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thyme-in-a-bubble · 3 months

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the dead ringer

buttercup, chapter three

a/n: yeah, this did happen to me in real life, although it happened on a bus so i couldn't immediately get away... ANYWAYS! enjoy this hurt/comfort heavy chapter!

summary: “I think I know something that might help a bit.”

warnings: matt murdock x baker!reader, neighbours to lovers, rape recovery, ptsd, crying, panic attacks, matt using his superpowers for the sake of hurt/comfort, boxing

word count: 2057

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Drizzling the flour into the wide bowl, like a dusty snowfall, you watched the number on the scale carefully as you neared the desired number. Though just before you hit it, Walter’s head suddenly poked in through the doorway leading behind the counter and interrupted you and Howard’s all-too-important discussion on what the day’s music choice should be.

“Hey, Y/n? There’s someone here to see you.”

Laying down the scoop still holding a bit of flour, you dragged your palms down the brown apron tied around your frame and exited the kitchen. A bright smile spread across your face and crinkled up your gaze as you spotted who was standing on the other side of the counter.

“Matt, hey–, oh my god,” you then suddenly noticed the bruising that blossomed out from under his tinted glasses and stretched up over the patched-up scrape that split his left brow, “what happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, just wasn’t paying attention last night, tripped and fell, that’s all,” he waved a hand, “I just wanted to stop by on my way to work, get a round of coffees to-go for everyone and perhaps some breakfast for myself, just whatever you think I’d like.”

“You’ll let me pick?” your eyebrows rose slightly.

But Matt simply smiled and said, “I trust your judgment,” his grip shifted gently on the cane standing tall before his chest.

As you moved to make the coffees, “alright,” you drew out a pondering breath, “are you in the mood for something sweet or savoury?”

Thinking about it a second, he uttered, “savoury.”

“Do you like sandwiches?” you popped the lids on the to-go cups. When he nodded, you placed the coffees in a little cardboard tray, “okay, I think you’ll like this one,” grabbed a brown paper bag and moved further down the counter, “it’s made with focaccia and has pesto in it as well as some tomatoes and cheese and stuff.”

“That sounds amazing.”

“I also–, you know what? I’ll be right back,” you then abruptly turned and momentarily disappeared into the kitchen, grabbing a few of the pillowy buns still on the cooling rack into a bag. As you returned, you also snuck a hand into the display case and stuffed a few other goodies into the sack, “just for the others, if they want,” you placed the bundle onto the counter beside the coffees, “I just pulled them out of the oven a bit ago and they’re still warm.”

“What is it?” Matt tilted his chin.

“Uh, some raisin buns, but I also threw two croissants in there in case they didn’t like raisins...”

A soft smile warmed his bruised features as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, “what do I owe you?”

“Oh no,” your hands waved lightly before you, “it’s on the house.”

“Y/n, come on,” he cocked his head.

“Fine,” you light-heartedly sighed, “if you really wanna sing for your supper, then I’ll cash it in at a later date. I don’t know, maybe if I get arrested someday or something you could help me out.”

“You don’t have to bribe me with free baked goods for that.”

“No, but it sure doesn’t hurt, does it?” you chuckled.

“No,” he joined in as he reached for the bags, “I guess it doesn’t.”

“You want some help carrying it?” you asked, hope seeping through your tone, “I could take my break and walk with you the rest of the way.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, we just got through the morning rush, they’ll be fine without me for–, I don’t know, 15 minutes or however long it’ll take to walk to your office and back.”

“Alright, thanks,” he smiled, one paper bag hooked in the fingers that also clutched the cane.

“I’m just gonna go grab my jacket, one second,” you said before ducking into the back to do so, letting your uncles know as you slipped out of your comfortable work clogs and into your sneakers.

You ended up dividing the load, with you carrying the coffees and the last bag in one arm, though a few protests left you at first, begging him to let you carry all of it, they melted away as his free hand enveloped yours.

When you reached his office, your arms wrapped around his frame as you hugged him long enough for your heartbeats to sync up, and just as you pulled away, his wide palms still warm on your back, you leaned in and planted a brief peck on his scruffy cheek.

One of his hands swept up to meet the side of your face as your lips retracted. You pulled back so slowly that you weren’t sure you were moving at all, being drawn in by his warmth like a moth to a flame.

His nose gently grazed against yours as he let himself linger, but just as your eyes fluttered shut in expectance that he’d kiss you, his warmth withdrew and he slowly breathed, “have a good day.”

In a matter of seconds, you had gone from giggling, glancing down at some silly joke on your phone as you walked home, to panic instantly kicking in as a passerby’s voice pierced your soul and made your blood run cold.

Glancing around, you saw a stranger standing off to the side and yapping into his phone. It wasn’t him, it wasn’t Michael, but it sounded exactly like him, so much so that the tone sent your body right back to that very night as if no time had passed at all.

Willing your body to move, forcing it to conquer the short rest of the way home, once your front door shut behind you and your quiet apartment consumed you, painful sobs began to burst out of your trembling frame. Hyperventilating, you crashed into the nearby wall of the entryway directly across from the door, incapable of getting deeper into your home.

Soon, a quiet and surprising knock found your door.

“Y/n?” the worried tone of your neighbour sounded from the other side.

Your shaky voice came out no louder than a whisper, “M-Matt?”

There might not have been any other instances you could recall where accidentally forgetting to lock your door turned out for the better, because when Matt then tried the handle, it gently complied.

Shutting it behind him, he rushed to you, “hey, hey,” he uttered softly, a hand soothingly finding your arm, “what’s going on?”

Attempting an answer, “I–, I–,” only incoherent sobs managed to seep from you.

“Okay, alright,” he sucked in a controlled breath, one of his hands sliding up to the strap of your backpack, “how about we start by getting all the way inside, huh?” gently gliding it off you and resting the bag on the floor.

You let yourself lean into him fully as he supported you on the short journey towards the couch. Wobbly taking a seat, his touch left you as he settled beside you.

Spine curving, you buried your puffy face in your trembling hands, letting the whole world drift away as small lakes were birthed within your palms from your pain.

When the sobs eventually began to subsite, growing further and farther apart, your frame slowly unfurled. Instinctively flicking your hands before your form, you tried to physically shake even a fraction of the excruciating sensation off of you, but without success.

Matt hadn’t moved an inch, simply stayed there right beside you.

When your quiet voice eventually filled space, it came out broken and overflowing with emotion, “I thought it was him… it wasn’t, b-but it sounded exactly like him… I’ve done double takes every time I saw a stranger with the same haircut or felt nauseous every time I encountered the same name, but this really did sound like him. Same voice, same accent, same everything… but it wasn’t him… it wasn’t… it just sent me right back, you know?”

Hesitantly, you grasped his hand in yours, expecting the contact to only make it worse, to somehow taint and ruin his wonderful and soothing touch, but it didn’t, he didn’t. It was Matt.

Trying to regain control of your breathing, you shakily sucked in deep breaths, feeling your gulps of air slowly become calmer and migrate from the very top of your chest, down to expand your sore stomach. Eyes only half open and utterly exhausted, you noticed that your head was now leaning against Matt’s shoulder.

Glancing hazily down at yourself, you muttered, “fuck… I still have my shoes and jacket on…”

Reaching down, he offered, “here,” before sliding your coat off, resting it on the back of the couch, and leaning down to pull your shoes off.

Curling your legs up onto the couch, the shift in your position offered you more relief than you’d expected. As you attempted to get as comfortable as you possibly could in the state you were in, you snatched up Matt’s hand once more.

Offering your palm a soothing squeeze, he asked quietly, “what do you need, huh? What can I do?”

“I–…” you thought, your brain just as drained as your body was, “I don’t know… maybe–… maybe just be here a bit?”

Exhaling lowly, he flashed you a faint smile, “of course.”

Glancing down at his fingers, sweeping across your own, you said, “hey, Matt? Could you maybe–, uh… could you give me a hug?”

Not hesitating, his strong arms engulfed your quivering frame and a fresh wave of sobs swiftly bubbled out of you as he held you tight, though your cries didn’t push him away, he stayed steadfast, embracing you close till the eruption ultimately simmered down, leaving you nearly asleep against his tear-stained shoulder.

As he gently lowered you down to lay on the couch, you tightened your grip on his shirt as he began to pull back, ushering him to sink down as well, allowing you to curl into his safe embrace and let slumber drift you away.

When you finally stirred, the sun was nowhere to be seen.

“Hey,” you blinked up at Matt still in the exact same spot as before.

“Hey,” you replied groggily, “what time is it?” swiftly fishing your phone out of your pant pocket before Matt could conjure an answer, “oh, fuck… it’s nearly midnight… did you sleep as well?”

“Not really,” he shrugged, “maybe for a little bit, but no.”

“Oh…” you breathed, averting your gaze.

“How are you feeling?” his thumb swiped your waist where his broad palm was planted.

“…I don’t know…” you exhaled, “…exhausted… sad… angry… really fucking angry… so angry that it kinda scares me…”

After a beat of silence, with only your woeful breaths filling the space, Matt then uttered, “I think I know something that might help a bit.”

Your gaze drifted from the faded paint on the walls to the worn punching bags as you and Matt sat on the edge of the central ring and his fingers worked at wrapping up your hands.

“Do you come here a lot?” you asked, your vision gliding back to him.

“From time to time,” he tilted his head slightly, “reminds me of my dad,” tucking the last end of the strip under the weave, securing it into place, he closed your hand into a fist and exhaled, “alright, you’re ready,” he adjusted your grip, briefly offering your wrist a squeeze as he said, “just remember to keep your wrist strong and your thumb right here,” he slid your finger down below your knuckles.

You hadn’t gone into it with much hope, in fact, it was only out of your desperation just feel better that you even humoured the experiment. In the beginning, it did feel as silly as you’d imagined, nearly stopped completely, but at some point in the mess of it all, your punches grew more ferocious, they grew more brutal, and suddenly something inside of you snapped and unravelled. It wasn’t some magic pill, but the physical act did loosen something within you and gave away to a fresh release of sobs, though not the painful and unbearable kind you’d had to endure earlier. It was the kind that felt like relief. Even if it wasn’t permanent, in that very moment, you didn’t feel like you were drowning anymore.

#lea’s writing #buttercup series #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock fanfic #matthew murdock imagine #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x you #daredevil x reader #matt murdock series #matthew murdock x reader #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock angst #matt murdock hurt/comfort

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issabangtanfic · 3 years

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[Jungkook] The Windmill House (Chapter 12)

Synopsis: When your stereotypical Christian Grey meets his not so stereotypical Anna

Masterlist

Pairing: Jungkook x OC

A/N: Feel free to submit a cover! Tell me what you think in my inbox! Enjoy!

Honestly, after seeing Mrs Choi for the first time, I had no idea she would be one of those eccentric client who asks for a ridiculously edgy concept for her home.

It's always the most normal-looking ones...

I look away from the blueprints spread across my desk when I hear my phone buzzing. When I check I see it's a text message from Sidney.

Squidney : Wanna come home for your lunch break? I made lasagna

Her text makes me smile a little. We haven't been talking much ever since that fight after the inauguration party.

She made me feel like I was the unstable kid no one in the family trusts to take care of themselves. And honestly it's probably true that no one trusts me, but I feel like my words are not going to prove anything so I just have been focusing on work and not talking to her very much.

This text is definitely a truce appeal. And I don't like not talking to Sidney, but at the same time I don't know how to feel about the fact that every time I will tell her anything about Mr.Jeon or any other man she will probably disapprove, but not tell me so we don't fight.

I’m scared of the hypocrisy.

“A windmill house?”

When I look up from my phone, I see Joon who had been brainstorming with me this morning, flipping through my folder.

“Focus.” I tell him, snatching it from his hands before he can find the contract I just printed out for Mr.Jeon.

I don't know how to make a contract so I just used one of our standard ones and put my name on it.

“In London?” He inquiries, sounding excited. I know right?! But I can’t be talking about this with you.

“Namjoon.” I admonish.

“Okay.” He gives up, sliding off my desk and looking back at the blueprints.

“I can give you an alcove, but not windows.” He says, pointing at the kitchen area. Wait what?

“I thought that was doable.” I retort.

“It is, but we’d need to restucture the entiere building. We don’t have the budget nor permission for it.” He explains. Well, he could just have said no when I asked him!

“Okay.” I murmur. So without concave windows. we're going to have to create the roundness inside the apartment.

“Don’t sulk.” I hear Joon coo next to me.

“I’m not, I’m thinking.” I reply, retracting my pout and releasing my frown.

“Move the pantry here.” I propose, pointing at the space between two windows. One's in the kitchen, the other in the living-room.

“Here?” He doesn't sound convinced.

“We can use the gap between the old and new partitions as storage. And put the alcove here. It’ll be the limit between the kitchen and the living room." I explain. At this point I don't see any other option.

“That I can do. That’s actually a great idea.” Joon nods. Cool!

“Good Job.” He compliments, fist bumping me before exiting my office. Once I'm alone, I quickly text Sidney back.

Me: Lasagna sounds great, syl

I’m back home by 12:30, and when I open the door the delicious smell of cooking meat invades my nostrils. Just as I close the door, Juno trots up to me with her tail wagging happily.

"Hi Juno!" I beam at her, kneeling to scratch her head. She looks so cute with her little blue bandana around her neck. She barks hello, and I drop a kiss on between her eyes.

When I walk further in, I find Sydney tying her hair up in a bun with a chopstick behind the kitchen counter. The table is set for two.

"Hi." She smiles at me.

"Mmmmmh... lasagna!" I sing, tossing my bag on the couch. I join her in the kitchen and kneel in front of the oven. "Smells amazing." I observe. The lasgna is almost ready, I can see the meat juices bubbling under the cheese. She really makes the best lasagna.

"Thank you for the food, Sidney." I thank her, standing up and pecking her cheek.

"You're welcome." She hums, and even though we still haven’t talked about our fight, I know I can’t stay mad at her.

Since everything is set and all that’s missing is the lasagna, we both sit down at the table and open a beer.

"We haven't been hanging out much so this is great." I say after we clink our bottles.

"I know, I wanted to say I'm sorry." She replies, looking at me with sad eyes.

"It's fine, really. I know you're just looking out for me." I counter. It was a silly argument. Ultimately, I understand her. I wish she didn’t think this way, but I understand where this is coming from, and I can’t be expecting anything else from her. Or anyone from my family.

"No, I'm sorry for making you think I don't trust you." She argues. "I'm just scared."

"Listen, I know how similar these two men are. Trust me, it's been weird for me too." I say reassuringly. "But somehow he hasn't made me feel how I'd be feeling before." I add. "Quite the opposite actually."

I frown as the words leave my mouth. It’s only hitting me now that in a way, Mr.Jeon is nothing like the type of man he looks like. I have all these preconceptions about him, and while he still hasn’t proved me wrong, I can’t say I feel like I’m right about him yet.

"And I don't know what to do about it." I mutter to myself, drowning half of my sentence in the neck of my bottle. There’s a moment of silence, where Syd seems to be hesitating to speak.

"I just don't want to lose you again." She admits after a beat. I know everything comes down to that. I reach across the table and grab both of her hands.

"I know. And whatever happens I'm not letting him or anyone pull me away from my family." I affirm, looking straight into her eyes. "It's not happening again." I promise. She smiles and nods, seemingly reassured.

"You know," She trails off, rmoving her hands from mine and resting her chin on her palm. After all this time you've been part of my family, I still didn't think you liked Asians."

"What the hell?” I laugh out loud. This girl!

"I don't know, I just never thought of it." She giggle with me. I shake my head at her as our laughter fades.

"Promise me you're being careful." She demands quietly.

"I am being careful, Sidney." I promise. "You know, what made me really mad the other day was…”I pause, looking for the right words. "That somehow you think I didn't learn my lesson?"

"No, that's not what I think." She shakes her head vigorously. "I just-" She pauses and thinks for a second. "I trust you, but I worry still." She says.

I’m not expecting any less from her.

"I think..." She trails off, but chokes on her words, and her eyes become shiny with fresh tears. Oh, no!

"Sidney, come on." I scold as she blinks her tears away.

"Shut up, let me talk." She snaps, aborting the waterworks. She sighs deeply, her eyes still very wet. I hate seeing her like this.

"I think seeing you with a man brings back a lot of memories." She explains, her voice still shaking. "Your therapist said your first relationship after B-"

"Woah woah woah, who talked about a relationship?" I stop her dead in her tracks. I understand her worry, but I’m not trying to date anyone. Yes, Mr.Jeon and I are flirting, but we both know what to expect.

"Even a quick shag, she said it's bound to bring back memories." She argues.

"I told you, he still hasn't made me feel like that." I retort.

"I know, and that's great." She says. "But we also had our own trauma that me and your parents and everyone else went through." She argues.

"And obviously it's not as dramatic as it sounds but,” She says, shaking her head. "Knowing that you're potentially seeing someone, it kinda feels like PTSD." She says to me.

"I understand." I reply. I guess, neither me nor my family is prepared for me seeing someone again. After all, it’s something that I hadn’t thought of in a while, not even once.

“And if I feel unprepared for you being out there again, imagine how your parents will react.” Sydney adds.

“I’d rather not.” I reply. Honestly I’d rather stay single.

“It’s going to feel so sudden for them, because they’re not even witnessing the talking stages-“

“I’m not dating this man.” I remind her. I won’t have to introduce anyone to my parents for still a very long time!

“Still.” She retorts. “It’s going to be difficult for them. And they’re probably going to make you feel worse than I did.” She says as a warning. She’s right. My parents will probably reject anyone I bring home out of pure protectiveness, without even trying to get to know them.

“But always out of love for you.” She adds. My mind is reeling. Me getting a boyfriend will be such a headache.

“Let’s postpone the moment as much as possible then.” I sigh, grabbing my beer. “Shagging only.” I toast, and it’s like a promise at this pont. Sydney laughs at me, but still mimics me.

“Shagging only.” She repeats after me.

After a rather calm day at work, I drive down to Mr.Jeon's office in the City. It's a place I've never been to in the 2 years I've been living here in London, because why would I? I earn half of what the worst paid people here make.

My red mini doesn't fit between this tall grey skyscrapers, Mercedes and Audi's around me.

Mr.Jeon told me to park in the underground parking lot after announcing myself to the guard, before going to the first floor to announce myself again. The building is almost empty as it is past working hours.

After getting clearance, I'm escorted by a pretty brunette up to the 17th and last floor. I pass countless empty offices, until my guide stops in front of the sole lit up room. The wall is glass, so I can see about a dozen people inside.

"Mr.Jeon is in a meeting right now." The woman informs me. "You can wait for him right here."

She points at two chairs in the hallway placed by a closed office, right across from the meeting room.

"Thank you." I smile politely at her before taking a seat. The chair happens to be placed near the back of the meeting room, where I finally spot Mr.Jeon, sat down at the end of the table.

The motion of me sitting down catches his attention. He looks outside and spots me. I give him a smile and a slight nod to say hello. He smiles back to me, before reaching in his pocket and pulling his phone out. He starts typing, and I receive a text seconds later.

Mr.Jeon : You're early.

No, he’s late.

Me : I didn't want you to fire me again.

I type back, press send and look up to dee his reaction. He smirks, looked amused as he types his answer.

