#but especially the simpler stuff like needing a key to open a door and all that. i've done that before i can just copy paste code

[ruvviks]

hey if i actually started developing my video game idea would you guys be interested if i posted about it on here

[greyyson-but-no]

love foolosophy

; mild talk of SA, goes into no detail ; female reader ; miscommunication ; 16+ ;

as you exited shaw's bar, you only got a couple meters before peralta came bundling after you, shoving his coat around his shoulders and calling after you like a madman. swinging around, you waiting for him to catch up.

when he did, his eyebrows furrowed at you. "why'd you stop?"

confused, you shifted awkwardly on your feet. "because you were shouting after me? i assumed you had something to wanted to talk to me about."

"no." jake shook his head, starting to walk with no warning. "jus' wanted to walk you home, s'all."

really, he'd given you no choice but to follow him. it was impossible to not be curious though. he had been acting... weird these past couple months. there had been a case at the point where he changed, a young woman had been walking late at night. while holt had offered you the case, you turned it down, but you had never told jake or anyone else in the precinct why.

ever since you had turned that case down, he'd been more protective, you supposed was the way to word it. stuff like this, walking you home, making sure you've got all your protective gear on before a particularly dangerous case.

but you had also noticed other things. stares from across the bullpen, struggling to hide his excitement when you got paired on a case together. once, him and boyle had been speaking and when you'd walked into the conversation, charles had given jake that look before he walked away, the topic of whatever conversation falling into nothing.

"why?" you had your suspicions, of course, but you needed hard evidence. jake just wasn't going to give it to you.

the cop shrugged next to you. "no reason."

that wasn't where you were going to end it, though. it was almost as if you were treating it like he was a perp in the interrogation room, but that was the only possible way you were going to get the truth out of him. "but i live the closest to shaw's than anyone else."

he scoffed, crossing his arms as he walked, and suddenly he was the unserious 'joke' peralta. "well sorry, didn't know i wasn't allowed to spend time with my friend."

"you know i like spending time with you, it's just..." but you faded off.

jake turned to look at you temporarily. as much as he would have liked to keep up the humorous side of him, he could tell this was turning into a serious moment. "go on."

under the awkwardness, you laughed, continuing to walk as you turned onto the street with your apartment block. "something's changed. with you."

"what do you mean?" he swallowed. he knew where this was going.

buzzing yourself into the building, the two of you made your way towards the elevator. "ever since i turned down that SA case a couple months back, you've started acting differently."

"i don't..." and he sort of faded his own words, as if he didn't know what to say. it was clear he knew something was wrong, he was clear he didn't know what to do about it. it was also clear he had never been accused of stuff like this before, especially not to his face.

"you don't make the same joke around me. you.." pausing, you turned towards him in the elevator. "you pull things like this, walking me home? before that case you never would have done something like this."

he held his hand out. "y/n-"

shrugging, you shoved your hands into your pockets, starting to get a tiny bit riled up. "do you see me as... less or something? like, not as tough, just because i turned down that case? like i need babying, walking home because i can't handle myself? what is it, jake? because i'm not a fan of it, you know i don't like being babied."

"believe me, it's not that." he fumbled over his words as the elevator opened and the two of you naturally started walking towards the apartment with your number on it. "i wish it could be more simpler than it is but it's not."

"what are you saying, jake?" you pulled your keys out, opening the door, leaving the door swinging open.

when he caught your eyes, he sighed, a smile curling itself into the corners of his lips. "you're one of the most... badass people i know, the only person more so is probably rosa, and that's literally rosa, like, that's not evening an argument."

"jake."

"yeah sorry, getting to the point." he coughed, leaning against the doorframe as you fell onto your hip for some rest. "it got me curious, when you turned down that case, you hadn't turned down any other cases like that, so i did some digging. turns out, there was a case around seven years ago, with the exact same circumstances. a young woman, in brooklyn, on 8th, but the case never went any further than a report."

your stomach twisted as he went further. "jake, i don't-"

the cop held out his hand, letting you take it. "i'll shut up soon, i swear, trust me." and when you nodded for him to continue, he started speaking again. "realising that you were the girl, that the person who did that to you had done it again.. suddenly it made sense why you'd refused the case, it made sense why holt would let you refuse the case. and... it made me scared."

what?

"because there you were, standing in front of me, the strong standing, brilliantly genius, incredible you. and all i could see was the you seven years ago."

swallowing, you pried your hands away from his. "jake, please." and you walked into your apartment, letting jake follow if he really wanted to, which he did, closing the door behind him.

"it's selfish, but i got nervous that it could happen again. now, i know you can handle yourself better than anyone, i mean, probably better than i could protect you, but just..." he paused, looking down at the floor then back up to you. "my feelings got the better of me and i'm sorry if that got in the way of, or change, our friendship."

dropping your bag onto the countertop, you furrowed your eyebrows at him, taken aback. "your feelings?"

he ignored you, not wanting to admit to his admission. "because i really love what we have, our banter-y, back and forth friendship we have, and i wouldn't want to do anything that could jeopardize that."

"hold on." you tried to get him to stop talking.

but as he continued speaking, everything came together. he hadn't been walking home because he thought you couldn't handle yourself, he wasn't excited to work a case with you because it meant he could keep you safe - he fucking liked you. he walked you home because he wanted to make sure you were safe and work cases with you to spend more time with you.

and he was still fucking yapping. he'd falling into some form of rabbit hole about how male/female friendships are so important in order to disprove heteronormative lifestyles. at this point, you were no longer keeping track of what he was saying.

all you could see was the way his eyebrows raised as he said something he didn't quite agree with, he was just saying to say something. how he grinned at the little jokes he put in that you couldn't keep up with and his eyes lit up whenever he made direct eye contact with you.

you were a terrible detective. how the fuck had you not noticed this before?

pulling your jacket off, you left him to yap to himself for a bit, letting him sit for a bit as you considered your options. there were too many outcomes, but as you watched him, you knew exactly which one you had to go with. there wasn't another way that wouldn't end things as well as this one could.

he stopped talking when you reached for his hand at his side, pulling it up to rest within your two. "oh god, so much could go wrong with what i'm amount to do." you whispered.

you moved your hands to his cheeks, pulling him down to your level and letting your lips press against his. they were much softer than you first anticipated, but soon enough you fell into it. it took him a bit longer; he didn't quite understand what was happening until he came back down to earth. when he did, he fell into it as well, resting his hands on your waist and pulling you into him, letting the kiss get a bit deeper.

when he pulled away, he mirrored the grin that was plastered on your face. "so..."

you laughed, head falling into his chest. "shut up."

"yes ma'am." he jokingly saluted as you pulled him in for yet another kiss. even though many more things could go wrong, and nothing was set in stone just yet, you both knew this was the start. the start of something incredible, whether things went wrong along the way or not.

[spinningbuster98]

Resident Evil 2 (1998) Claire A Part 1: Wrong place, wrong time

I’m pretty sure thet Resident Evil 2 must’ve been one of the most anticipated sequels of the late 90s and boy it sure didn’t disappoint!

RE2 is probably my personal favorite of the classic RE games, for reasons that will hopefully become clear as I go along, but for now let’s immediately say that there has been a noticeable jump in the production values.

Now we no longer have awkward live action cutscenes but full CGI ones and they’re pretty good too for the time! Graphically not only are the character models more detailed but especially the pre-rendered backgrounds! They’re no longer as blurry as in the first game and they pack a ton more detail now!

The game starts by throwing you pretty much to the wolves, you’re in the middle of the ruined Raccoon City surrounded by zombies from all directions and with nothing to defend yourself with than a dinky knife, a simple pistol and some ammo you can find along the way. This section is completely linear and serves purely to establish the tone by throwing the player right in the middle of a zombie apocalypse forcing them to fend for themselves until you reach the Police Station, which will serve as this game’s equivalent to the Spencer Mansion

Don’t worry though: RE2 isn’t that merciless, in fact it’s overall more beginner friendly than the first game and for multiple reasons

Firstly the game is a lot more generous with resources like bullets and healing herbs so there’s typically more room for error. Make no mistake though, you still need to be careful as this stuff still comes in limited quantities and while the amount of resources may have increased the same goes for zombies and other enemies: there are some rooms in this game that can pack over 10 or so zombies, way more than in the first game, sometimes giving you little choice but to spend most of that extra ammo. When I played this game for the first time I decided to go to the eastern side of the Station first and was immediately met with a hallway packed with a dozen zombies. Instead of taking this as my cue to turn away and go to the western side of the station (which is where you must go first to proceed) I wasted my ammo on those zombies and all I got in the end was the map for this place and I had to go the rest of the early game with little more than scraps

Another element which makes this game more approachable is the overall structure and level design: the fundemental gameplay loop is still the same as before but the Police Station is significantly more streamlined in terms of design, with more shortcuts and generally less forced backtracking than before, which makes traversing this place a speedier and more fluid experience. The actual layout is kinda simpler too, maybe even a bit mire linear, though you’ll still have to pay attention in order to find the way to proceed

Speaking of: this time if you manage to find the map then all the doors will be marked with the color of the key needed to open them, which completely solves that little issues with doors that I mentioned in the first game

I decided to start with Claire first for reasons that I’ll explain in the future. Gameplay wise there are more marked differences between Leon and Claire than there are between Chris and Jill, though most of them have to do with their stories and the order in which you play as both characters

Both of them have 8 item slots and take the same amount of damage, but Claire starts out with the Lockpick as her special item, just like Jill, while Leon has the lighter, needed for a few puzzles (Claire can find it while exploring but it occupies an item slot). Claire gets the Granade Launcher just like Jill, as well as some new weapons like the Bolt Thrower which fires a volley of Bolts in a spread, kinda working like a weaker shotgun. Weapons-wise I’ll say that Leon is the better of the two, which makes him my favorite overall, but Claire isn’t bad by any means

[apiratecalledav]

As requested, my predictions for Stranger Things season 4 Volume II. Plus my wishlist for fun!

Speculations:

I get why people think  Steve might be headed for the chopping block but my gut says no? Okay, maybe it’s just wishful thinking. But I do think it’s a misdirection. After all, pointing out the demobat bites and freaking out about rabies is supposed to make you worried about him. And ultimately, this is a nostalgia-fueled-feel-good family(ish) show and I don’t think killing Steve off—especially since he’s been an almost literal punching bag for so long— would fit.

It just seems uncharacteristically and excruciatingly cruel. Plus, after a nearly three year hiatus, killing off such a fan fav would be spectacularly dumb. I’m sure the Duffers know that but even if they don’t, the people signing the checks at Netflix sure as hell do. Even if Joe wanted out, I imagine Netflix would want the door open (three inches) for him just in case.

Ditto with Max. Having her stepdad leave and her mom start drinking after they lose their house… way too fucked up if Max dies, too. This ain’t Game of Thrones and if it tries to be, it will most likely ruin it.  The body count is already pretty high and has a few more to go. Surely killing off any long time, majorly loved character would be overkill.  

I will say, if there is such a death, I’d probably put my money on Nancy.  The way she has been on the money all season with Upside Down stuff until Vecna snatched her… could maybe, possibly hint at trouble. Even then, I’d imagine it’d only be because Natalia needed to leave the show for some reason.

I can see Eddie dying. Which hurts. But he is pretty much Bob and the good bit of Billy combined. I mean, I’m surprised his name isn’t Bilby. Also, dude is screwed. His best option is living in a cave for the rest of his life, eating Pringles gifted by friends. His intro established that he was optimistic about his future and now he’s lamenting the way he always runs away… 😓He’s going out like hero, at least. Hopefully. I know Chrissy will be waiting for him!  

Jason probably dies and is remembered as a hero. He’s the opposite of Billy, who was a piece of shit until he died doing something heroic without recognition.  Jason was a good kid who’ll end badly but will be remembered as the Patron Saint of Hawkins. Or possibly Jason will be the new Victor— the lone, traumatized survivor/scapegoat?

I’m hoping that this is Steve’s final darkest hour. Possibly like Hopper, he’ll fully intend to sacrifice himself but he’ll survive at the last second and come through (on the other side 😏) healthier and happier.  

