heroes didn’t need to. They knew he was crying as he gently shook you, trying to wake you up.

Sadly you weren’t waking up, not then anyway.

If he’d been in that kid’s shoes at his age, he would have given up right then and there.

But not this kid.

No, instead, he grabbed your arm and started pulling you. Trying to drag you up from under the rack.

This elementary school kid, who was just the victim of a villain attack, was trying with all his might to save his mom. He jerked and strained as he tried to pull you from under the massive weight, but you weren’t budging. He gave one final strong pull before slipping on remnants of a displaying, causing him to fall back on his butt. Kirishima had to physically stop himself from moving.

The kid was back on his feet in a flash, this time though he was trying to lift the rack. He knew he couldn’t lift the shelf; even with a quirk, it would be impossible for him given his size. But there he was still pushing with everything he had.

“Poor little guy. He must have been terrified but look at him. He’s really giving it his all."

"He’s an awesome kid. If it’d been me, I’d be too scared to move.” Kirishima’s voice was full of pride but held a trace of sadness. The redhead was proud of the squirt. Most kids, hell, most adults would have been paralyzed with fear.

But not him.

Despite the fear.

Despite the pain.

Despite the hopelessness.

He still kept trying.

He’d make a hell of a hero one day…

A flash of red in the corner of the screen jolted him from his thoughts.

It was himself. They’d finally arrived to help. While the video played out in front of them, the rest of his senses played his memory. He could hear the kids cry for help. He could feel the weight of the shelf as he moved behind the kid to rescue you. The warmth yet limpness of your body as he pulled you from the wreckage. The wailing of your son calling out for you. The relief when he felt your pulse still beating beneath the fragile skin of your neck. The overwhelming emotions as tried to comfort the small, terrified child in his arms.

Fatgum paused the video once everyone was out of frame. You on a stretcher and him with your son still in his arms.

“You did really good out there today, Red.” Fatgum grinned at him before reaching over to the file on the desk, flipping through the report.

“Thanks.” Kirishima sighed. “I just wish I could have done more. Maybe if I’d been faster, (Y/N) and (S/N) wouldn’t have had to suffer as much. Some hero I am…"

"Don’t say that! You did everything you could and believe me when I say this, at that moment, you truly became that kids hero.”

“Hmm…" Fatgum gave the folder in his hand a puzzled look before hit rewind on the footage.

"What’s up?” Kirishima glanced up at the larger hero.

“It’s nothing really. Just wondering something. The paramedics said the kid was ok right?”

“Yeah, they checked over him at the scene. His clothes were torn up some, but surprisingly, the little guy didn’t have a scratch on him.” A light bulb went off. “Wait, How did he do that? He was under that rack too!”

“That’s what I was wondering. Maybe he used his quirk? If he did, given the shape he momma was in, it might have saved his life.”

“Hmm… well, he did say that his quirk was kind of like mine. But I didn’t see him use it.” He thought back. Fat paused the video to right as the rack was falling on to the two of you. It was still hard to watch, but they went through it frame by frame. “I can’t see anything resembling a quirk…”

“Hmm… I can’t tell anything. If he has a defensive quirk, it doesn’t really stand out. Plus, with all the objects falling around them, it makes it harder to tell.

"Maybe his clothes are hiding it?”

“Hey, can you go to the part where he crawls out? I think there was a pretty good shot of him there.” Fatgum nod hit a few keys to comply. “There! Right there!” They let the video play out from there.

Until they saw it. For a split second, the kid is looking right at the camera, showing his whole face. And something… just looked off. Was something wrong with the camera? Maybe it was a trick of the light or the lens?

“Can we zoom in on his face?” Kirishima leaned forward, looking closely at the screen as Fat zoomed in on the boy’s face. The screen was blurry for a minute, but slowly the video started to render, making the image clearer.

What? Was his skin…. hardening?

No, it was just hardening.. it was sharpening too… Just like his…

Kirishima felt his heart take a free fall into his stomach.

The kid didn’t have a quirk similar to his.

No, his quirk was exactly like his!

The room started to spin as he felt like every molecule of breathable air suddenly took an exit stage right, right out of the room.

“Hey… Kirishima… when did you meet (L/N) again?” Kirishima could barely hear Fat’s question over the ringing in his ears.

Links: Part 1, Part 2 , Part 3

Thanks for the read! If you want see the other stuff I’ve done, click the link bellow!

MasterList

Tags: @hot-pocket01

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overwhelmedbyskeletons · 3 years

Text

When Nothing Moves

I can’t sleep. The sun is too bright.

I started this job cleaning out fruit slicers all night a month ago and I haven’t had a good nights sleep since. Every night filled with tossing and turning, trying to find a way to comfortably shield my eyes from the suns blinding light. Working a graveyard hours job meant I was sleeping all day and working all night. The cruddy curtains in my room were doing fuck-all for blocking out sunlight. Some of the guys at my job that were friendly enough told me to buy some blackout curtains and it will make my room completely dark, even with the sun beating down and hopefully it will help me get some good rest. after my work week ended, in my car I ordered that highest-reviewed blackout curtains I could find online and they were due to arrive at my apartment the next morning, in seven hours.

I woke the next day to a knock on my door and a shine directly into my eyes. I could have rearranged my entire room several times and still wouldn’t be able find a way to not get work on my tan while I sleep. I hurried to the door to get the package and gave a wave to the delivery driver before they made it down the stairs out of view.

Putting up the curtains was smooth, even though they were quite heavy material. My biggest fear was that they would pull the curtain rod from the wall, but that worry didn’t last long as the void that my bedroom had become was a sight for sore and tired eyes. I poured myself a glass of water in the kitchen before sitting down on my bed. Before I could take a sip, the comfort of my sheets began to sing symphonies to my tired muscles and lull me back to sleep.

I slept in, something that was unheard of even before I started my backwards sleep schedule. The clock on the bedside table read 9:23pm in red digital font, illuminating my wallet and phone that I had forgotten to plug in after last nights shift and was now most definitely dead. Still in a sleep state, I reached down to grab the charger and plug it into my phone when I heard a noise come from the other side of the bed. A tapping in a rhythmic matter, which would explain why i hadn’t noticed it sooner, but now it had gotten louder, almost annoyed at me paying it no mind and I froze leaning halfway off the bed. The jolt of fear that swarmed my body woke me up better than any instant java could ever wish. It knows that I know and its playing with me now. The tapping is getting faster and multiplies and I now that it is the sound of fingernails tapping on my wall.

(Did somebody break in am I really going to get murdered in my bed after the first night of decent sleep in my life?)

The tapping stopped suddenly, followed by a bang on the wall knocking out one of the nails holding up the curtains. My fists clenched among other things. I roll off the bed into a stance and with a sorry excuse of a warcry ready to fight whatever it was in my room to the death if need be. Nothing was there; I was sure of that. The curtains had fallen letting in the bright glow from the 7-11 across the street, revealing the only thing out of the ordinary in my room was that I needed to clean.

“Must’ve been a dream.” I said out loud, an attempt to calm myself after what I just experienced or just only imagined.

I flicked the flicked the lights on and fixed the curtains. Hammering in the nails all a little more for good measure before walking out of my room to start my day.

My apartment is in no meaning of the word interesting. I’ll state that I had, two chairs, a couch, some scattered goodwill tables of varying size, and a flatscreen TV on a small Swedish table decorated with a collection of games and movies. It wasn’t much, but I enjoyed what I had.

I prepared myself a bowl of cereal and sat on the couch to watch a show when I noticed movement down the hallway into my room. It wasn’t a natural movement in any sense and even now it is hard to explain. It was as if the world had lost focus of that specific spot in my bedroom doorway and it had grown hazy and distorted. It had the height of a man in a sheet ghost’s clothing and it was raising what I presumed to be its arms when an ad on the TV startled me back to reality. I started up a show and began eating my food quickly, doing my best to forget what might be lurking down the hall and failing as thoughts raced through my head.

(I didn’t check under the bed FUCK no one can fit under there anyways FUCK THE CLOSET FUCK it’s nothing probably just a reflection YOU HAVE NO MIRRORS IN THERE DUMBASS AND YOU CLOSED THE CURTAINS IT’S A GHOST YOU ARE BEING HAUNTED CONGRATULATIONS SHIRLEY FUCKING JACKSON WOULD WRITE A BOOK ABOUT YOU CALLED THE IDIOT’S HAUNTING IF SHE WAS STILL ALIVE)

Frustrated with myself I hopped up and marched down the hall to my room huffing and puffing with each authoritative stomp, making sure that whoever await beyond the door knew I meant the most serious of business, as well as sloshing my breakfast everywhere. As I pushed the door open fully I was rushed by what I can only describe as a shadow, knocking me on my back. spilling cereal and milk all over me and as I looked up I could see the shadow turn left at the end of the hallway into the TV room and out of my sight.

I was terrified. I tried to stand myself up while keeping my sights on where I last saw it. As I got to my knees and began to prop up, the shadow peaked around the corner with a featureless, translucent face starring at me with what I assumed was malicious intent. Frozen in fear, I could only muster up the breath to ask a single question.

“Who?”

To which, to my absolute horror it responded in a echoed whisper.

“Boo.”

And vanished.

With my pants shit and my legs like jello, it took me a moment to breath, let alone move. When Blood returned to my veins I hastily made my way to the bathroom to clean myself of spilled Golden Grahams and milk and to face the realization that what I had just witnessed was anything but normal. I spent a moment arguing with my thoughts, fighting the impulse to sleep in my car. My reflection in the bathroom mirror helped to ground me in reality, to remind me that I am fine and no harm was done. I convinced myself of a resident Casper The Friendly, albeit roughhousing ghost. I soon after left the bathroom.

I poured myself another, bigger bowl of cereal and sat down to watch anything the TV had to offer. I spent the rest of the night on the couch, eating and finding any excuse to not look down the hallway.

At around 2:51am I had had enough of wracking my brain, thinking that at any moment the shadow would reappear and attack me again, this time finishing the job. I bolted down the hallway to my bedroom, grabbed my keys and wallet and headed out my apartment to go across the street to the 7-11 for a early morning slurpee. The cashier knew me and joked about my usual purchase of sugary drinks and snacks. I gave no response, paid my $6.23 and headed out the door.