Mr.Jeon : I would never. He writes back, followed by:

Mr.Jeon : You look very pretty today.

I purse my lips to stifle the unwanted smile creeping on my face. He's probably looking at me to watch me swoon and melt at his comment, but I won't give him this satisfaction.

When I look up, his eyes aren't on me. He's back into his meeting, looking straight ahead at the different numbers on screen across the table.

Me : Texting during a meeting? I reply, deciding not to acknowledge the compliment. When he gets the notifications, he makes a quick matter of his response.

Mr.Jeon : Take the compliment.

Oh this feels like an order. This man would love to boss me around.

Me : I don't like your tone. I retort.

When he sees my text, his head immediately turns to me, his eyebrows raised and his eyes challenging.

I shrug a shoulder, indicating I don't care if he doesn't like what he just read.

The corner of his mouth jerks a little, and he rolls his tongue against his cheek to refrain a smile, before looking back at his phone. I receive a text shortly after.

Mr.Jeon : Take the compliment, please.

Me: No.

When he gets the text, his eyes shoot up at me, and he slowly shakes his head, seemingly amused.

But he doesn't reply. He instead focuses on the words being said inside the room. I watch as he suddenly frowns, and then start flipping through a pile of paper he has in front of him.

I don't hear what he's saying but he looks confused and slightly annoyed. He tells something to the man presenting, clearly reproachful.

Me: What's the meeting about? I ask out of curiousness. He doesn't look at my text until the issue is settled and his employee gives him a satisfying answer.

I'm already scrolling through my Instagram timeline when I get his response. Three texts in a row.

Mr.Jeon : Boring stuff

Mr.Jeon : And finances

Mr.Jeon : What are you doing tonight?

Of course he'd ask. I smile at my phone.

Me: I don't think it's any of your business.

Mr.Jeon : Why do you assume I'm asking for unprofessional purposes?

Me: Because you probably are

Mr.Jeon : I wish Maya

Me: It’s Miss Fair for you

Mr.Jeon : Are you staying for dinner, Miss Fair?

Me: I'll have to decline...

I'm only declining to play hard to get. I would love to have dinner with him. Heck, I know I would want to take it even further. But I should be careful. I just promised Sid.

Mr.Jeon sits up first, buttoning his dark blue suit and signaling the end of the meeting. It is now 7:15. Everyone in the meeting follows, gets up and packs up, while Mr.Jeon exits the room first. I rise from my seat.

"Miss Fair." He greets me once he’s at my level.

"Hello, Mr. Jeon." I smile it him, extending my hand.

"Sorry for making you wait." He says to me, taking my hand shanking it.

"No worries." I reply, very well aware of the female employee taking her sweet time exiting the meeting room so she can stare at me. Does everyone in his company want to fuck him? Probably honestly.

“Long day?” I ask him. I can’t imagine having meetings until seven.

“Indeed. And you’ve already made it better.” He replies, successfully earning a chuckle from me.

"I have that effect on people sometimes." I shoot back.

"It's not the only one you have." He concurs. Oh, please.

“Let me show you to my office.” He invites, before guiding me down the hall to the door at the very end of the corridor.

After tying a code, Mr.Jeon opens the door that leads into his office.

It's a big, almost empty room. The back wall is entirely glass, making for a sweet landscape painting of downtown London. He has a rather small desk, with a leather ergonomic chair and two other ones placed across from him. As I walk further in, I notice a black leather sofa against the wall near the door, a chest of drawers and storage spaces and a sad single tall plant.

"This place is so sad." The words are out before I can understand how rude they are. I spin around to face Mr.Jeon, who is closing the door behind us. He's frowning at me.

"I'm sorry." I stutter, feeling my cheeks heat up.

"I mean empty." I correct myself. He pauses for a second, and I believe the quick exhale of air he does after that is a quiet chuckle.

"I don't spend that much time here." He says in a way of explaining. "But I'll be happy to have you work on my office as well." He adds. This man always has his goal in mind.

"I'll think about it." I reply evasively.

“Have a seat.” He invites. I sit my butt on on the chair and watch him walk over to the left side of the room.

“Would you like something to drink?” He proposes. Thats when I realize the storage spaces I saw where built-in furniture.

“You have a fridge in your office?” I don't know why I'm so amazed.

“I also have a bathroom with a shower and the sofa’s convertible.” He replies. A bathroom?

“You spend nights here?” I ask him.

“Sometimes." He answers simply. Woah. "Wine?” He offers.

This man is always trying to get me drunk! Or maybe he's just trying to make me stay.

“I just need a quick signature.” I decline politely.

“Where’s the rush? Aren’t you off work?” He retorts.

“I am, but I'm not drinking tonight Mr.Jeon."

"Okay." He doesn't push, and instead closes the fridge and walks back to me. He takes place in his seat while I fish into my bag looking for my folder.

“This is the contract I prepared for you.” I announce once I've found it. I pull it out and place it on the table.

“This is just a standard contract from Union, I just put my name on it.” I explain, flipping through the first four page until I find the one where my payment is mentioned. I flip the document around and slide it across the table to he can read, but he doesn't even look at it, just watches me with intent. I tap down on the page.

“Fifteen percent.” I point out, since it’s the percentage we’ve agreed on. He doesn’t even look down at where I’m pointing at, just keeps staring at me with this cheeky smile of his.

“Where do I sign?” He asks me. This man, I swear.

I sigh in order to try and hide my amusement.

“I thought you needed to read it through.” I remind him.

“I changed my mind.” He retorts. Oh, I’m sure he hadn’t planned on reading anything in the first place… It’s so annoying that his cheesy tactics still make my stomach feel funny.

I break the eye contact first, looking at the contract while I flip all the pages. “You can sign here, and here.” I indicate him. I watch him as he clicks his pen and scribbles onto the paper.

“Thank you very much.” I say, grabbing the papers and putting them back in the folder.

“Anything else I can do for you?” He asks as I put back in my purse.

“I think I have everything I need.” I smile at him.

“Can I make a request, then?” He enquires, joining his hands on the table.

“Are you going to ask me to have dinner with you?”

“Will you say yes?”

“No.”

“Then no, that’s not my request.” He brushes off, shrugging. Oh?

“What can I do for you?” I ask him, resting my chin onto my fist.

“Can you answer my question as honestly as possible?” He asks, leaning a little bit closer to me.

“Sure.” I reply, hoping he's not going to be too indiscreet.

"That time when you called me after the inauguration of the Manor." He trails off. Oh, lord.

"What would have happened had I said yes?" He asks me. I take a second to remember the mindset I was in that night.

I was definitely very tipsy, but I also was very horny.

"I think we would've set a date." I reply."And after sobering up I would've chickened out probably." I say, because let's be realistic.

"Mmh..." He nods, still trying to read something in my eyes. Why is he asking me that anyways?

"Do you regret not accepting the offer?" I ask him. He's probably getting impatient. After all the farthest he's ever gone with me is touching my neck.

"I'm wondering what was different that night." He replies. "You were a lot more...open."

Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.

"Part of it was because of the alcohol." I argue.

"I figured." He says to me. "I was hoping it wasn't only that." He murmurs a little more quietly.

I stare at him for a second. Why does this small, unused part of my brain think he's actually trying with me?

"Can you answer my question?" I counter, mimicking him and joining my hands.

"Sure."

"Promise to be honest?"

He smiles a little when I say that, and his gaze grows warm.

"I promise." He murmurs softly.

"How many women are you sleeping with?"

"Zero." He replies immediately. OH SURE!

He doesn't even try to come up with a credible number. Why did I think he would actually tell me the truth in the first place.

I roll my eyes to the heavens, leaning back against my seat in disappointment.

"Maya." He chuckles, pushing himself off of his desk.

"I have been working since seven in the morning. I've had five meetings, no lunch break, and I have a flight tomorrow morning for Dubai where I'll have to meet 13 potential clients in less than four days," He says to me, slowly circling his desk so he's closer to me.

"All while attending boring society functions and pretending I care about how many cars my investors have." He says, leaning against his desk when he's right next to me.

"I don't have time for more than one woman, but most importantly I don't have time for lies." He reassures me. I don't know if I believe that, but that does sound like a busy schedule. I don't see how he could fit multiple women in there.

"Why waste your precious time on me then?" I sass, because why not? I cross my arms over my chest and lift a challenging eyebrow at him.

"I wouldn't do it if I considered it a waste of my time." He mimics me.

"Then why?" I ask, and he pauses for a second.

"I'm not sure." He says, shrugging. Oh.

There is a knock on the door that interrupts our discussion. Mr.Jeon slips off his desk and goes over to open it. I turn around out of curiosity, to see who’s behind the door. It’s his assistant Jimin.

"Yes, Jimin?" Mr.Jeon says to him. His assistant's eyes quickly scan the background and land on me. He then looks back at Mr.Jeon.

"Am I bothering?" He asks him.

"Be quick." Mr.Jeon replies. I might as well get ready to leave. I was just supposed to get a signature tonight. Chatting and flirting is fun, but it's getting late.

"Paul confirmed eight thirty tonight. Here are your keys." I hear Jimin explain to him while I look away.

"Thank you, Jimin."

"You're welcome. Goodnight." He says, and just like that he's gone. I get up from my seat and swing my bag over my shoulder.

When I turn around Mr.Jeon is is standing by the open door.

"You're leaving?" He asks me.

"Don't you have a date at eight thirty?" I remind him, joining him at the door. "With Paul?" I tease, making him chuckle.

"A date with Paul?" He laughs, opening the door for me. "He's not really my type." He says as I step out.

"And he's my personal trainer if you're wondering." I hear him add as he closes the door behind us.

"And you were ready to go have dinner with me?" I challenge as we walk down the corridor towards the elevators.

"I'll trade a workout with Paul for dinner with you anytime." He says smoothly, looking down at me. I huff out a laugh, shaking my head.

Once we get to the elevators, I press the call button.

"Why are you asking? Have you changed your mind about dinner?" He asks me.

"Not yet." I reply, turning to face him. He's standing closer to me than I expected.

He lets out a long sigh, shoving his hands in his pockets. I'm feeling playful.

"You could convince me." I tease, shrugging a shoulder. Just as I say these words, the doors to the elevator open.

"Convince you?" He repeats, his interest peaked. We step inside the elevator.

"How long do I have?" He asks me as I lean against the wall, grabbing the railing behind me. He goes to the opposite side to press the basement floor button.

"Just an elevator ride." I challenge just as the doors close on the both of us and the elevator starts moving down. An incredibly sexy smirk creeps across his face when I say that.

"What game are you playing right now, Maya?" He asks, eyes playful, taking a slow step towards me.

"I'm giving you a chance." I shrug, as he slowly approches me. I feel like he's going to jump me any second.

I should get him off his high horses.

"But you have to convince me..." I trail off, catching him trying to pull his hands out of his pockets.

"Without touching me." I murmur, when he's inches away from me. I swallow, all my confidence slowly leaving me. My eyes travel between his eyes and his lips.

Even though I just told him not to touch me, if he kisses me right now, I don't know what I'd do with myself.

"Without touching you." He repeats, looking both confused and amused. I nod, because I don't trust my voice to be steady enough.

I feel the elevator slow down prematurely, indicating an impromptu stop. Mr.Jeon steps back, and that's when I realize I kind of had stopped breathing.

I straighten my back and turn away from him as the elevator comes to a full stop. The door open onto a man pushing a cleaning cart. A janitor.

After stiff greetings, the employee pushes his cart in, taking place right between me and Mr.Jeon.

Well, there goes whatever was going to happen there.

The ride down is silent, and it seems like the storage room is on the basement floor as well because that's where we all get off.

Mr.Jeon and I let him walk off while we linger in front of the elevators. My mini also happens to be parked right in front of us.

When our eyes finally meet after he's gone, we're both tempted to laugh.

"You failed." I observe, facing him.

"Well, there wasn't much I could do, was there?" He chuckles. True, true. I wish I could know he was going to say... or do to me.

"Maybe next time?" I say, well aware of the inviting tone of my voice.

"Maybe." He nods.

"Have a safe trip." I add over my shoulder, walking over to my car.

"Thank you, Maya. Get home safe." He replies, watching me get in and drive off.

#jungkook scenarios #jungkook #jungkook smut #bts smut #bangtan smut #rm smut #rm scenarions #bangtan scenarios #park jimin #bts jimin #bts jungkook fanfic #jimin fanfic #jungkookxoc

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clearsky · 3 years

Text

My Top Comfort Characters/Kins and My Main HCs For Them

(Note, not all my kins/comfort characters are on here, just the ones I have more than 5 hcs for)

CW: Korekiyo Shinguji (DRV3), Himiko Yumeno (DRV3), Shinsou Hitoshi (BNHA), Kyoko Kirigiri (THH), Tsuyu Asui (BNHA), Entrapta (Spop), Ibuki Mioda (SDR2), Celestia Ludenberg (THH), Funtime Foxy (FNAF), Peril (WOF)

Korekiyo Shinguji (DRV3)

Nonbinary

He/They pronouns

Autistic

Chains and loose accessories are for stimming

Likes the feeling of silk and cotton

Can't stand the feeling of anything rough or bumpy

He likes collecting small trinkets and the bones of small mammals

Can't stand anything salty. He'll eat it but he certainly won't enjoy it

Dating Rantaro

Can flirt, but only if he doesn't try

Petnames are a hell yea

Gets sunburnt really easily

Group dates with Celesnaegiri and Ikuzono

Can't cook for s h i t

Had a scene kid phase in middle school

Went to the same middle school as Celeste and Maki

Knew them when Celeste went through her "I'm not like other girls" phase and Maki was a Band Kid™

Himiko Yumeno (DRV3)

Female

She/Her pronouns

Lesbian

Can force herself to fall asleep within seconds regardless of where she is

100% forces herself to fall asleep when she doesn't wanna listen/talk to someone

Himiko/Angie/Tenko relationship. I'm calling them the Traffic Light Trio

She likes taking naps in the forest

She prefers enclosed/tight spaces more than open ones

Has several hundred stress balls and squishies laying around

She overheats easy

Shinsou Hitoshi (BNHA)

Questioning his gender, but goes by any pronouns

Knows he's Asexual, at least

Has no clue what his romantic orientation is though

The kind of person to carry treats in his pocket just in case he runs into a cat

Will stop to pet literally every cat he comes across

Great at reading people

Doesn't talk unless it's 100% needed

Hangs with Tokoyami, Jirou, and Denki most often

Aizawa has 100% unofficially adopted him

Fosters kittens

Not a big fan of physical touch

He is 100% in the bakusquad. Anyone who says he's in the Dekusquad is a c o w a r d

He and Tsuyu vibe

Knows a bunch of random facts

Dark humour? Dark humour

*skates backwards into his therapist's room slowly sipping from an absurdly huge cup of coffee* Candice you're not gonna BELIEVE the shit I just went through

In case I forgot to mention it, he skates

Kyoko Kirigiri (THH)

Mtf

She/Her

Bi with female preference

Burns go up to her shoulders/collarbone/chest

Prefers to just listen as opposed to saying anything

Knows a ton of random trivia about everyone else in her class

She keeps a notebook she fills with all the trivia

Doesn't celebrate her birthday. She just doesn't see the point of it

Doesn't hate sugar/sweets, but if given the choice she would choose literally everything else

Cuts her own hair

A cat person

Permanent dark circles

T-Tall 😳

Like,,, 6'1 at LEAST

Only person taller than her is Yasuhiro (6'3)

Canon no longer exist

Ahahaha healthy life habits? What are those?

Can't handle horror games

She's the kind of person you'd go to if you needed to rant but didn't want any advice

Polyamourous yo

Celeste/Kyoko/Makoto

She's a dom yall are just scared to admit it

Tsuyu Asui (BNHA)

They go by They/Them

Lesbian

They and Ochaco are dating

They like to hang with Shinsou

Which mainly just means the two sitting in one of their dorms in near total silence doing whatever

Can speak English and French as well as Japanese

Learned English from cartoons

Picked up French bc they thought it'd be fun

Prefers to stay neutral in the whole Bakusquad / Dekusquad thing

They're invited to all outings/events by/for both squads

They like puns

They're a dumbass but willingly, and for fun

Like "someone says they like dark humour and they'll turn off the lights before telling a joke" kind dumbass for fun

Great at poker

Likes Disney Movies

Very touchy once you get close enough

Not in a sexual way, just likes physical contact

Especially fond of piggyback rides and cuddles

Extreme fear of needles

Entrapta (She-Ra)

She/Her or It/Its

Doesn't bother trying to figure out whether she's cis, trans, nonbinary, or what

Was AMAB though

Short as fuck (4'7)

Strong as fuck though

Cuddle game strong

Physical touch is a fuck yes

Cuddles

Piggyback rides

Hugs

Anything where she's touching someone is wonderful in her book

As long as she's the one that initiates it

Anyone else touching her without her permission makes her freak

Prefers being high up

Makes it harder for anyone to sneak up on her

An ace at video games

When it comes to sexuality she just says she's Questioning

Ibuki Mioda (SDR2)

Any pronouns + Pup/Pupself + It/Its

No idea what their gender is otherwise

Biromantic Asexual

Just likes sexual jokes

Gets distracted easily

Has severe hearing problems

She's plays her instruments as loud as possible, with the amp right next to her, without ANY ear protection

It's caused some damage

She talks so loud bc she has no idea how loud is considered acceptable

Wears hearings aids most of the time

Several piercings and tattoos

Likes hearing things jingle

She has a bracelet with a few bells hanging from it

She'll shake it whenever she's bored

LOVES hair accessories

Ribbons are a particular favourite

Occasionally she'll hang little charms from her hair "horns"

The kind of person who never takes any pills/medicine bc she keeps forgetting she has to

Frequently uses emojis

Skates everywhere but she isn't very good at it

She keeps crashing into everything

Has broken every bone in her body at least 3 times

Most of which was bc she keeps trying to kick in doors and skating down the stairs

Celestia Ludenberg (THH)

Nonbinary

Any pronouns, mainly goes by She/They

Bi, 70:30

Collects mini hand sanitizers and can tabs

Has single handedly gotten Mario Kart, Mario Party, Monopoly, Uno, and Clue banned a grand total of 17 times (and counting)

The kind of person to purposefully target someone regardless of what game was being played

Favourite victim is Byakuya (bc he gets so upset about it and she finds that hilarious)

Mains Waluigi

Celeste/Kyoko/Makoto

Has several banned Twitter accounts bc whenever she's bored she'll start discourse on purpose

Hangs with Korekiyo, Ibuki, Byakuya, Yasuhiro, and Leon most often

It's a weird friend group but everyone's sorta gotten used to it

She and Byakuya gamble together occasionally

She tries to avoid it bc he'll willingly blow his entire fortune in an attempt to beat her

Autustic

Can't stand the feeling of water

Mainly bc she can't swim for shit

Horror movies? Hates them

Gets flustered super easily

Taka is her twin brother

Kotoko, Kokichi, and Gundham are their half siblings (Same father)

Peko and Toko are their cousins

She sucks ass at go fish

Fuck canon she's 4'11 now

C h u b b y

Freckles

Once she gets comfortable enough with herself she dyes her hair in the peekaboo style