Hopper probably has to get a new identity. There’s not really a good way to explain how he’s not dead and why he was gone so long…  The Hopper-Byers (aka the Hyers) family probably won’t ever call Hawkins home again and that low key makes me sad.

I think Eddie might play a song on his guitar to save Nancy from Vecna. Trying to think what it might be and I can only come up with three. 

My preference, which I believe to be the most likely: Brahms’ Lullaby, from the music box in her room. A heavy metal version would be badass as fuck. Plus, public domain so they’d save some money on royalties.

Africa by Toto, the song Nancy and Steve listen to when he helps her study for chem with those notecards. That was when we learn Steve isn’t just some asshole “only after one thing.” Meh.

Last and certainly least favorite is Waiting for a Girl Like You by Foreigner. Aka her song with Steve aka the song I was already pissed was wasted on them. But at the end of the day, I’m having hard time believing  S/N will be a real thing again.

Right now, I see it as Steve and Nancy really, really wanting to go back to a simpler time when fashion choices seemed like life and death to them. Even ignoring the Upside Down, Steve is still lost at sea and Nancy is about to leave her home and family. It’s a scary, uncertain time. And while I think there are more creative, interesting ways to go about that, it does makes sense they’d subconsciously find some sort of comfort in the idea of being together. To hope they could “turn back the clock. To make things go back to how they were.” But as Hopper says, “that’s just not how life works. […] It’s always moving, whether you like it or not.”

Her bedroom from ‘83 is literally in a hell dimension that’s completely devoid of anything beautiful, safe, or good. The room is also littered with shit she no longer wants and is missing what she needs.💁🏻‍♀️ The knowledge she picked up from hanging out with Jonathan at that time is what saves them.  Now Vecna is pretty much using Barb and Nancy’s relationship with Steve to torture Nancy… so… that’s… pretty icky.

The writers have a good track record with ships, so I do think if they wanted us to truly root for them, they’d have done a better job. We also gotta remember they wrote this season intending the audience to watch it all within a week or two at most.

I think when Hopper comes back, it should  be easier for Jonathan to let go. He can transfer spring semester to one of the approximately eleventy-three colleges in the Boston area, even if he doesn’t do Emerson. Or just find a job and save money while Nancy gets her degree then they can move to New York and Nancy can work while Jonathan goes to NYU. Both of them need to leave their families’ mess to complete their arcs.  Even if it doesn’t end with them explicitly together, I imagine it’ll at least be implied that one day they will be.

I think Lucas, through true love for Max, plays a vital role in taking out Vecna somehow or at least temporarily binding him. See the DnD /basketball game scene. However, I will not entirely dismiss the possibility of Erica Sinclair  verbally roasting Vecna to death. 🤣

Wishlist:

Chrissy’s mom has a lotta nerve with that eulogy. Hope she gets to be demobat food.

Fingers crossed that Will saves El for a change.

Mike better have a helluva good way to tell El “I love you” for the first time.

One of these metaphorical pitchfork wielding townsfolk needs to call Eddie “Eddie Munster.” Like, I can’t believe they haven’t made that joke already.

Hyers family reunion, mom, dad, all three kids. And Uncle Murray, apparently.

Don’t kill any of my babies…

Edit: Holy crap, can’t believe I forgot Robin and Vicki. If I gotta sit through my NoTP, I need something to make it worth it.

[mieohmy]

𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗋 | 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗍𝗐𝗈

 original fic  → here (i recommend you read it first if you haven’t already to understand the story better!) 

PAIRING: CEO boss! jeon wonwoo x secretary! reader

GENRE: fluff, angst, humor, office au

WC: 3k 

update: final part can be found here !

❋

“Seungkwan that’s not it!!! I swear I looked through the whole desk, and I can’t find it.” You rub your face in frustration. 

It was an earring. Not that big of a deal since you weren’t really wearing it, but it was a gift from your father. So ....it was kind of a big deal. You may or may not have panicked for about 10 minutes before calling seungkwan over to help your search. 

“Did you drop it then? Maybe it’s on the ground or something,” seungkwan suggests. You both share a glance before dropping to the floor.

“I can’t believe we’re crawling on the ground like babies for an earring.” You huff from under your desk. “It’s a special earring. Please, just- ow!” Hissing in pain, you stumble out from under your desk where you just hit your head. 

Seungkwan looks over at you, unimpressed. “Now that’s funny.” “I just- Seungkwan, seriously?!” You scrunch your face in pain after gently touching your forehead. “Can you check if there’s a mark?” 

Seungkwan rolls his eyes, muttering something under his breath before making his way to you. He leans in over you, inspecting your forehead. 

“Where? Here?” he presses on a spot. “Ouch! You idiot, don’t press on it,” you say, slapping his hand away. He’s about to respond when you hear someone call your name. 

Turning, you spot wonwoo. “CEO Jeon!!” seungkwan blurts out, bowing hastily. Wonwoo doesn’t say anything, standing there with a weird look on his face. You frown, is this deja vu or something? “Secretary y/n, what are you two doing?” The tone in his voice telling you he was clearly jealous. 

You had reassured him that you liked him and only him, but it was still funny endearing to you how jealous wonwoo could get. 

Fighting back a smile, you explain. “Wonwoo, we were just-“ 

“Wonwoo?!?!” seungkwan bursts out incredulously. “You call our CEO wonwoo now?” Cringing, you forgot how wonwoo insisted a million times for you to call him his regular name. You both decided on an agreement. Outside of work, you would call him his normal name but at the office, you firmly persisted in calling him formally, it just accidentally slipped out this time. 

You look at wonwoo, panicked, but he just shrugs and opens his mouth to speak. You being wilding gesturing behind seungkwan’s back to be quiet and mouthing don’t-! but it’s too late. “I guess you don’t know, Mr. Boo. Y/n and I are in a relationship.” 

Seungkwan lets out an incredulous gasp as you slap your face in defeat. He turns to you, and you prepare yourself, bracing. “You didn’t tell me ANYTHING?!?! This whole time I thought we were best friends, and you go and do this?!?” He inhales, about to go off again when wonwoo clears his throat. 

“Mr. Boo.” seungkwan freezes. “I’d rather you not blame y/n. We both decided to keep quiet for the sake of our jobs and us as well. You’d understand, right?” 

Seungkwan stiffly nods and bows, leaving but not before shooting you a dirty look that screams we’ll talk about this later.

You eventually explain everything to him, forcing him to keep it a secret that ended in you keeping seungkwan in a headlock until he promised. 

❋

It’s about a week after finally revealing the secret to seungkwan when you’re finishing up a document, the workday almost ending.

Once you finally close your laptop, a smile makes its way onto your face as you quickly pack up and make your way over to a familiar door.

Knocking, you push through the door, spotting him. Wonwoo gives you a small smile before looking back at his papers. You make your way over, resting your hands on his desk. “I’m about to go home. When are you leaving?” you say.

He furrows his eyebrows, looking outside. “You’re going now? In this weather?” Your eyes follow his out the window, rain pouring down outside. You didn’t even notice the weather.

“It’s ok,” you reassure. “I’ll just run quickly.” Wonwoo knew you didn’t have a vehicle and took the bus home. He offered to drive you every day, but sometimes he would stay at the office super late -plus, you didn’t want people noticing and saying more things. 

“Why don’t I just drive you home?” he suggests. You’re about to protest, but a crash of thunder causes you to jump slightly. wonwoo gives you that look. “Y/n, it’ll be way faster and more convenient for me to take you. And don’t worry, I’ll drive instead of my chauffeur. He can go home early.” 

You sigh reluctantly before nodding. “Alright, let me just get my stuff.” You walk out to your desk, gathering your stuff before you walk back into his office, looking sad and defeated.

Wonwoo can’t help but smile-he found you adorable. You slowly shuffle over to him. He takes your hand, asking, “what’s wrong?”

“I might’ve left my apartment keys at home..” You squeeze your eyes shut, stupid!! How could you leave your keys at home? What are you gonna do now?

“You can stay at my house. If, that’s okay with you?” You open your eyes, glancing at wonwoo in surprise. You bite your lip, contemplating. You really didn’t have a choice. 

“I-I have a spare room, and my maids can get clothes for you too..” he adds. “I guess, If it’s not too much of a bother..” you say hesitantly. Wonwoo grins, “Alright, Let’s go.”

It wasn’t your first time in a car with your boss, but it was the first time you saw him drive. You liked the sight a lot more than you would admit. 

❋

Arriving at his house, you’d seen the outside plenty of times when picking him up, but you were definitely more awestruck than you thought. It was different going to his house as his partner, not his secretary.

Once he parks, he gets out and opens your car door for you. You smile at the action. Strolling up the walkway, you spot a servant waiting at the entrance.

She bows to both of you, smiling and saying, “welcome home, Mr. jeon,” before turning to you. “You must be y/l/n y/n. I’ve heard a lot about you,” she says before winking.  You shoot wonwoo a surprised and confused look, and he returns it with a smile. 

“You think I wouldn’t at least brag about you to my servants?”

Entering his house, you’re in awe, eyes unable to focus on one thing. It was a lot cleaner and simpler than you thought, but still magnificent (plus a lot more kitten accessories than you ever could’ve imagined). His servants did a great job keeping the whole place clean. 

“What do you think? It’s your first time inside, isn’t it?” You nod, suddenly feeling more awkward as you realized you were staying overnight in a man’s house, specifically your boyfriend’s. 

He continues. “All the workers leave to go home at this time. I don’t like to keep them long. Except for one though, she’ll be assisting you before leaving.” You gulp, you’re gonna be alone in a house with jeon wonwoo? 

Wonwoo leads you to another worker, waiting outside a room that you figured was the one you were gonna be staying in. “She’ll help you get adjusted.  I’ll be going to my room-it’s just down the hall. If you need anything, call me. Well uh, goodnight, y/n.”

“goodnight.. wonwoo.” He gives you one last smile before walking off, and the maid guides you into your room. 

It’s a nice guest room. Not too big or small. Plus, you had your own bathroom. The maid gives you a pile of clothes. “I hope these are fine., and everything else needed should be here.” You nod gratefully, “yes, thank you.” 

The maid walks to the door before stopping in front. You glance at her, confused.

“Mr. jeon... he always seemed so lonely living in this big house by himself, It’s nice to see him with someone, especially you who really knows him. Thank you for staying by his side for so long. There are not many who can. He always speaks so highly of you, I can tell you make him really happy.” 

You aren’t able to speak, just softly smiling and nodding, too full of emotion. 

You space out, thinking of wonwoo before remembering to get ready for bed. You enter the bathroom, it’s way better than yours at home nice.

You frown, there’s no towel. You remember all the workers left, so you have no choice but to ask wonwoo. Preparing yourself, you exhale before leaving your room. Walking through his nice hallway to his room, you notice his door is cracked. 

Softly pushing through, the door widens and you’re able to look around before spotting him coming from another room, presumably his bathroom. Except, he was naked. From the waist up. Thank goodness for that towel.

Let’s just say his body was a lot more toned than you thought. 

You inhale, staying frozen for a second before your body finally listens to you, and you scramble out, running back to the guest room. 

Shutting the door, you fall back against it, letting out a silent scream. AKFJGNE WHAT DID YOU JUST SEE?!?

You try to collect yourself, taking in a deep breath, but the image of him pops into your brain. and you crumple to the ground, face hot. 

I guess no washing up tonight...

You didn’t get much sleep that night. 

❋

Your eyes flit open. Squinting, you glance around. This isn’t your room... Ah, that’s right. You spent a night at wonwoo‘s house. 

Exhausted, you somehow manage to get ready before timidly and quietly exiting your room. Walking to the kitchen, you’re stopped by the view of a full table. 

And, wonwoo of course.“Uh, hi,” he says. 

“Hi,” you respond, taking in all the food. “I-I asked the servants to cook breakfast. I didn’t know they would make this much... How was your sleep?” wonwoo asks.

You awkwardly nod, “it was nice,“ trying extremely hard to stop a sudden oncoming yawn. “are you sure?” he asks, “you look really tired. Maybe you shouldn’t work today..” You protest. “No! It’s fine- I’m fine.” Your eyes meet his for a second, quickly averting down to your chair. 

You promptly sit down, shyly watching as wonwoo gets food for you- your favorites. 