As I was crossing the street back to my apartment, I looked up to my second floor bedroom window, half hoping to see nothing, other half expecting bloody Mary herself. After what I had been through that night, I’m not sure why I even went back into that apartment. The curtain rod had been torn out of the wall again and standing in my room were two of the shadow figures latched to the windowsill, with the distinct outline of hands pushed against the glass. They watched me as I continued crossing the street; my heart was almost bursting out of my chest. I was running on fear induced auto-pilot and my destination was my apartment door. When I reached my door I finally paused and reflected on what had happened tonight.

(If they wanted me dead, They could have done it already. They were playing games with me, but why?)

I stood in front of my door for a minute before realizing I had never locked it and walked right in ready to confront whatever was inside. I flicked the kitchen light on, set my drink and bag down, and looked down the dark hallway. Spilling out of my room were dozens of shadows piling over each other, all different shapes and heights of darkness, fading in and out as if there was a draft blowing through them. I began nervously pacing in my small kitchen, checking on the hallways inhabitants every few rounds. They never moved. After a while a voice moaned from my bedroom.

“Leave”

“No.” I spat out responded in annoyance.

“Leave or...”

“Or fucking what?” I shouted with such ferocity that my neighbors definitely heard me.

“Die.”

All the blood drained from my face and immediately the shadows in the hall began screaming and moaning, shifting from side to side,all while inching towards me. My legs turned gave out from under me. trying to catch myself from falling I had turned the kitchen light off which seemed to invite the shadows to come closer. As they got closer, their faces appeared mangled and distorted consisting of holes where a human features should be. As their shadows began to overtake my motionless body, I shut my eyes so tight that it hurt. Amidst the moaning I heard one last phrase.

“Sleep again now. We’ll do the rest.”

The next thing I know, i’m laying on the doormat outside of my apartment. I didn’t care how I got there. I quickly got on my feet and down the stairs to my car. I closed my eyes as I backed out of the parking lot. I didn’t want to ever look at that window ever again.

I stayed at my friend Aiden’s place for a week. He lived alone, so he liked the company and he had the room for it, so he didn’t mind. I had told him a lie of how the landlord was spying on me when I showered and once tried to seduce me while fixing the sink. I think he believed it.

I only wanted to go back to the apartment once to get my stuff. After a week of staying with Aiden, the two of us drove to the apartment building and found that where my bedroom window used to be was blown out, stained black with burn marks. Aiden didn’t know what to say and I was beyond confused. We parked the car and I went to the landlord’s door alone and asked what had happened. He told me in detail that four days again my room had exploded from a gas leak and that I was lucky I went on vacation or else i’d be a deadman. There was nothing to be packed up that wasn’t ash. I apologized to him about his building, and said goodbye. I headed back to my friends car who was waiting with a drink for me from across the street. I got into the car without a word.

“What the fuck happened? Did he try to kill you? Tried to burn you alive cuz you weren’t turned on by his wrinkles?” Aiden said as he started the car.

“No, he doesn’t know what happened. Gas leak they think, he told me.” I said. “Let me take one last look.”

“Oh, sure. Of course.” He said, shutting the engine off. I rested my arms on the top of his car looking up to my once bedroom window now black from the fires, but somehow still intact. I thought I saw something and ran across the street to see it closer. There were two marks on the burnt windowsill; marks I could swear were burned in hands.

“You ok, Rick?” Aiden shouted from the driver’s seat.

“Yea, no, I’m good. Just getting a closer look.” I said as I ran back to the car. “Just saying goodbye is all.”

“Well alrighty, you want to grab some burgers?”

I nodded and smiled.

I never asked him if he saw the handprints.

We pulled out of the parking lot, passing my old apartment building one last time. I instinctively waved to the window that used to be my bedroom. Nothing waved back.

#short story #ghosts #horror #short-story

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borderlinebastard · 3 years

Note

yes i would like to know your schedule! i have so much trouble with sleeping, i fluctuate between too much and too little and i can never sleep at the hours that i actually want to

A guide to being Borderlinebastard for a day:

6am: wake up to take meds then snooze for a bit (I can't eat for two hours after taking them)

7am: read the news on my phone or go for a shower, make a list of things to do today, and get changed

8am: make breakfast (an omelette with fruit) and do the dishes straight after, brush teeth

9am: 20-40 minute walk

10am: do some chores (like taking out the bins, hoovering, laundry) while listening to a podcast

11am: meditate for 15-30 minutes, 11.30am on Mondays I have therapy now so meditating is good for a) thinking of what I want to talk about and b) relaxing before talking about triggering stuff. This would be a good time for a hobby but I've been struggling to find one.

12.30pm: make lunch (chicken salad and some snacks I have lying around) and do dishes, take vitamin D (the UK isn't that sunny atm) and my other med that needs to be taken with food

The afternoons are usually very chill because a) I get tired and b) I don't have much to do lol and I just go online (also leaves room for appointments or if I want to go see my friend or going grocery shopping), but I go for a walk around 3-4pm so I don't end up trying to nap. I find it hard to do chores by this time of day so if I have anything that needs done, make a note for tomorrow

5 or 7pm is dinner (varies but tuna mayo with sweetcorn and pasta or beef stew is an example)

10.30pm: turning off my laptop, brushing my teeth, getting ready for bed. (And I fall asleep pretty quickly after what felt like a long day! Sometimes I've woken up at 2-3am but I just go to the bathroom then go back to bed

So thats the schedule I'm trying to stick with (its only been a week since I started) because before this: I straight up just went on my laptop from the moment I woke up till bedtime (which could be 2am, or 7am...). So this is progress to me. There's a lot of gaps because I need them. Everyone's will be different considering they might have work or school or other responsibilities (or feel capable of doing more/less).

On the days I don't feel well and sleep in too long I shorten the schedule to:

Easy Breakfast (cereal bar)

Taking meds and Brushing teeth

Meditating

Lunch (same as usual or a ready meal)

Dinner (anything but takeaway, because it makes me sluggish and will likely set me off on a binge-fest for the rest of the week)

I go to bed earlier, because obviously my body/mind is tired, so hopefully tomorrow won't be the same.

I've been thinking of changing the weekend to the mini schedule so that I have more energy on the weekdays, its a work in progress.

You'll always have the next day or week to start fresh! So far I haven't had two sick days in a row because I start to miss the routine quickly. If you're trying to follow this schedule, it'll take a while to get used to it. I had a lot of back pain and blisters when I started walking but they mostly went away after a few days :)

#asks #schedule #routine #daily #recovery #actuallymentallyill #mental health #bastard.txt

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pixelatedrose · 4 years

Text

Soulbound Part Two

First | Part 2 | Next

Ao3 link

Masterpost

Word Count: 2,955

Pairings: Platonic LAMP, Prinxiety, Logicality, Background Remile

Warnings: uncensored swearing, bullying, mention of drugs and alcohol, threats, Unsympathetic Remus, Unsympathetic Deceit, implied mention of sex (wow this fic went from 1 to like 67 real fast) Please leave a comment and tell me if I missed anything that should be tagged or if you want anything tagged!

Summary:

Roman Prince and Logan Rose are soulmates. They’re platonic soulmates though. They both have the same Soul mark to prove it. But they both have one other soul mark, binding them to one other person. And when they find Patton Miles, it just so happens that they’re both his soulmate. Logan being his Soulbound Soulmate, and Roman being a platonic soulmate. But something feels missing. And it feels filled, shockingly so, when they meet a certain someone a year and a half after they found each other.

IMPORTANT NOTE!! I changed all of their last names cause I didn't like them. So. Yeah. Also sorry this seems a bit late, I got caught up with doing things and school and we had a ton of snow (where I live we never get snow) and so I was a little distracted all week. Sorry about that y'all!! But its here now, so yeah!! Hope you enjoy!!

Chapter 2

Roman woke up with a start, his wrist stinging. He looked over at his clock that read a time much to late- or early- for it to be reasonable. He rubbed his stinging skin and tried to go back to sleep.

This was a regular occurrence. Waking up at two am to a stinging wrist or shoulder, sometimes an ankle or forearm. Once he woke up nearly screaming as his left side felt like it was on fire.

He didn't quite know what it was, but Roman never thought much about it. I mean, people woke up with little pricks sometimes, right? He'd probably slept on it wrong or accidentally hit his bedframe in his sleep.

Roman lay in bed, tossing and turning as he tried to fall back asleep. He looked over to the clock once again and sighed. It was only an hour before his alarm went off.

Not seeing the point in trying to go to sleep anymore, Roman swung his legs over the side of his bed and started getting ready for the day.

After taking a shower and pulling in clothes, Roman's alarm rang out two seconds after he was done styling and drying his previously wet hair. He slapped it off as quick as possible, suddenly not wanting to wake anyone else up.

Roman inched out of his room and into his brother's, flipping on the lights, much to his brother's dismay.

"Turn the goddamn lights off…." His brother muttered through his pillow.

Roman sighed. "Nope! C'mon Remus, it's time for you to rise and shine- or whatever it is that you do when you're awake- and get ready for the first day of school!" He walked over to the broad window and threw open the blinds, letting light filter and flow into the already lot room, the sun beams hitting Roman's twin in the face.

"AaaAAAHH!!" His brother screamed. He sat up in bed and shielded his face. He glared at Roman after adjusting to the light. "I'm going to sell your organs on the internet you pile of horse sh-"

"Love you too, brother! I'm gonna go make breakfast now okay bye!!" Roman zipped downstairs, not wanting to stick around to see whether his brother would act on that threat or not.

Ten minutes later Remus came loudly down the stairs and yelled at his brother. "DID YOU GET OUT ALL THE CEREAL AND THE POPTARTS?!!?"

Roman sighed, looking at the counter that was overflowing with four different cereals and a box of poptarts. "YEAH BRO MAN I GOTCHU!!" He yelled back.

Remus entered the kitchen area with his heavy heeled boots and skipped over to the cereals. He poured a little of each box into a bowl and unwrapped a poptart and crumbled it on top. He went to the fridge and pulled out a carton of not milk but orange juice and poured it into the abomination that was in his bowl.

Roman looked away and tried focusing back on the eggs he had in the pan in front of him. "I cannot believe that you actually eat that, Remus! It's revolting!" Roman bemused.

Remus shoveled a spoonful into his mouth, staring at pointedly. "You," he sputtered through the mouthful of 'Cereal'. "My brother, have no taste." He swallowed and gestured to his bowl. "This is a masterpiece of a meal!!"

Roman made gagging noise and slid his single solitary egg onto a piece of toast. "That's not even a meal! I daresay it would harm someone rather than anything else!"

Remus scoffed and took another bite.

~~•~~

Today was the first day of their sophomore year, 10th grade and they couldn't wait for it to start. Or at least, Roman was excited. Remus had made his opinion adamant; he couldn't care less if the school caught fire.