Either black and red or black and blonde

Haven't decided yet

I'll be doing Celesnaegiri hcs as a seperate post but I just feel it's important for you to know that she expresses her affection verbally and is a very touchy person

Went to middle school with Maki and Korekiyo

Has horrible eyesight

She wears contacts most of the time but she always puts off buying more

After the 5th or so time she ended up blindly stumbling around a week after her contacts ran out Kyoko convinced her to buy glasses as well

Religious accessories yo

Like chokers and dangly earrings with crosses and pentagrams and shit

Likes wearing wacky earrings

Can run and do all sorts of tricks in heels

She and Mukuro are exes yo

Keeps her hair short so it's easier to manage

Hair never gets longer than her shoulders if she can help it

She seems like the kind of person who'd keep her bangs grown past her eyes regardless of how frustrating or inconvenient it is

She's a sub yall just don't wanna admit it

Funtime Foxy (FNAF)

I'm going on the record to say this

Funtime Foxy is genderfluid and that is that

Goes by Funtime

Any pronouns, They/Them most commonly

Plays music (keyboard and guitar mainly)

They and Funtime Freddy (Freds) mainly play with the kids

Freds mainly tells stories with Bonbon while Funtime more so plays one-on-one

Has nicknames for everyone

Circus Baby - Ringleader

Ballora - Bells

Funtime Freddy - Partner

Bon Bon - Bun

Peril (WOF)

I like both Nonbinary She/They Peril and Mtf She/Her Peril

They're both such good concepts

She's a lesbian, Harold

She only had a crush on Clay bc he was pretty much everything she was supposed to like in a guy

Gimme a moment while I force all my mental disorders onto this poor child

Autistic, Anxiety (Social anxiety, mainly, but she has most types), Adhd, PTSD

I'd like to reiterate yet again that She's a lesbian

Sunny and Glory were her gay awakening

Peril in Book 1: Damn, Sunny and Glory sure are pretty. Anyone would be lucky to date them. Clay would probably go for them over me. He would be stupid if he didn't. I myself would willingly date them over someone like me. They're just so pretty :(

Peril waking up in a cold sweat in the middle of arc 2: WAIT-

Rarepair alert but Peril/Sora

Peril meeting Sora: "Hmmm She's attractive. I would love to date her. Too bad I'm straight and in love with her brother lmao :P"

Peril, a mere month later, waiting for Ruby to leave Jade Mountain, pacing in her cave, running face first into a wall: WAIT-

I remember reading this one amazing story where Sora taught Peril to read/write and Peril found out she set off the bomb and comforted her/convinced her her run so that's canon now

Btw if anyone can remember what that story was called/what platform it was on and could tell me I'd appreciate it very much

I'd even be willing to draw a character of your's or make you an icon or something

I usually don't accept requests bc I get burnt out easy but this is a special case

She runs into Sora again sometime between the beginning of TOP and the end

I like to imagine she just goes wandering around

Anyway she confesses like a mere few minutes after running into her again bc Peril is just subtle like that

The actual confession takes 15 minutes and the entire time Sora is just sitting here like "👁👄👁 sure"

Bam Peril/Sora

Peril plans to keep it a secret for a little while longer but she spends 3 seconds around Clay and pretty much blurts it out

Clay, who wasn't even aware that Peril was a lesbian, is just "👁👄👁"

I wanna say Clay doesn't know what a lesbian is but in my canon Sunny is a lesbian so Starflight has already told him

Anyway he's super supportive

From that point Peril is sorta open about her sexuality?

Like, she gives Clay permission to tell the rest of the D.O.D bc she isn't about to risk being in front of them when they hear the news

(When Sunny starts actively seeking her out as a hang out buddy and Tsunami, Glory, and Starflight appear to tolerate her presence just a bit more afterwards she pretends she isn't confused by the change)

She's pink, white, and blue bc I said so

If you look at a certain angle in the right lighting her eyes, mouth, fire, and under her scales all look purple

But her fire is normally white and blue bc I said so

Also she pale as fuck bc in my canon their fire just sorta burns their colour away

You know how you leave something outside for too long and it gets sunbleached? Where it gets all washed out?

Like that but more extreme

By the age of 10-12 firescale dragons are just white with pale eyes

That's right not even the eyes are safe

Ram horns :P

I'm also fond of Peril/Sunny

Or maybe Peril/Sora/Sunny

But Peril/Sora is the main thing

On the topic of that bringing in my hc that if one sib in a sib group is fire resistant all of them are

She,,, She can change her scale colour

But only slightly and only if her emotions are strong enough

Bc I don't give a fuck about Darkstalker's scroll we were robbed of hybrid Peril

Unfortunately all of Peril's emotions are strong

Rainwing ruff along her head and neck

It's like a hood

It's mainly smoothed to her sides but when she's startled it flares out

RAINWING PUPILS

Y'all will know what those look like as soon as I get off my ass :P

She,,, She can mimic bird cries

Hates the summer

She has more than enough body heat already and the outside is just hot enough to add on and make her feel sick

She can somewhat control her heat but most of the time it's based on her emotions

It can go from standing-in-the-middle-of-a-burning-building-cant-see-your-nose-smoke-is-so-thick heat (Strong emotion) to Hey-thats-a-nice-cozy-campfire heat (Calm/"weak" emotion/Sleeping)

I'm just gonna make a different post with all my Peril hcs cuz there isnt enough room for all of them here

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darknessisafriend · 4 years

Note

Can you do something for Joe please? Something fluffy because he👏needs👏some 👏love👏. I love you blog btw

Fluff is coming !! Yeah I wanna hug this teddy bear so bad

Make you smile

You had met Joe a few months ago, you had moved in the flat next to his house, and for some reason electricity wasn’t working, so you knocked at his door to ask for a candle and maybe warm up your food in the microwave. Joe had been quite cold at first, very suspicious for a reason you couldn’t explain; thankfully his mom had stepped in and invited you in. As you started to talk, Joe must have felt you were no threat and he seemed to relax a bit, but he never left his mother’s side. Still he didn’t talk much, to your regrets, you found him quite handsome, he was quite well built, you found yourself thinking about how nice it was to be in his arms, he had a man bun and you just wanted to let his hair loose, bury your fingers in them; and those eyes, their color was mesmerizing and they bared a deep pain, you wanted to change that.

After eating your plate you had returned to your place, as you were about to enter, you heard his voice call you, Joe asking if he could take a look, maybe he could solve the problem; you had gladly accepted and spent a few hours more with him until he managed to fix the problem, however he had refused any kind of thanks from you and had left.

You never tried to talk to him again, even though you had run into him a few times afterwards, it really made you sad not to be able to get to know him but he always seemed so distant and kinda bothered by your presence, so you left him be, maybe he had social anxiety or issues to develop relationship with other people.

But this all changed, one day when he wasn’t home, and his mom had escaped to end up on the road. Thankfully, you were home this day and had noticed her, and kept her with you all day waiting for Joe to come and open the now locked door. You had never seen him so terrified before and he had been so thankful that you had saved his mom.

After this event, your relationship with Joe drastically changed, he trusted you, enough to give a spare key and let you check on his mother when he wasn’t there. When he had finally gotten used to your presence in his house, you often stayed after his mom went to bed, talking with him, or watching a movie; until one day you just couldn’t resist and kiss him, he had frozen, not sure of what you just did. And he was not down for it at first, he had told you, that you didn’t know him, that he’s fucked up, but you were ready to give him all the time he needs. Of course it was a bit awkward afterwards.

But after a couple of weeks, he couldn’t resist anymore, with difficulty he had told you about his childhood, the PTSD from which he suffered, it explained a lot about his previous behavior with you. However he never spoke about his job, he said he wanted you to be safe, and for that you shouldn’t know, you had accepted it, of course you had so many questions going through your head, but you trusted him.

After dating for a few months you had finally moved in with him, it was much easier, and he was also relieved that you could be there for his mother when he couldn’t. He had even confessed one night that it was very nice to come home to someone waiting for him.

Now, Christmas was getting closer, it will be the first time celebrating with him and his mom, you were excited, you planned on making it the happiest Joe has ever had.

You stirred in your bed, you were feeling colder than usual, so you turned looking for Joe’s warm body, your hand met his back, you felt him slightly jump at the contact. You winced.

“Joe, it’s me honey…sorry I woke you up…” you apologized, you didn’t mean to wake him up, he could be very jumpy during the night, due to his hypervigilance he was afraid something might happen at any moment, and that’s exactly what had happened, for a brief moment he had forgotten where he was and with who. You felt him turn around and his arm encircled your body, hugging you tightly, he buried his head in the crook of your neck.

“It’s okay Joe, everything his okay.” You whispered in his ear while caressing his back soothingly. You finally opened your eyes, the light in the room was bright as if it was summer outside, or could it be snow? The idea suddenly popped in your mind, that would explain the chilly air and the bright light from outside, excitement rose in your chest. You kept it inside, Joe needed you right now; so you stayed with him until he felt better, he finally looked up to meet your eyes, and he closed the gap between your mouths, his kiss was strong, needy, looking for comfort.

As you ran out of air, you caressed his cheek, a tender smile forming on your lips.

“I’ll be right back.” You told him, giving him a quick peck on the lips as you got up and went to the window, lifting the curtains. You opened your mouth agape when you saw all the snow, freshly fallen, it had snowed a lot, a thick layer covering the top of the cars.

“Joe! there’s snow! Come!” you squealed happily, you couldn’t wait to go outside. You heard him move and get out of bed, he came to stand behind you, once again putting his arms around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder. You turned your head to look at his reaction. He didn’t smile but he looked at the snow intensely, almost fascinated, it was a good start.

“Let’s go outside!!” you beamed as you turned to face him, putting your arms around his neck.

“To do what?” he asked clueless.

“Well, play in the snow, dummy!” you teased playfully kissing his cheek as you went to dress warmly. You heard him sight as he looked for clothes in the closet, you couldn’t wait to show him it could be fun, that was your goal for today, make him smile with happiness. When you were finally dressed and he was too, you excitedly took his hand and ran down the stairs.

When you opened the door, the cold air hit you, it was so refreshing, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath, the air felt so pure. A smile on your lips, you turned to look at Joe and to your great pleasure he was also enjoying the atmosphere. You let go of his hand to let yourself fall in the snow, the thickness almost burying you, you giggled at the sensation, you started to move your legs and arms to make a snow angel.

“C’mon Joe, it’s fun!” you invited him. After a pause, he gave in and went to lie down in the snow next to you.

“So how do you do it? Just moving my arms and legs from inside to outside?” he asked, trying to find the same fun you had.

“Exactly! Just close your eyes and feel what’s around you.” You replied softly. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes and started to slowly move his members. After a bit you saw his frown dissipate, he was relaxing, his face peaceful, you watched him, until he stopped and stayed still, enjoying the peace he felt.

“It feels…nice…”he murmured, reopening his eyes and looking at you, he reached for your hand, you both stared at each other, no need to speak, his eyes thankful, thankful you were bringing him peace, and you were happy, that’s exactly what you wanted to give him, rest, at least for a bit.

When the both of you finally got up, you looked at your snow angels, his was definitely bigger than yours, but it looked like they were holding hands. It’s was cute; then another cute idea came up, snowball fight of course! No better way to have fun.

“What do you think about a snowball fight?” you tempted him with a mischievous smile, you wanted to make sure he was okay with it, just in case it could trigger something in him, that’s the least thing you wanted. He seemed to think for a bit.

“You’re going to lose, you know that?” he answered seriously but you could see a bit of playfulness in his eyes.

“Oh don’t be so sure about that!” you replied challenging as your ran to hide behind a tree and crouched down to prepare your first snowball. Then, slowly you looked on the side to see where he was, and he was nowhere to be seen, adrenaline started to build in your body, you put yourself under cover once again, and before you could see it, you received a snowball in your face, you gasped in surprise and even more when you realized he was standing in front of you, how did he get there?!

You quickly reacted and threw yours on his face too, giving you a bit of time to run away, you picked up snow again, just in time you managed to avoid his shot, you giggled, he was really good at this, you threw yours and missed him from a few inches. The snowball fight seemed to last forever, to your great pleasure, you finally saw him smile, a mischievous, playful smile, you wanted to grin at this, but it faded when you realized it was because he was about to get you right in the face.

“No!” you exclaimed, laughing out loud as you started to run to escape him, but he started to run after you, you were screaming in anticipation, you knew he was faster than you. He finally caught you by your waist, the both of you crashing on the floor, thankfully the snow soften your fall. You couldn’t stop laughing, Joe came on top of you, holding your hands above your head.

“You won, I surrender…” you panted out of breath. That’s when you saw it, a beautiful smile forming on his lips, it became brighter and brighter, until a chuckle even came out. You had succeeded he was enjoying it. You wished this moment would stop, just the two of you, playing in the snow.

“And what is my reward?” he hinted, his eyes changing into something darker, pure desire.

“Well…you can ask anything you want…” you flirted suggestively with a smirk.

“Then, I’ll take you…” he cooed as he leaned to hungrily kiss you. It was going to be a beautiful day.

#Joaquin Phoenix #joker 2019 #you were never really here #joe x reader #joaquin phoenix imagine #joaquin phoenix x reader

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chicagocryptid · 5 years

Note

Hm... Im gonna go with 23 cuz I think I already know what pairing you're gonna go with and i'd love to see how you do it

(I actually couldn’t decide what pairing I wanted to do but I decided on this one so I hope you guessed right!)

Bad Blood//Larry x Ash (WC:2,170)

Warnings:Language, Mentions of underage drinking, Alcohol Use

"Ash!”

Sal’s voice was distinct, low and gravelly, cutting across her backyard. Even over the din of the party raging inside, it was unmistakably him, calling her name from the back door and interrupting the conversation she was having with Maple on the garden wall. Maple waved her away with a tilt of her solo cup, and Ash slid off the stone and crossed the yard, a little bounce in her step.

They embraced, and she gave him an approving once over. He’d been nervous about the party, he’d told her. He didn’t really drink, crowds weren’t his thing, but she’d begged him to come. Eventually, he’d agreed, on the condition that he could bring a friend. She assumed that was who had dressed him for the evening, because he was looking a little edgier and... Laid back than normal. Even his hair hair was braided in a way that looked as though he’d slept in it. It suited him.

She offered him a drink from the patio table, near where Todd and a few other kids had set up a ping pong table, including one older boy who Todd kept touching on the arm. Sal refused, politely. Sal did everything politely.

“Nah, I’m good. Larry’s grabbing me a beer from the kitchen.” Maybe it was the alcohol in her own system that caused the delay, but she raised an eyebrow at him over the edge of her own cup.

“Who?”

“Oh, Larry Johnson. That’s the guy I’ve been telling you about.” Ash felt her heart tighten. That didn’t make sense... For months, Sal had been talking about his downstairs neighbor who was so amazing - Who stayed up late playing video games when Sal couldn’t sleep, who helped Sal with his PTSD flashbacks with bad movies and cups of cocoa, who slept over almost every night so when Sal woke up screaming, he wasn’t alone. That didn’t seem on par with the Larry Johnson she knew. Rather, the one she had known. She hoped there were two in Nockfell and she had just never realized.

The backdoor slid open again, almost on cue, and Ash’s heart squeezed even tighter. No, it was the same Larry Johnson stepping onto the back patio with the necks of two beers between his fingers. He was tanner than she remembered, taller, more toned. His hair was pulled up into a low bun to keep it off his neck, but she could tell he still hadn’t cut it. Their eyes met, and she had to work to hold her gaze with his - Hard and steady. It was obvious he hadn’t forgotten, but neither had she.

It had been the summer before seventh grade. Like every summer before it, Larry and Ash had spent every day together. They split their time evenly between Ash’s pool and Larry’s tree house, and they had no secrets from each other. Ultimately, that had been their downfall. At the beginning of that summer, they’d carved their initials into the floor of the tree-house, pricked their fingers and pressed them together to seal a blood oath. By the end of it, Ash had screamed that she’d never wanted to see him again. And until now, she’d made good on that promise.

Sal, oblivious to the tension between them, took the extra beer from Larry and gave him a playful punch on the arm.

“I was just talking about you, man. Ash, this is Larry. Larry, Ash.”

Larry started to say “Nice to meet you,” just as Ash started to say “We’ve met.” Sal looked between them, confused.

“You guys know each other?” Again, they both opened their mouths to speak at the same time. Ash frowned and took a long pull on her drink, draining it. Larry busied himself by opening his beer with his car key. They were quiet for a moment before Sal, clearly irritated, stamped his foot on the concrete. “What the fuck is going on?”

Ash looked at Larry accusingly, but his eyes were on his bottle cap, which he was weaving between his fingers. They were longer than she remembered; slender and bony. She could see a callous on on his index from paint brushes, and a place between his index and middle that had started to discolor from cigarettes. She cleared her throat, and he looked at her without meeting her eye.

“Do you want to tell the story or should I?”

Larry rolled his eyes and the corner of his mouth twitched, the way it always did when he was losing his patience. “I don’t think we need to talk about it right now.” His voice was low, irritable. Ash huffed.

“Someone better.” Sal said, cold.

“We used to be really good friends,” Larry started, looking at a crack in the concrete.

“Best friends,” she corrected.

“Do you wanna tell it?” He snapped, and she folded her arms over her chest, but said nothing.

“We were best friends, six years ago, and now we aren’t. That’s it.” Larry put the bottle to his lips, obviously done talking, and Ash pulled at a thread in her sweater to keep from reliving the nightmare all over again. Todd’s voice cut through the air from behind them, and she wondered if he’d been waiting for a lull in the conversation, or if he just had impeccably good timing.

“Ash! Come on, some of us want to play seven minutes in heaven but the some of the guys will only play if you do.” Ash looked hesitant, but Todd nodded towards the boy he’d been fawning over earlier and pleaded with his eyes. Sal, frustrated and annoyed, jumped on the excuse for a change of subject before she could answer.

“We’ll all play,” he said, grabbing Larry by the elbow and giving Ash a stern look over his shoulder while he steered the former inside. She followed, exchanging her empty cup for a full one, which was empty again when they reached the circle that had formed in the living room.

Maple was already there, Chug next to her, and Todd and the other boy, who someone had called Neil, were settling into their spots. Sal and Larry took a seat too, and Ash sat on the opposite side, as far away from them as she could get. Maple set an empty tequila bottle on its side in the middle of the circle and gave it a test spin. Her cheeks were flushed and she was laughing at something Chug had said. At least she was having a good time.

A few more people joined at the edges of the circle, hanging on furniture and sitting on the coffee table that had been pushed out of the way. When it seemed like everyone had settled down, someone spoke up.

“Who spins first?”

“Well, it’s Ash’s party.” Came Maple’s voice. “She should go.” Ash blanched, and put her hand up in protest.

“No, no. It’s your birthday party Maple, you should go.”

“Please,” Maple laughed. “Half the people here don’t even know me. Just spin to see who you’re going in the closet with.” Ash chewed her lower lip, but leaned forward and spun the bottle. Anyone but Larry, she prayed. Anyone but Larry. The bottle stopped between Larry and Sal. If he hadn’t had his legs crossed, Ash would have gladly been enjoying seven minutes telling bad jokes in the dark with her best friend. But as it were...