You mutter thanks, refusing to look him in the eye as you drink your water.

“Are you okay y/n?? You look like you’re seeing me naked or something,” wonwoo jokes. 

You immediately choke, coughing and gasping as you almost drop the cup.

“Y/n!! Are you alright?” wonwoo helps you clean up. You nod, quickly excusing yourself to the bathroom. 

You splash water on your face, groaning. This is gonna be a long day.

He drives you to work, and you quickly go up before him. Once you get to your desk, Seungkwan and Dokyeom ambush you. 

“Why are you so late? We were getting pretty worried about you. Also, you look horrible.” seungkwan says. You rub your face, sighing as you mutter, “well, that’s what happens when you stay over at Jeon Wonwoo’s house...” Immediately you clamp your hand over your mouth. Curse exhaustion for you not being able to think straight and running your mouth. 

“You stayed at Boss’s house overnight?!” Dokyeom furrows his eyebrows in thought. “Wait, does that mean-“ 

You fly over to him, roughly slapping a hand over his mouth-er, face. Dokyeom shrieks from underneath you. “I swear to god- if you say anything- you’ll no longer have a home to go to,” you mutter into his ear. He gives you a tiny nod. 

Finally, you release him and shoot seungkwan a deathly look, dragging your thumb across your neck as a threat. He gulps, nodding hastily. 

You turn around, walking before stopping and calling out, “and no! Nothing happened!” You hear seungkwan and dokyeom mutter from behind you. 

Sighing, you brush yourself off and continue to the drink station-you needed energy-ignoring others giving you weird stares.

❋

Sometime that afternoon, wonwoo calls you into his office. “What is it?” “Sir?” you add. He only grins, “would you like to come with me to an opening party tonight? You’re free right?”

You nod slowly- you haven’t been to one in a while. Sometimes you would accompany wonwoo to events, dressing up nicely even though you were only there to stay at his side, like a pet. You actually didn’t particularly enjoy them- it was boring talking to random people and escaping strangers who acted a little too flirty for comfort. 

But after everything changed- your feelings, specifically, you kinda liked going with him. Wonwoo was still busy interacting with other guests, but he always made time for you and scared off other people.

“Alright, don’t forget to dress up nice,” he winks. You laugh, bowing. “Yes, sir.”

Surprisingly, you were able to control yourself- by that you meant your thoughts. You give credit to your lunch, it gave you energy, and you were able to focus better. 

Wonwoo allowed you to go home early and get ready, and you were also able to obtain spare keys to get into your apartment. 

Immediately once you opened the door, you flew to your closet, throwing out clothes. What were you gonna wear? No, you already wore that one before.  Ugh, that’s too old fashioned. 

Before when you used to go to events with wonwoo, you would complain while dressing up. It took you a long time to get ready since wonwoo would insult your look until you looked good enough to join him. It was strange, now, how you actually wanted to dress up and look all nice for him. 

Finally, you were ready. A honk outside alerts you. Grabbing your stuff, you quickly walk over to the car. Uncomfortably getting in, you try not to wrinkle your outfit. “You look amazing y/n,” the chauffeur says. You smile, “thank you. It took a while.” 

Once you’re almost to wonwoo’s house to pick him up, you quickly take out your phone camera, checking your appearance, smoothing your hair, confirming everything looks okay. You miss the chauffeur’s quiet laugh. 

When the driver stops in front, you prepare yourself. Exhaling, you walk out and up to his door, knocking. After a few seconds, a servant opens it. Wonwoo stands there, handsome as ever. “You look beautiful,” he breathes. Blushing, you respond, “you too.” 

“Me? Beautiful?” he asks.“Yep,” you respond, looping your arm through his. Wonwoo chuckles, the two of you walking down together. He opens the door for you, and you quickly remark, “what a gentleman..”, causing wonwoo to poke your side. 

Throughout the drive, you two chat along the way. “You know,” you muse, “I used to hate coming to these events. It took forever to get ready, and it wasn’t even fun to go to! I mostly agreed for the food. But..” 

“But what?” Wonwoo prompts. You look out the window, not catching his eye. “But ... now, I kinda like going, ...with you.” You fidget with your hands, a bashful smile on your face. 

The driver chuckles at the two of you, both too shy to look each other in the eye. You suddenly feel something warm move on top of your hand. Your eyes flick down, finding wonwoo‘s hand resting over yours. You smile, a comfortable silence between the two of you as the ride continues on.

“We’re pulling up,” the driver informs you. You brace yourself, preparing for the onslaught of bright flashes and putting on your camera face (even if they weren’t necessarily taking pictures of you).

“Are you ready, sir?” You ask, fingers hovering over the door handle. Wonwoo nods, and you open the door.

Immediately the familiar flashes blind you as you step out, patiently waiting for wonwoo. Once he gets out, you follow behind him, entering the venue.

It’s an extravagant bustling place, filled with other fancy guests. Wonwoo secretly squeezes your hand from behind, before letting go and you leave him to interact with other important people. 

You sigh, making your way over to where the food and drinks were. 

It feels like hours and hours pass of you avoiding speaking to random people before wonwoo finally approaches you, a sparkle in his eye. 

“Are you ready to leave?” You ask. He nods, grinning. “Yes, but I want to show you somewhere first.” You look at him questioningly as he guides you past all the commotion, out through a door.

You gasp. it’s an empty balcony overlooking the city. “How did you find this place?” You breathe. “Well, I wanted some fresh air and happened to find this place.” The two of you stand at the railing, staring over the edge at the beautiful city. 

“It’s so pretty at night,” you murmur. Wonwoo suddenly taps your shoulder. Turning, you watch as he fumbles with something in his pocket. No way, he isn’t gonna-?

Wonwoo finally gets it out with an aha! and you squint at what’s in his palm. It’s an..... earring?

Specifically, your earring! You look up at him in shock and delight. “Woo, how did you find this?” He blushes at your nickname for him. “Well, I might’ve asked seungkwan about it, and he told me what happened. It uh, took a little while to find, but I finally got the chance to give it to you.”

“Thank you. It was a gift from my dad,” you whisper. Leaning up, you press a quick kiss to his lips. “Now can we go?” 

He laughs, “yeah, we can go home now.” 

❋

You crashed into bed that night, immediately falling asleep. But what you didn’t expect was to be woken up by what seemed to be a bazillion phone notifications. Groaning, you reach for your phone, checking the time.

Then you see it. A bunch of texts from Seungkwan and your other close co-workers. As well as even more from people you didn’t even know. 

You launch yourself up in bed, clicking on a message sent from Seungkwan.

 Oh my god.

You’re screwed.   

❋

A/N: uhhh i didn’t plan on making this into three parts but it kinda got long... so here’s part two? :]  (also i apologize if there was anyone waiting for this- school just started for me so..🤮🤮)

[allsassnoclass]

i blame it on the weather (can you make it better)

Pairing: Michael Clifford/Calum Hood

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Key Tag(s): College AU, Cold, Angst with a Happy Ending

Word Count: 6,177

Read on AO3

A/N: this was tailor-made for @michaelownsmyheart​. I hope you like it darling <3 also big shout out to @clumsyclifford​ for looking this over and giving me Good Advice

—

Michael doesn’t remember the dorm being this cold when he left in December.  He doesn’t know how the space between him and Calum got that cold, either.

—

The drive back to campus feels shorter than normal, songs on the radio flying by with other cars on the highway the further Michael gets from his family and the closer he gets to the loneliness of an empty dorm.  Normally he wouldn’t mind having the place to himself, especially because that means he can blast music as loud as he wants and no one else is going to take the shower with the good water pressure, but there’s something foreboding about it now.

His phone is still empty of messages from the one person he’s been waiting to hear from.  Two weeks alone in the dorms wouldn’t be so bad if he had Calum on the other end of the line to keep him company.

He pulls into his parking spot right as snow begins to fall, a little earlier than predicted.  He sends a quick text to his parents to let them know he made it safe, then grabs his bags and makes the trek to his dorm.  It’s an older building elegantly nestled between the newer residence halls with better air conditioning or elevators that don’t break down every month, but there’s more character to it.  The other dorms are boxy and made of dark brick, but this one is lighter with turrets at the top and heavy wooden doors.  It looks more like a fantasy castle than a dorm building, and Michael’s mum had fallen in love with it immediately on their campus tour a few years ago.  Now that Michael is living here it’s lost some of its luster, but it’s also the only building to have single rooms, and while having Luke as a roommate turned out alright in the end last year, he likes being able to have the room to himself all of the time.

Michael fumbles for his key card to swipe himself in, biting off one of his gloves so he can get it out of his wallet.  Thick flakes land on his coat and hands, the kind that would probably be good for making snowmen if he still did stuff like that but that will be hell to drive in later.  Hopefully the roads will be clear enough by tomorrow, and he probably has some ramen that he never made from last semester that he can heat up for dinner tonight.

Inside doesn’t feel much warmer than outside, but there’s no snow or wind.  Michael stomps his feet in an attempt to get all of the snow off his boots, but freezes as soon as he glances up.

Nestled amongst the armchairs, big windows, fireplace, piano, and little side tables that make up the front lounge, Calum Hood stares back at him like a deer in headlights.  He’s got a notebook and pencil in his hand and a textbook open in front of him, blanket wrapped around his shoulders in a way that Michael wishes he were.  He looks exactly the same as he did when Michael last saw him a few weeks ago, except he’s fully clothed this time.  He looks good.  He looks cozy.

He looks like Michael is the last person he wants to see.

Michael clears his throat.

“I didn’t know you were back on campus,” he says.

“I’m taking a j-term and thought it’d be easier to focus here,” Calum replies, lifting the notebook halfheartedly.  “It’s a prereq for my chem class this semester.  It turns out that switching majors put me a bit behind this time.”

Michael nods.  Calum started as a music education major, then switched to an elementary education major before realizing he didn’t want to deal with little kids.  Now he’s studying to be a high school science teacher, which means he has a few freshman science classes he needs to squeeze into his schedule.  He hadn’t said anything about a j-term to Michael when he registered, but they also haven’t exactly been communicating much since before finals.

“I didn’t expect anyone back yet,” Calum says eventually.

“I got permission to come back early so I can take a few more shifts.  Gotta pay for college somehow, you know…”

Michael trails off, unbalanced and uncomfortable.  It feels wrong to be reacting like this around Calum, just like it felt wrong to not hear from him during finals or break, but after a few more moments of uncomfortable silence and chewing his lip he hefts his bag higher on his shoulder and makes an excuse about wanting to get his room back to rights.  He feels Calum’s eyes on him as he leaves, the weight of his gaze lingering even after Michael has entered the stairwell, dug out his key, and entered his room.  When he takes off his jacket he immediately reaches for a blanket, wrapping himself up and trying to suppress the shivers threatening to erupt throughout his body.

He doesn’t remember the dorm being this cold when he left in December.  He doesn’t know how the space between him and Calum got that cold, either.

-/-

Once he has a bowl of instant ramen in front of him and his stuff more or less put away, Michael calls Luke.

“Good morning,” Luke answers, a leftover joke gone stale from when they were roommates with opposite sleep schedules.  It almost makes him wish for a simpler time when Luke was forcing him to go places like Welcome Week events and they were literally running into people like Calum and Luke was forcing them all to be friends even though Michael’s smoothie got spilled and Calum dropped his nachos.  Michael would take being newly flustered over a hot guy who got a strawberry drink all over his favorite sweatshirt rather than having Calum not fucking talk to him.

“Did you know that Calum’s doing a j-term?”

Luke sighs on the other end of the line.

“I’m doing fine, Michael, thank you for asking.  How are you?”

“I’m bad.  Calum is here and no one warned me.”

“If it makes you feel better, I didn’t tell him that you would be back early, either.”

“That much was obvious.”  Michael stirs his noodles, suddenly feeling like he doesn’t have the right appetite for this.  “He looked like me showing up was the worst thing in the world.”

“Don’t exaggerate.”

“I’m not,” he says.  “You should’ve seen him.  He hates me now, and I still don’t know what I did wrong.”

“He doesn’t hate you,” Luke says.  “He misses you, too.”

“If he misses me so much, he should respond to my texts.”