But nonetheless, it was a day they'd all been awaiting, whether eagerly or with disdain.

Patton had stuffed his backpack full of snacks and colorful pins as gifts for his new classmates and friends.

Roman had excitedly roused his voice in preparation for theater and barber shop choir he was sure to audition for.

Logan had packed up notebooks and pencils and pens, all fitting perfectly in his backpack as he awaited learning, a year ahead of his peers.

Remus had done nothing but think up pranks and plans of destruction of freshman newbies for the start of the year. His phone pinged and he picked it up to look at it.

A boy known around school as Deceit had discretely packed his bag and pockets full of liquors and drugs to sell to anyone who'd buy. He looked at his email and raised an eyebrow. He turned to his messages and shot a text to his partner.

And a person of seemingly infinitesimal importance shrugged on a black and purple jacket and sighed heavily. He didn't look forward to this. What's to say it was going to be any different from last time?

And so, life started as sophomores for each and every one of them.

~~•~~

Virgil Sanders walked up to the front of his new high school. A place to start over… he thought.

He pushed his way through the doors and tried to think positively.

"Well helloooo there my good newbie of a kid!!" A voice rang out. Virgil startled back and bumped into someone behind him. How did someone get behind him so fast??

"Ah, ah! Don't be scared my good pal!" The person behind him said, his voice was a little too reassuring, a little too happy.

"I-I'm sorry...I'll just find my own way around…" he stammered out. He didn't want to try and be cocky and make enemies this early into the school year. And his anxiety was telling him to play it safe.

He didn't even see the two that were harassing him before a voice trilled out, "Oh there you are, babe!!"

Virgil felt an arm wrap around his shoulders. "Hon-ey you've got to stop running off like that! Gurl, you're gonna lose that cute purple head of yours in the crowd if your not careful!" Virgil looked up to see a boy wearing aviator shades and a leather jacket.

"Uhm--?"

Virgil started before the sunglasses'd guy turned and whispered in his ear, "Just play along, babe…"

"Right…" Virgil turned and kissed the strange man's cheek. "Sorry babe, won't happen again." He cuddled up to the man and wrapped his arms around his waist. If he was gonna play the part, might as well make it convincing.

"That's right honey bae! Now let's get you to class!" And the two walked away hand in hand.

As they rounded the corner, the man parted from Virgil and turned on him. "Sorry bout that honey, but gurl you were in real danger there!" He held out a hand. "The name's Remy b-t-dubs."

Virgil shook it. "Virgil. Thanks. And sorry for the kiss."

Remy laughed and waved his hand at Virgil. "Oh pah-lease babe! Trust me I probably enjoyed that more than you think I did!" He winked and laughed again at Virgil's flushed face. "Now, stay outa trouble, ya hear? Cause auntie Remy ain't always gonna be around to save that cute face of yours hun. But here's my number in case you need anything!" Remy took out what looked like a business card and handed it to Virgil.

Auntie Remy. Gossip wheel, late night counseling, party boy.

At the bottom a number was printed. "Hey what-" but Remy was already gone.

What just happened?

~~•~~

Remus was pissed. He had received the text from Deceit that morning that there was fresh meat and he was so ready to spill crickets in that loser's bag! And then that stupid 12th grade dumbass senior Remy had to show up and "save the day."

His eye caught a little freshman boy with broken glasses. He carried his books in his arms and had a smattering of freckles to accompany his bright red hair.

Perfect! Remus thought maliciously. And crept over to sink his teeth into his next victim.

"Hey there freckle face!" He called cheerily.

The boy seemed startled and pointed at himself as if to confirm.

Remus sighed. Wow this kid is dull… "Yeah you, scarecrow reject! Now Imma make this quick since I already lost one lunch income," he started, slinking around the kid. "Hand over the money you mommy gave you for food today else I'll make sure that it won't stay down."

The redhead seemed flustered. "Wh-what? B-but, I need that money!" He subconsciously reached for his pocket.

Bingo. Remus knew his type. Fear would get him what he wanted. He grabbed the kid by the front of his shirt, making the books tumble out of his hands. "Listen here, nerd! You gimme that money or else you're gonna be using it to mend all the bones I'll be snapping in you hand, here!" Remus held up one of the kid's spindly hands as an example, wagging it loosely in his face. His maniacal smile grew as he heard the kid whimper in fear.

Remus put pressure on one of the kid's fingers as the freckled boy didn't move. "Tic-Toc, brainless bastard!" He snickered sadistically.

"Fine!!" The kid yelped in fear and shoved the money at the bully. "Just leave me alone!"

Remus pushed the kid to the ground and shoved the money in his pocket. "As you wish, orange peel!" He stepped on the kid's discarded books and walked over to where Deceit watched.

"40-60, my snake bitch." Remus said, handing his partner 14 dollars of the 35.

Deceit counted the money and nodded. "I'm disappointed the newbie slipped by us…" he looked off at where the purple haired boy had been a few minutes prior. "But I think he'll be back…" His amber eyes glowed a near sickly yellow. "And this time we're playing the long game."

~~•~~

Remus had run off ahead of him so Roman entered the school's doors alone. He had wandered only a few steps inside before a blur of blue and gold barreled into him.

"GOOD TO SEE YOU, KIDDO!!" Patton shouted, squeezing Roman in an impossibly tight hug.

"Gah!! Good to see you too, Patton!! But," Roman gasped out, smiling. "I can't breathe, buddy."

"Oh my GOLLY gee!!" Patton shouted, releasing Roman into open air. "I'm sorry bout that, kiddo!"

"Really Patton, you should know your own strength by now. It'd be quite a shame if I lost my best friend before we graduated." A deep voice called, his voice laced with amusement.

Roman softly pushed Patton aside. "Logan!!" He shouted and subsequently barreled into the tall boy, retracting after a right squeeze to just a shoulder hug. "Buddy, it's good to see you!" He laughed.

Patton made a noise and the two boys turned to look at the shorter one. "And it's not good to see me?! I'm offended! Roman! I am your father-"

"Not my father-"

"And you will love me right now!"

Roman laughed and drew Patton and Logan both into a tight hug. "Man I missed you guys!!"

Logan gently wrapped his arms around the other two and smiled. "As did we, my friend. As did We."

~~•~~

It was like any other start of school day. Read syllabus, play a get to know you game, repeat.

It was really fairly normal for Roman.

Until his third period.

Roman knew nearly everyone in his grade, he had been the popular kid back in middle school and that had mostly transferred when he got into high school. So when roll call was being taken, it piqued his interest when a foreign voice answered a foreign name.

"Roman Prince?"

"You called?" Roman asked charmingly. The teacher looked at him tiredly. Roman cleared his throat. "Here!" He called a little more calmly.

"Flora Riley?"

"Here!"

"Uh...Virgil Sanders?"

Virgil Sanders? Roman thought. Maybe I just don't remember him and I'll recognize his vio-

"Here." A quiet but firm voice answered and Roman checked behind him to see the source of the unrecognized voice.

A boy sat in the back of the class with his feet pressed up against the table, curling himself mostly into a ball in his chair. But even so, Roman could see purple hair peeking out from under his patchwork hoodie and stylish, iconic reverse eyeshadow applied to his face. His ripped black jeans and scuffed combat boots made it obvious that there was a new emo in school.

Cute… Roman thought subconsciously. I mean, he was pretty cute.

"Alright class. We're gonna play a get to know you game. Now come up and draw sticks." The teacher held out a tin full of stocks with names on them and shook it slightly, letting the wood jingle against the run. "You'll be drawing the person you'll be sitting with for the rest of the semester. You may not trade with anyone, and yeah, that sucks but so does school." The class snickered as people drew sticks. There were only enough for half the class, and the other half drew the sticks.

Roman was not part of the group that drew sticks. So he sat idly at his seat and began to daydream about how the year would go.

"You're Roman Prince?" A voice asked.

Roman snapped out of his dreaming and looked up to see Virgil the Emo standing over him. Roman smirked and out a hand to his chest. "The one and only! Come to admire how pretty I am?" He asked charmingly.

The emo snorted. "As in pretty dull? Maybe. It is a wonder of the world after all."

Roman scoffed and pressed his other hand over his heart, as if it hurt. "I'm offended! You wound me!!" Roman held out his hand smiling. "I assume we're seating partners then! How do you do, my emo nightmare?"

Virgil didn't take his hand, rather he just walked to the back of the class. "Come now, Prince of the Preppy, we don't know each other and honestly I don't think we ever will. We're not sitting up front."

Roman frowned at the lack of jest in the emo's voice. He thought he and the purple haired boy were flirting wonderfully!

Since Roman didn't seem to have any other Soul Marks, he didn't have a Soulbound Soulmate. So he freely flirted with every moving thing that breathed.

But Roman wasn't going to give up that easily. "Hey there, plum hair! Tell me, what's it like looking so fruity?"

Virgil snorted, and hid his face in his sleeve.

Nooo!! Roman thought. I wanna see your cute face!!

"I dunno...what's it like being so fruity?"

Roman laughed and tried again to reach out his hand. "An absolute delight!"

When Virgil did nothing but sit down at the table in the farthest back corner of the classroom, Roman deflated a little. This Virgil was cute, albeit a little annoying. I mean all he would do is snark at him! Maybe Roman had misread the situation.

"Fine alright," Roman have up. "I'll stop talking, panic-at-the-everywhere."

"Sweet." Though it was the answer he should have been expecting, Roman prickled.

"So you don't want to talk to me at all?" Roman asked flatly, slightly annoyed.

"No, not really." Virgil said, pulling out his phone.

"Really? Like really Really?"

"Yep." He popped the P and pointedly turned away from Roman.

"Are you kidding me?"

"Nope." He again popped the P.

"You know we're going to have to sit next to each other all semester, right?"

"Yeah…? And…?"

"Well you have to talk to me eventually!"

"And I'll stay here dreading when that dreaded eventually will come."

"You cannot be serious! Come on I'm fabulous!"

"Fabulously plastic, dumb, and shallow, if that's what you mean."

"Shallow?!"

"Uh, yeah?"

"How dare-!"

"Alright class!!" The teacher clapped their hands, stopping the impending fight that was about to break out. They started passing out papers to each of the students. "Now choose one or two, or however many you want and ask them to your partner. And yeah it sounds boring and maybe it might be if you're boring. So don't be a boring teenager."

Roman and Virgil got the paper and looked it over. It at least Roman did. He finally picked one and asked it, knowing that trying to wait for the Emo to pay attention would be futile.