Maple, who hadn’t been paying much attention to the spin, noticed the look at Ash’s face and reddened when she saw who the bottleneck had landed on. She seemed to want to say something, her face empathetic, but Larry had already stood, and Todd had pulled up a timer on his phone. Embarrassed and angry, Ash followed Larry’s suit and they stood awkwardly outside the entry closet, shuffling their feet.

“Okay! I’ll start the timer as soon as the door closes!” Todd, who had somehow ended up in Neil’s lap, shouted from his spot on the floor. Larry opened the door and made a gesture with his hand for her to lead the way, so she did, and then the two of them were engulfed in the darkness, surrounded by coats.

She thought two full minutes had gone by before he spoke.

“Should I turn the light on?”

“Why would I want to look at you?” Oddly enough, she did want to look at him, which only made her angrier. She could barely see the outline of his shoulders move up and down in a shrug.

“Can I smoke in here?”

“No.”

“You didn’t have to come in here with me, you know,” he said, softer. She stuck a finger in her mouth and bit the nail. She didn’t answer.

Another minute, maybe two, and then, “Do you remember the winter break we ignored the signs and went skating on Lake Wendigo?” She made a small affirming sound. “You begged your dad to buy you skates so we could go, and then the ice broke and we fell in. You were tall enough to stand up, but you freaked yourself out so bad I had to pull you out.”

In spite of herself, Ash laughed, though she cut it short. “I never went ice skating again. I think those skates are still in this closet actually.” Larry shifted across from her.

“You looked so small, you know. After I got you out of the water. We didn’t want our parents to know we’d broken the rules so we went back to the tree-house and wrapped you up in the sleeping bag. You were shivering and your hair was stuck to your face.” His voice sounded far away now, like he was back in the tree-house himself, watching. She rubbed her arms, remembering the chill. “Up until then, I never thought of you as a girl, you know? You were just Ash. But in that moment, you became someone I felt like I had to protect.”

“Hey,” the flame in her voice was reignited. “I never asked you...”

“Would you shut up and let me talk?” She scoffed and leaned back against the wall. “I’m trying to tell you something.”

“Fine.”

“I felt like I had to protect you because I never wanted to lose you. Even though there was no way you could have drowned that day, it still felt like you could have. And I couldn’t handle that... So the next summer... When you kissed me...” Ash was holding her breath, though she hadn’t realized it. “That was all I could think about. Was that I would lose you, and you would stop being my friend. So I started that fight with you before we went back to school because I didn’t know how to deal with how I was feeling.”

“Ben was really sick and you said you hoped he’d die.” The words were sour and slimy in her mouth.

“And you said I was the reason my dad left.” She hadn’t felt good about those words either. She could remember them tasting the same way. “I should have told you sooner what was going on. It wasn’t that I didn’t want you... I guess I just... If we were going to have a falling out, I wanted it to be on my own terms. Instead of just waiting for you to disappear.”

The closet felt even smaller somehow, stuffy suddenly.

“I’m sorry, Ashley. I loved Ben, you know that. And you. You were my favorite person in the world.”

“Do you really do all that stuff Sal says?”

“I... Didn’t realize we were bringing Sal into this but... What does he say?”

A knock on the door made them both jump. Maple’s voice.

“One minute warning!”

“He says you help him a lot. You stay up with him. Comfort him.” She could hear the embarrassment in his voice when he answered.

“Yeah, I guess I do. He’s a good friend too though. And he’s been through so much shit I kind of feel like it’s the least-”

Ash leaned forward and pressed her lips to his, cutting him off. He tasted like beer and cigarettes. For a moment, she felt like she was back in time, when she had kissed him before, and he had pushed her away, laughing. But then he kissed her back, softly at first, and then hard, his arms snaking around her waist.

And then her back was against the wall, the two of them shrouded in coats, the hook of an umbrella digging into her thigh. But she could barely register it over the feeling of his hands, now in her hair, and the warmth of his body against hers. He pulled back, to plant a line of kisses along her jaw, and she steadied herself with her hands on his shoulders.

Almost laughing, breathless, she said, “I still hate you.”

He kissed her on the mouth again, and she could feel the smile on his lips against hers when he spoke. “Yeah?” Another kiss, rougher, needier. “Good.”

#larry x ash #ashley campbell #larry johnson #sally face #sally face fanfic #ash sally face #larry sally face #Anonymous #answered

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essaysbyciara · 5 years

Text

Thy Neighbor (Chapters 5 + 6)

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4]

Chapters 5 and 6 are relatively short so I decided to drop them both together. As always, if you would like to be added to the taglist, let me know!

Friday night happy hour at Ngosi played as a second therapist. As the drinks were poured and the alternative R&B playlist played softly in the background, people poured their hearts out about terrible workweeks and terrible dates. The bar was crowded as usual as Ciara walked in. Her jumbo braids were in a bun and her hoop earrings were as large as her face.

She grows upset until she notices two empty seats on the left side of the bar.

“Thank you, Ashley!” Ciara says as she plops down her purse.

“You know I got you, girl. The usual?”

“Yes, ma’am!”

Ciara nods as Ashley pours her double Woodford Reserve neat. As she starts to sip, Mahalia comes storming in from the patio area. She picks up Ciara’s purse and plops it on the bar.

“Well, hello to you too.”

“I’m sorry, Ciara. I just had to dodge somebody. Ash! The usual!”

Ciara met Mahalia at this very bar years ago after they both got stood up on dates. Mahalia’s humor about it all made Ciara feel better and Ciara’s positivity made Mahalia feel as if her world wasn’t over. So what if he was an NBA player?

“Girl. Let me tell you what happened with neighbor dude…”

“You fucked him.”

“Wait? What?”

“I mean, this story means nothing if that ain’t the ending.”

Mahalia grew tired of always hearing about Ciara’s “fine ass chocolate-ass neighbor”.

“Okay. No. I come home yesterday and there’s flowers at my door. From him.”

Mahalia chokes on her drink. “What now?”

“Yes. Flowers. So I go knock on his door to say thank you and he opens up the door straight up shirtless. That body ain’t fair, Sis. It ain’t. So I’m like “Ciara, shoot your shot” so I ask him over for dinner and he turned me down for some girl.”

“Gym girl?”

“Nah. I haven’t seen her lately. It was some girl I’ve never seen! She knocked on my door by mistake. She looks he’d break her in half.”

“Okay, okay… so…”

“So yeah. He’s over there doing whatever. You know how he has no home training about these things and I’m like “you know, let me bring him a plate…” so I do and homegirl opens the door and she’s looking like she wants to cut me.”

“Welp. Heh.”

“Right! He comes running from the trash room as if he’s about to break up a fight. I can’t.”

Mahalia and Ciara both laugh as their drinks start to kick in. Ashley quickly pours them another round.

“So what are about to do, Ciara? You ain’t gonna do nothing…”

“I know, Ma. I know. I just… I though the flowers were sweet. The last dude to get me flowers was Y’lan, so…”

“Speaking of your boy…”

Trevante and two of his friends walk into the bar. It felt as if the room stopped. Trevante had that affect everywhere he went. Women would almost stop mid-sentence to catch a glimpse of the adonis that was Trevante. His purple sweater cascading his frame, fitting every crevice with perfection. It was the perfect color to play off of his beautiful skin.

As he grabbed a tabletop with his friends, he notices Ciara at the bar.

Ashley steps from around the bar and walks up to Trevante and his friends.

“What up, fellas.”

“What up, Ashley” Trevante’s friend, Yahya, says. “Can we get a bottle of Crown, please?”

“You got it, love. What up, Tre?” Ashley taps Trevante on his right arm, winks at him and walks away. His boys notice instantly.

“Who haven’t you smashed, fam?” Michael says as his pulls out his cellphone.

“Haha. Very funny.”

“But seriously?” says Yahya, “Who haven’t you? Because there’s this girl that I met and I just wanna--”

“Fuck y’all, aight. “ Trevante says between small fits of laughter. “I haven’t smashed Ashley. Yet.”

As Ashley rings up their bottle, Ciara takes a quick look over at Trevante’s table.

“All of his friends are fine, what the hell?”

“I bet they all hoes like him too.”

“Mahalia! That ain’t nice. Probably true by not nice.”

Ashley places three glasses and the bottle of Crown on the table. As Yahya pours their drinks, Trevante grabs Ashley by the hand. She instantly smiles.

“Can you do me a favor?”

“Anything for you, Tre. What’s up?”

“You see the girl with the braids? Her next drink is on me.”

“You got it.”

As Ciara looks at her phone, Ashley places Ciara’s new drink on the counter.

“Girl. You trying to get me drunk.”

“That dude over there in the purple copped it for you. Girl, I’m scared of you.”

Ashley points over to Trevante. As Ciara turns around to look at him, a slight smile comes onto her face. She lift her glass up to him as a thank you and he does the same in return. Mahalia starts to clap.

“Bitch. I need to be like you.”

“Shut. Up.”

Trevante slowly sips on his drink and he tunes out his boys. He awakens from his daydream when his phone vibrates. It’s “track body.” Trevante forgot that he set up a date with her for tonight. Realizing the error of his ways, he leans on his boys, Yahya and Michael, for advice.

“Fam. Shit. I forgot I had a date with that girl.”

“Who?” Michael says as he sips on his drink.

“That track athlete I met at Crossfit. Alissa.”

“Who don’t you get with?”

“Yahya, chill. Shit. What should I tell her.”

“I don’t know… be honest.” Yahya quips as he taps his glass on the table. “Just tell her that you got hung up at work and forgot and reschedule.”

“But that ain’t being honest though.” Michael chimes in.

“You know what, you right though.” Trevante proceeds to open up his text messages.

Hey. I’m so sorry. Caught up at work. Can we reschedule.

Look in front of you.

Alissa stands at the front of Ngosi with visible steam coming out of her ears. As Trevante sits there stunned and stupefied, he watches at Alissa casually gives him the middle finger and walks out of the bar. Yahya and Michael laugh uncontrollably.

Yahya signals to Ashley. They are going to need another bottle.

CHAPTER SIX

Monday couldn’t come fast enough for Trevante. After a weekend of apologizing to Alissa and sexing the guilt away in the bed with the gym manager, he was ready to get back to work. To move on from a week that felt so heartless.

As Trevante walked into his office, he sees a bouquet of flowers and a card from the staff of the marketing agency. Trevante slightly smiles as opens the card and sees a gift card to Chipotle, his every day lunch spot of choice. It felt good to be back.

“Hey, Tre! My man!” Trevante’s boss, Scott, says as he walks into the office. He always had an extra ounce of annoying energy for Trevante.

“How are you, man? My deepest condolences for your loss.”

“Thanks, Scott. I appreciate it. Kinda ready to get back to work.”

“Come to my office. I have a project I’ve been holding since last week for you.”

Trevante saunters into Scott’s office. As his sits on the couch, he smiles at the pictures of Scott’s family.

“We’ve been linked to a non-profit based in South Jersey called ‘Proverbs’”

“Faith-based?”

“Yes but they are doing some amazing work with children from military families. Providing safe spaces for kids dealing with parents with PTSD, loss of a family member to war, all of that…”

As Trevante listens, his heart slowly starts to break. He thinks about his Dad.

“They want to expand into the Philadelphia area and they are looking to market to places where this service could be needed. I mean, I love the work they are doing. And the public officials in South Jersey love them.”

“Sounds really promising. Why this for me? Elaine is great with faith-based organizations. What she did with the Jewish center was great.”

“I know but I think this would be a nice switch up from gyms and art organizations that you always do. Plus their executive director and staff said that they serve mostly Black communities so I want to make sure that we put someone on the ground with the right perspective.”

Trevante wants to mull it over but he quickly realizes that Scott isn’t giving him any time to do so.

“I’m in, Scott.”

“Fantastic! I will call up their team and let them know that you’ll be swinging over to South Jersey to see them soon!”

As Trevante walks back into his office, he realizes that he doesn’t have any experience dealing with faith-based organizations. As his heart starts to pound with anxiety, he realizes that he might have someone that could help him out.

Logging into Facebook, he looks up Proverbs and is impressed by their work. He wonders what an organization might have meant to him as a kid dealing with his father and if things would have been different. Maybe his father would have received help earlier. Maybe he and his sister would not have to bury both of their parents by age 30.

Ciara sits in her contemporary theology class bored out of her mind. While this type of history excites her, she rather be on the treadmill waiting for Trevante to pull up right beside her. She couldn’t get Friday night out of her mind. When she woke up on Saturday slightly hungover, she put on her Ella Fitzgerald mix and zoned out at the thought of Trevante making her breakfast in the morning as the jazz music cascaded the living room. She’d stand behind him as he cooked her eggs perfectly, holding him tight as if to make time stop. He’d turn around to pick her up and put her on the counter and then they’d forget about the eggs.

She also felt delusional. Trevante bought her flowers and a drink as a thank you for helping him in the time of a crisis. She was the one that was making that moment out to be more than what it was. Her playful delusions and dreams of being with Trevante clouded her common sense. He was just being nice to her as her neighbor. He didn’t want her like that.

As she trolled around her Facebook, she receives a message.

From Trevante.

She catches her shriek as she screenshots the message alert and sends it to Mahalia without even reading the message. It was if God was trying to tell her that her delusions weren’t wrong.

Hey, Ciara! Sorry I’m messaging you on Facebook. I don’t have your number. I was wondering if you could help me out or point me in the right direction. I’m working on a project for a faith based organization out of South Jersey called “Proverbs.” They are trying to market into the Philly area. Truth be told, I don’t know much about faith based orgs (or faith anything lol). I was hoping that you could help me get an idea of what to do with them. I meet with them on Thursday but I want to come with some ideas.

Even though Ciara’s heart sinks at it not being a request for a date, she relishes at the idea of spending more time with Trevante. And lowkey flattered that he asked her. Maybe he was paying attention to her.

Hey, Trevante! I’m glad to help. Text me 267-555-3467

Trevante smiles at Ciara’s response. He quickly grabs his phone to text Ciara.

Hey, Ciara. It’s Tre.

Hey! Do you want to meet over my place tomorrow for dinner?

That works. How about 7?

Perfect! I’ll text you if anything changes!

Trevante liked that Ciara punctuated her texts with exclamation points. He felt that she was genuinely excited to help him out. And he found it to be really cute too.

As Ciara’s emotions start to calm down from all of the excitement. Mahalia sends confetti emojis with a rapid pace. Then she punctuates her excitement:

YASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS.

Taglist: @blackpinup22

#trevante rhodes #y'lan noel #trevante rhodes x fanfiction #fanfic #thy neighbor

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fromheroestodust · 5 years

Text

Rose Killer: Pt.4; Stuck Together

Summary: You're the leader of the strongest mafia in London. What will happen when you're forced to team up with your worst enemy

Warnings: language, violence, PTSD, cringy askout

Word count: 3852

A/N: my friend asked me to add her into this, hence Paddy's friend 😂

You wake up, finding your mattress suddenly very firm and uncomfortable. Wait - This isn't your mattress, and this isn't your room. Bolting into an upright position, you find yourself on the floor of... Harrison's room? A blanket falls off of your shoulders and you find the half finished board game two feet away from you, a piece rolling on the floor from your movements as another falls from your palm. The memories from the previous night flood in, causing you to cringe at your own actions. How could you let yourself do any of that? A little further on past the gameboard lays another figure wrapped in the duvet, his hair covering most of his facial features. Why'd Harrison sleep on the floor? Did he just fall asleep there?

"Haz." You whisper in a low tone, not wanting to cause him to jump awake. "Haz!" His eyes blink open before he rubs them and sits up, his hair even more of a mess now as some of it falls to frame his face while the other half sticks up in odd directions. "Mmmorning." He hums before standing up, taking the blanket with him and throwing it onto the bed.

"Why'd you sleep on the floor?" You ask through a yawn, picking up your own blanket - you could've sworn you didn't fall asleep with it - and picking up "High-Ho-Cherrio".

"Why'd you sleep on the floor?" He questions, causing you to role your eyes with a smile. "I fell asleep first." You point out, setting the game box on the bedside table. "Anyway, it's not my bed. It'd be weird if I slept in it."

"Good point. I just fell asleep." He shrugs. "Isn't there some group meeting at ten?"

"Yeah," You confirm, giving him a questioning look, cocking your head to the side. "Why?"

"It's 10:01." Harrison answers nonchalantly before rushing to grab his stuff, his body turning to a blur in front of your weary eyes. "What?!" You exclaim, looking at your phone.10:01. "Shit! Where's my stuff?!" Both of you run around, two tornadoes nearly destroying the room with every unsteady, tired step. Finally you find your rose, gun, and dagger. After pulling your hair up into a messy bun the two of you run down the halls to the conference room where Tom was surely waiting to curse you out for being late. 10:08

The door to the large room is thrown open, you and Harrison walk in out of breathe with messy hair and clothes, seeming like you spent the past three days in the woods. "I- ehm- I brought the files." Haz says before handing the multiple folders over to Tom who wore a very questioning and weirded out look as if to say what the fuck happened to you two? And why is she with you? The blonde just shakes his head, taking a seat in one of the two open large leather chairs surrounding the long, glossy, dark oak table. Taking the one next to him the meeting starts, everyone's expression in the room saying they'd moved passed the event but their eyes held many questions that will never be answered.

"So Y/n and I will see to Leo after they bring him here. After a nice beating he'll cave." Tom summarizes, your face back to the stern glare you wear for work. A few more words are traded before everyone except you, Tom, and Harrison are left in the room, for you three didn't have to rush of to another destination.

"Did you hear that?" You ask Tom, picking up a few papers giving you information on Leo Sandraya, your target for the next few weeks.

"What?" He asks, a look of alarm on his face as his eyes scan the room quickly, a hunter looking for prey, before landing back on you, his brows furrowed together.

"Silence. For once in a meeting we didn't tell at each other." You smirk, Haz suppressing a laugh behind his friend.

"Shut up, Y/l/n." He hisses, clearly not amused with your humor as a stern look plays on his face.

"Someone's being bitchy." You mumble, collecting your files on Sandraya.

"Look, I don't know why all of a sudden you're being soft around us but your plan won't work." Tom says, venom oozing from his words as he turns to face you with his arms crossed over his chest.

"I don't have a plan!" You exclaim in defense. "I actually have a version of me separate from the me at work. But this is the only one you'll ever see." With that you strut out of the room and to your own to change out of your nightwear and probably into a outfit to workout, a limp obvious in your step.

"What's her fucking problem?" Tom groans to Harrison after turning away from your shrinking figure, putting papers in a manilla folder.

"Nothing really, mate. Like she said she has a side separate from work." Haz shrugs.

"What, like you know her?" The brunette scoffs. Why was his friend suddenly defending her? Especially after what happened between them?

"Because I actually took the time to get to know her. We've been friends for a bit now." Haz says in a tone much more angry then he meant before switching to a calmer one. "Just... Try talking to her instead of being at her throat everyday."

Tom stares at his friend, trying to decipher something from his expression or his eyes. "Fine. I guess I sort of have to considering there's that party next week." He sighs in defeat, trusting his best friend. The only person who could make Tom change his mind or take in a new idea was Harrison. And, as much as he'd want to deny it, the decision was almost always right excluding a few choice occasions.