Luke hums on the other end of the line.

“You’re both in the same place now.  Maybe you can corner him in person.”

“I wouldn’t have to do that if someone would just tell me what happened.”

“What happened is that you two slept together and then Calum ghosted you,” Luke sighs.  “If you want his reasoning, you have to ask him.  I will not be a messenger pigeon for you two.”

“I feel like that metaphor works best only if he’s been asking about me, too,” Michael says.  Luke doesn’t respond right away, a drawn out pause that makes Michael look up from his noodles.  He wishes they were video chatting so he could see what sort of expression Luke is wearing. “Luke, has he asked about me?”

“I’m not doing this with you right now,” Luke says.

“You fucker, he has talked about me!  Do you know why he ghosted me?”

“Stop using me as a go-between!  If you want to know why Calum hasn’t replied to your messages, ask him yourself.  You both need to get your heads out of your asses and communicate.  I can’t believe I’m the one who has to say that.”

Silence descends and Michael pulls his phone away from his ear to see that Luke hung up on him.  Michael huffs.  A second later his phone lights up with an incoming call, a very unattractive picture of Luke staring at him from his screen.  He considers letting it ring out and go to voicemail, but in the end he decides to take the high ground and answer.

“What,” he says flatly.

“Sorry I hung up on you,” Luke says.  “I don’t like being caught between you both.”

“Yeah,” he sighs.  “I don’t like it, either.”

“Will you try to talk to him?  He’ll let you if it’s in person.”

“I guess.”

Luke hums.  They stay on the phone a little longer, small talk filling the silence so Michael doesn’t have to be alone while he eats, but he knows he’s being a bad conversation partner, too distracted by what Calum may or may not have been saying about him to Luke.  When they finally hang up Michael flops back on his bed and groans, wondering if he should just move to Antarctica and change his name rather than put himself through this.

-/-

He manages to go the rest of the night without any indication that Calum is there.  They miss each other in the bathroom, but every sound in the hallway has the hair on his arms standing on end, wondering if it could be Calum or just the settling of the near-empty building.  He sleeps fitfully, tossing and turning on the sub-par dorm mattress, cuddling deeper into his blanket in an attempt to find some much-needed warmth.

The last night he spent with Calum, and the first night they’d spent together in that way, Michael fell asleep warm.  It was almost too hot, sticky under the covers and burning wherever their skin touched, but he loved it.  He’d take the heat over the cold any day, and he hasn’t felt warm since he woke up alone, bed feeling too big without the other boy in it to act as his personal space heater.

That morning the sheets had still smelled like him, but they were cold.  He’d left long before Michael woke up.  Michael’s first morning back feels like a mirror of that day.  Right before he fully wakes up he catches himself reaching for Calum and coming up empty.  When he realizes what he had been doing, he forces himself to get up rather than stay in bed and wallow only because he can’t afford to be late to work on his first day back and he doesn’t trust the roads to be cleared yet.  The college is situated on the outskirts of town, an odd placement that puts a woodsy area to one side and only a few smaller shops next to it.  Michael hadn’t managed to land a job in one of those places, but the family-owned restaurant he works at pays enough to be worth the gas it takes to get there.  He throws on a hoodie and slippers and shuffles to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

Calum is already at one of the sinks when he enters.  Michael doesn’t let his eyes stray from his face, refusing to take in the tan shoulders and torso or the drops of water glistening against him, leading down to the towel wrapped around his hips.  He has a toothbrush in his mouth, foam gathering at the corners of his lips, lips that Michael has--

No.  He can’t think about this now.

“Morning,” he says, clearing his throat to get it to work properly.

“Morning,” Calum replies around his toothbrush, consonants muffled.  He spits into the sink and Michael makes himself focus on his own morning routine, meticulously putting toothpaste on his own brush and hoping it’s not obvious that even glancing at Calum is dangerous for him right now.

Neither of them try to say anything more, and Michael wonders if the silence is hanging as heavily in the air for Calum as it is for him.  Before break, silences between them were the only types of silences Michael could stand.  He’s fidgety by nature and gets uncomfortable without background noise, but Calum always managed to temper that a bit.  Being around him settles something inside, something that right now makes Michael want to scream.

He’s about to try to break the silence when Calum picks up his bathroom caddy and leaves without so much as a glance his way.  Michael tries not to let it bother him, but he misses the weight of his gaze.  Calum used to look at him fondly, filled with enough affection that Michael could feel it in his heart.  He doesn’t understand why that would have to change now.

By the time Michael goes to start his car for work, Calum has set himself up in the lounge again, laptop open in front of him.  He’s turned on the fireplace, something that Michael thinks they're not technically supposed to do but that he’s certainly not going to call him on, and he doesn’t look up when Michael comes down the stairs.  Michael lingers by the doorway longer than he should.

They’ve spent a lot of time in this room, whether doing homework on the couch, trying to play duets on the piano in the corner, or hogging the chess set by the window, figuring out how to play and passing the time.

The chess board is set up for a fresh game.  In a naive fit of hope Michael walks over to it and moves one of the pawns forward.  Calum doesn’t glance up from his computer, but he’s still in a way that means he knows what Michael is doing.

On his way out he thinks he hears someone say drive safe, but the howling of the wind is already filling his ears and he can’t be sure.

-/-

Michael gets sent home early because of the snow.  He fights it all the way there, pulling in late because he had to move so slow, and halfway through his shift the manager calls it, deciding to close up for the day.  Right after he clocks out Michael gets a notification on his phone for a severe blizzard alert, and he steels himself to face it before leaving behind the warmth of the restaurant.  Outside the world is covered in a thick sheet of white, plows not able to keep up with the large flakes still falling from the sky, and Michael wills his car to survive the drive, windshield wipers going furiously in an attempt to keep him seeing as much as he can.  The drive takes three times longer than usual, and when he finally spots his dorm through the snow it comes with a sigh of relief.

Calum is still in the lounge when he comes inside and stomps his feet to get some feeling back into them.  With the snow came a biting wind, and even after barely being outside he feels frozen.

“I was getting worried,” Calum says, startling him.  “It looks like it’s bad out there.”

“It is,” Michael says, taking off his hat and shaking snow off of it.  He squints at Calum, in a different position and bundled in a blanket now, the big blue one that Mali got him as a grad present.  Michael once again has to push away the urge to cuddle up to him.

“It’s fucking cold,” he says instead, because it’s true and if he doesn’t make small talk he’s going to blurt something embarrassing like I’ve been thinking about you all the time or why did you leave me or I love you I love you I love you I’m sorry please can we be friends again?

“Going to be a cold night for us, then,” Calum says.  “The heating’s been shit this break.  I don’t think they keep it up as high when there’s only one student here.”

“I’ve had a few cold nights,” Michael snorts before he thinks about it.  “I mean--I’ll use some extra blankets.”

Calum nods once.  He opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, then snaps it shut again, looking down at his computer.  It feels like a dismissal, like Michael isn’t worth his time anymore, and it stings.

He should go upstairs, anyway.  He needs to find some blankets of his own.  He glances over the piano and the fireplace, eyes landing on the chess game by the window.

Someone has moved a pawn on the other side.  He glances at Calum, then moves a knight, continuing the game.  He wants to ask Calum to sit down and play a proper round with him, but one glance at Calum’s posture has him biting his tongue.  He’s closed off, blanket wrapped around him securely and face tense, and Michael can’t bring himself to bother him, not when interacting with Michael seems to be the last thing he wants to do.

Michael looks back at the chess set, three pieces out of place, and heads to his room.

-/-

The night comes simultaneously fast and slow in the way that all boring winter nights do.  Michael sits in his room scrolling through social media while the sun sets around him, and when he does eventually get up it’s only so he can make more ramen to eat.  He had lunch at the restaurant and never did get to the grocery store, but he has a few snacks to munch on and if things get really bad he can always see if Calum has anything he’s willing to share.

Calum initiated conversation earlier, so things can’t be too bad between them, right?  It’s still terribly stiff and uncomfortable, but at least he’s not getting the silent treatment anymore.  At least Calum looked at him for a little bit.

He plays video games until he’s too bored to continue, then showers and crawls into bed.  It’s still cold, just like Calum said it would be, but they haven’t lost power yet.  Michael piles on the blankets and pillows, but his sheets are frigid, not yet warmed by his body heat and making him shiver.  After a few minutes of tossing and turning he considers boiling water just to have a warm mug to hold in his hands.

Maybe it’ll be better in the lounge with the fireplace on.  No one’s here to get mad at him for falling asleep on the couch, but then he’d have to haul all of his blankets down there, something that he doesn’t think he has the energy for right now.

He wishes Calum were here.  It feels like all he’s done since getting back to campus is think about Calum, his presence in the building affecting him more than it would have if he was fully alone, but in a pragmatic sense he also really wants a warm body next to him right now.  Two people under the covers are warmer than one, and he’s already put on socks and a hoodie.  Wrapping himself in Calum would keep him warm on a physical level, and maybe it’ll settle him enough that he’ll actually be able to sleep without having weird dreams or waking up every few hours.

He hasn’t even gotten close enough to touch him since getting here.  Before break, he and Calum were always handsy with each other, personal space a myth with the two of them.  It feels wrong to have seen him and not immediately gone in for a hug.

He flops onto his stomach, trying to get comfortable without disturbing the blankets too much, but sleep isn’t coming easy.  When a knock comes on his door, he’s immediately awake and alert.  He wonders if it was a piece of a dream instead, given that there’s only one other person in the building and late night visits did not seem to be an option on the table, but after a few moments someone knocks again.

The light of the hallway is bright after the dark of his room, making him squint at the silhouette of Calum standing before him, wrapped in a blanket like he always seems to be right now.  His hair is messy, no doubt from his own fitful attempt to sleep, and Michael wants to run his fingers through it and put it back to rights.

“Hi,” Michael says.

“I called maintenance about the heat,” Calum says.  “They said they’re having a bit of issue with it and will send someone out, but with the road conditions it could be a little while.  I think they forgot that there were people here.”

“Oh,” Michael says.  “Okay.”

He stares at Calum again, cataloguing how tightly he’s wrapped up and the way he’s chewing on his lips.  Michael waits for him to say what he really came here to.

“It’s really fucking cold, Michael,” Calum blurts finally, a little desperate.

“I know,” Michael says, not sure how to tell Calum that he’d set the world on fire for him if it would help.

“It’d be warmer if we were together.  Like, scientifically speaking.  If we cuddled, it would warm us up a bit.”

“Well, you are the scientist in this duo.  You would know.”  Calum finally meets his eyes, looking up through his eyelashes a little in a way that’s completely unfair.  He’s already got Michael wrapped around his finger, heart skipping a beat at the simple occasion of having his attention again.

He has it so bad that it’s pathetic.

“Is that all?” Michael asks, trying to scrape together some of his dignity.  Calum has been ghosting him for weeks, and a conversation about the bad heating isn’t exactly what Michael wanted from a real conversation with him.  He’s too tired for small talk and much too cold to be standing here when he could be under the covers.

“You’re shivering,” Calum says.  Michael hadn’t noticed the small tremors, but now that Calum pointed them out he can’t ignore them.

“Come on, Mikey,” Calum says, stepping closer.  Michael wants to lean into him and the warmth he promises.  “I promise it’ll be warmer if we cuddle.”

“Do you want to come in?” he asks.  Calum nods, so he steps aside.

Having Calum in his room again when the last time included one of the best and most overwhelming experiences of Michael’s life is weird, to say the least.  It’s like Michael can see two versions of him: the current Calum, wrapped in a blanket and closed off in every conceivable way, and the Calum from that night, laughing at all of Michael’s jokes and spouting off facts about gravity to explain how they kept getting closer and closer.

“See, everything with mass exerts gravity on everything else, except typically it’s not enough to be noticeable compared to the gravity of the Earth.  Your gravitational field must be really strong today.”

“Are you calling me fat?”

“No, Michael, you idiot.  Stop misinterpreting what I’m saying!”

Calum surveys the room, the safety light reflecting off the snow outside just enough to give him silhouettes to work with.  Michael wonders what he’s remembering.