"If you could change one thing about the world, what would it be?" Roman sighed out.

The answer that came was almost immediate and nearly shook Roman to his core. "Soulmarks." Virgil seemed to have spat the word out. "I'd get rid of all Soulmarks."

Roman was about to ask further about it but he heard a loud clang behind him.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU SLEPT WITH SISSI LETANTA?! YOU SHIT!! YOU KNOW THAT'S MY GIRLFRIEND'S LITTLE SISTER, YOU BASTARD!!!" The girl behind Roman was in an absolute rage. The boy she was talki- screaming at was pale and seemed like he'd wet set himself out of fear at any moment.

"Whoa…yo Virgil check this ou-" Roman had once again tried to communicate with the Emo boy, but turned to see him filming the whole thing. "What are you doing…?"

"Blackmail."

"What?!"

"You never know when it may come in handy."

"You're the creepiest emo kid I've ever met."

"And how many emos have you met exactly?"

"Three! There was this one girl in my middle school that-"

"Yeah okay you can shut up now."

"Well thanks."

The fight had only been broken up by the bell ringing. And Virgil left without saying a word to Roman.

What a weird, creepy, cute kid… Roman thought. I think I wanna be his friend.

Again, I’m sorry this is later than I wanted it to be, and It’s not as good as I’d like it to be, but I promise I have things planned for this! Big things! Angsty things! Fluff!! I swear it’s going to be better than it is right now, I’m just a little caught up in life at the moment. Hope you liked it! And do feel free to leave a comment if you want me to tag you!! Sweet dreams!!

Taglist

@anxietea-and-insanitea

@ghostboi-bambi

@scrunchiescrunchie

#ts sides #logicality #prinxiety #logan sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #ts Patton #ts virgil #ts logan #ts roman #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #ts sides fic #soulmate au #highschool au #thomas sanders #Soulbound Au

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moonhoures · 4 years

Text

grocery store things w/ monsta x

note; so i work in a grocery store and these are just some cute little scenarios i’ve written, inspired by some things that have happened at my store ☺️ enjoy!

— shownu.

Finally. Time to go home. You strolled up to the time clock and punched out, ready to walk out of the building when you stopped in your tracks. It was pitch black outside aside from the few, dim lights in the parking lot. You didn’t usually work this late, so you weren’t too thrilled at the idea of walking all the way to the back of the parking lot when it was this dark. Who knows what could happen to you.

“Need someone to walk you out?”

Hyunwoo was an overnight stocker who had just got in to start his shift when he saw you seemingly having a mental debate with yourself.

“Would you please?”

“Sure thing,” he called over his walkie talkie to let his department manager know he was walking you out before leading you outside.

“Long day?” he asked, attempting some small talk which made you feel a lot better.

“Kinda. Eight hours.”

“That’s about to be me,” he chuckled.

“You leave work at six a.m?”

“Yep, almost every day.”

“When do you sleep?” you asked, getting closer and closer to your car the further you walked. Why did employees have to park so far away from the door? Well, you knew why, but it was really bothersome this late at night.

“I try to get about seven hours of sleep as soon as i get home from work.”

“So you’re basically nocturnal.”

“Basically,” he agreed with a chuckle, stopping in front of your car as you unlocked it and went to open the door. “But you’re not, so get some rest.”

You smiled, climbing into your car and rolling your window down, “I will. Thanks for walking me.”

“Of course, anytime.”

— wonho.

“That will be four dollars and twenty-seven cents.”

You stuck your card into the reader and waited but you were met by the machine beeping at you. “Error” it read back on the screen. You looked up at the cashier with a questioning look, but she just prompted you to try again. She said it could’ve been the machine acting up. So you tried it again just as a guy walked up in line behind you. “Error”. You groaned and the cashier encouraged you to try one more time. So you did, praying that the third time would be the lucky time. “Error”. Of course not, you thought. You stared at the bag of chips and the soda on the counter and sighed.

“Here,” the guy behind you gestured for you to step aside and before you

could say anything he was putting his card in the reader. The cashier scanned his items—a couple packs of ramen and a bottle of water.

“Wait- You don’t have to do that. I’ll just put them ba-“

“No, it’s fine. We’ve all been there. Besides, it’s literally not even five dollars. I don’t mind.”

The cashier decided to keep quiet, as did you. She took the receipt and handed it to the guy who took it with a smile and told her to have a good night. He then took your chips and drink and handed them to you with the same smile.

“Here you go. Have a good night.”

“Thanks . . . you too.”

— minhyuk.

“Hey, what time do you get off?”

You grinned as you realized Minhyuk, one of your favorite coworkers was going to be on the register next to yours, “Five.”

“Me too!”

The two of you were talking about how slow business was today when he mentioned that he was craving sweets.

“Like candy?”

“Yeah, think you could buy me some for my break?” he teased.

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” you joked back.

“Rock paper scissors? Loser buys both snacks.”

You replied by positioning your hands, a fist over an open palm. He grinned before doing the same. You both agreed to go on ‘shoot’ and then started. His paper covered your rock and you pouted.

“Best two out of three?”

— kihyun.

It was Friday night, nearing nine p.m which meant you only had one more

hour until the store closed. Business was extremely slow compared to the rest of your shift so you were growing bored, resorting to reading random magazines that you found even vaguely interesting to help pass the time. That was until you saw him walk in. Kihyun. He was a regular at the store you worked at nearly everyday. The two of you got to speak to each other fairly often given that he came in almost everyday to pick up the same things, usually always right before closing time.

You waited for him at your register, and smiled at him when he finally strolled up, gently placing his pre-packaged salad and water bottle on the belt. Only today he had something new. Cold medicine.

“Hey, how’s your day going?” he always greeted you first and it always made your day despite being such a small action.

“It’s going quite slow now, but it’s almost over.”

“True,” he laughed, getting his card out.

“Someone not feeling too well?” you asked as you scanned his medicine and put it into the bag with his food.

“Yeah,” he sighed, “Just a little nausea and coughing, nothing major.”

“Well I hope you feel better. Try some warm water and honey if your throat gets soar, that always helps me.”

“I’ll have to try that,” he grinned as he took the receipt from you, “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Sure will. Have a good night!”

“You too.”

— hyungwon.

Damn you, cereal, you thought to yourself as you got on your tippy toes to reach for a box of cereal on the top shelf. Usually you liked doing random chores that your manager gave you to do. They were a nice break from being on a register for hours on end, but some chores were just as bad. Today your manager had asked you to organize the cereal because customers had a habit of carelessly putting boxes where they didn’t belong or not keeping them in a decent order. So you fixed up all the cereal boxes to make them look nice and satisfying, until you got to the top shelf. You know, the one you couldn’t reach. As you stared up at the unreachable boxes you wished you would’ve asked for a step ladder. However, you stubbornly thought to yourself: maybe I can reach them if I step on the bottom shelf?

So you stupidly, yet courageously, stepped onto the bottom shelf and reached up once again to the cereal boxes above you.

“Are you dumb?”

You turned to see one of the service workers rushing up to you, his hands out as if he would catch you the second you fell. But you didn’t, you gingerly stepped down and looked up at him innocently.

“What?” you asked.

“You literally could’ve fallen and hurt yourself, that’s what. Why didn’t you just ask for a step ladder?” Hyungwon asked with a voice full of concern. You shrugged in response, feeling slightly like a scolded child.

“I’m almost done. It would be kind of pointless.”

“Well it’s better than falling and busting a lip, or better yet, your head open. Stay here while I go get you a ladder.”

You chuckled to yourself as he walked away and disappeared down the aisle, returning moments later with a small ladder in his hands. He unfolded it and set it in place in front of you with a smile, “There, and when you’re done with it just put it in the storage closet by the bathrooms, okay?”

You nodded, “Thanks, Hyungwon.”

“No problem.“

— jooheon.

“Ugh,” you groaned as the screen of your phone turned black before ultimately becoming unresponsive to any of your tapping and button-pushing. Of course, the one day you forget your charger. You sighed and sat back in the chair you occupied, wondering what you could do to pass the next twenty-six minutes of your lunch break. Across the table from you sat your coworker Jooheon, an employee from the produce department. He held his phone at an angle to watch a movie, the volume low as to not disturb you but just loud enough for him to hear.

“Phone died?” he asked, not taking his eyes off of his own screen.

You nodded, “Yeah. I forgot to charge it overnight.”

“How much longer do you have until you clock back in?”

“Like twenty five minutes.”

“Wanna watch some of this movie with me?”

“Sure,” you smiled, scooting your chair closer as he positioned his phone more so that the both of you could watch. You recognized it as the beginning of Train To Busan. “I love this movie.”

“Don’t spoil anything. This is my first time watching it,” he jokingly warned you.

“I won’t. Promise.”

“Good.”

— changkyun.

“Is there something going on tonight? It’s awfully quiet in here.”

“Well, it is ten minutes until closing on a Friday night. People are probably out drinking and stuff,” you said, noticing that it was in fact a lot more quiet than usual.

Changkyun, a service worker with nothing to do but wait until closing time, sat on the counter of the service desk. You leaned against the desk, scribbling random lines and circles on a note pad. Your register stood near by with its light on, abandoned for the past ten minutes as you hadn’t gotten a customer since. Your manager had gone in her office to do some paperwork, leaving you and Changkyun alone in the front lobby of the store.

“True,” he agreed, “I just realized I work an early shift tomorrow.”

Then he pouted, swinging his legs softly underneath him, his keys jingling quietly in his pocket as he did so. You chuckled, “But at least you can do something fun tomorrow night.”

He scoffed, “I’ll probably just end up playing some video games.”

“Sounds like a good night to me,” you suddenly remembered that the last time you had talked with him, almost a week ago, he had mentioned having plans with his girlfriend, “You’re not hanging out with your girlfriend?”

“No, we, uh, broke up.”

“Oh, um, sorry,” you awkwardly apologized.

“It’s cool. It was mutual.”

“That’s good, I guess.”

He nodded before looking up to you, “What about you? Any plans? Any boyfriend?”

Your cheeks warmed up at the inquiry as you shook your head, “No. Neither.”

Changkyun nodded again, checking his phone for the time before hopping off of the counter, “I feel you. Sometimes they’re not worth the time to be honest.”

When you only nodded in response, not really sure of what to say, he announced, “We have a minute left. I’m gonna go get the manager, and I’ll walk you guys out. Sound good?”

“Sounds great.”