"I guess that meeting did end in yelling." Haz jokes, attempting to lighten the mood, carefully watching Tom to see how he'll react.

"Shut up." He smiles with a small laugh. "Wanna head down to the gym?"

"Yeah sure." He agrees, scooping his work into his arms before walking out the double doors and down a hallway, opposite from the way you went with playful banter filling the air between the two.

After finally making it back to your own room, you change out of your night clothes and into an outfit that's easy to move in, the feeling of the fabric almost seeming like velvet after being in the same small shirt and baggy pants for so long. While you're not supposed to workout, you are allowed to walk on the treadmills and do stretches, and you're not one to not go to the gym at least once a day.

Braiding a rose into your hair, you take a shortcut to your destination. The shortcut includes going outside and whilst out there you spot Tom's youngest sibling with someone. Your lips ever so slightly turn upwards, as you continue on your way, most likely to tell Haz about it later.

You reach the doors to the gym and pushing them open you groan. Tom and Harrison are hitting the punching bags, neither of them noticing your presence as you walk to the treadmills. After stretching you step onto the machine, setting it low enough to where you're walking but high enough to where you'll get at least some exercise in. You put your earbuds in and start walking, blocking out the world with one of music.

"Y/n." A voice says, pulling you out of your escape world.

"What?" You sigh, pulling out your earbuds that were playing Weak.

"It's like one." Harrison informs you, Tom standing a little back and to the side of him, refusing to look at you as he averted his gaze to the small screen on the treadmill.

"Oh." You turn off the machine, grabbing your bottle of water and taking a long sip. "Why are you two here so late?"

"Training." Tom surprisingly answers, no glare or mean tone. Something fishy is going on you think, but don't mention it, comfortable with the friendly atmosphere in the room.

"I saw Paddy outside with a girl on my way hers." You add as the three of you walk out, the air between you and Tom stiff but not nearly as suffocating as usual.

"Oh, yeah. That's his friend Ashlyn." He confirms, a smile grazing his lips as your trio turns the corner into the hallway that holds the bedrooms.

Suddenly, extra weight is placed atop your head causing you to jump and look up. "Haz!" You groan, finding his arm resting on your hair. He laughs and removes his arm as you lightly shove him to the side. Tom watches the two of your interactions, realizing that there is a part of you that allowed you to relax and slightly smile. Maybe you smiled more before being taken.

"I'll see you tomorrow." Tom says as he turns into his bedroom, Harrison bidding him goodbye before you two continue to your own. You arrive at yours, both of you walking in with your steps in sync. Almost as soon as you close the door, something wraps around Haz's and yours ankles before pulling you up to the ceiling, pressed against each other upside down.

"What the fuck?" He exclaims, looking around with his hair reaching for the floor.

"Oh yeah... I sorta, maybe, might make traps when I'm scared... And set them." You mumble. "I must've forgotten to take this one down."

You try to reach up to free you two but find your arms pinned under coils of rope. curse my good trap setting you groan in your head.

"Tom!" Harrison yells. "Harry! Sam! Paddy!"

You suddenly become aware of how close you both are, bodies pressed against each other's, chest to chest. A blush spreads across your cheeks like setting fire to dead leaves in the middle of a forest.

Harrison groans and stops attempting to yell for someone, for if they heard they would've came already. "We're going to pass out." He sighs, returning his attention to you as he himself comes to the same realization you had. His own cheeks become dusted in pink, if it was from blood rush or a blush, you'll never know.

"How long do you think we'll be up here?" You ask, averting your gaze from his face as the blanket on your bed was suddenly very very interesting.

"Hopefully not all night." He sighs as your rose falls to the floor, at least seven feet away for it was a very high part of your ceiling you hung from.

You let out a groan of frustration, looking around for anything to help your situation but nothing would help considering your arms are pinned next to Harrison's. This is going to be so much fun.

Another two minutes passes, both of your faces red as your roses from blood flowing into them. You'd already tried moving around to release the rope from where it was tied, but it stayed put, the only way you can get down is if someone else cut or untied the material. How fortunate.

A yawn falls from your lips and your eyes grow heavy, the easy workout you had settling in on your already exhausted body.

"Can I confess something while we're stuck here?" Harrison asks, nervousness looming in his voice as he turns his gaze to you.

"Uh yeah. Yeah sure." You allow, your own nervousness working it's way into your stomach, butterflies making a home there.

"I like you. More than a friend. I know it's weird because we've only known each other for a few months but-" he rants while a smile, a real smile spreads across your face.

"Haz. I... I like you too." You confess, biting your lip due to pure nerves.

A toothy smile sprouts from his mouth, the sight making you fall for him more. Oh, how you wished you'd fall.

Slowly, Harrison's face moves towards yours, stopping just in front of yours with the tips of your noses touching as if asking for permission. You answer by leaning forwards ever so slightly, your lips planting themselves on his in a gentle, meaningful kiss. Your heart is beating so fast you're afraid he'll hear it, but it doesn't really matter if he hears it, he can already feel it. The kiss takes you to another world, one where you're completely happy and everything is okay, a world where you haven't been kidnapped and scarred in more than one way. The kiss is like spring, peaceful and safe with new lives starting. Maybe this is your new life, a life with your enemies best friend. Both of you pull away only because your lungs demand oxygen, but you swear a kiss like that could keep you alive forever. You look up at him, both of your eyes ridden of hate and disgust and instead filled with love and wonder. How unexpected was this relationship between two mobsters, one who'd harmed the other? But most things are unexpected, and sometimes things or people just fit perfectly into the holes in the others hearts left by others. They repair the gaps and replace them with love, fixing a person to their former self. And sometimes, a relationship is all you need.

"What the bloody fuck is going on in here?" Harry asks as he flings open the door. "Holy shit." He stares up at the two of you, pure disbelief centered in his eyes.

"Finally!" You exclaim, starting to feel dizzy from being upside down so long. "We stepped in a trap I set up!"

"Get us down!" Harrison yells, starting to move around causing you both to sway.

"Stop moving- ow!" His foot hits your ankle that'd been sprained at the wearhouse, pain radiating up your leg.

Harry runs out of the room and arrives again a few minutes later with Sam and Tom who look in disbelief.

"I didn't think you were serious..." Tom breathes, staring up at his friends. "How the fuck do we get them down?"

"Just cut it." Sam shrugs, walking towards the rope.

"No! Then we'll land on our heads!" You yell, fear coursing through your body.

"Okay we won't cut it. Calm down. Jeez." Harry sighs with his hands out in front of him.

"How can I calm down if I'm hanging from the ceiling?!" You exclaim, sudden anger coursing through your veins as you see red.

"Y/n." Haz says in a gentle tone next to you, his eyebrows raised. "What?!" You hiss with venom starting to seep into your words as you turn your neck to look at him. "Calm down. They're going to get us down. Freaking out isn't going to do anything." He says, keeping his soft voice. You let out a groan but keep your mouth shut as the three brothers try to figure out how to release you two from the rope safely.

After a moment of pondering, they pull your mattress off of your bed frame. "Okay," Tom says, standing next to the part of the rope tied securely to the frame of your bed. "I'm going to cut the rope." You brace for the impact of ground as you and Haz fall onto the mattress, your hair suspending around you.

"That didn't hurt nearly as much as I expected." You sigh.

"Yeah, probably because you landed on me." Harrison groans, his face slightly screwed up in pain.

"Shit!" You exclaim, trying to break free of the rope around your body but finding yourself unable to. "Stop laughing assholes and get us out!" You yell at Harry and Sam who were laughing between the two of them by the door before they walk next to you, still a few chuckles falling from their lips.

"You guys need to stand up." Sam instructs, examining the rope trapping you and your friend together.

"How?" Harrison asks, straining his neck to look at the boy behind him. Tom, Harry, and Sam crouch around your figures before each picking you up and placing on your feet. Once up, they finally unravel the thick rope, Harrison and you taking a few steps away from each other.

"Thank God..." You breathe stretching out your limbs as your head throbs. "Thanks."

"No problem." Tom says, his arms crossed over his chest. "I'm going back to bed." With that the three brothers walk out the doorway, all whispering while looking back at you two and laughing.

"That was- ehm- interesting." Harrison coughs awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck as a pink color runs across his cheeks, yours following suit.

"Yeah..." You agree while fiddling with a piece of your hair, the air between the two of you suffocatingly awkward.

"Would you maybe like to... Be... My girlfriend?" He asks, hope and slight fear shining in his eyes, his expression eager for a response like a puppy waiting for a treat.

"I'd love to." You grin, teeth trapping your bottom lip between the rows. Haz's own smile spreads across his lips as he moves closer to you. "Oh, I'm sorry I shouldn't have-" he apologizes, his arms going back to his sides but you cut him off by placing a hand on his shoulder and meeting his lips with yours in a quick kiss before backing away.

"It's fine." You smile.

"Right." He states, surprise still evident in his features. "Well, I'm going to head to my room." Harrison starts walking out the door but you stop him, yelling out.

"Wait! C-can I... Come with you...?" You ask, fear striking your body at the thought of the countless nightmares you experienced the previous night.

"Yeah, sure." He answers nonchalantly, waiting for you to join his side before continuing down the hallways. "What time is it?"

"2:34." You answer after checking your phone. "God, no wonder I'm so tired."

You both turn into his bedroom, Harrison shutting the door after you walk in. Awkwardly you climb into his bed, a safe distance away not wanting to over step anything on not even your first hour of a relationship. You feel the mattress dip with Harrison's weight and then your empty palm you had in the space between you both filled with his own. A soft smile falls upon your face before your eyes flutter shut, and you swear that's the most peaceful you've been in years.

"Where are they you little bitch?" A stern voice says, a dark figure towering over your trapped body. "I told you. They're dead." You mumble, head hanging down facing your lap. Suddenly, your face is gripped tightly and forced upwards revealing your parents dead bodies. Blood. Every where. You look at your shaking hands, those covered in the thick crimson liquid that seems to be endlessly pooling in your palms. "Since you won't fucking give me any answers, I guess we'll have to beat them out of you." A man says before something, most likely a knife, cuts across your stomach causing you to yell out in pain. You let out a blood chilling scream and sit up, body covered in cold sweat as you breathe heavily though it feels as if no air is entering your lungs.

"Y/n?" A voice asks from behind you, causing you to turn around with pure terror painting your face. "Har... Harrison?" You breathe out, still sucking in lungfulls of air as your arms threaten to give out under you.

He wears a confused look before realization sets in an "o" expression on his face. "You're fine. We're back at Tom's place not there. You're not there anymore." He assures you, his face softening in an effort to comfort you.

"M-my parents..." You whimper before practically throwing yourself at him, whether he minded or not he didn't show it, only held you against him and ran a hand up and down your back. "You're okay..." He coos, your tears falling onto his shoulder in a trail. You pull away and wipe the streams off of your face, embarrassment consuming your thoughts. "I'm s-so sorry." You apologize. How could you expect him to take care of you every time you go through these nightmares? How could you expect him to stay with you if you're so mentally broken?

Listen." Haz says, taking one of your hands in both of his, easily covering it's entirety. "You don't need to be sorry for something you can't and couldn't control. Even though we've only known each other a short time, friends help friends and hey, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't help you?"

Thanks." You say with an almost unnoticeable smile. Leaning forwards, you place your forehead against his bare chest, his chin resting on top of your head, the scent of your shampoo filling his nose. You felt safe for the first time since you were little, to you the safest place on Earth is in Harrison's arms as if nothing could hurt you because you're with him.

"Wanna go back to sleep?" Harrison asks, moving to look you in the eye. Your y/e/c eyes stare into his blue ones, searching for trust and almost immediately finding it. "Yeah."

With your confirmation, Haz slowly lays down, his arms still around your middle. Again, you both stay a distance away from each other though this times it's closer, the feeling of peace stronger than before as you both fall asleep with the other in your grasp. Slash after slash your own blood circles around you. "I can't give you anymore information." You grunt, someone punching you across the face, a metallic taste filling your mouth with the crunch of bone. Sucking in a large breath, your eyes open in panic and lingering pain crosses your arms and stomach. You're about to bolt upright but your eyes land on Haz's sleeping face, his features are completely relaxed, an ever so small part in his lips with his hair hanging over his forehead and eye.

You're not there anymore. You're safe. His voice echoes in your mind, calming you down and turning your breathing back to a normal pace. Like he said, you're safe. You're safe as long as you're with him. For the second time that night you fall back into slumber, repeating Harrison's words in your head like a broken record.

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scientifically-strange · 7 years

Text

What’s it Like?

Trying something a little new. Instead of third person it��s straight from Danny’s pov

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What’s it like?

I always find myself getting asked this, whether it be from Tucker, Dani, Sam, or hell, even Valerie sometimes. And while it doesn't upset me, the question itself is hard to answer, and is tiring to do so after having to do it so many times.

So what is it like living with the Avengers?

It’s indescribable, really. It’s fun, and annoying, and stressful, and happy, and so many other words, so I think the only way I can properly tell you is if I list them all off one by one.

Well, let me tell you.

First, I guess I should start with the host himself, Tony Stark. Though you probably know him better as Iron Man.

He’s everything people say he is, and more. He’s selfish and sarcastic, and is stupidly smart. Yeah, he’s also a playboy, and he never focuses on the important stuff for his company. Instead he pays with desk toys in important meetings.

Like all of us, Tony has a lot of baggage. We all have our demons, but Tony’s are arguably the worst. Yeah, I fought my older evil self and the ghost king, and Steve was in World War II, but compared to Tony it was a cakewalk. Because Tony’s been through a fucking blender. He’s got serious PTSD from the Incident, from the cave he was tortured in, and a few other things. He copes by drinking unhealthy amounts of coffee spiked with alcohol and monster energy drinks while building several more Iron man armors, all with their own special skills and weapons.

He also has really bad attachment issues due to his father was never really around, and the father figure he did had tried to kill him. So.

However, despite all of that, Tony is probably the most caring person on the team. And that’s including Steve. He just doesn’t know how to express it with emotions. So instead, he uses his actions. Thor mentioned one time that he needed to get more lavender (?) shampoo because he ran out, and now there’s a cabinet full of them, just for the thunder god himself.

There was another time when Clint’s hearing aids got blown up on a mission, and Tony made him everything-proof Stark hearing aids. Clint hasn’t needed a new pair since. And he made Steve and Sam’s rooms soundproof, so that when fireworks go off they can still enjoy the view, but now with less gunshot sounds.

Tony also really loves to nerd out, which brings me to my next friend, Dr. Bruce Banner. He’s pretty soft spoken, until he starts talking about science. I remember the longest conversation I’ve had with him was when we were talking about space and NASA, which somehow ended up on a conversation of the horrible structure of hot dog buns? Not really sure what happened there...

Bruce always has great advice, and is always in like, a zen sort of mood. He’s not nervous all the time like most people think. No, he’s only fidgety around stressful people, like Fury or Ultron. Which is perfectly understandable considering if he gets to angry or freaked he starts looking a little green around the gills.

That being said, Bruce also makes the best tea on the Compound. Nobody knows what he does to it, but if you’re having a rough day or something he’s got your back. And he’s always got Tony’s back, too. I There was one time when Tony had been up for almost four days and Bruce had come in and put some headphones on Tony, and he passed out immediately. I helped him get Tony to his room, and Bruce kind of took it from there.

Hulk is pretty nice to. Though, to be fair the first time I met him he was pretty pissed because he couldn’t hit me. But after he calmed down enough, I told him a couple of jokes and he kind of warmed up to me.

And I told him I could help get the glitter out of his hair.

He still doesn’t know that it sparkles sometimes when crime-fighting. Nobody else has either, but that’s only because they’re to busy kicking ass themselves.

Steve is kind of like everybody’s dream guy, even if you yourself are a straight guy. He is 240 pounds of All-American beefcake with a heart of gold. His hair is pretty soft too.

He’s caring, but I’ve recently learned that he;s a little shit.

You would expect Captain America to be the perfect man, soldier, superhero, whatever. But he isn’t. I don’t even know where anybody got that idea.

This guy has a police record that’s longer than a list of Mr. Lancer’s book-swears. And he has the worst mouth on him. He stubbed his toe the other day and was cursing up a storm. However, he was cursing in Gaelic. I asked him about it and he said it was his first language due to his parents being Irish immigrants. I hadn't known that before, so that was really nice to know. But it also explained his accent. He had a lot of Brooklyn in it, but every now and then the Gaelic would slip through with it, making for a weird verbal cocktail that never sounded quite right.

He also has the worst mind out of all of us. It’s worse than Tuckers. His mind may be the gutter, but Steve’s is the fucking sewer. He was telling me about how he thought fondue equaled sexy times, and like? Literally, where did you make that connection? How many other foreign words has he heard and thought it was something sexual?

It shouldn’t surprise me though, considering he was in the army.

I could go on and on about Steve’s mouth and reckless behavior, but he, like Tony, has serious PTSD. A lot of it is from the war. He doesn’t like fireworks or loud, sudden noises unless he’s on the battlefield. There was one time I saw him mute a movie during a scene with a train, and I was going to ask him why, but then I saw that far away look in his eyes. It wasn’t my place to pry.

There’s also something about the sound of Tony’s repulsors powering up, too. It makes Steve tense up like a cat every time he hears it.

His coping methods are a bit healthier than Tony’s. He likes to draw his thoughts and feelings out. He’s damn good at it to, and while that’s a great thing, sometimes he falls asleep with them open, halfway done, and the shit he draws is so dark and depressing. I kind of worry about him sometimes.

But Sam’s been helping him though a lot of it. He was stationed overseas for a while before coming back to the states, only to get caught up in the fight again a few years later. He didn’t really seem to mind though. In fact, he seemed happy to do so. Whether or not that was from Captain America asking him to, or because he missed flying, I had no idea.

But I’ll be damned if I ever go to the park with him again.

His name is Falcon. He has cool metal wings he uses to fly. That all makes sense, right?

So how the fuck is he talking to pigeons?

I am genuinely worried that one day Sam till take over the world with birds, and h will have them shit on people’s cars and peck out the eyes of Hydra. Or something on the lines of that. However, if he is actually going to do that I think he needs a cooler bird.

Like a Falcon.

And as weird as that was, it doesn’t match up to the awkwardness of meeting Natasha “Million Alias” Romanoff. She’s as deadly as she is beautiful, and if I was into her in any way I would probably pay her to beat me up.

It never actually occurred to me that she’s not always being a spy? I mean, yeah, she’s always looking at the ulterior motive, because anyone with her background (which we will not speak of, so don;t even ask) would do the same. But she’s also a shitposting meme generator and has a really popular vine account even though vine is dead? Then again this is Natasha we’re talking about. I don;t wanna know how she does what she does.

She also steals clothes. SO far she’s stolen one of Tony’s hoodies, a pair of Clint’s sweatpants, a scrunchie from Thor, and one of my old Dumpty Humpty shirts I got at a concert. She also cheats at Monopoly and Cards Against Humanity. I haven’t figured out how she’s done it, but I know she does. Nobody, and I mean nobody, can just fucking win seventeen times in a row. You;d have to be a mind reader to do that shit. Jesus.