“How do you want to do this?” Michael asks when the silence has stretched on for too long.  Calum shrugs, so Michael climbs up onto his bed, sliding under the covers and leaving a corner flipped up in invitation.  Calum hesitates, and for a moment Michael thinks he’s going to turn tail and run, but he throws his blanket on top of the covers and joins.  The bed is too small to avoid some awkward elbows and involuntary brushes of clothing, barely big enough for one person, let alone two.  Michael holds his breath while Calum gets somewhat settled, pressed against the wall to give him as much room as possible.

“It’ll be warmer if we’re touching,” Calum whispers, words hitting Michael like a shout with the close proximity and otherwise silence of the room.  If the lights were on, Michael would probably be able to count his eyelashes, but now his face is a combination of different shadows.

“How do you…” Michael trails off.  Calum reaches out first, a cold hand wrapping around his own and pulling him closer.  They end up with Calum on his back and Michael’s head on his shoulder, legs tangled together.  Michael’s sure that Calum can hear how loud his heart is beating, but he can feel Calum’s own beating in a similar pattern so he can’t be too upset about it.  He can hear every inhale and rustle of clothing, can feel the soft cotton of Calum’s shirt against his cheek and smell the faint remains of his soap.

He’s warm.  It’s not the burning heat from their last night together, but it’s almost worse with the gradual way that Michael can feel himself unthaw in his presence, slow enough that he could forget it’s happening only to wake up as an irreparable puddle.

“Okay?” Michael asks, sending flashbacks to the last few times he had asked that question and Calum’s answers: always positive, whether a verbal yes or a nod or a fierce kiss and wandering hands.

“Yeah,” Calum says.  Michael swallows.

Calum starts tracing a design on his back with his finger, barely-felt with Michael still bundled up.  Michael wills himself to stay in the moment rather than slipping into the past or wishing for a different future.

It’s not bad like this.  He gets Calum close at least, receiving that little piece of contact from him that he’s been craving.  If this is the last time they’re like this, he wants to enjoy it if he can.

He shifts, Calum freezing under him for a moment until they both exhale and relax a little more.

Michael closes his eyes and wills himself to sleep.

“Michael?” Calum whispers after a few minutes.  For a moment he considers not answering, sure that anything Calum might think to say in the dark of the night will be something he doesn’t want to hear, but all he’s been asking for the past few weeks is his attention, and it seems vindictive to reject it now.

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry.”

Michael should ask for clarification on what, exactly, Calum is apologizing about.  He’s opened the door to this conversation, and Michael should take the opportunity to finally walk through and get their wires straightened out, but he can’t bring himself to do any of that, not like this.  Not when Michael is breathing him in and stealing his warmth and there’s absolutely nothing between them to act as a buffer.

In the dark cuddled up together, Michael can keep pretending that Calum isn’t about to crush him.  As long as he doesn’t ask for clarification, it’s like Schrodinger’s heartbreak: Michael can be both loved and lonely at the same time.

“Can we talk about it tomorrow?” he asks.  “We need to talk about it, but I’m tired.  And cold.  Not tonight.”

“Okay,” Calum says.  Michael waits to see if there’s anything else, but Calum just resumes tracing his secret design on Michael’s back.

Michael closes his eyes and hopes they don’t freeze to death in the night, twin skeletons found tangled together by some unsuspecting third party when the thaw comes.  He’s not sure when he falls asleep and begins to dream, but in his mind Calum presses a kiss to his hair and Michael tries not to let such a simple action break him.

-/-

When he wakes up the bed is cold and empty again.  It shouldn’t be surprising, certainly not after last time.  There was less expectation to stay here, but everything is ugly in the cold light, shattering the fragile balance of the night before.  Michael feels a pit in his stomach, but also a hot flare of anger.

Calum is the one who came begging for his company yesterday after completely ignoring him for weeks.  Calum is the one who left without a trace after Michael showed him he loves him the best way he knows how.  Calum is the one who keeps running away from this, but Michael is the one who keeps getting hurt and that’s not fair.

It’s a little warmer in the building now, the heaters likely getting sorted while they were sleeping, but Michael still grabs a blanket.  No one answers Calum’s door and the bathroom seems to be empty.  He heads downstairs to see if he has set himself up in the lounge again and knows he’s on the right track when he starts to hear piano music drifting softly towards him the more he descends the stairs.

Calum is one of the only people who ever uses the grand piano in the lounge.  It’s slightly out of tune, just enough for Michael himself to notice but for Calum to complain about a lot.  Michael has spent a lot of later nights in the lounge listening to him play, whether he was practicing back when he used to be a music major and take lessons or just playing for fun.  Calum curses a lot when he practices, but Michael has also caught him with his eyes closed and a content smile on his face, letting the music take him away.  Watching him like that, Michael sometimes wonders why Calum switched from music to science, but the rarity of the moments makes them all the more special.

He’s playing a piece that he’s been working on for a while.  Michael tries not to disturb him, walking slowly towards the chess set where another piece has been moved in a continuation of the game.  Calum must have pulled the curtains by the windows up, deep drifts of snow piled against them and sunlight reflecting off the white to set the entire room aglow.  In this setting and with this soundtrack, the morning feels less frosty.

The last note hangs suspended in the air and Michael holds his breath until it dissipates.  Calum sighs, breaking his posture to slump down, and turns to face Michael.

“You’ve gotten better at that one,” Michael says.

“Easier to practice when I don’t have to go to the music hall and no one’s here to use the piano.”

Michael studies him, taking in his rumpled appearance.  He doesn’t look like he’s been up that long, still in the same pants he went to bed in and already folding the sleeves of his hoodie over his hands to keep them warm.

The sweatshirt he’s wearing is one of Michael’s.  His heart flip-flops.

“Did you want to talk now?” Calum asks.

“Yeah,” Michael sighs.  Calum nods once.  He scoots over on the piano bench, making room, and Michael gingerly sits next to him.  After a moment’s hesitation, he offers part of his blanket, nearly sighing in relief when Calum accepts it.

“I’m sorry for how I left, and for not replying to any of your messages,” Calum begins.  “That was a jerk move.”

“It was,” Michael says.  “You’re my best friend, Calum.  If I had known that’s how you’d react, I wouldn’t have--”  He stops, because he doesn’t want to say he regrets sleeping with Calum unless he has to.  It would be a lie.  He’d rather have Calum as a friend than nothing, but the will-we-won’t-we would’ve killed him eventually, and the night itself was amazing right up until Calum left.

“I don’t want to jeopardize that,” he says instead.  “You mean a lot to me.”

Calum presses his lips together.

“Why did you leave?” Michael asks.  “I thought we were on the same page.  I mean… you wanted it, right?  You said you did.  I thought you did.  I didn’t--”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Calum interrupts.  “I did want it.  I really wanted it.  Too much, probably.”

“What does that mean?”

Calum sighs, looking down at his lap and fidgeting with his sleeves again.  Michael wants to know why he’s so nervous.  He wants to grab his hands and hold him steady the way that Calum does for him when he’s freaking out, but that wouldn’t be welcome right now.

“Michael, I can’t do something casual with you.  You’ve said before that you’re not looking for anything serious, but I can’t be friends with benefits, not with you.  Not when I’m in love with you.  It’d tear me apart.”

“What made you think I wanted something casual?” Michael asks.  “Apparently you couldn’t tell, but that night was kind of a big deal for me.  I’m not exactly known for sleeping around.”

“Michael--”

“I’ve been crushing on you since we met, okay?” Michael says, turning to face him more fully.  “I wasn’t looking for something serious with anyone else because I’ve been hung up on you.  That night was one of the best nights of my life, and then you weren’t there in the morning.  I thought I had fucked up.  I thought I had ruined one of the most important relationships in my life.”

“You didn’t,” Calum says, grabbing his hand.  “I should have talked to you instead of running away.  That’s on me.”

“Yeah it is,” Michael sulks.  “Why didn’t you?  Why’d you just assume what I wanted instead of bothering to ask me?  That hurt, Cal.”

“I know.”  Calum grimaces, then shrugs.  “I don’t know.  I thought I knew what you wanted.  Or didn’t want, I guess.  I didn’t consider that you could like me until you kissed me, and you’ve never shown interest in an actual relationship.  I wasn’t ready for you to reject me.”

“But I wasn’t going to,” Michael says.  “You’re you.  You’re the exception.”

“I didn’t know that, though.  We didn’t exactly sit down for a conversation.  Our mouths were otherwise occupied that night, if I remember correctly.”  Michael opens his mouth to protest, then snaps it shut.

He doesn’t remember exactly what he said in the heat of it, but he remembers biting back I love you, knowing it was too early to be throwing that phrase around, no matter how true it was.  Maybe he ended up hiding the sentiment a bit more than he anticipated.

“You still should’ve talked to me,” he says.

“I know,” Calum replies, squeezing his hand.  “I’m sorry.  I’ll do better with that.”

Michael squeezes his hand back.

“So,” he says, “you like me?”

“Yeah,” Calum says.  “A lot.”

“You got that I like you, too, right?  I said that.  I’ve had it bad for you since we met.”  Calum frowns.

“You took a while to warm up to me.  I thought you were still holding a grudge because I spilled your smoothie.”

“No, you had me tongue-tied,” Michael says.  “I had to figure out how to function around you.  You’re really hot and it made me flustered.”

“Shut up,” Calum says.  He’s blushing, crimson staining his cheeks enough for Michael to see, sending a strong thrill of satisfaction through him.

“I’m serious,” he needles.  “You’re ridiculously attractive, dude.  You’re not going to hear the end of it from me now.  I’ve said it once and now there’s nothing to stop me from saying it five times a day.”

Calum laughs and tucks his face into Michael’s shoulder.  Michael feels his own happiness bubble up inside him, threatening to burst.  He brings Calum’s hand up to his lips and kisses the back of it in an attempt to release some of the pressure.

“Are we boyfriends now?” Calum asks.

“Fuck yeah,” Michael says.  “Unless you don’t want to be, but that’d be lame.”

“I want to be,” Calum says quickly.

“Good,” Michael says.  “Then we are.”

“Good.”

They sit for a while, and this silence feels comfortable again, like their old ones.  Michal could stay suspended in this moment like the final note of Calum’s piano song and feel content with it rather than uncomfortable.  That more than anything lets him know they’ll be okay.

“I’m cold,” Calum says eventually.

“We should move by the fire.”

“We should eat breakfast,” Calum counters.  Michael hums and gives Calum’s neck an exaggerated sniff, making him squirm and giggle again.

“You should shower,” he says.

“Fuck you.  That’s rude.”

“I could join you?” Michael offers.

“These showers are not big enough for two people,” Calum says.  “Nice try, though.”

He stands and kisses Michael on the forehead, tucking the blanket back around him.

“Can I kiss you properly?” Michael asks.  Calum nods and leans down again, the gentle press of his lips both familiar and thrilling, sweeter in the morning light.

“Breakfast, then I’m going to shower alone, then I think we have a chess game to finish.”

“Or we could make out all day while we have the lounge to ourselves.”  Calum considers him, tilting his head and giving a wry smile.

“We can do that if you win the chess match.”

“Deal,” Michael says.  It’s an easy bargain, because Michael is better at chess than Calum is, and with that prize on the line nothing’s going to distract him.

“Breakfast,” Calum repeats, tugging on his hands until he’s standing, too.  Michael leans forward and kisses him again, just because he can now.  Calum beams and leads him to the stairs, Michael tripping over his blanket and Calum’s laugh filling the room.

It could just be the heating kicking in more, but Michael isn’t sure he needs the blanket right now, not when Calum is here warming him from the inside out.

[thirsty-x1]

Sunrise | Lee Hangyul

Request:

uhm so the bio says open so here goes my pitch✨ babysitter hangyul taking care of toddler dohyon for one night and you caught him teaching dohyon how to dance and just you guys taking care of dohyon and getting him to sleep in cute pajamas uwu

↬ Pairing: Hangyul x gn!reader.

↬ Genre: Fluff.

↬ Warnings: none, but toddler!Dohyon is adorable.