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moonnightyoongi · 4 years

Text

crashing | doyoung

pairing: doyoung x reader

genre: angst (wat else ofc), maybe a bit of fluff?

word count: 1.7k

description: you couldn’t stop the negative thoughts from consuming you, until you saw a vending machine.

Always and forever was what they told you. When you meet someone you truly love it will be always and forever, you even convince yourself and tell them it all the time in the hopes of hearing them say it back.

But what happens when it comes crashing down? They don’t tell you the part where you wake up one day and everything feels different. You don’t look at them the same, their smile doesn’t bring you joy, the meaningless conversations you used to love becomes a mumble you can’t understand and don’t want to hear.

Why is it never spoken about? Why does everyone hide the fact that you may one day wake up and the love is gone? Does it happen overnight? Does it happen over time? If it happens over time then why can’t you recognise it till its gone?

How do you explain it to them? How do you tell them that the love you had somehow vanished over night and you’re now left with this sort of empty, vacant space in your heart where they used to be?

Does it come back? If you give yourself time can you learn to love them again? Is it unfair to do so? What if the love doesn’t come back and you have wasted the time they could have spent healing and meeting other people? Does it make you a bad person, or does it make you a good person because at least you…. tried?

“You know your essay is due in like 2 hours right?” Doyoung asks.

You snap out of your thought and stare at him, “I’m thinking.”

“I don’t think you should be doing that, you’ll drain yourself,” he jokes. You roll your eyes letting out a small laugh as you stared at the empty screen in front of you.

Take creative writing they told you, you can write 8 stories in one sitting. Now you were three years into the course and you could barely write a sentence without wanting to snap your laptop in two. Writing used to be so easy for you, you loved watching people read it and hearing their thoughts on how you portrayed their emotions and made them laugh or cry. Nowadays you would hide your work in shame, every story had the same story line - boy meets girl and their love is great. You could count on your fingers and toes how many times you had compared love to the colour yellow - bright and sometimes oddly annoying.You were almost certain your teacher was one more colour yellow away from circling it and telling you to look at a rainbow.

“Can I read what you’ve written?” Doyoung asks.

“I haven’t written anything.”

“What? We’ve been here three hours.”

“Yep,” you say nodding your head, staring at the library full of students nearly pulling their hair out.

“Just compare love to the colour yellow and call it a day,” Taeyong says typing away at his computer.

“Shut up.”

“Yellow?” Doyoung frowns, “How is love yellow?”

“Bright and oddly annoying,” Taeyong replies.

You sigh and slam your laptop lid down, “I’m going to go for a walk and clear my head.”

“Impossible, you never switch off,” Taeyong says, “Can you get me breakfast bars? I’m hungry.’

“Fine,” you sigh turning on your heel.

“I’d say love was more of a mint green,” Taeil says.

“Shut the fuck up,” Jaehyun tuts, “Mint green is a horrible colour.”

You laugh slightly as you walk out the library, how had your ramblings to get your essay over the word count become a debate on the table about what colour love really was. According to the world it was red, maybe pink, but to you - well, it was black. Black because its endless, its the colour of nothingness and never ending. Black holes? They go on forever, right? Pitch black room? Not endless, you’ll walk into a wall at some point. When you mentioned it to your friends they told you that you were stupid, black was a negative and dark colour. But, like everything, it depends on the context it’s used. Black may symbolise darkness to some but they never remember that at the end of darkness there is light.

“That makes no sense,” you grumble hitting back space and looking at the empty quad in front of you.

When you first started dating Doyoung all you could write was soppy love stories about how when two people meet who are soulmates the stars align and they no longer feel the heavy burden of trying to find someone to walk the earth with. Then it turned into stories about people who stayed together because it was easier than the pain of leaving them behind. Now your words had turn into nothingness. Not even the music you loved to write to could help you, the pages remained blank and the extensions were getting rejected by your teacher. She pulled you in and gave you some recommendations for how to beat writers block, but this didn’t feel like writers block. You had found out over this time that your ability to write was based on your emotions, and if you felt nothing then nothing would come out.

“Still nothing?” Taeil asks coming to sit beside you as you rested against the tree.

“Nope,” you sigh.

“What’s going on? Everyone’s noticed that you’ve been daydreaming and not really here the past few months.”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, what do you think about?

“I don’t know,” you reply.

“How can you not know?”

“It’s just noise,” you tell him. He looks at the grass in front of him and puts his hand on your shoulder.

“If you need help, there’s no shame in getting it.”

“I don’t think I can get help with writing this essay, it’s illegal.”

“I mean you, not your essay.”

“Why would I need help?”

“Can you tell me honestly that you feel yourself right now?”

“No.”

“Then speak to someone, even if it’s me.”

“Have you ever been in love?” You ask him.

“Yes.”

“Have you ever fell out of love while still with them?”

He pauses, “No.”

You nod your head, “I hope you never know the feeling.”

You stand up and dust off your jeans, “I need to get Taeyong cereal bars.”

“Y/N,” Taeil begins, “Usually when people fall out of love with someone it’s because they’ve convinced themselves the other deserves better.”

You look at him and blink vacantly, “Right.”

You hear Taeil sigh as you walk away from him to find a vending machine somewhere in the university buildings. Was he right? Had you somehow managed to convince yourself that Doyoung deserved someone better? Someone with a proper degree and not a creative writing degree that will probably lead them into some low paid job they hated.

Walking into the empty hallway you saw the vending machine shining brightly amongst the darkness of the halls, suddenly it clicked. You knew what you wanted to write about. Slamming yourself on the floor of the empty hallway you clicked away at your keyboard the fasted you had since you were maybe 15 years old. Excited to write, a feeling that had become so unfamiliar to you.

It wasn’t some cringe love story, it wasn’t about the fucking colour yellow, it wasn’t about star crossed lovers or a breakup and how the person recovers over time with a little help from their friends.

It was about finding light in the darkness. The stupid vending machine had shown you the error of your ways. You had become so negative towards everything, everything was black to you - but what you were failing to realise was that if you turned ever so slightly you would see the light in the darkness, the vending machine if you will.

“Y/N,” Doyoung says shaking you awake.

“I KNOW SELF DEFENSE!” You scream, issuing a few laughters from the boys behind you, “Oh it’s you.”

“Your boyfriend? Yes, hi,” he laughs, “Are you okay?”

“Yes, why do you ask?”

“You fell asleep in the middle of the university hallway.”

“What?!” You shout, “What time is it!”

They all fumble around looking for a watch or their phones, “Oh you’re useless!” You shout shaking the mouse pad to show you the time.

“Shit! My deadline! I missed it,” you groan.

“Send it to me now,” you hear a voice say from the end of the hallway. Looking up you see your teacher with a small smile on her face.

“Miss came to find us when she find out you flat out on the floor,” Taeyong says “I assume you came to get my cereal bars and got an idea.”

“Yeah,” you groan rubbing your eyes.

“What did you write about?” Taeil asks as you rushed to send it.

“Finding light in the darkness,” you reply.

“Fucking hell she went from yellow to black and white,” Jaehyun jokes.

“Shut up!” Doyoung scolds hitting his leg, “You wanna go sleep on something other than floor?”

You nod your head, “Yeah. Did you guys finish your essays?”

“Yeah, on time too,” Taeyong says, “Without snacks that were promised.”

“Oh my god I’ll get you the stupid cereal bars tomorrow!”

“We’re already into tomorrow, I asked for them yesterday!” He shouts.

“You’ve got a real attitude for someone who’s expecting snacks from me.”

“Come on,” Doyoung says wrapping his arm around you.

You smile at him as you walk behind everyone who were pretending to kick the air and screaming - most likely from the relief of finishing their final papers of the year. After speaking to Taeil you felt better, everything made sense and you felt aligned. Sure, they was most probably going to be a lot more work to do - especially if you were good at convincing yourself everyone deserves better.

“I love you,” Doyoung says snapping you out of your thoughts.

You look at him and smile, “I love you too.”

“I want you to know one thing,” he says.

“Go for it.”

“I’ll always have time for you. Always and forever.”

“Always and forever.”

And for the first time in a long while, it didn’t sound so bad.

masterlist | ask

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starkerisendgame · 5 years

Note

this is my cheesy cliché-romantic prompt, please write it if you like this kind of stories, lol: Peter has had a crush on Tony since forever. He has confessed his love to Tony three times, and Peter has been rejected each time. The first one was when he was 10, the second one at 15, and the last one at 20. After so long, Peter decides to give up. He starts dating other people, trying to find love, then one day Tony reappears again into his life.

I’m so sorry this took so long! But I really hope it was worth the wait and that you enjoy it. This is in two parts because it ended up being way longer than I initially planned it. No smut in part one, but 90% of what Anon asked for happens in this chapter.

Prompts are always open

[P. 2 | P. 3]

Peter meets the love of his life aged ten, lounging in the grass of a local park and devouring the Chemistry book that Aunt May got him for Christmas. A pair of glossy combat boots stop right besides his pink lemonade, a figure casting a dark shadow over his book.

Peter looked up slowly, scowling at the interruption. How was he supposed to study hard and become a world famous scientist if people kept interrupting him? The boots give way to skinny black jeans that clung to legs longer than Peter could ever hope for his to grow. The legs faded into a black t-shirt sporting a cat playing the drums, and then to the prettiest face Peter had ever seen.

“Page fifty-eight is wrong, y’know,” the boy commented casually, hands tucked into his jean pockets. Peter’s scowl deepened, and he stared for a moment longer before furiously flicking through the pages. Page 58 turned out to be on metals and their chemical properties. Peter scanned it, before looking up again.

“It’s a professional science book. It can’t be wrong. And even if it was, how would you know?” he asked, reaching for his lemonade and sipping. The boy actually laughed, soft and amused before crouching down, elbows braced on his thighs. One long finger tapped a single paragraph on the page.

“The book claims Tungsten to be the strongest natural metal, and Chromium to be the hardest. Both of those are wrong. The world’s strongest and hardest metal is one in the same: Vibranium.”

Peter frowned a little, reading the paragraph quickly as the boy spoke. Vibranium? That sounded made up. And he’d never heard of it before.

“You’re just making that up,” he pouted, pushing away the boy’s hand. He chuckled again, low and soft and it made Peter’s tummy feel funny. All flippy, like he was on a rollercoaster.

“Am not,” the boy shot back, teasing and mocking. Peter pouted harder, drawing his book closer. “Vibranium was discovered in the 1800′s, and is pretty much a secret outside of a select few Government organisations and my family; who have a big clump of it sitting in a secure storage facility out in Antarctica,” the boy remarked. It was Peter’s turn to laugh, now.