She’s terrifying, and honestly, every time I see her glare the fear of Thor runs through me, but a good portion of that goes away when she’s around Clint. And honestly> I can’t blame her. Clint, out of all of the Avengers I live with, is probably the one I hang out with the most. He’s super chill, and covered head to toe in bandages and has to have an entire pot of coffee just to stay awake. Also, he’s deaf? I had no idea during the Battle of New York, but later I found out that it was because they had broken and his new ones hadn’t come in yet. He’s taught me a lot of sign language so far, and Tucker makes fun of me for practicing it when I’m back in Amity.

Clint also has a lot of nests.

He has one on top of the fridge, in the A that’s on the outside of the building, a couple of key spots in the vents, and a board room on the 27th floor under the table because nobody ever uses it and it has a nice view of the sandwich shop right across the street. I’m sure he has more, but those are just the ones that I’ve found.

Also, his dog is not cuter than Cujo, don’t listen to that asshole.

Even though Clint chooses to keep his hearing aids out half the time, he still knows when Thor has come back from Asgard. Every single time, no matter where we’re at in the building, he just knows. It’s like a sixth sense. His head perks up, and he gets a dumb grin on his face, but then it quickly falls when he remembers that he ate the rest of the thunder god’s poptarts.

Thor is really fun to be around. And while I haven’t had a lot of quality bonding time with the dude, Dani has. They sit around and braid each other’s hair all the time, talking about flowers and giant monsters and space. Really, they’re best friends. And it’s adorable.

Don’t tell Jazz I said that.

There are aspects of Thor that remind me a little bit of all of the Avengers. Like Natasha, he can be cunning when he wants to. He’s always got the munchies like Clint, and has great advice like Bruce. Similar to Tony he also struggles with his own demons. But he seems to be most like Steve.

That being said, they are both huge little shits.

See, Thor likes to prank people. Half the time he uses Mojo (I don;t know how to pronounce the hammer’s name, okay) to fuck with us. I remember he and Natasha handing different house members his hammer while Natasha video taped it. He gets a huge kick out of watching us fall over. I remember when he did it to Steve, who was to zoned out in his paper to even realize what Thor had asked him to hold. He was gobsmacked for a whole week.

He hasn’t done it to me yet, and I have no idea if that’s because he hasn’t gotten around to it or because he’s still obsessed over me technically being royalty since I beat Pariah Dark, the former king. The first time we met he got down on one knee and bowed. It was the most surreal experience of my life, and that’s including when Tucker had to wear a chicken costume to a Dumpty Humpty concert because he lost a bet to Sam.

Every time he comes back from Asgard, we shake. But we don’t shake like normal people. It’s a sort of cultural thing. Instead of shaking hands we grip each other’s forearms and squeeze. I kind of like doing that better than a handshake. It seems way cooler.

So, you ask me what it’s like to live with the Avengers?

Living with them, it feels familiar, like it;s the one thing I’ve been missing my whole life.

It’s family.

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Also, OC week submissions are open officially if you want me to write them in with a DP and marvel!

#danny phantom #avengers #crossover #drabble #fan ficiton #dp x marvel

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thearchdemongreatlydisapproves · 7 years

Text

Did it hurt when you fell?

HEIGHT DIFFERENCE AUS (let's be honest, rdj/tony stark is a short cinnamon bun)“You were trying to reach for a box of cereal and a whole shelf’s-worth of cereal boxes fell on you here let me help”

After the fifth egg in a row broke outside the bowl, Bucky realized two things: one, they were out of eggs and two, he was trying to make pancakes in the middle of the night. He hadn’t realized how much time had passed until he accidentally caught a glimpse of the kitchen clock.

“Well, shit,” he mumbled, his gaze returning to the egg whites and yolk that dripped from his fingers. For a moment he wondered how much of a mess he must have looked like, standing in the middle of the small kitchen in his pajamas, hair pulled back in a messy man-bun- shut up, punk, it’s how samurai used to tie their hair back!. There were egg bits dripping from his trembling hands, and, yes, it might have not been his brightest idea to make pancakes at 3am.

The whole week had been Hell- he experienced phantom pains the whole day, his scars ached from the colder weather and his last nightmare had been particularly vicious, partially because of the anniversary of losing his arm and there was no way on Earth he was getting any sleep tonight. So he decided to make breakfast, because why the Hell not? He usually found the process of cooking very grounding. There was just something very soothing in having the precise measurements and clear instructions to follow.

I guess I’m shit out of luck, he thought bitterly as he rinsed his hands. His morning had barely started and he already wanted the whole day to end.

Finally cleaning the yolk from between his the crevices of his prosthesis arm, Bucky leaned against the counter, staring wistfully at the bowls with ingredients for his special pancake recipe (aka his mother’s secret recipe). He might have decided to make them in a zombie-state of mind, but now he found himself wanting to finish what he started.

“Fuck it, I’m going out,” he declared to no one in particular as he picked up the hoodie he discarded earlier, collected his wallet and keys. There was one 24-h shop just around the corner of his and Steve’s apartment building. It would not be the first time the cashier there saw Bucky in his pajamas in the ungodly hours of the morning.

He really needed to rethink his life’s choices.

The boy behind the counter barely lifted his face from where he had buried it in his textbook. He raised his eyebrow at the Captain America pyjama bottoms before giving a distracted wave in recognition, and went back to studying.

Bucky resisted the strong urge to roll his eyes at the kid and instead headed towards where he knew the egg cartons were. He passed by a hooded guy, who was fiercely typing something on a piece of electronic that could as well be alien technology.

Who the fuck wears sunglasses at night?

This guy apparently.

Bucky scolded himself with a, Thou shall not judge, and picked up his eggs. He was distractedly rubbing his shoulder with the hopes of easing the ache and contemplating if he should buy milk while he was at it when he heard the guy groan out a loud, “Fuck!”

He turned around to see the person from a moment ago staring longingly at something far above him on the aisle. Bucky just now noticed that the man was on the shorter side and was about to offer him some help when the guy huffed, shook his hips like a cat about to launch itself at its prey and jumped.

“What the-” Bucky didn’t even get to finish before there was a loud crash and the short man, along with the whole shelf’s worth of cereal boxers, came crashing down.

Bucky quickly sprinted to the scene, eggs forgotten, to lift the shelf and reveal the man underneath, who blinked owlishly. They stared at each other for a long moment, but can you blame him, that man was both drop-dead gorgeous and adorable as fuck at the same time. That combination should be illegal.

His hood had fallen off his head, revealing a soft-looking bed hair, dark doe-like eyes with pretty lashes peeking from behind askew red-tinted sunglasses and he had a ridiculous, but meticulously groomed beard that somehow suited him perfectly.

“I might have not thought that one out,” the man mumbled, his eyes locking with the ex-sniper’s.

Suddenly he grinned like he was high on something and purred, “Damn, they don’t make them like this anymore.”

Love at first sight was YA books nonsense and something that happened to other people, normal ones at least, but lust at first sight? That shit was primal, and if it had happened a few years ago, Bucky would have totally wined, dined and bedded the man. Except that did not seem likely to happen, as they had an audience in the form of the cashier.

“Mr. Stark, are you alright?” the boy asked, worry tainting his voice, “Should I call for an ambulance?”

Bucky was just about to answer for the other man when he shot up, frantically flailing his arms around, “Of course I’m all right, don’t call an ambulance! You should call the firemen, because there’s a hot guy standing over me.”

Bucky cringed on the other man’s behalf. The boy seemed reluctant to leave them alone, but the guy waved his hands again, “I’ll put the stuff back up, scout’s honour.”

“I’ll help him,” Bucky assured the cashier as well. He highly doubted the man had ever been a boy scout.

The cashier still looked torn between going back to his studies and cleaning up the mess, but after throwing one longing look at his books, he made up his mind.

Meanwhile, Hot fella had started picking up the boxes, looking flustered.

Later, Bucky would chalk his next words up to sleep deprivation and the effects of lust-at-first sight.

“Did you sit in a pile of sugar? Cause you have a pretty sweet ass.” The moment the words left his mouth Bucky wanted to bang his head against the wall. Repeatedly. What the fuck? Why the fuck did he blurt that out? Only he would hit on a fella who just knocked down an entire aisle and probably has a concussion with the worst pick-up line ever.

He used to be good at that.

“Yes,” the shorter man winked, shoving the cartoon boxes into their rightful place. “Want a taste?”

Damn, Bucky had not been prepared for this and felt his face warm up. Great. He was still just standing there, in shock, and had to remind himself to close his open mouth, before bending down to pick up his share of cornflakes, “That was horrible.”

The other man just wiggled his eyebrows.

Short, dark and handsome flirting back somehow made the whole situation less awkward, but right then Bucky faced a new problem. The problem was that Bucky hadn’t been laid since God knows when or hadn’t had an honest long-term relationship, which tended to be a side effect to PTSD, and here comes this guy outta nowhere that could’ve been used as a prime example for his type. Give him a short brunet/brunette with an attitude and he was a goner, and right in this moment, his dick instantly perked up at the thoughts of tasting this fella.

“Bucky Barnes,” he offered his hand. His ma would have slapped the back of his head if she knew how rusty he had let his people skills become. “Just so you know what to scream. Do you have a name or can I call you mine, doll?”

He already made a fool of himself so he might as well just go all the way. And this fella seemed willing to play along.

“Tony, but honey, you can call me whatever you want,” the smaller man purred and did something downright criminal involving his teeth and his lower lip, before taking his hand. His metal one, Bucky realized a second too late.

He froze as he watched those whiskey eyes take in the complete package, lingering on the left side of his body and he knew they had reached the point of no return.

Out of habit he stood a little taller, squared his shoulders, bracing himself for the inevitable fallout. Because there always was an awkward fallout.

However, Tony threw him off yet another time when his expression only shifted into one of child-like excitement, his eyes positively sparkling.

“Mind if I take a look?” he looked like a kid on Christmas morning and Bucky knew he would feel eternal guilt if he was the one responsible for erasing that smile, so he just nodded.

“Amazing,” Tony whispered, forgetting about the aisle for a second and examining his arm, turning it this and that way, murmuring under his nose. “It’s one of the first models, isn’t it? How fast is the response time? Do you experience sensory input like perception of pressure and temperature?”

Bucky felt himself smile again as the guy continued to gush over his prosthetic. “You two need some alone time?”

Tony looked up at him, head tilting to the side, “I think I’m in love.”

Bucky’s eyes followed Tony’s tongue as it darted out to wet his lower lip.

Before the ex-soldier could gather himself together enough to not say anything that wasn’t along the lines of “Me, You, Fuck, Now,” the guy tilted his head a bit to the side, almost as if in challenge.

“So… You come here often?” he asked nonchalantly as he turned back to his task at arranging the aisle.

Bucky spluttered even more.

“That is painfully cheesy,” he answered, before joining Tony in his task.

“Depends, did it work?”

“Only if mine did,” at Tony’s expectant expression he continued, “Did it hurt? When you fell from the shelf?”

It was the shorter man’s turn to snort, “It was five minutes ago, you gotta learn to let it go!” before bending down to pick up the last few boxes, which gave Bucky a perfect view to his ass. It was indeed the sort of ass Bucky could happily commit the rest of his life to worshipping.

This thought was followed immediately by mental smack to himself for the permanent bad porn reel in his head.

“But where’s the fun in that?” he asked, feigning innocence.

Tony stared at him for a long time before smiling. “You’re going to be quite a handful, aren’t ya, soldier?” he asked, sliding the sunglasses back in place.

“Definitely more than a handful. Wanna see?”

He was pretty sure he used to be smooth, once upon a time, and wondered what the hell had happened to him- well, getting your hand blown off by a landmine tended to fuck you up, but let’s not go there.

At least it made Tony laugh. As it turned out Tony’s laughter was even better than his smile. Bucky almost kinda wanted to spend the rest of his life trying to make him laugh again.

“I’m keeping you.”

Bucky blinked, “Are you intentionally using the creepiest line from the whole Casper movie?”

Tony’s eyes twinkled with amusement as his sunglasses slid down a little and Bucky’s heart hiccupped when he saw little crow feet forming around them. Nobody should be that pretty.

“Just ask him out already, Mr. Stark!”

His attention snapped out of his trance and his face grew even hotter when he realized he’d been staring at Tony’s face for solid two minutes without saying a word.

Without missing a beat, Tony chastised the cashier, with a good-natured tone that hinted to an amount of familiarity between the two, “Shoo, Underoos. Don’t you have a test tomorrow you should be studying for?”

The boy yelped and hid between the shelves again.

Bucky wanted to yelp too, because when Tony turned back to him he was spotting a painfully shy expression that made him want to wrap up the smaller man in soft blankets- and no, it was not his mother hen nature, thank you very much, punk.

“So... wanna go out sometime?”

Bucky was sure he must look stoned as Hell with how big his smile was in that moment, “How do you feel about coffee, doll? Cause I like you a latte.”

“A man after my own heart,” Tony laughed again- and, God, he was never gonna get tired from hearing this.

Yep, there might be hope for my skills, Bucky thought as he watched the smaller man add his number to his contacts.

*Appears two years later with a Starkbucks in hand* "'Sup?" Un-betaed, all mistakes are still mine, do not own Marvel, etc.

You can find it on ao3 as well and the prompts are here

#winteriron #fan fic #my work #tony stark #bucky barnes #marvel #MCU #tw: mentions of violence #tw: ptsd #non-power AU #AU #prompt fic #one shot #war veteran!bucky #bad pick up lines #pick up lines

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yumekuimono · 7 years

Text

[WinterFrost] Everyone But Yourself Pt. 3/5

A/N: warnings for blood/violence & PTSD flashback. you know, Winter Soldier issues

August brought more storms, although they didn’t scare Loki as badly as the first one had after James showed him how to access the weather forecast on the tablet. Still, they spent them curled up together, James holding him tightly, regardless of whether or not he was a cat. Loki was spending less time in that form when he was in the apartment, now. He wanted to actually talk to James. It was strange to do so without a layer of duplicity, of subtle manipulation to get the result that his audience wouldn’t have otherwise entertained. He loved it.

And then, on a day when the clouds were mere scattered wisps, the sky opened with a thunderous crack, and Loki knew without a doubt that his fear had come to pass. He cut himself off in the middle of his sentence, gaze dropping to his knees where he was curled comfortably in the corner of the couch, his toes tucked under James’ thigh. He pulled anxiously at his cuffs.

“Loki?”

He grimaced, and when he spoke his voice was horribly dull. “Thor has returned.”

“Oh. That’s not very good for you, is it?”

He shook his head. “It was bound to happen eventually.”

“Are you…” James sounded worried, and when Loki glanced up he was chewing on his bottom lip. “Are you going to leave the Tower?”

“It…would be the best way for me to remain hidden.” He twisted the fabric of his sleeve. “I do not want to,” he confessed to his fingers.

“Is there a way to hide from him?”

“Thor has never cared for much that he could not hit with his hammer. So long as he only sees me as a cat, he should not suspect. However, the Watcher of Worlds is sure to be looking now that he is here, and it is his attention that I do not want. I have been relying upon the belief of my death and my transformation to avoid notice, but that will no longer suffice.”

“Can you do anything?”

Loki considered. “There are ways to conceal myself from his view, but if he were watching, he would see the use of my magic to weave such a spell. I would have to go to a Realm he would not think to pay attention to in order to remain undetected. It would take me several days.”

“Okay.” Loki jerked his gaze up to find James looking at him steadily. “Go, and do what you need to. And I’ll see you when you get back.”

Loki lunged forward to hug him, only a little surprised at himself.

He went to Jotunheim, as the other least likely place where he would be looked for, finding himself a small cave where he would not be found by either beasts or Jotnar. Sealing himself in, he settled into the meditation required to weave the complex layers of spellwork he would need. His magic was vibrant and eager after so long, and it leaped easily to his touch. He’d almost forgotten what it was like to have power singing through his veins, and he worked quickly, but with care. When at last he had finished, and slept off his exhaustion, he emerged into the biting glare unsure of how much time had passed.

Loki stood on the edge of the great crater that had been left by the Bifrost. It stretched for thousands of kilometers ahead of him, a broken, jumbled landscape of cliffs and fault lines. In the middle of it would have been the ruins of the once-great city of Jotunheim, no trace left now to mark where it had stood. Loki wondered if Laufey had had other children, if they had died. He belonged on that throne now as much as he had on the throne of Asgard once, and would be as welcome. He wanted it as much too. Perhaps it was time for this Realm to be released from Asgard’s yoke, to determine its own way. It would be one more thing that Odin couldn’t have. The Casket of Ancient Winters had been lost in the void when he fell. He would see if he couldn’t retrieve it, and restore it to its rightful owners.

The image of the crater was still in his mind when Loki returned to Midgard cloaked in layers of concealing spells yet perfectly visible to the naked eye as he soared through the spires of Manhattan. He found the energy barrier missing from around Avengers Tower, likely shorted out by the Bifrost, and slipped easily inside. He hoped Stark would find some other way to address the problem if he was so intent on his illusion of security. He padded through James’ apartment, tracing familiar paths with sight and smell. On the coffee table in front of the couch was a card with his name on it.

Hopping up on the table, Loki sniffed at the card and the folded green shirt it was sitting on top of. There were traces of James, but nothing else that was distinct. The card read simply, ‘For Loki.’ He couldn’t help reaching out to check his spells just one more time, and then he shifted, sitting cross-legged on the floor between couch and table. He picked up the shirt, shaking it out. It didn’t have the loose collar he preferred, which he understood was not so much a Midgardian fashion, but the sleeves were long and it was his color.

“Hey! You’re back.” Loki glanced up to find James grinning as he entered the room. His hair was pulled up into a bun, and Loki didn’t remember when he’d started wearing tank tops that left the scarring at his shoulder visible, but he looked good. “That’s, uh, that’s for you. Steve dragged me out to go shopping, and I thought, maybe you’d like it.” He scratched sheepishly at the back of his head.

Turning back to his present, Loki pulled off his own shirt to try it on. It was an off-the-rack item, but it fit him well enough, and when he pulled the sleeves down he found that they were designed to cover his palms, with holes for his thumbs. He smiled down at his hands, and then turned it up at James. “I do like it.”

“Oh, good.” James sat on the couch next to him, reaching out to pull a strand of Loki’s hair out from under the collar. He moved to sit on the couch as well, twisting his hair into a braid over one shoulder. He hadn’t bothered to cut it yet, although perhaps he should. He pulled up his legs to cross them, one knee resting comfortably against James’ hip.

“How long was I gone for?”

“About four days. Thor seemed pretty upset about your ‘death,’ and everyone else has been telling him stories about you as a cat to help cheer him up. He was disappointed he didn’t get to meet you.”

Loki made a face. “Thor misses the loyal little brother I played for him.”

“I told him his arrival scared you away, so you’ve got an excuse to avoid him now, if you still wanna come with me to team gatherings.”

Loki blinked. “Thank you.”

James smiled lopsidedly at him. “Thor’s rather…loud.”

“That he is,” Loki sighed.

“So I take it you being here and like this means everything worked out? You’re not gonna be found out?”

“Indeed.”

“Good. That’s— Good.”

Then he asked, “You went out?”

James rolled his eyes, exasperated and fond. “Uh-huh. Steve is still such a stubborn little punk, I swear.”

Smiling, Loki settled in to listen to what had happened in the last four days and how James’ shopping trip had gone.