↬ Word Count: 1.6k

↬ Song Recommendation: “Sunrise” by GOT7 (Jaebeom solo)

Your heartbeat got quicker when you received Hangyul’s message, the screen illuminating and allowing you to read “I have a surprise for you.” Uncertainty filled you, not knowing what to expect since the outcome to those words was always different: sometimes, it included a mess he had made while practicing his newest hobby, others a nice dinner, and once Hangyul completely naked on the couch, all three of them leading to you having to clean something up. The sound of the keys in your fingers broke the silence as you opened the door, hoping that you didn’t need to any chores, your eyes opening wide at the scene developing in front of you.

Music loud, the broad back of your boyfriend covering the TV as he copied the moves displaying in the screen at a slower pace so that the tiny person beside him tried to catch up. A smile started to spread on your face before you could even close the door, both of them turning to you when you squealed, Dohyon running to your arms and asking to be picked up incessantly.

“My favorite boy is back~” You pressed your cheek against his, ignoring the slight sweat on his skin and proceeding to give him a soft kiss while holding him close, and he didn’t quite complain, his gaze fixed on Hangyul.

“He has been torturing me!” The accusative tone in his voice added to his small finger pointing at your boyfriend tightened up your chest, trying to hold back your laugh while asking why he said that. “Hyung doesn’t want to feed me.”

At Dohyon’s slight pout, the other came up to defend himself. “I said that I would cook you something if you danced with me to a few songs!”

This always happened whenever Hangyul had to babysit Dohyon: the toddler wanted to eat, the other wanted to make exercise, and you always found yourself in front of two kids fighting thanks to both having the same mental age. With a small sigh, you put down Dohyon, changing the video that was playing to another one with a way more simpler choreography than the one your boyfriend had chosen and with the kind of music that the little one seemed to enjoy. Turning around with a big grin, they seemed to have the same idea as you, getting up and dancing without paying much attention to the moves and simply laughing at each other, Dohyon’s high pitched giggles filling the room when Hangyul nearly fell.

Since it was still pretty early to have dinner, you tried to come up with different plans to keep Dohyon distracted, and that’s how you ended up having a karaoke competition. It was cute whenever the younger would mess up a few words, although his diction was extremely good considering he was so little and just by sharing a look with Hangyul you knew what he was thinking: pure talent. Both of you had talked about it multiple times too. Dohyon seemed to have a deep fondness for music and that always showed in the seriousness in his face whenever he listened to songs and how he paid attention whenever Seungyoun would teach him how to handle any machinery to compose songs. It was certainly adorable when he excitedly brought his notebook filled with wavering letters for you to give him feedback, and not even once you were disappointed by it, the huge smile on his face always making you feel warm.

As the last song faded, you could hear not one but two stomachs grumbling and giving the perfect ending to the performance, making you laugh out loud as you got up.

“I guess you’re hungry?” Both of them nodded at your question. “Then I’ll start cooking.”

Dohyon placed his small hands on your knees and jumped a few times. “Can I help? I like cooking…”

“What a liar, you just want to taste everything before it is ready.” Hangyul exposed him cruelly, sticking out his tongue when Dohyon rolled his eyes and went back to looking at you pleadingly.

Sometimes it felt like the only adult in the house was you, and it wasn’t very far from reality. As you went with Dohyon to the bathroom and washed your hands together, Hangyul started cleaning up the living room and clearing a bit of space in the kitchen, setting up a chair near the counter so that Dohyon could reach the table and help out.

You opened the fridge, scanning what your boyfriend had in there without focusing on the vegetables thanks to the smaller’s disgusted look when he saw them. Finally, you settled up for something simple (not like the few products were going to allow you to make something more elaborated): omelet and some bits of steak. You cracked the eggs and added the seasoning, letting Dohyon mix everything together to later pass it back to you so you would prepare and give the final form to it while Hangyul was in charge of cooking the meat.

In just a few minutes, everything was ready, the toddler hurrying to settle the table, his tiny hands carrying everything that was necessary and sitting up to wait for you to serve everything. The way his eyes shined as you placed the plate in front of him made you smile, and seeing him stuff his cheeks with the food while making the most delighted expression had Hangyul feeling proud.

Sharing these kind of moments made you think about the future, your mind wandering as you saw your boyfriend leaning across the table to clean the corner of Dohyon’s lips. Your eyes were fixed on him, your heart beating a bit fast at the thought of how it would be to form a family with him and seeing him as a father, but when his stare met yours it quickly pulled you out of your thoughts. It wasn’t the first time he caught you looking at him like that, and the jokes that followed those moments would chase you indefinitely, but this time he said nothing. Instead, he simply raised an eyebrow, pointing out at Dohyon with his chin and then wiggling his eyebrows again. Whatever he was trying to say with that gesture, it was impossible to understand, so you simply ignored it and continued with your meal.

As soon as everyone finished, Hangyul stood up to wash the dishes while telling you to go and change Dohyon into his green pajamas with a “D” sewed on the chest. His eyes looked tired, yawning a few times and stretching, whining a bit when his hyung entered the room with a loud cheer.

“How about we watch a movie, hm?” Your proposal was accepted without much resistance.

You sat on the bed, making space so that Dohyon would be comfortable in your lap while Hangyul hugged you from behind, the three of you sitting in a vertical line right in front of the TV. Your boyfriend had picked the movie, but it wasn’t long until you felt the weight of Dohyon’s head on your arm, his eyes closed and his breathing steady, and somehow his tiredness washed over you as well.

It was only the soft, distant noise of the actors speaking what filled the room now, although Hangyul wasn’t paying attention to them at all. Instead, he was looking at you, the way you slept placidly refuging in his arms, and the way that Dohyon was curled up against you too, his arms being wide enough to hold you both close to his body. He wasn’t prone to show it, but you were his biggest weakness and strength at the same time, especially when it came to moments like these. Taking care of Dohyon was more of an usual thing now rather than an occasional favor for his parents, he was even excited waiting for their call. Sure, he really liked the feeling of having a younger sibling, but he also liked seeing the way you took care of the kid, the small interactions between you two, and you were oblivious to it but he had the exact same thoughts that you did during dinner.

His body focused on the warmth that yours irradiated, the way your hand held his tightly even while being unconscious while the other was wrapped around Dohyon. There was something about the scenario that made him feel warm, his fingers tracing silly figures on your arm and then softly pocking one of the child’s chubby cheeks. He wasn’t tired, not really, and anyway it was much more entertaining to see how you two slept so profoundly. It was hard for him to express what he felt when he had you like that, but it was close to saying he felt safe and also trusted, slightly honored at the fact that you were so vulnerable with him.

Your scent surrounded him, his eyes fluttering shut for a second and at the other, he could feel the warm rays of sunshine on his skin, his eyes suddenly intoxicated with the way the light danced on you and Dohyon. He was quick to cover both of you, protecting your eyes from the intrusive sun that threatened to disturb your peacefulness, but the low snores indicated that wasn’t happening any time soon. Hangyul let out a light giggle at that, careful to not wake you up, and instead rested his head against the pillows behind him, finally letting the tiredness wash him over now that he made sure you two were safe.

He knew that whatever happened was fine as long as you were with him.

This made me a bit soft because I love domestic interactions :(:((( I hope it’s good;;; not writing in such a long time has been hard so I feel like I’m a little bit stiff lol

~Nani

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[baddyzarc]

4b/7 Ruins: Legend of the Dragons

1 2 3 4a x 5 6 7  

Part 2 of Mizael’s Ruins

Alright, I’m going to get into some deep lore in regards to the Zexal Universe and how Jinlon and Mizael and even Kaito fit into it.

To begin, the Universe was created by the Numeron Dragon eons ago. By doing this, the dragon used all of its power and will die as a result. Sad that it will never be able to witness its creation grow (which, you aint missing much, buddy), it shedded a single tear. This teardrop contained the Numeron Code, or the dragon’s knowledge, emotions, and the ability to rewrite the Universe. The Numeron Code landed on Earth. In the Zexal Universe, this was the event that created the Moon, which is also where the remaining fragments of the Numeron Dragon (in the form of “Number 100: Numeron Dragon’’) reside. Fearing that it’s powers would be used for evil, the Numeron Dragon hid the Code and placed a key on it.

According to Astral, the location of the Numeron Code is revealed when Numbers 1 to Numbers 100 is collected because of how it relates to his memory. But this causes some problems when it comes to the plot, but I’ll explain that later.

To awaken the sealed Numeron Dragon and obtain “Number 100″, the Numeron Dragon embedded a riddle into a stone tablet that Kaito found in the cave near Mizael’s ruins:

“Dragons of light and time, clash at thy place of birth. Then shall the eyes of the galaxies awaken for the first time, opening a gate to a new world.”

This riddle is rather straight-forward especially with the imagery used. The time dragon is “Number 107: Galaxy-Eyes Tachyon Dragon” and the light dragon is “Number 62: Galaxy-Eyes Prime Photon Dragon”. The place where they clash is the Moon (this is given to us via Jinlon), and the “eyes of the galaxies” is not the eyes of the Galaxy-Eyes Dragons, but of the Numeron Dragon itself.

By fulfilling the conditions of the riddle, the Numeron Dragon is able to reawaken for a brief moment to fix whatever shit its children got themselves into “open the gates to a new world”. I take that this means it grants the usage of the Numeron Code upon the winner. 

But the phrase that interests me is “clash at thy place of birth”. 

Now, this states that Tachyon Dragon and Photon Dragon were created on the surface of the Moon and they need to fight to awaken the Numeron Dragon. This may seem like an odd choice because we’re under the presumption that Tachyon Dragon was made by Don Thousand or that the Number Cards (including “Number 62: Galaxy-Eyes Prime Photon Dragon”) were made by Astral when his memories scattered. 

But I think you have to consider how the Moon was made in this show, what the dragons represent, and what the Numbers are.

Okay, to keep it simple, in real life 4.5 billion years ago, a huge rock crashed into Earth, pushing a bunch of debris into space. The debris conglomerate together over time to form the Moon; as such, the Moon is primarily made of Earthly materials. This is slightly different from Zexal’s story, with the Numeron Dragon’s teardrop playing the role of the huge rock. The outcome is more or less the same.

Alright, so from here, we can start to theorize about Photon Dragon and Tachyon Dragon’s relationship to the Moon, and how Dragluon plays into this. After all, Dragluon is one of the dragons of the stone tablet despite not having a place in the riddle.  

So what is the role of Dragloun exactly? And how did the Numeron Dragon anticipate the fight between the Barians and the Astrals (aside from being an omni-force). 

For starters, Dragluon goes all the way back to the “three worlds” that Zexal has.

The Three Worlds of Zexal is sorta like Heaven, Hell, and Earth. Heaven for Astral World, Hell for Barian World, and then Earth as the, well, the Earth. The land of the living where your actions decide your fate. 

However, from Don Thousand, we know that the Heaven and Hell bits aren’t true. Not exactly, but Barian World and Astral World appear to function like it. The actual descriptions for Astral and Barian World is a little simpler than Heaven and Hell.

Order and Disorder, Cosmos and Chaos, these are the true depictions of Astral and Barian World rather than Heaven and Hell (although it does have a very nice ring to it). And at the center of things is the middle man, a balance of both—Earth. You can’t have two sides of a coin without the edge, and the Earth is the glue connecting the opposing sides. And for the sake of simplifying this, I’m going to call the “power” of Earth as Parity. 

Parity is what happens when Chaos and Cosmos meet. This could be most easily seen in the Zexal Morphs, which are a combination of Astral, a creature of the Cosmos, and Yuma, who is confirmed to be a fragment of Don Thousand, of Chaos. Blues and Reds respectively.

I also want to note that the three primary colors are often associated with heroes, while secondary colors are often associated with villains (these are trends, not a concrete black-and-white concept). 

When Astral and Yuma work together, they glow the last and primary color, yellow, for their Zexal Morphs. But when they are in disequilibrium, they glow the secondary color purple (also the color you make when you mix red and blue). This shows that there could be a distinct relationship between how Chaos and Cosmos interact each other: the outcome could be very good and improves upon the characteristics of each. Or it could lead to relentless self-destruction.  

Of course, sometimes a door is red because it’s just red. Nasch’s main color is purple and Don Thousand’s final form has a yellowish glow, so perhaps all these colors have zero correlation to the characters at all. These are just some observations I made when it comes to depicting each world with their respective colors.