“You’re a big, fat liar,” he dismissed, then frowned. “Wait. I’m not supposed to be talking to strangers. Go away before Aunt May confiscates my Game Boy again,” he huffed, looking back down at his book. He missed the soft smile the boy gave in response, and missed the scent of aftershave as the boy got up and walked away.

One week later, Peter was back at the park, sprawled out on the grass with several packs of snacks and his chemistry book. He’d brought a notebook this time, jotting down notes and little doodles to help him remember things. There was a science expo next month, and he was determined to be super smart and science to impress the important scientists there.

Something thunked into the grass before him and rolled, all the way through the grass until it bumped into the edge of his chemistry book. Peter eyed it warily. It was a metal ball, about the size of a ping-pong ball. Bright silver and it looked really shiny, like it had been polished. Peter looked up further, and saw the boy from last week strolling towards him.

He walked all the way up and sat down opposite Peter, long legs crossing in the grass. Peter watched him the entire time, hand still paused mid-sentence. The boy was wearing dark grey jeans today, and a white shirt with an AC/DC logo across the chest. His head tipped, and he watched Peter with a soft, curious expression.

“Half a pound of Vibranium. Super-forged and polished into a perfect sphere, just for you,” the boy remarked, pulling a lollipop out of one pocket and peeling off the wrapped. Peter looked down and after a moment he put down his pen, reaching for it. It felt light, for its weight, and the metal was cold, perfectly smooth to the touch.

“This is probably just steel or something,” he pointed out, and the boy shrugged, sucking the lolly with a wet sound.

“You can do whatever you want to that, and it won’t break, scratch or dent. The only thing that can damage Vibranium is more Vibranium,” the boy tossed back, taking the sphere from Peter’s hand and tossing it up and down like a regular ball. “You could take a chainsaw to this thing and all you’d get is sparks.”

He tossed the ball back to Peter and they spent the next two hours going through his chemistry book together. The boy turned out to be called Tony, and he was super smart. He was turning twenty next month. Peter worried a bit about talking to someone that much older, but Tony was sweet and smart and helped him to take notes.

Tony’s phone went off a little while later, and he checked it before pulling a face and looking across at Peter.

“Well, I gotta go. But try to scratch that thing. Let me know if you succeed,” he grinned, ruffling Peter’s hair and standing. He was already walking away by the time Peter realised he had no way of letting Tony know either way and he watched helplessly as Tony slipped into a sleek, black car on the sidewalk.

That night Peter attacked the ball with several kitchen knives. He threw it down the stairs. He tried to chew it. He tried everything he could within the house to damage it, but nothing worked.

Eventually he gave up, sitting on his bed and staring in wonder at the still perfectly smooth ball before he snuck an egg cup from the kitchen and put it in pride of place on the middle of his shelf.

He went back to the park on Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday of the following week, but Tony didn’t show up.

He was already there the following Tuesday however, sprawled on his back on the grass with his eyes closed and his face tilted up towards the sun. Peter approached slowly, two bottles of cola tucked under his arm, chemistry book tucked under the other. He was almost above Tony when the boy smiled, slow and sweet.

“Sorry I haven’t been around much, Pete,” he murmured. His voice was thick, raspy. It was then that Peter noticed the dark purple bruises under his eyes, and the large, blotchy red patch on one side of his jaw. Peter shuffled nervously in the grass, dropping his head.

“Um… If you’re sick, we don’t gotta study today,” he mumbled in response, shrinking when Tony cracked open one eye to study him. After a moment though, he was smiling again, pushing himself up onto his elbows to pat the grass besides him.

“I’m okay. We can still learn about atoms,” Tony comforted softly, and that’s what they did. For over an hour, until Tony looked up, face falling as a tall, kind of fat man in a suit approached then. He looked like he should be dressed for a funeral.

“Mr. Stark, its time we should be going,” the man greeted quietly. Peter’s pen slipped across the page when he twisted in shock, staring accusingly across at Tony with wide eyes. His best friend wasn’t just Tony, but Tony Stark. Son of Howard Stark, one of the world’s leading inventors and scientists.

Tony glanced across at him with a small, half amused and half sad smile, pushing to his feet.

“I’ll be back on Thursday, kiddo,” Tony hummed, dusting off his pants and following after the man, who gave Peter a polite nod in goodbye. As they walked, the man held out a tie and a jacket towards Tony, and it occurred to Peter for the first time that Tony had been wearing a smart shirt for once.

The next morning, as Peter sat at the table eating his cereal, the news turned to Tony Stark, dressed in a suit with a pair of deep red sunshades on. What remained of the Stark family announced that Howard and Maria Stark were dead - Victims of a terrible car crash due to bad weather. They had been buried late yesterday afternoon, a quiet and private affair.

Peter’s heart sank. Tony had must’ve gone straight to the funeral with that man. He fretted about it all day, nervously chewing at his pen and bouncing his leg the entire time. He wanted to go to the park, wanted desperately to see Tony, but Tony had said Thursday.

The day couldn’t come quick enough, and Peter barely breathed as he stuffed his dinner into his mouth, ignoring May’s alarmed looks and almost headbutting her with how quickly he gave her a goodbye kiss on the cheek, jacket half-on as he fled through the door.

Tony was waiting for him again, sat cross-legged in their spot. He was wearing the same shades he had been on the news the other morning and wore a large, soft black hoodie. He looked up when Peter came scurrying across the grass, mouth quirking into a friendly smile.

Peter skid through the greenery, sliding onto his knees and crashing into Tony with almost enough force to knock him over as he wrapped his arms tight around him.

Tony stiffened under his touch, arms hanging hesitantly in the air, but Peter squeezed him a little tighter, tucking his head down and after a moment Tony relaxed, arms coming loosely around Peter’s waist.

They met up every week after that, always in the same spot near the holly bush. They got through Peter’s book pretty quickly and Tony brought more, an endless supply of books on anything Peter could think of.

He also brought Peter stuff, sometimes. A tiny, tiny 1ml science beaker from the lab at Stark Tower. A weird type of berry from Africa, where Tony went for the weekend while Peter was home with the flu.

Two weeks before his eleventh birthday, Peter looked up from his book on stars, squinting across at Tony, who was doodling a dog wearing sunglasses on his notebook.

“I love you.” he announced after a moment, confident. He’d asked Aunt May what it meant to love someone, and if it was okay to tell them. She’s told it was when even the thought of someone made you happy. When you wanted them to be in your life for a long time and when you felt comfortable around them.

Tony paused, and then laughed, sharp and short. “No, kid. You love pancakes and your Aunt and sleeping in on a Saturday. You don’t love me.”

Peter frowned and went to argue but then Tony was quizzing him on what gasses stars were made up of, and it was dropped.

Peter lay awake that night, tossing and turning as he thought about it. He was pretty sure he loved Tony. He always looked forwards to seeing him. Tony made him happy and made him smile all the time. He knew Tony’s favourite colour and how he liked his toast and he always felt like he could tell Tony anything. That was love… Right?

Aged fifteen, Peter buried his face in Gwen’s shoulder and whined, shoulders slumping. His phone lay screen-up on the table, depicting an image of Tony stepping out of a fancy restaurant, arm wrapped tight around a pretty blonde girl. It was his second girlfriend of the year, a nice but kind of snooty girl named Alita.

“You’re jailbait anyway, Pete. Find someone your own age,” Gwen advised, voice cool but not unsympathetic as she turned the page to her book. She was right; Peter had known Tony was too old for him the moment he realised that Tony’s smile made his tummy flip in a funny way. The moment Aunt may blew up when she found out just who Peter was always running off to study in the park with.

(Tony had promptly arranged for them both to have dinner at the Tower, and had immediately wooed Aunt May. She had come around to them being study buddies by the end of the night; how could she not? Tony was sweet, charming, quirky. It hadn’t taken Peter a year to fall in love with him, after all.)

“She’s just… I mean she’s obviously… She isn’t…” Peter couldn’t think of anything to say. Alita was actually pretty nice, if you got past her picky, high standards for living. She had been super friendly when Tony had brought her along on one of their study meets, and had been pretty interested in their current topic - physics.

“Not you,” Gwen finished for him, pushing his head up so she could give him one of her Mom looks. Peter scowled and looked away, stabbing his breaded chicken with a little more force than required. Alita and Tony had been dating for three months now, and each morning the heavy, cold feeling in Peter’s stomach grew. He thought back to being ten, to telling Tony he loved him in the middle of the park, to the way Tony laughed, like it was a big, bad joke.

They didn’t go to the park often, these days. Tony was now the big boss at his parents’ company and spent most of his days learning how to run it and making lots of big changes. They still saw each other each week, but school and a big company didn’t leave a lot of time for laying around in the grass.

“Have de-ageing or ageing machines been invented yet?” he questioned aloud, and shrieked when Gwen slapped him with her book. That was a no, then.

Tony was waiting for him at the school gates, leaning against the bonnet of a fancy car that Peter had forgotten the brand name of. He had rich, glossy blue shades on today and was wearing a loose, matching blue silk shirt. Several other kids were hanging around, phones out and obviously trying to engage.

Peter felt rather powerful striding across the grass and towards Tony. Tony straightened when he approached, uncrossing his legs and opening the car door with a flourish for Peter.

“Your humble ride home, Little Prince,” Tony greeted, voice thick and soft as he mock bowed. Peter snorted, sliding onto the rich, buttery leather and tossing his beg into the footwell.

“You’re so embarrassing,” he grinned, but he didn’t mean it. Not at all. His heart actually felt like it was going to burst. A few months ago for his fifteenth birthday Tony had given him an official internship at Stark Tower, as his personal assistant.

It basically meant Peter could come around whenever Tony was there, and usually ended in them making up crazy things and ordering takeout.

It also meant Tony picking him up from school like this. Peter had lost count of how many times he’d daydreamed of just running over to Tony, jumping into his arms and kissing him. Tony was starting to grow a little facial hair now, a light dusting of stubble that made Peter feel all funny whenever he thought about it.

“So, how was school, Petercakes? That kid still being an ass? What is it…Flake?” Peter snickered, slouching back into the seat and pressing the button for his window as Tony started the car, peeling carelessly out of the parking lot.

“Flash,” he corrected, with a one-shouldered shrug. “It’s okay. I mean, he believes me about the internship now you’ve started picking me up, but. I don’t think anything would shut him up completely.” When Peter glanced across Tony tipped his head, that challenge accepted smirk on his face, and Peter pointed at him.