Bucky couldn’t really say he’d liked going shopping with Steve. There were too many hiding places and too many exits in the big box stores, and anyway he could probably get the exact same clothing from the internet. But Steve liked being able to try things on and physically compare them, not to mention chat with the salespeople because he was overly friendly like that. At least they both agreed that they might never get over the sticker-shock of future prices. And he had found Loki’s present.

He’d had a mild panic attack in the store while Steve was off in the changing rooms, scanning the place for targets, his adrenaline ratcheting up as he expected enemy combatants to charge in at any moment. He’d dealt with it fairly quickly though, breathing the way he was supposed to and taking stock of the things that were there in the present. Dr. Nabavi had said he’d done well, and that if he wanted, he might start to think about returning to combat. With Thor back to add another heavy hitter to the team, the Avengers were going to be a lot busier as they started to take out the remaining major HYDRA bases. Bucky wanted in on that, beyond what intel he might be able to provide from memory.

Tony was done with his arm, so he started using that time to go down to the shooting range below the gym. Handguns were okay, but rifles were harder. It was better with Clint down there to complain about the irony of a deaf person having to wear earmuffs and razz him about his aim until they got into shooting contests. He started sparring again too, when people were available. He was reluctant to fight Steve at first, but eventually had to admit that he was really the only one who could match him. Thor was stronger than them both, but not that great when he couldn’t rely on his hammer, which he refused to do in a fight against his Midgardian friends. All Bucky really had to do was get low and hamstring him. Natasha was fun to fight, and a challenge to do so non-lethally. Loki showed him a trick with his daggers to surprise her, but once he could wear her down, she was done too.

It turned out that the Avengers were also looking for Loki’s scepter. Loki rolled his eyes when Bucky told him, complaining, “It is not my scepter. It was given to me.” But he did point out, “If it truly has fallen into the hands of HYDRA, they will likely have used it. The Mind Stone can do much more than impose upon someone’s will.” Bucky quietly brought it up in the next meeting.

It was early October when he joined his first Avengers mission. HYDRA had a base built into the eastern side of the Cascade Mountains, and there was only one access road. Iron Man, Falcon, and Thor acted as the advance guard and cleared out the sentry towers before the rest of the team proceeded towards the main base. Bucky was dropped on top of the right-hand tower with a Stark-special M24 to act as sniper. Falcon was on perimeter, but while the base was sure to have escape hatches they weren’t aware of, the road was the only way down the mountain. He set up his nest, lying on the roof listening as the sounds of combat began to echo between the forest and the comm unit in his ear.

He took out several armored vehicles that came his way, sending them careening into the trees. No one got out of them. A tank stuttered into his view and he was about to snap down his comm that he hadn’t got an anti-tank rifle when the Hulk crashed down upon it, flinging it away and bounding after. The Avengers pressed forward, almost into the base itself. And then a motorcycle skidded onto the road in front of him, dirt and snow spraying from its tires as the rider revved for the gate.

Bucky didn’t go for the head shot, but he saw it anyway, the rider’s neck snapping back as blood and bone and worse stained the snow. The motorcycle went out from under him, tires spinning as it slid heavily on its side. The gunshot seemed to ring out forever. There was snow, and blood, and gunpowder, and Bucky could smell it—the chemicals, the fire, the fear. His throat burned and he couldn’t breathe. The body on the ground became all of the bodies on the ground. He’d pulled the trigger, watched the effects, and then he’d done it again. And again. Because he had to, because they were HYDRA, because he wasn’t, he wasn’t HYDRA, and then—

Sharp teeth closed gently around his fingers and his back hit something. He dropped down, unaware of having stood. Blood and snow and death played out in front of him, forcing him to watch, and watch again. He needed to go away, get away from it somehow, and there was fur against his hands. There was fur against his hands, and that hadn’t been there before, that hadn’t happened. He didn’t think that had happened. He latched on to it, clinging to different in the hopes of gleaning some comfort.

Bucky heaved in a deep breath, only now realizing that his breathing had become shallow and his heartbeat fast. The fur was against his face and arms, and there was something large and solid against his body. He couldn’t see, not really, and there were no chemicals to smell. He smelled musk, and pine, and thyme. He breathed it deeply, inhaled it into his lungs in time with the body in his arms, and then slower. Bucky lifted his head.

He was sitting a few feet back from his rifle against one of the radar antenna, his knees drawn up. In the space between and over them sat a huge black dog, leaning into his chest. Its head had been dislodged from on top of Bucky’s when he looked up, and now its nose whuffed at his hair. When he loosed his arms to run his fingers through the shaggy fur, it pulled back to look at him. The wolf’s eyes were bright green. Bucky took the comm unit out of his ear, closing it in his fist so the others wouldn’t hear.

“Loki?”

Loki’s tail wagged, thumping twice against the roof before he shifted into the cat.

Bucky cradled him close against his chest, letting out a laugh, or maybe it was a sob. “Hi, kotyenok. Thanks for helping out again.”

Loki rubbed his face against Bucky’s chin.

He pushed himself up, moving back towards his gun and sitting cross-legged next to it. He took two deep breaths and then put his comm back in. Instantly, there were calls for him, his teammates asking the Soldier to respond.

“I’m here, I’m fine. Sorry. What’s the status?”

He stretched out again, and Loki fit himself in the crook of his left shoulder, his ears flattening against the sound of the gun. And for the rest of the battle, he stayed.

When it was over, and the rest of the Avengers were heading back out with files and confiscated items, Bucky hugged Loki once again and then let him leap from his arms into the sky, changing fur for feathers. Loki flapped higher, wheeling once above the trees before blinking out of sight entirely.

He waited impatiently the hours it took for the Avengers to return, wanting nothing more than to curl up with James and make sure he was alright. Loki wondered if he should put a monitoring spell on him. It was considered rude to do so without another’s permission, although he’d never had qualms about such things before. But with James’ history, he might not want Loki to have access to even his general mental state, and he was sure to become suspicious if Loki continued to show up when James had a flashback in the field. He didn’t want James to be angry with him. But he also didn’t want James to have to suffer alone. Loki’s thoughts followed his feet around in circles. He was halfway through wearing a path in the carpet when it occurred to him that this was unusual behavior for him at all.When the Avengers finally arrived back at the Tower, Loki shifted into his cat form and bounded for the elevator. Unfortunately, when he emerged on the common floor, it was Thor who spotted him first. Loki hissed and spit as Thor picked him up by the shoulders, holding him aloft with a ridiculous grin. Static electricity crackled through his fur, making it stand further on end. Thor, as ever, paid him no mind

“My friends, might this be the feline I have heard such tales of?”

Loki willed him to just bring his face within reach of his claws.

“Uh, Thor, I don’t think he likes that.” James appeared beside him. “Maybe I should take him.”

Thor handed him over, and Loki took the opportunity to snag the back of his hand, drawing blood. He glared at Thor from the safety of James’ arms.Thor glanced at the cuts in surprise, the only wound he had taken that day, and then he laughed, declaring, “He is a feisty creature. A fitting namesake for my brother.”

“Sure,” James agreed.

Divested of their gear, the Avengers sprawled out over the common lounge, the usual tired argument about what sort of food to order in starting up. James curled nearly sideways in an armchair, Loki half in his lap and half on his chest, his eyes slitting as James started petting him. Across from them, Stark was tucked underneath Sam’s arm, waving half-heartedly as he tried to argue his point about cheeseburgers. Thor and Steve somehow managed to both fit on one couch, and the Widow and Barton took up most of the other, her feet in his lap. Banner was still mostly secluded from the world, wrapped under a blanket in another armchair. Eventually the choice of food was given to James, as it was his first Avengers mission.

“Um… I dunno. I liked the pizza last time.”

There was some grumbling but general acquiescence, and Barton raised his fist limply towards them. “Woot. Snipers unite. Man, we could make the weirdest club.”

The conversation turned to other things then, but Loki ignored it. He checked his spells once and then deliberately did not look at Thor, happy-purring as James’ thumb started rubbing circles behind his ear. When the food came he stole pepperoni off of James’ pizza until James gave in and fed them to him. He let James have the ham, though. The pineapple it came with made it taste strange. He licked at the grease on James’ fingers, thoughts of what it might be like were he in his more usual form flitting across his mind.

“You’re going to spoil that cat, Barnes,” Natasha commented.

“Mm, he deserves it.”

Loki glanced up abruptly to find James smiling warmly at him. He started rubbing behind Loki’s ears again, and Loki closed his eyes, going contentedly boneless on James’ chest as he purred loudly.

In the end he put a tracking spell on the Avengers’ quinjet.

Bucky went on more missions, working his way closer to the heavy fighting by degrees. He learned what it was like to be on a battlefield by choice, to face his triggers by choice. He was no longer a soldier, and he was no longer a weapon. It was different now; he had skills that few other people did and he was consciously making the choice to use them in the best way he knew how. Walking onto a battlefield, he expected the horror. And as a brief pre-battle search became a ritual for him, he also came to expect to see Loki watching over him. On most missions now, he only had to glance up from his scope to find a familiar kite perched nearby or hovering above as a silent support. Loki was there when he needed the small weight of a cat wedged into his shoulder to keep him grounded, modifying his shooting just enough to be distinctive of his present. And when things were really bad, Loki’s wolf was solid and warm even through Bucky’s body armor.

He was learning to deal with his PTSD in situations where the threat really was there, and learning to separate battle from down time. He had fewer episodes now when he went out, and they were less intense. But still, returning to combat took its toll. They were hitting HYDRA hard and fast, and he didn’t have enough time to fully reorient himself before the next mission forced him to his feet.

They’d had two weeks since the latest battle, and Bucky still felt tired. He went through his daily routine as always, but the motions were rote muscle memory. He talked to as few people as possible, unable to muster the energy required for interaction. He felt dull inside, his emotions far away. He would sleep if he wasn’t so awake. He didn’t lose time, but some days he found himself doing nothing more than watch the hands on the clock move. Loki had spent most of the last two weeks as a cat, doing his best to help. He’d left Bucky’s shoulder to insinuate himself into his arms instead, and would bother Bucky into giving him head scratches whenever he’d been staring off into space for too long. Bucky was grateful for him.

He sighed as he dropped onto the couch, letting Loki down onto his lap. “JARVIS, what’s on my movie list that’s funny?”

“If I may, I would recommend this, Sergeant Barnes.” The title card for Ghostbusters came up on his TV screen.

“Sure, play it.”

Bucky propped his elbow on the arm of the couch, leaning his head sideways on his hand as a woman re-shelved books in a haunted library, and then a man conducted a clearly biased ESP test. Bucky watched the movie with a detached interest, the cheesy jokes eliciting no more than a huff of recognition.

Loki followed along with the movie from where he was lying comfortably in James’ lap. However, when they came to Egon explaining that crossing the energy streams of the proton packs would have dire consequences, he stood. Stretching, he stepped off of James’ lap, then carefully turned around to make sure he had James’ attention before he shifted back.

“I hope you realize that this is absolutely ridiculous.”

Bucky blinked at Loki suddenly sitting right next to him, fixing him with a dubious look as he passed judgement on the film. It was stupid, he realized, because Loki had been there the entire time, but Bucky had missed him. And after two weeks, this was what he transformed back to say? Suddenly, more than anything in the movie, Bucky found the whole thing ridiculously funny. Once he’d started laughing, he couldn’t seem to stop.

Loki watched as James began to laugh, smiling in relief. He’d been worried. He knew why James needed to fight, but he truly was beautiful when he laughed. Loki wished he could keep him only this happy all of the time. He found himself leaning in, sliding his arms over James’ shoulders.

Loki’s arms came over his shoulders and then his mouth was on Bucky’s and his laughter cut off into a startled, half muffled noise. Loki was pulling away even before it had ended and Bucky had had a chance to get his brain in gear, and Bucky grabbed hastily for him, hauling him back in. He kissed Loki properly this time, getting his arms around Loki’s back, and Loki melted right into him, kissing him back languorously.

Even before Loki’s lips had fully left his, Bucky was asking, “Will you go out with me?”

Loki smiled, and said, “Yes.”

Bucky found himself smiling stupidly back, just staring at Loki’s face, framed by the dark strands of his hair. He’d cut it, recently, so that it just skimmed his shoulders. It suited him. He looked really good, actually, and Bucky wasn’t sure how he hadn’t noticed before. Loki’s eyes were such a pretty shade of green, with tiny golden flecks in them. Then Bucky’s brain caught up to him again and he said, “You know, I’m pretty sure movies are still considered good first dates.”

They resettled themselves on the couch so that they were stretched out sideways, one of Loki’s arms wedged comfortably between the couch arm and the small of Bucky’s back, his head pillowed on Bucky’s chest. Bucky propped his chin on Loki’s head, one thumb idly stroking over the fabric of the shirt Bucky had gifted him, just below a shoulder blade. They rewound the movie to catch what they’d missed, and this time it was better, with both of them snorting at the dumb jokes and occasionally providing each other with color commentary.

When the credits rolled up the screen, Bucky sighed happily into Loki’s hair. “We shoulda done this ages ago. Cuddling’s so much nicer when neither of us is crying.”

“Mm,” Loki agreed, enjoying the rumble of James’ voice under his ear. He turned his face further into James’ chest. “I know what would make it better.”

“Yeah?”

Loki shifted up, sliding one hand into James’ hair to cup the base of his skull. James smiled, anticipating what was coming next, and Loki closed the distance between them to kiss him again. They spent a long time at it, the press of their lips warm and unhurried, James’ stubble scratching deliciously right, until both of them were dizzy. Loki drew back only far enough to see James’ eyes, a handsome slate grey at such short distance. If he moved away to let the light fall on them, they’d turn into the blue of the sky he flew in.

“Don’t go on the next mission.”

James looked up at him, meeting his eyes. “Okay.” He smiled. “I’ll just have to take you on another date, then, won’t I?”

#fanfic #winterfrost #bucky x loki #loki laufeyson #bucky barnes #thor #jotunheim #shapeshifter!loki #lokitty #ptsd #dating #everyone but yourself

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winterbuckytho · 7 years

Text

MEANWHILE, IT’S CALM ⁽ᵖᵃʳᵗ ²⁾ : THE CHERPUMPLE CHALLENGE

Pairing : Recovering!Bucky X Reader

Wordcount : 2395

Warnings : SFW, PTSD, Depression, Fluff…Fluff Everywhere

Plot : A slice of life with Bucky in his current living situation.

A/N : This was going to be the next morning from part 1 but, I decided to cut it to shorten the story trying to figure out if people prefer short or detailed stories. I guess my readers like long stuff so, this is probably the shortest I’ll go. Enjoy!

“Goddammit!” His chrome fist crackled with electricity less than a millimeter from the mirror’s surface and he strained against himself, wanting to punch and knowing it wouldn’t do any good.

“Who the fuck are you?!” He wailed. “What are you?! What are you even doing?! I want my life back, I want my self back!!”

Bucky dropped his arm and grasped the rim of the sink. “Who the fuck am I now?” He questioned the silence.

Ever since coming to in that garage, his head had been just swirling in a vortex of memories. Everything about what happened was awful including the way he now appreciated not knowing, not remembering; just following orders and completing his purpose. He could remember teaching other assassins with confidence, killing with no qualms, accepting their lies for so so long.

When he thought about that feeling after a jolt from the Mind Crown, that fresh, alert, empty blank clean feeling, he felt a vertigo and nausea so strong he spent most of the morning vomiting and wanting to just…be put back to sleep.

Which made everything worse, considering everything Steve had gone through for him.

He knew that it wasn’t he, himself, Bucky, that had done those things, that he’d literally had no control over his body, But being in the back seating watching it all was so sickening… so many of them had no idea he’d be coming, he has so many memories of ending peoples lives, easily, like flipping a switch and shutting off the lights.

And of all the things they can do now-a-days, time travel is still a no-go, so there was no returning to the Bucky he was before enlisting. He would just have to live with it, live and know he’ll never be that Bucky Barnes again (’…there’s no going back’ a malicious voice in his head whispers, ‘you can’t get it back…’), live with it all inside him, live and carry all the memories with him each day from now until…

“I gotta do this…I gotta do this for him.” Bucky breathed. ’Take deep slow breaths.’ he thought. He closed his eyes and pictured Steve’s honest and beautiful face. That smile that just radiates with joy.

Maybe things can’t be the way they were and maybe they’ll never be perfect. But maybe things can be…ok. If he can push away the dark in his head, focus on that light Steve stands in, focus on the things that light up with positivity around Steve, he’ll never have to be alone with it all and that’s worth something, right?

But Steve is unavailable right now, he’s off doing even more for Bucky, negotiating his return to the US. All Bucky has is Y/N. He gives thanks to goodness for Y/N. You have fun, get along well, you have some much in common in the most unlikely ways, but he always wonders how much of being close to him is too much. Is he making your job harder, do you think of him as a client, a patient, a subject or a friend?

You’re currently lovers and Bucky knows Steve wouldn’t be mad about that. But how much can he depend on you and still call himself a man?

He shakes his head and turns on the water. The last time he made a comment like that around you, you turned on him stridently and said “Hey, you deserve good mental health just like anyone else. Yes, even men need help time to time. I know you grew up in a different time but, all that I’m-so-manly-I-eat-trauma-for-breakfast stuff is only hindering you.”

He’s rinsing his face when you knock on the doorjamb. You came over here because your aware this is one of Buck’s bad days. You’ve known each other a short while, but since you sleep together often you know while he loves sleeping, mornings can be hard for him.

He says it’s like being a tv that’s been turned on with the volume and the brightness all the way up in a dark quiet room. Waking in cryo is different, you drift up instead of off, he explained. The disorientation is so bad some days it takes him about three hours to roll out of bed, groom, eat and all the while having spells of vertigo and nausea.

“Bucky?” You say quiet and reassuring, “I’ve got some ginger tea when your ready.”

The water shuts off and the door opens. His dark hair is a literal bird’s nest of a mess, it looks like he started to comb it then gave up. His almost turquoise eyes are red and puffy. He’s a big man but he somehow crumples into himself when he isn’t feeling well, appearing short an stocky instead of tall and thick with muscle on an athletic frame. Bucky wears a pair of socks, grey lightweight sweatpants, an undershirt and a long sleeved thermal shirt. One of his pant legs is pushed up to his shin and on that same side he’s slowly losing a sock, which is a 1/4 of the way off his foot laying floppily in front of his toes. He’s pale and looks so miserable you could laugh with how much he projects how he feels without words; you’ve never seen anything that needed a hug more.

“Here,” You say, “Come on, let’s go to the kitchen. I want to show you something.”

You push the warm mug into his hands, which he takes eagerly. He’s learned the power ginger has over stomachs and welcomes it. You lead him by the elbow to the kitchen, he slips on to a stool and you walk behind him rub his shoulders lightly in a reassuring gesture. You brush your fingers through his hair loosening tangles and then use the hair tie on your wrist to pull it up into a bun piled on the back of his head.

“Bucky, wanna make a cherpumple today?” You ask, sitting down to your coffee beside him. His accent isn’t too pronounced, but it’s rubbing off on you any way.

He moves his head back just moving his neck, a movement that says ‘Say what!?’