But this may be what the Numeron Dragon meant when it was afraid that the Numeron Code could fall into the wrong hands. Not Barians or Astrals specifically, but the people of the Cosmos or people of Chaos abusing the Code’s powers to wipe each other out. This is exactly what Eliphas wanted to do because he saw Chaos as impure and limiting as well as Don Thousand for about the same reason.

To prevent this travesty, the Numeron Dragon sealed the Numeron Code away with the final key to it being itself, or “Number 100: Numeron Dragon”.

“Thy place of birth” may not mean that the dragons were literally born on the surface of the Moon, but it may mean that the impact that made the Moon also led to the creation of Chaos and Cosmos and Parity. By extension, this is where the dragons were truly born. Think of it as a stardust type of thing. Yeah, we humans are born on Earth probably by another human, but our atoms and molecules and elements? Those were made up in space. Tachyon Dragon was made by Don Thousand, but the Chaos he used to forge Tachyon Dragon was made on the Moon.

But onto the Numbers since all the dragons are Numbers and they get complicated so bear with me.

Okey, disclaimer and anyone is welcome to challenge my stance on what exactly Numbers are because they are absolutely limitless. We have Astral’s memory Numbers, Over-Hundred Numbers, those bug Barians Numbers, Imaginary Numbers, Mythyrian Numbers, Chaos Numbers made by Shark, Yuma, the Arclights, maybe Number XX yeah that guy remember him,,, 

and the only explanation we get for them is that they amplify emotions and take on the form of the beholder’s desires. At least, the first 100 Numbers do. Anyways please do, I like reading interpretations on what these things are. 

So I’m going to try to explain how I see it. 

My first statement is that Numbers are not a direct product of the Astrals ot Astral. My guess is that Numbers are a general manifestation of power made with either Chaos, Cosmos, or Parity. The Original 100 (aka Astral’s Memory Numbers) is made by the Numeron Dragon, as opposed to the ones made Don Thousand, for example. This explains why the Numeron Dragon is “Number 100”. If it is included as one of Astral’s memories, it’s kinda blasphemous ngl. 

My conclusion came from a certain flaw in the show’s logic (which is fine bc its yugioh but im trying to knot things together here). The show states that Astral knows where the Numeron Code is, so when his memories got scattered, the location scattered with it in the form of the Numbers. However, it is never stated how Astral knows its location. Like, who told him that? Eliphas? The only creature that should know is the Numeron Dragon, and it’s dead. A possible explanation is that the Numeron Dragon placed the coordinates of the Numeron Code in the first 100 Numbers, and since Astral had the Numbers, he knew where it was. 

But yet, why are the Numbers so dangerous if they were made by a benevolent God? They’re made by a God, for starters. They’re supposed to be ultra powerful and unfit for mortal hands. 

And if the Numbers lead to the Numeron Code, it may be that the Numeron Dragon didn’t want someone who couldn’t handle the 100 Numbers to be handling the all-powerful source code. 

We also know that the Numbers tend to absorb a handful of stuff. The Mythyrian Numbers took in the Guardians and “Number 96: Black Mist” had a piece of Don Thousand stuck on it. It is likely that the Numbers absorbed Astral’s memories, so when they scattered, they took his memories with them rather than the other way around.

Furthermore, Astral’s Airship is kinda of an enigma. Like, what is it? Who built it? Why can it do things like store all 100 Numbers as well as track down certain Numbers. If the Numbers are just Astral’s memories, how are they able to fit into the slots on the Airship, which isn’t part of Astral memories?

To go along with the Numbers being separate from Astral, it’s easy to say the Astral World built the Airship to harness the Numbers’ powers and knowledge. So it is likely that the mechanism behind the Airship was how Astral was going to find Numeron Code.

But simply put, Astral World probably collected most of the first 100 Numbers before the Barians did, created Astral and the Airship using the Numbers with the goal of fighting Don Thousand or going to Earth to find the Numeron Code so they could wipe out Barian World. Kinda like Silvally but he kills Barians. His original battle with Don Thousand and Kazuma’s meddling caused Astral to lose all the Number Cards he had (and since his only purpose and identity is tied to the Numbers, he lost all of his memories as well), allowing the Barians to scramble in to try to collect them before the Astrals can. This is why some Numbers were in the hands of the Barians, like “Numbers 80: Madness-Draped Supreme King - Rhapsody in Berserk” and “Numbers 58: Flame Pressure Demon - Burner Visor”

The Number Cards do not belong to either party; it just happened that Astral World managed to get them and use their powers first. This becomes important when we talk about Jinlon later.

The biggest plot hole that I can pick up is because of “Number 100: Numeron Dragon”. Astral definitely should not have that one. Astral might’ve gotten 99 at the very most, then lost the Mythyrians, Numeron Gates, and some other cards to Don Thousand, then the rest when he crashed into Yuma. 

It is possible that he never had all 100 Numbers, but who knows.

But back to the dragons:

“Number 100: Numeron Dragon″ can only be obtained when the “dragons of light and time clash” fight each other on the Moon. 

Mizael said that since the condition requires a Barian (or a Chaos) dragon, then the Numeron Code belongs to the Barians. 

And he’s about half right. The condition does requires a Chaos dragon, but I say that it also requires a Cosmos dragon and a Parity Dragon as well.

Cosmos and Chaos took shape in the form of Photon Dragon and Tachyon Dragon. Tachyon Dragon is obviously a creature born from the powers of Chaos while Photon Dragon is harder to pick up, but it is directly stated that it uses the power of the Astrals, or Cosmos.

And why as dragons? Ehh The Numeron Dragon is a dragon, and what better way than to battle in the image of the Creator. (also dragons are sick af)

The most peculiar concept is that the last Number can only be accessed when the Cosmos and Chaos are actively fighting against each other, and it’s strange to think that the Numeron Dragon would set up the situation where the strongest object in the Universe can only be achieved through war. 

But this is exactly where Dragluon, Jinlon, and Parity fit into this legend.

Dragluon (and Jinlon by association) are the representatives for Parity. 

Dragluon is often represented with the yellow colors of Earth in a similar manner of base-form Photon Dragon using the blues of Astral World or base-form Tachyon Dragon using the reds of Barian World. These are the three dragons representing the Three Worlds.

Unlike the other two, Jinlon/Dragluon is like a neutral observer. He is the balance sitting between Kaito and Mizael to watch the battle unfold and judge it.

It isn’t a coincidence that Dragluon is one of the dragons required to awaken the powers of the Numeron Dragon. If the dragon representing the balance between the two other worlds was not present to witness the battle, it is unlikely that the last Number would reveal itself, thus locking access to the key and Numeron Code. 

Also, the Moon itself is composed mainly of Earthly materials. Since the Earth is represented as Parity, the Moon is a neutral ground for the clash between Chaos and Cosmos. It does not favor the victory of one or the other (Jinlon got involved in the duel to awaken Mizael’s true memories, but other than that, he did not interrupt the flow of the duel between the Galaxy-Eyes. Mizael’s resolve as a Barian Emperor did not change with this encounter). 

Although situational, the presence of Parity also explains certain phenomenons that occurrs in areas where it’s presence is the strongest, particularly at Mizael’s ruins/Dragluon’s home and the Moon. Astral’s ship stopped working, Orbital 7 (whose energy supply runs on Barianite) couldn’t function properly, and Mizael cannot tap into his Barian powers.

The Moon appears to have the same effect on the characters until they enter the battle-zone, where the clashing parties are allowed to fight. Parity neutralizes the effects of Cosmos and Chaos. 

As to why Jinlon ascended into the role as the Mythyrian Number and the representative for Parity, I have a small theory for that. 

Jinlon is a divine dragon who is much older than the show made him out to be. I reckon that he was one of the first life made by the Numeron Dragon (image of god, you know) and he stated that he witnessed the original battle between Astral and Don Thousand. 

His choice of wording here is telling. He shows obvious disdain towards the war on both sides, and I think this intensified after his encounter with Mizael. 

Going back to the origins of Mizael, I want to talk about the colors of the Three Worlds once more. Now, I truly do not know if this is intentional, but the flashback to Mizael’s childhood has heavy usage of the blue, red, and yellow color palette.    

When Mizael fled from the massacred village, the village lighted up due to the flames burning his home to the ground down while the surrounding sand was blue due to the darkness of the night. In this sense, Mizael is running from the source of his anger and sadness into freedom and safety, or from disorder to order. But the deeper he went in, the desert proved to not be the safe place he desired. The desert shifted between the intense Barian reds and Astral blues as Mizael transversed the landscape. 

And Mizael was dying during these scenes. It’s almost as though he’s being persuaded into two worlds; either ascend with grief to become a Barian, or let it all go to become an Astral. 

It was Jinlon who came to save Mizael. Like, I feel like I’m repeating myself a lot, but Jinlon appeared to Mizael with the colors of Parity. He engulfed Mizael in it and prevented him from entering either of the worlds too soon. Jinlon is a being who exists outside of Barian and Astral World’s conflicts. 

This is why he became Dragluon. Jinlon is already a creature of Parity with or without his association to Dragluon, and thus his death and closeness to the Mythyrian Number + Mizael resulted in his attachment to “Number 46: Ethereal Dragon Dragluon”, the ultimate dragon representing Parity. 

To that whole bit with the Astral’s Numbers, this is why Dragluon being made from Astral’s memories, as well as the other stuff I stated, doesn’t make much sense. (Maybe without the meddling of Don Thousand, instead of becoming an Astral when he died, Mizael may have shared a fate similar to Jinlon and been reborn as a creature of Parity given how often he is associated with the yellow colors. Maybe, just thinking).

As a neutral force, Jinlon leads the dragon-tamers down what they think is the correct path for the future. 

Aside from being convenient to the plot, Jinlon spends time with Kaito and Mizael. And likewise, Mizael and Kaito are characters who tether dangerously close to the line between Cosmos and Chaos. Kaito starts off as a heartless, cold killer, after all, and Mizael is strange for an antagonist; even going as far as fighting Don Thousand, the actual villain of the show (but most of the barians are like this for a reason that I’ll explain once I get to Vector). Although Mizael is massively arrogant and despises humans, he also commended the Arclights for sacrificing themselves, and he puts his true heart and loyalty out for the Barians. To add onto this, after acquiring his true memories, Mizael is adamant that he is still a creature of Chaos, and so he fights for Barian World despite his past leading him to be an Astral.

Yes, this isn’t a single case either. Alito was the first to recognize his past as a true Astral, yet he continues to fight for Barian World. Nasch is the strongest case for this, as he willingly chose to be a Barian. Chaos is not synonymous with evil. 

But back to Mizael. Mizael is someone who is dead-set on being a Barian no matter the circumstance. He fights for Barian World from what he knows of that world. He knows that his people aren’t evil (look, Barian World got Iris, alright) and he knows that Barian World is where his cherished allies and companions live. He lived as a Barian Emperor for possibly thousands of years. His commitment and love for dragons is also his most commendable trait. Mizael is a man who puts his trust in dragons, good or bad. Despite being a creature of Chaos, he also bears certain Cosmos traits. 

The same could be said for Kaito too. Kaito is supposed to be of the Cosmos as indicated by his usage of Prime Photon Dragon, yet his passion is much weaker than Mizael. Bluntly put, Kaito is selfish. The show states this. He uses Photon Dragon not out of respect for dragons but because it ended up being the easiest path to save Haruto and Dr. Faker. He lacks the heart that would make him a true Astral. 

The characters change. 

Mizael sheds a tear for an enemy, a repulsive human of all things, and Kaito wants them to meet again one day not as enemies but as friends. 

They represent both worlds, but they can meet in the middle too.

This nuisance is why I think Jinlon exists as the creature guiding them towards this fight. He brings out the Parity between Cosmos and Chaos. He not only finds two souls that represent both worlds, but also how both worlds can intermix. 

And hey, Kaito won the Moon Duel, essentially winning the future for Astral World. But it was Mizael who made it out alive. In a way, there was no true winner of the Moon Duel.

I wanna get back to this image right here.  

I could talk about how Tachyon Dragon is based on tachyon particles, which are hypothetical particles faster than light, and how Photon Dragon represents light through photon particles, or how Dragluon is based off of gluons, the elementary exchange particles that are essential for the force binding neutrons and protons together, the atoms that make matter and life possible.