“Tony, no.”

“Tony, yes,” he shot back gleefully, before reaching across to nudge Peter gently. “Relax, I’ll probably just arrange a field trip to SI or something. Sing your praises in front of everyone. Hey - bet I could get photos of you framed on my walls by the end of the night.”

Peter groaned, sinking lower into his seat.

Today’s Important Science encompassed going to the movies to see the new Fast and Furious film, before eating their weight in ice cream to determine if chocolate chip mint was better than toffee crunch delight. Tony got them two small cones to go, and they parked up at the beach front, watching the lights twinkle off the dark water.

“How was your date with Alita yesterday?” Peter asked in the comfortable silence that fell, cringing immediately afterwards. Great. A perfect, private evening together and he was bringing up his girlfriend. Besides him, Tony cringed in tandem.

“We, uh… Actually broke up. That’s why we went out to dinner. As a break up… Thing,” Tony mumbled in response, turning away and looking out of the window as he crunched the last of his cone. Peter almost dropped his in surprise, blinking across at Tony. But… They had looked so cosy leaving the restaurant.

“She was just… We weren’t right for each other, I guess. Y’know how it is,” Tony shrugged after a brief pause, pulling a wet-wipe from the glove compartment and cleaning off his fingers. Fidgeting, mostly. Peter could relate. He suddenly felt itchy within his skin, too warm. Tony was single again. He bit at his lip, trying to think of what to say.

“Oh. Well… I still love you,” he breathed out, stiffening when he realised what he’d said. Across from him Tony chuckled, reaching out to fluff up his hair and casting a fond look over the rim of his glasses.

“I’m glad me being a lonely old man doesn’t change the way you think of me,” Tony responded, voice light and teasing. Peter shifted his gaze away, out to the illuminated waters.

He didn’t know if Tony thinking he was joking was worse than Tony realising Peter had meant it. He stuffed the last of his cone into his mouth to avoid saying anything else, and another few moments passed before Tony begun to drive him home.

Peter leaned across the centre console when Tony pulled up, dragging the older man in for their customary hug. Tony was broader than he used to be, shoulders filling out, biceps bigger and rounder. His tummy was different, too. Thick muscle and lean abs in place of where he used to be slim like Peter was now.

His hair was soft, fluffy. A little longer than Tony usually kept it, and his aftershave was musky and heavenly when Peter nuzzled into the crook of his neck, squeezing tightly.

“I meant it,” he breathed against the warm skin there, closing his eyes tight. “I do love you. I know I do. And you can laugh like you did last time, but that doesn’t change it.”

Tony briefly stiffened against him, before he relaxed, petting gently at Peter’s hair. “You don’t know love, Peter. You’re fifteen. You’ve still got years left to learn and grow and experience things. To learn love and how it feels. To find someone. Now go on, before May shouts at us again.”

Tony let him go, pushing his shades higher to his eyes again, and Peter’s heart broke as he scooped up his bag, fleeing for the safety of his bedroom. He cried that night, tucked up against his pillow, duvet pulled up to his cheeks.

He knew what love meant. He had since he was ten, looking into Tony’s honey-coloured eyes and wishing he could look at them forever.

He knew he loved Tony. Knew belatedly that he always would. But this was the second confession of his love, and the second rejection of his feelings.

He fell asleep in the early hours of the morning, eyes red and cheeks ruddy. He stayed in bed for most of the day, avoiding his phone and citing illness when Aunt May lingered in the doorway, brows pulled in concern.

Tony picked him up on the Sunday. Neither of them raised what had happened, and neither of them acted differently to before. Peter supposed it was as much as he could hope for.

His twentieth birthday rolled around sooner than he could have expected, frantically finishing his entry exams for MIT and dealing with moving out of Aunt May’s apartment.

His faux internship in his teenage years had developed into an actual job at Tony’s marketing and research department. Tony was thirty these days, a heart-stopper and a bonafide billionaire thanks to his savvy, smart business choices.

Where Peter had remained a baby-faced, slim figure, Tony was tall and broad. He worked out daily and it showed in the expanse of his shoulders, the ripple of his biceps when he wore tank tops in the experimental labs. SI was branching into medical aid these days. Tony had grown his facial hair into artful stubble, thick and accentuating the sharp line of his jaw.

He was jaw-droppingly attractive, and Peter’s harboured love had only grown as he watched Tony go from a lost and uncertain young man into a grown, confident man.

Other people had seen the change too, and Peter had lost count of Tony’s partners at this point. One-night stands and brief stints at relationships. Time together cut short or cut completely because Tony was whisking away his latest slice to some Malibu getaway.

Peter tried not to be bitter, even when Tony begun a two year relationship with Peter’s manager, Ms. Pepper Potts. He tried to be supportive. Tried to be understanding whenever Tony cancelled their plans. Tried not to let his sadness show at the dark hickeys he often found littering Tony’s throat. His love never waned, not even slightly.

He rejected any advances from anyone else, knowing that he would be unable to stop himself thinking about Tony. Imagining it was Tony taking him to the movies or Tony kissing down his chest. Gwen watched disapprovingly each time he batted away an attempt at flirting, but remained the supportive (if blunt) friend.

He was laying on his bed, frowning at his latest set of study papers when the door flung open and Tony strode in, pausing only briefly to toe off his dress shoes and to flick the door shut behind him. Peter jumped at the sounds, craning across to try and see who was invading. He really didn’t have the energy to fend off a robber at this point in time.

“I’m hosting a party at the Tower, for your birthday,” Tony had announced, kicking Peter aside and taking his warm spot on the large queen that Peter had invested in. They still tried to make time for each other these days, but this was the first time Peter had seen Tony outside of work in over a week.

“Are you?” he asked lazily, frowning down at the now disorganised mess of paper. Tony dipped his glasses down and cast Peter with one of those flat do you dare doubt me looks that Peter had learned early to not to second-guess.

And that was how Peter ended up on the balcony of the Tower’s penthouse, gazing out at the stars and desperately trying to distract himself from the fact that Tony seemed to be flirting with everyone in the room except for him.

It had been an alright party, all things considered. Tony had invited Gwen and a few of their mutual friends from Stark Industries, and apparently several other people he knew but Peter didn’t. They were all nice people, chatty and knowledgeable and all ready to drink until they passed out.

Tony had brought lavish gifts in a pile almost as tall as Peter and the majority of the guests had all brought a gift or two along as well. Peter now had more ties, watches and bottles of alcohol than he had space for but he was delighted at each one, taking a shot each time he opened a present as instructed

Tony had bought him a dorky lab coat, (”in honour of how we met, Petercakes.”) and two soft sweaters. A gorgeous, deep red tie that Peter was sure matched one Tony owned himself. Three bottles of expensive, fruity alcohol and several small baggies of various chocolate covered fruits. A pair of classy, dark shades and a massive bath set filled with fruity scrubs and fizzy bath-bombs.

Peter had no idea ho he was gonna get all of it back to the Tower, and he vaguely mused on just leaving it all here for the night and picking it back up in the morning. He let his head loll against the cooling breeze, grip slackening on his flute of champagne. He’d lost count of how much he’d had to drink.

“What’cha Bruce Wayne-ing for out here, Peter?” came Tony’s slightly slurred, drunk-high voice from behind him, and Peter couldn’t help stiffening a little, gaze lifting from his arms to the city line before them. His stomach twisted with the thought of Tony mingling in the crowd, chatting up girls and flirting with boys.

“I’m not Batmanning,” he pouted, forcing himself to look when Tony came up half-besides him and half-behind him. Tony smelt like expensive whiskey and musky aftershave. His hair was mussed from the sleek style it had been in earlier, and three smudged lipstick prints dotted the line of his jaw.

Peter turned his gaze away.

“Out here alone, gazing moodily at the dark night, while a party in your honour is in full blast behind you,” Tony hummed, leaning against Peter’s shoulder heavily as he joined him in staring out at the twinkling lights of New York.

It took a moment for Peter to hone in on the scent of smoke, and he turned his head in alarm, only to find Tony grinning across at him, holding out a tiny cupcake with a single candle.

“I’ve already done the cake,” Peter mumbled, watching the small flame flickering in the breeze. Tony had custom-ordered a massive cake, with icing and sprinkles and little white chocolate cookies and all other sorts of decoration. It had taken Peter eight breaths to blow out all the candles. Tony met his gaze, eyes dark and pupils blown.

“I know. But… This is special. Just for us,” Tony murmured, still watching him. Peter’s heart immediately begun to race, pounding against his ribs as he met Tony’s stare.

“Make a wish then,” Tony coaxed, a lopsided grin quirking his mouth as he shifted his weight against the balcony. Peter kept his eyes as he listened, putting all of his faith and effort into thinking his wish before he leaned down, blowing the flame out with a short, sharp puff.

“What’da wish for?” Tony asked not even a second later, plucking the candle and tossing it aside to the floor as he offered Peter the cupcake. Peter hesitated, taking it and staring into the icing while he gathered his courage. Should he say it? Didn’t that ruin the magic?

He shifted uneasily, looking back out across the city as he sucked in a breath. “I wish you believed me when I say I love you,” he spat out in a rush, clutching the cupcake so tightly that it crumbled under his grip, icing folding across his knuckles. Tony stiffened besides him, pulling away a step and turning to face Peter, but he continued before Tony could say anything.

“I’m old enough to know love. I have been since I said it the second time. And… And I wish you loved me back. I really do. I know you don’t and I’m not gonna force it but I just… I mean it, Tony. And you know I do. I love you. I always have, and I think I will for a long time. Maybe always. But I just… That’s what I wished for. That you stopped treating it like a joke.”

Part of the cupcake fell away in a sad, dramatic slide and Peter forced himself to drag his gaze up, away from the view and across to Tony. Tony, who looked…Devastated. The expression on his face was enough of an answer for Peter, if the look in his eyes had failed to get the message across.

“Peter…I’m sorry, I…”

Peter let the rest of the cupcake fall, dropping his gaze to his trembling hands as he shook his head, unwilling to hear it. Unwilling to hear another rejection. He spun on his heel, almost stumbling as he fled for the door, pushing through and into the bright, loud warmth of the room.

He stuck the wall, desperately skirting anyone who noticed him with an apologetic smile as he fumbled for his jacket, forgoing the elevator for the stairs.

He made it down four floors before he sank against the railing, gasping for air. His vision blurred with tears and he dragged himself to the elevator, hitting the button miserably as he stared down at his icing smeared hands, willing the crushing sensation to give him enough time to get home.