“Make a what-what?” He asks, startled out of his sour mood. He literally can not tell what a cherpumple is or how it’s made. He in fact has never heard the word before now.

You turn around your phone in it’s holder and play the preloaded video. He doesn’t speak the entire time it plays, he just watched the young woman following through her recipe, sometimes shaking his head and sometimes making a closed mouth noise, “Uhnt Uhnt Uhn” that universal sound for 'What a shame’.

When it’s done he sips the hot tea and says, “That’s a terrible mee-mee. I don’t think that joke is funny. People waste so much these days, you guys take all this food for granted, Y/N!” He looks at you with a look in his eye like fatherly disappointment.

You shake your head slowly. “It’s not a prank, Bucky. It’s a real recipe and we are going to make one for Bruce’s birthday party. If we do it now and take it with us–"You start to say.

"Take it in what, a wheelbarrow? It’s enough cake for 50 people!” Bucky interjects hotly.

You laugh and say “Your exaggerating and it will be for about 30 people.”

“You’re actually serious!?” He almost shouted back.

“Yes!” You say emphatically,“Besides you could stand to do something recreational. It’ll be fun.”

He flashes a charming grin. “Listen sweet pea, all you had to do was ask. My mind may be a little off kilter, but my body don’t quit and there ain’t ever been anythin’ wrong with my libido, baby.” He’s leering a bit and if a modern man tried this it would be disgusting, but this guy…

You roll your eyes and say, “I mean fun outside the bedroom. You know, I’m starting to wonder if this is really because you just don’t know how to cook and don’t want to embarrass yourself.”

When he’s feeling stubborn nothing gives him a boot to the ass like a mild challenge. Sometimes you’re sure he learned it from Steve.

He crooks an eyebrow and says,“I’ll have you know, I can cook and I cook really good. It may have been ladies work to the upper classes but in poverty finding enough food is work for everyone; kids, women, the elderly. Everyone chipped in and yeah, even little boys helped with cooking. I’ll have you know some more, I can cook Spanish, Italian, Jewish, Polish and Irish foods in circles around you. Let’s go to the grocery store!” He’s already rolling up his sleeves.

Bucky’s eyes are sparkling a bit. His color has come back and he seems like he’s broken out of the funk he woke up in. Your heart soars every time you can distract him from the pain he is in. Mostly it’s such a pleasure to be with him, you feel so lucky sometimes that it’s a gift to you to be of help. He makes you feel like such a good person and you love doing the same for him.

You wish he didn’t need it, that he could wake up and just love himself one day, but you know it doesn’t work that way. He’s got to fight every inch now for everything positive he wants. It’s up to the people in his life to help him equip himself and you’re honored to be one of those people. He’s so beautiful and it hurts your heart that he can’t see it.

“Yeah, let’s cook this monstrosity! I stocked all the ingredients last time I went to the grocery, so what do you say, we’ll put on some music. I promise when you taste it, you love it.” You say with a giggle.

You start laying things out and he just can’t help himself, immediately making comments like “That’s almost the whole dozen!” and “That much cinnamon, how’s that supposed to tasty?!” But then you put on the radio and his mood further shifts from ‘We-can’t-do-this’ to ‘Let’s-do-this!’.

You measure and he mixes, pausing sometimes between ingredients to do a little swing dance move, crossing his right foot behind his left and doing a little twirl in place to the late 70’s tunes coming from the speakers. At one point he threw his hands up and did a little bouncing thrust move to Everybody Dance by Chic. You burst out laughing, you never seen someone this confident in their dance moves.

“What!?” Bucky says smiling, startled out of his groove.

“Nothing!! I’m sorry. It’s just really great seeing this kind of dancing.” You say measuring flour for the next batch of cake batter.

He uses his the back of his hand, silicone spatula still in it, to brush at a spot on his cheek leaving behind a lil’ patch of white there. “Oh, yeah, dancing was a huge past time in those days. There were so many kinds, it was really wild.”

“That’s sounds great. I’ve got a feeling you got a lot of music to catch up on, huh?” You reply helping him pour the spice cake batter over an apple pie in one of the three pans; 1 down, 2 to go.

“Oh, yeah. So far I’ve heard something of Queens of the Stone Age, Nine Inch Nails and Deftones, which, well, I guess you could dance to those but may be a different sort of dancing.” he says flattening the batter over the pie.

You try to imagine Bucky listening to the slightly erotic desert rock of QOTSA and you get images of him pulling some pole dancer-esque Magic Mike moves. You feel three pulse-like throbs below the waist and blush so hard you can feel it making your forehead tingle. You take the bowl and rinse it at the sink so you guys can start mixing the vanilla cake.

You get that one set up with more pauses for dance moves from the both of you and you wash up the measuring and mixing implements getting them ready for the next cake, the white with a cherry pie inside.

You take a quick break between mixing the next cake; he has some more tea and a scone, you have coffee and a cup of yogurt. Before returning to the kitchen you switch up the music going with an instrumental pop Pandora station. Bucky removed his long sleeve and just wears a sleeveless undershirt with his sweats.

The cooking is a bit quieter this time, the two of you enjoying the piano version of Heroes by David Bowie. You find yourself watching his every move at times like these. His strong dexterous hands gently distributing the ingredients as he mixes, the muscles in his neck shoulders and arm flexing and uncoiling smoothly, his other arm, for all it’s fluidity and seamless movement still existing in the uncanny valley, it whirs softly and clicks as metal plates shift and brush each other, the mild attentive look on his face, his bright lovely eyes catching the light, the faint upward tilt to the corners of his mouth.

Once each cake and pie are settled in their pans, you set timers for when the baking should be done and another for when to rotate two cakes from the bottom to the top and you settle in to watch Planet Earth. Bucky falls asleep part way through and you let him snooze whilst checking the cakes till they’re done. When they are, you set them on racks to cool.

As you do you hear Bucky’s breathing quickening and sharpening: a sure sign he’s having a tough time waking up.

You mute the tv and rush to his side, take his right hand in yours and put your hand to his cheek. In a quiet calm voice you say, “Hey, everything’s ok, take your time. You are safe, there are no threats. You fell asleep watching some nature documentaries. You’ve been sleeping about 25 minutes. You’re lying on the couch in the parlor of your suite in Wakanda. Take a deep breath for me. Do you smell that? It’s the cakes we were baking. Breath slowly and open your eyes when you are ready.”

His breathing slows and he squeezes your hand in his right. He squeezes hard at first, almost on the verge of panic. He takes in your words nodding, still unable to speak. He slowly opens his eyes a little by little taking quick peaks at your face, reassured no one has come to drag him off to the Mind Crown as you’ve learned what the Russian memory erasing device is called. He’s always afraid on waking up that he’ll be there being wiped again and given a new mission that, even if he refuses, his body may just carry out anyway.

He lies quietly just holding your hand, looking around a little then closing his eyes for a few seconds. His grip loosens slowly and he takes in a shuddering long breath.

“Ughk, hate that feeling.” He croaks. Tears squeeze out from under his eyelashes and roll down the creases at the corner of his eyes.

“It’s ok. There’s no right and wrong way to experience trauma and it’s after affects. I’m here for you, so you don’t have to do it alone. Do you need ginger tea?” You respond.

“No, my stomach seems ok. It’s so bright, though.” He says.

You smile a little. “Sorry, Buck. We can’t turn the sun down, but I’ll go draw the shades. Just let yourself adjust here, don’t sit up yet, just ground with your senses for a few minutes, ok?”

“Y/N, thanks. Thanks for your help.” He says, sniffing and clearing his sinuses.

You walk over to the windows and balcony, shutting out some of the light. “Hey, no problem. I am here to help.” You come back to the couch, help him sit up a bit so you can squish in and rest his head on you leg.

“I know. And I think I need so many things, so m-much help and your job kinda confuses me, how much of this is work to you? How much is us?” He says as he does you can sense him becoming sullen.

“Aww, come on. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to. Yes, some of my work over laps with the things I do for you because I want to. But put it this way, I get my cake and get to eat it, too. They pay me to do what I love.” You say, brushing hair from his squinting eyes.

“Me?” He asks with a little smirk, his voice a little raspy, lifting both arms and wrapping them around your waist in a strange semblance of a hug. If he were standing up he’d be carrying you over his left shoulder as you held on to his head and face with your knees bent behind his head. The image is so silly to you, you smile down at him.

“Yeah, you.” You answer leaning down and kissing him in an upside down and slightly sideways kiss.

#Captain America : The First Avenger #Captain America : The Winter Soldier #Captain America : Civil War #Recovering!Bucky #Bucky X Reader (female)#Bucky X Reader #baking #mental health #adlidab #all day long i dream about bucky #series #Meanwhile It's Calm #The Cherpumple Challenge #part 2

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glitterrhowell · 5 years

Text

Chapter 35

title: Seized

Co-author: fadingcrystalvoid

Pairing: Daniel Howell & AmazingPhil (Phan

Word count: 2k

Warning/Genre: Rape/extreme violence/ depression/PTSD/Degradation/torture/ Non-consensual pretty much everything/Little!Dan/Daddy!Phil/Kidnapping

Summary: It started out as a fun day at the park but it ended in terror. Phil takes his little Dan to the park and while Phil is not looking, Dan suddenly gets kidnapped. What will happen to Dan? Will Phil ever see his boyfriend again? Did Phil have something to do with it? Heavy trigger warning

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Kathryn and Dan had settled into a schedule over the last few weeks. During the day, Dan would occupy himself with colouring or cartoons. And during the night, Dan wrapped up in blankets, a paci between his lips and Pooh Bear between his arms. Kathryn would kiss him goodnight and leave him to sleep through till the morning.

Sometimes Dan still woke up from nightmares; they weren’t likely to ever stop, or at least for a very long time.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, Dan, I’m here,” Kathryn comforted, settling onto the bed beside Dan. The lamp was on, illuminating the room in an amber glow, enough for Dan and Kathryn to see each other without being blinding at the late hour.

“Kathy,” Dan mumbled questioningly, eyes clouded with tears and sleep. He raised his fisted hands to his face and rubbed at both his eyes with his palm. He whimpered at the images his mind conjured when his lids slipped shut.

“Hey, I’m here, you’re okay,” she said again. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

“Want Daddy,” Dan mumbled, more tears sliding down his cheeks as Kathryn’s expression soured.

“You can’t. I’m sorry love,” she tried. Dan grumbled, pushing his hands into the bed and climbing up onto his knees.

“Want. Daddy,” he said certainly as if this would make his Daddy come back.

Kathryn simply shook her head sadly. “I want him too,” she whispered into the quiet.

“Kathy okay?” Dan asked when he saw a tear slip down her cheek.

“What? Yeah, I’m fine,” she answered quickly, wiping the tears. “Do you wanna sleep with me tonight, love?”

“Yes please,” he said, climbing from the bed with Pooh in his arms. Kathryn led him to their room where an air mattress was already set up for nights like these.

“Get some sleep,” she said, tucking the blankets tight around Dan. “You’re safe here. We won’t let anything happen to you.”

Dan, who still had tears in his eyes, nodded and snuggled into his blankets. “Love you,” he mumbled, eyes closed.

“I love you too,” she smiled, pressing a kiss to Dan’s forehead before standing and climbing into her own bed. Linking her hand with her husband’s, she sighed and closed her eyes, hoping Dan would sleep through ‘till the morning.

~~~~~~~~

Phil sighed, opening tired eyes with a yawn. His long limbs stretched out across the too-small bed. He swung his legs over the side and rubs his eyes with yet another yawn. He went to the toilet and did his business before pulling open his jail door since they’d already been unlocked for the morning.

He followed other prisoners on their way to the canteen and collected his breakfast of green-yellow potato chips and overcooked bacon with a side of mildly mouldy fruit.

Once he was finished he slid his tray through to the wash-up area and made his way to the yard. He waited at the small line for an available phone and punched in the numbers he’d memorised.

“Hello? Kathryn speaking,” a familiar voice said, tone warm and comforting.

“Hey Mum,” Phil whispered, tears coming to his eyes. He wished he was able to give her a hug but he couldn’t at trials for obvious reasons and all his visitations had been with his lawyer and sometimes Luke. With the trial holding such high steaks, he couldn’t afford to miss a week with Mrs Raines.

“Dear, you sound so sad, what’s wrong?” she questioned, motherly instinct kicking in and informing her her son was upset.

“Nothing- just- I’m happy to hear your voice again,” he smiled into the phone, not that she could see.

“I’m happy to hear your voice too, especially when you aren’t defending yourself.”

“Let’s not talk about the trial,” Phil said. It was all he ever heard and he just wanted a mother, not another person with their own opinion of his situation.

“Okay, what do you want to talk about then?”

“How’s Dan going?”

Kathryn chuckled, likely having guessed Dan would have asked that question.

“He’s doing well. He had a nightmare last night but got back to sleep alright and slept through till morning.”

“That’s good,” Phil sighed out.

Kathryn hummed. “Dan isn’t in the hospital anymore,” she stated. Phil waited as she thought. “Doesn’t that mean you could speak to him without breaking any rules?”

Phil thought on that. Technically there was nothing stopping him. There were no hospital rules demanding they stay away and the prison didn’t care who he spoke to. But still, it felt kind of cruel. It’d be torture for himself to have to say goodbye after hearing his lover’s voice. Not to mention what it could do to Dan. So, while it hurt, he sighed and shook his head.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.” He felt tears in his eyes and looked up, blinking them back. He could not cry here, who knows what the other prisoners would do in reaction. Probably laugh at him, maybe even punch and beat him. He wouldn’t put it past them.

“Are you sure? He’d love to hear you,” she continued.

Phil’s eyes broke and tears slipped. “I can’t. I want to so bad Mum but it’ll hurt too much to say goodbye. I can’t- I can’t do that to him or me.”

“It’s okay, that’s fine,” she comforted quickly. “You’ll see him when you win the trial and you can come home,” she continued.

“If I win,” he corrected.

“Don’t think like that. If you don’t, we’ll work with it. Dan can come to visit you and he can continue to stay with me.”

“Yeah, I guess. I don’t know, sorry Mum.”

“It’s okay, I understand.”

“I gotta go now. Love you.”

“Love you too,” she said, kissing him through the phone. And with that, he pushed the phone back into its receiver and walked away.

~~~~~~~~

“Mum!” Dan called out loud from the lounge. Kathryn had excused herself to answer the phone, leaving Dan with his colouring book.

“Yes, dear?” she asked, rushing back to the room. In her haste to make sure Dan was perfectly content, she hadn’t realised he’d called her ‘Mum’ rather than ‘Kathy’.

“Why the fuck wasn’t I told about this?” The cuss word startled her; she’d raised her kids to never swear and while Dan wasn’t her kid, he was usually rather polite when he came to visit. The second thing that startled her was the obvious anger in his eyes; that and the way he held himself - plus the swearing - informed Kathryn that Dan wasn’t regressed anymore. No, in front of her stood a fully grown adult, fuming from head to toe.

In the seconds it’d taken her to realise all this, her eyes trailed to the tv where the news lady was informing watchers of Phil’s trial.

“Dan- you have to understand-” she tried, only to be cut off.

“No offence, but you don’t keep shit like this from me regardless of how fucking messed up you think I am! He’s my boyfriend! If he’s on trial for something he didn’t do, I want to fucking know about it.

Dan tugged on his hair in frustration before abandoning his drawings on the floor and heading to the guest room.

“What are you doing?” Kathryn asked, following him.

“Going home,” he seethed, looking through his belongings and realising they were all little things before just chucking them in the bag anyway.

“No you are not!” she declared in her typical “I’m a mother and I know what’s best” tone.

“You can’t keep me here. I’m going home and defending my boyfriend in court!” he shouted, pushing past her when she didn’t move from the doorway.

“How are you getting there?” she asked next, worried.

“A taxi or something - I don’t know,” he muttered, collecting his phone from the kitchen and his small carry bag of important belongings before pulling open the door and slamming it closed before Kathryn could argue anymore.

It became evident as he walked the cold London streets that he really didn’t know how to get home. He just held his arm out, waiting for a taxi to come by and pick him up.

“Need a lift?” a voice said. Dan’s head snapped to a black Sudan, the man who spoke standing next to it.

“Uhh,” Dan mumbled out, not sure who this man was. He was well dressed but Dan knew he couldn’t trust anyone anymore. This man wouldn’t try to do anything in the middle of the morning, would he? Though Sir had. Dan shuddered at the memories and blinked them away, focussing back on the man.

“No thanks,” he mumbled.

“Come on, where ya headed?” the man pushed.

“No. Thank you,” he said determinedly, trying to show this man that he wasn’t backing down.

“Name’s Chris. You’re Dan. Now come on, taxi’s don’t come to this street; ya too far outta city central. Where do ya need to go? I can take ya to your house if you’d like?”

“How do you know my name?” Dan asked, stepping backwards and away from the strange man.

“Fine, walk home. Fucking storms coming mate, a big one.” The now-annoyed man climbed back into his car and started it up, the engine rumbling with the sky. Just as the man started to drive off - as if Dan’s life was a movie - the clouds broke and buckets of water landed atop him, drenching him instantly. He shivered, pulling his hoodie over his head and cuddling his belonging to his chest to protect them from the rain. He ran into a small little shop on the corner of the street, not stopping until he was inside the cozy space.

“Can I help you?” a cheery young girl asked. Her hair was tied up into a messy bun, red curls falling around her face.

“No thank you, I’m just getting out of the rain,” he said, looking around his surroundings and realising he entered a cooky little cafe.

“Yeah, it just suddenly came on, didn’t it? Would you like a drink? On the house, just to warm you up a little,” she continued.

“Uh, yeah, thanks. Could I get a hot chocolate if it’s not too much trouble?”

“Not at all, take a seat,” she insisted, gesturing to the entirely empty store.

Dan shuffled into one of the chairs by a table, not wanting to soak the couch with his dripping clothes.

Three minutes later she came out with a drink and a cookie. “I took you for a double-choc person,” she laughed, placing the drink and small plate down in front of him.

“Thanks,” he smiled, unzipping his backpack and grabbing his wallet.

“Oh, no, this is on the house,” she insisted.

“But-” he tried to argue but she shook her head. “If you don’t mind me saying this, think of it as a thank you gift. When I was fourteen I was at a really low point in my life but I discovered you and Phil and you both really helped me. You actually posted your video about depression on my worst day yet. I was really close to giving up but that video made me feel less alone. I just want to say thank you for helping me and so many others through hard times and I want to help you too - even if it’s just something like a hot chocolate and a biscuit,” she smiled at him gently and Dan nodded wordlessly.

“Thank you, I really appreciate it.”

“Thank you ,” she said in return before heading out the back of the shop.

Dan finished his drink off, enjoying the warmth it brought to his body. He’d called and ordered a taxi too so he had a ride home any minute now.

He pulled out one of his colouring books which were in his pre-packed bag and ripped one out. On the back, he wrote a letter to the lovely girl who had remained unnamed throughout their entire interaction.

He saw his taxi pull up so he quickly put the letter atop the cash register and made his way out and into the car. He gave the woman his address and they set off.

#Dan howell #daniel howell #dan howell fanfiction #daniel howell fanfiction #phil lester #amazingphil #Dan and Phil #amazingphil fanfiction #seized #tw: violence

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