His phone buzzed three times in his pocket, but he ignored it, stepping into the elevator and huddling into the corner as it carried him down to the foyer.

The night security looked surprised to see him, but obligingly ordered a car to be brought around, waiting with him and helping him into the back when it arrived. He wiped at his eyes, faking not feeling too good when the driver (Harry? Henry?) asked if he was alright.

When they arrived outside his house, the driver got out and helped him up, patting his shoulder comfortingly. He caught Peter’s eye, expression almost…Knowing.

“Whatever he said or did, kid… Don’t hold it against him too much. Tony hasn’t been right in himself since his parents. He’ll make it up to you. You’re the best thing that’s happened to him.”

Peter almost threw up on the spot, mumbling in response and darting for his door. The driver waited until he was inside, safe, before he left. Peter sank back against the door, finally giving into the burning sensation in his throat and howling as the tears begun to pour. Three times, he thought miserably.

He doesn’t love you. Never did. Never will.

A distant memory re-called itself to the front of his mind and through the haze of depression Peter fumbled for his phone, slick fingers sliding on the screen as he took several attempts to log into the Stark employee server. The announcement was still there, and his heart thumped with an icy determination as he scanned it.

Stark Industries was opening a new PR division in Malibu. 121 positions available.

He flipped to his email, thumbing in Pepper Pott’s ID. Despite her and Tony’s break-up she had remained a valued member of the company, double-acting as Tony’s PA and a member of HR.

His heart sank lower and his blood run colder with each word, until he felt numb as he hit send. He let his head fall back against the door, phone sliding to the carpet and he squeezed his eyes shut.

It was for the best.

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chloca-cola · 5 years

Text

Bear Witness Chap 1

This is a fic that I was inspired to write thanks to a group chat conversation haha

TW: none, just the reader incessantly teasing Leon (poor guy)

Pairings: Leon x reader

Word Count: 1,809

~~~~~~~~

"Leon, you are the only agent not assigned to something right now." Hunnigan explained, causing Leon to sigh heavily. Hanging his head in frustration, he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I understand that, Hunnigan. It's not really in my job description to babysit."

"Well, it's not babysitting, so you should be good." She sassed right back at him, having gotten used to his mouth over the years. "Y/f/n y/l/n has got to be protected. She knows too much about the man who let loose the last virus. He's after her." Leon sighed again, knowing he would never win this fight anyway, he caved.

"Fine, there's nothing I can say to get me out of it, right?" Hunnigan smiled, nodding quickly.

"You're finally learning!" Leon scoffed, shaking his head at her. "You'll be moved in with her in that new condominium complex on the outskirts of town. She should be arriving soon, so be ready to leave as soon as she gets there." Hunnigan disconnected the call, and Leon put his phone in his pocket, groaning to himself over such a mundane job.

He had just begun to pack when knocking rapped against his door to the tune of 'shave and a haircut' and he grimaced. He walked to his front door, looking through the peephole to see you, apparently standing on your tiptoes to look back at him through the glass. You leaned back and waved at him, smiling brightly. The secret service agent tasked to escort you here did not look pleased in the slightest.

"Good luck, Kennedy." The mans burly voice boomed when Leon finally opened the door, and you laughed.

"Oh, come on Jenkins, it was a fun 30 minute ride!" You exclaimed, bouncing on the balls of your feet, playfully punching his chest and he grunted.

"For the last time. My name is Perkins. Not Jenkins." He grumbled as he quickly turned, leaving you in Leon's hands now. You turn and smile up at the taller man.

"You don't look like much." Leon observed, confused by why the previous escort seemed so surly.

"Haircuts a little outdated, don't cha think?" You teased him and Leon frowned, beginning to understand Perkins' displeasure. You pick up your bags and with a pep in your step, waltz into Leon's apartment, turning in a circle as you looked over his decor. "Not bad, my dude. Must make the big bucks babysitting people."

"I don't babysit people." He deadpanned, closing his door to go back to packing. "I'm not doing this because I want to." You snort out a laugh.

"Like I am?" You flop onto his couch, crossing your ankles on the coffee table before you, digging in your pocket for your phone.

"No, what the hell do you have that for?" Leon asked, incredulously, snatching the device from your hands. "Why didn't Perkins take this from you?" You give him a big shit eating grin.

"He did, my dude. I got sticky fingers though." You respond, holding up your hands and wiggling your fingers, while simultaneously wiggling your eyebrows at him. Leon huffed, turning off the phone, feeling his patience wearing thin already.

"They can track this if they want too." You shrug, folding your arms over your chest.

"Perkins said that too." Leon gaped at you like a fish out of water.

"Do you wanna be caught? If so, leave, not like I wanna look after you anyway. I've got better things I could be doing." His harsh words bit deep and he knew it immediately, and he sighed, relaxing his stance. "Sorry...I know you're going through a lot and that wasn't fair." You wave you hand at him flippantly, shrugging a shoulder and looking out the window next to you.

"It's all cool, guy. I get it, you don't want me around, but you've got me." You smirk at him, and lower your feet to the floor, joining him in his bedroom. "Whatcha packin'?" You asked in an unveiled innuendo, biting your bottom lip, dragging your eyes down his body, you heard an intake of breath, and his body tensed, before you grabbed a shirt from his suitcase.

Leon snatched the shirt away from you, quickly folding it and placing it back in the case. "Are you always this nosy?" You toss your head back with laughter, clapping his arm before you flopped on your back on his bed.

"Pretty much. That's a good color for you, in all seriousness." You say truthfully, motioning at the dark blue shirt with the hand that wasn't behind your head.

"Uh, thanks." You let him finish packing in silence, not denying the fact that you think this man is probably the most gorgeous person you've ever laid eyes on. You knew better than to let any curiosities get you, because as soon as Alan Reicherman was caught, you'd likely never see Leon again.

~~~

At the condo, you whistled as you entered the vast living room. Dropping your bags in the doorway, causing Leon to trip slightly as you ran to the window to look at the view.

"This is some swanky shit, Skennedy." He grumbled under his breath, as he picked your bags up as well, depositing them and his own suitcase beside the couch.

"Either call me Leon or Agent Kennedy. Don't mesh my name together like that. It's annoying." You turned your upper body to smile at him, the first genuine one you've given him since you met. Leon's lips parted slightly as the sunset cast an ethereal glow around your form, finding it to be almost heavenly in this moment. He quickly shook his head to get the thought from his brain. You were a client, nothing more.

"Ok, boomer." The moment was gone as you snorted again, doubling over in laughter, and Leon groaned at you, rubbing his forehead. This was going to last forever. "I'm kidding, lighten up. I'll call you whatever you want me too." You continue to laugh as you pick up your bags and hauled one over your shoulder. "I'll call the room with the best bed!" You call over your shoulder as you inspected the rooms.

A few hours passed, and you were getting restless, fidgeting with your fingers, bouncing your leg, pacing the room, sighing loudly until Leon finally acknowledged you.

"Is something the matter, princess?" You toss your hands in the air, waving them around wildly.

"I'm bored, dude. Like how can you just sit there like that?" Leon shrugged, a small smile on his face as you sat on one of the barstools next to the island separating the living room and the kitchen.

"It comes with the job." You look at him, your chin cradled in your palm.

"Babysitting?" Leon scratched the back of his head in frustration, before shooting you a warning glare.

"I'm not a babysitter." You smile at him again, enjoying pushing his buttons a little too much.

"Yeah, you're too handsome to be a babysitter." You say off handedly. "If you were my babysitter, I'd do whatever necessary to get you to spank me." You admit, giving him a playful wink, and Leon covered his face with his hands. "So, what is your job then?" He looked over his finger tips at you, debating on if you were just going to throw another quip at him, but you were earnestly curious.

"I'm an agent in the DSO." He explained, simply and you quirked an eyebrow, motioning with your hands for him to continue. "A special division for efficiently and quickly eliminating any crisis that threatened the United States of America and its people." He responded and you nodded slowly, taking in the information.

"That actually sounds like it would be a cool job. Much better than babysitting me." You smile at him, standing up and moving to sit next to him on the couch. "But then again. It's me, so you've been blessed." He rolled his eyes at you, leaning back on the couch and closing his eyes.

Leon awoke several hours later, not realizing he had drifted off, surprised he could with your incessant teasing him. Speaking of that, Leon sat upright, you were nowhere to be seen or heard for that matter. He jumped up, moving to the room you claimed as yours, seeing the clock on the wall read 1 in the morning. Figuring you just moved to you bed, he was shocked to see that the bed in question was empty.

Panic began to grip him, as he began checking the other rooms, gun drawn and ready for action if needed. Nowhere, you were nowhere, and he closed his eyes. He would be dead if someone had got in to take you, so that was out of the question. So where could you be. He explicitly told you to not leave this place.

Like you would listen to him.

A soft rustling in the kitchen caught his attention, and he moved slowly as to not startle who or what ever was making the noise. He turned the corner, gun trained on you and you looked up at him in surprise, cheeks puffed out full of Fruity Pebbles. You slowly chew on the mouthful before smiling brightly at him.

"Where did you get that?" You give him a confused look, before looking down at the box of cereal in your possession pointing at it, with a raised eyebrow, before shrugging.

"Couldn't tell ya." He tilted his head and gave you a skeptical look, replacing his gun in its holster.

"You left didn't you?" You feigned innocence accused, as if he had just told everyone in the world that you kick puppies.

"I would never do that, Leon!" He pursued his lips, pointing at the floor next to you, where his car keys sat and you blinked at them.

"My keys are right there." You swallowed your food before picking them up and tossing them up onto the nearby table.

"No they're not." You shrug, pointing up at the table and he scoffed, feeling aggravation building again.

"I just saw you throw them." You blink at him, placing your palm on your chest.

"It's not my fault you just leave your keys on the floor, man." He growled at you, tugged at his hair, before taking a deep calming breath, pointing at you, in an almost defeated manner.

"No more leaving." He said sternly, and you bite back a smile, popping another handful of cereal in your mouth.

"You're not my dad." You teased him, and he hung his head, causing you to giggle. "C'mon, Leon, it's bedtime anyway. I'm done with my midnight snack." You say, standing and placing the box on top of the fridge, before linking arms with him, laying your cheek on his bicep and leading him to the bedrooms.

~~~~~~~~~

@imagineleonkennedy @mitsuintheworks @kezikatescribbling @disneymarina @locus-desperatus @nthevalkyrie

#biohazard #leon kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon x reader #resident evil leon #re leon #biohazard leon #fan fic #reader insert #resident evil

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