But you know um. I’m actually not that smart and am not qualified to talk about those relationships.

Yet, I think it’s telling that the three dragons representing the Three Worlds emit a yellow glow as they awaken the Numeron Dragon.

When the Numeron Dragon made the Universe and the Numeron Code, it did not want a clash between Cosmos and Chaos to see who deserves to survive. It didn’t want its creations to destroy each other. It wanted them to clash on the Moon so they can prove that despite the war, despite the hatred, despite the meddling, both sides are capable of finding Parity, that peace is possible between them, that Kaito and Mizael can meet eye-to-eye and sympathize with each other.  The dragons were no longer fighting as Cosmos or Chaos but as Parity.

The Numeron Dragon will only grant access to the Numeron Code to the persons that are worthy of it. In the end, Mizael and Kaito were both worthy of obtaining “Number 100: Numeron Dragon” because they proved themselves as people capable of Parity. 

Call me a dreamer, but I think that’s why the final fight belongs to the characters that represent the Three Worlds. Nasch of the Barians, Kaito who wields the power of the Astrals, and not Yuma or Astral but Zexal III, the strongest combination of Chaos and Cosmos. 

These three worlds are able to work together to defeat Don Thousand, a person who would’ve used the Numeron Code for only destruction and personal gain. 

Kaito and Zexal III (although I’m not sure if this is different from Yuma and Astral as individuals, ceremonial duel and all) is explanatory in their stance on Parity, but Nasch is the outlier since he would’ve used the Numeron Code to destroy Astral World, or maybe he has some other motive if he had won the duel. Nasch saw the destruction of Astral World as a necessary evil for the survival of Barian World, but he also seemed okay with losing. It’s possible that he might’ve found a different way for all worlds to coexist had he won. So does the duel with Nasch afterwards ruin the duel with Don Thousand? Who knows. That depends on what value you see from that duel. 

(And not to get into a rant, but part of me wished the final boss was a Dark-Zexal-esque Morph between Eliphas and Don Thousand, the corrupted combination of two Gods with selfish intents fighting against Nasch, Zexal III, and Kaito. Like mmmm) 

I derailed quite a bit from talking about Jinlon and Mizael and the Ruins, but I find it so fascinating how much these two characters reveal about the world of Zexal.

[usermischief]

no place for promises

chapter 28: at the end of the rope

Warnings: / (heed tags for further information) You can read it on AO3

Theo did not try to enter the bedroom again, and Stiles didn’t leave it. Not even when he briefly summarised last night’s events to Jordan after Theo was gone. Stiles only opened the door so Jordan could confirm everything was all right but refused to actually leave the bed to go to school. Tired and annoyed, Jordan tried everything to get Stiles to move - pleading, bargaining, reasoning, threatening. There isn’t much he didn’t try. In the end, he called Stiles’ dad, who allowed him to stay home until Wednesday. If, and only if, Stiles follows the rules - no risk-taking, no sneaking out, no lashing out, no lying, and no keeping things from Jordan. Stiles is pretty sure he can handle that for two more days. 

Lydia texts him regular updates on how everything is evolving at school. Shortly before Jordan and he left to get to the Yukimura’s, Stiles received a live-feed of Liam going after Gabe. Apparently, he talked shit about him, which pissed Liam off. While it's very honorable that Liam felt very much offended for Stiles, giving Gabe a bloody nose wasn't necessary. Neither was detention for a month for Liam. He's lucky he wasn't benched for the charity game. Coach would've lost it.

Theo texts him too, but Stiles leaves his messages on read without bothering to reply. Distance, he tells himself, distance is the best course of action right now. Distance is what he needs. Especially since Theo's very presence works as a complete distraction, and Stiles doesn't need any more distractions because he's perfectly capable of finding those in the little things - as proven by making Satomi explain to him four times that the intensity of the humming is most likely an indicator for how much power he uses. “You can assess the strength of your spell by the intensity of the humming,” she told him as patiently as ever. “The more intense the humming becomes, the stronger your magic will become, and the more noticeable it will be to those connected to the ley lines.” It's a pretty simple concept, really, so Stiles has no clue how he manages to fuck it up multiple times in a row. 

He's taught Liam how to control his werewolf, he tried to help Malia find an anchor, and he helped Lydia figure out her banshee. This should be easy for him. It's his thing. Figuring shit out, dealing with the supernatural, learning new stuff. Why is it so much easier to train others? 

Stiles glowers at the knot and rubs the back of his neck.

"Listen to the humming and focus on what you want to do." Satomi is excruciatingly patient with him - unlike Brett, who doesn’t hide the fact that he’s bored out of his mind, and pissed off at the notion that he, too, is grounded because of breaking and entering a warehouse for a party. Stiles is surprised he still talks to him, considering the way he was glaring at him in the beginning. As if it’s Stiles’ fault Satomi considered Jordan’s educational measures as appropriate punishment, “Listen, focus. Your imagination is the key.” Again, simple concept, he's supposed to apply to an even simpler task. There's a knot lying on the table in front of him, and he's supposed to reverse it without touching the rope, of course. But for some reason, Stiles either makes it jiggle or tears it apart. 

He still couldn't show any valuable progress when Kira comes home from school, and he starts to feel like an idiot sitting in a dimly lit room staring at a piece or rope. It's pissing him off, which makes him more likely to rip the damn knot apart, but when he takes a breath to calm himself all the stupid thing does is jiggle on the table, which pisses him off again. It's a vicious cycle, and Stiles, after tearing the umpteenth knot apart like a piece of paper, folds his arms over his chest. He’s done with this. At least for now. He needs a breather. He needs to do something differently. Either he’s missing something, or he’s doing something wrong.

And before his frustration gets the best of him, Stiles should step away.

Satomi somehow manages not to make him feel like a total loser by telling him that he never missed his mark and that the only thing he needs to find is balance. Thing is, Stiles is a fast learner, but he is also an impatient one. If something doesn't work after a few tries, he usually stops. Depending on how important it is or how determined he feels, Stiles picks it back up again, or he doesn't. Sometimes, however, he starts doing something completely different and forgets what he was initially working on in the first place.  

He can't drop this. He can't ignore it. 

The second round of training doesn’t go over any better. Although Stiles should technically be able to use a katana, he’s awfully clumsy at it. If this whole session's goal is for him to find his balance, this katana isn't doing shit. It certainly doesn't help that Noshiko is scaring the hell out of him. Talk about taking training seriously. Fighting Kira, however, doesn't work either. Although she's clearly better than he is at fighting with a katana, Stiles still worries he might get an accidental hit in and hurt her really bad. All in all, that session concludes with him sitting more on his ass than anything else. 

Stiles is as drained as he can possibly get without collapsing on the spot. Jordan stays home that night, so there's no need for Theo to come around. 

The next day of training isn’t much better, and to be honest, Stiles is pretty sure this is a test of his patience, and he doesn’t have much of it to begin with. He gets it, and it’s not that he didn’t accomplish anything. After all, he manages to get the knot from simply jiggling on the table to hopping around a little. The magic does follow his command, but it's either not doing enough or too much. How the fuck is he supposed to protect his dad when he can’t get this stupid rope to unknot itself? He just doesn’t want to find his dad bleeding out again, that’s all he’s asking for, and he can do it. He knows he can do it. 

But how?

Satomi remains confident despite the lack of accomplishments. Apparently, some people need longer to find their balance. "Werewolves are the same," she assures him with a smile and goes on to tell him that Brett was an absolute disaster once puberty struck. It sounds like there's an awkward childhood story hidden behind that, and Brett’s shocked expression makes it even better. He probably did not expect Satomi to spill his secrets. 

Nonetheless, Stiles feels less like a total failure. So, that's a good thing. 

Noshiko tries to make the katana work once again - they fight with the light dimmed this time around - but again, Stiles cannot get a handle on this thing. It doesn't feel right, and he can't tell if it's him, the nemeton viciously struggling with hurting people who are under his care, or the remnants of the nogitsune terrified of the very same weapon that ended its reign of terror twice. Maybe it's all three. Who the fuck knows at this point? All Stiles knows is that he can’t do shit with this thing, but Noshiko refuses to give him a break. She’s pushing him. Constantly attacking. 

Nevertheless, he's better than yesterday. If better means, he doesn't constantly fall over his own two feet or land on his ass. He's still more dodging than defending, and that'll only get him so far. Werewolves might be slower than him, but Stiles won't be a match for a fully grown kitsune. So, when Noshiko finally manages to catch him off guard, causing the katana to clatter over the floor, Stiles is about to propose a break because she must've noticed that this isn't working. Just because she doesn't like a Bo staff as a weapon doesn't mean he can't use it effectively. After all, it's just as lethal if used correctly, but it does bear fewer risks of accidents. Which is perfect for a person prone to accidents. 

Thing is, Noshiko doesn't stop attacking. She means business, and Stiles barely has the time to react. The sharp edge cuts through the fabric of his shirt as if it's nothing. Close. Far too close. But Noshiko's determination doesn't waver, and Stiles is not about finding out if she's ready to hurt him. He's not stupid enough to turn his back to her, Jackson attacking Derek and him at the pool had been a valuable lesson. Instead, he backs away, heart hammering against his ribs, stumbling over his feet. He flails, tries to hold on to something. But there’s nothing there. Stiles hits the ground hard. Frustration and anger coming to an unpleasant boiling point. He grinds his teeth, trying his best to keep the cursing at bay, and curls his hands into fists at his sides. 

A cold blade nudges his chin. “Giving up so soon?” 

Stiles presses his lips into a tight line and looks up at Noshiko. “I can’t work with a katana. I just… it doesn’t feel right. At all.” Frowning, he tugs at his sleeves and eyes the sword innocently glinting in the dim light a few feet or so away from him. 

“Unusual,” Satomi says, crossing her legs, “not impossible.” With how silently she and Jordan are observing everything, it’s easy to forget they’re even around. 

Kira pacing next to the door is less easy to ignore. "Mom, just let him use the Bo staff Dad made for him."

He has yet to see this Bo staff. Considering that Ken made a lot of weapons for the kitsunes, Stiles is quite excited about receiving his own, even though he's not totally sure how Ken does all that. Maybe he's picked up his very own magic somewhere else, or he prepares everything, and Noshiko adds the magical element. Stiles isn't sure what kitsune can and cannot do. 

"A kitsune should be able to handle every weapon with ease."

“Well,” Stiles says, scrambling back onto his feet with a scowl, “I’m just a chimera.” 

“You are never just anything,” Satomi says in an almost scolding manner. As she rises from the chair, everything about her screams alpha, power, leader. "You are the first of your kind," Satomi continues, crossing the room with long strides. "You are what you are because you fought against a nogitsune-" she grabs something that looks like rope, but when it slides against the table, it makes the sound of metal against wood like a chain would do "-and you survived." 

Stiles watches the rope for a second, trying to assess what the hell he's supposed to do with that. Is that a whip? They're not giving him a whip, right? Because that would be really weird. What the hell is he supposed to do with a whip? Aside from using it to chain Theo down in the basement. Which, come to think of it, not a bad idea. That way, he doesn’t have to worry about him constantly appearing out of nowhere. Although he could probably prevent that from happening. If only he could figure out what makes Theo feel different from the other chimeras, but they don’t seem to have very distinct nuances to their sensation. Brett and Scott, Satomi and Lori, those he can easily distinguish from each other. The chimeras? Not so much. They all feel, not quite as wrong as Scott does, but not as right as Brett either. They’re neither here nor there, like a radio struggling to maintain its reception. 

Noshiko nods at Kira, who pulls the belt from her jeans. The katana snaps into place, glinting even in the dim lighting of the room. “This is one of the bo staffs Ken created. It’s not the one we prefer you to use, but it will do until you are ready.”

“Okay,” Stiles breathes, taking the rope from Satomi. It’s cold and heavy, like a chain should be, yet it still somehow has the consistency of a rope. It's a nice touch. Clearing his throat, he grabs the weapon with both hands. Almost as if it can read his mind, the rope hardens in his grip. Within the blink of an eye, he’s holding a bo staff in his hands. Almost immediately, he feels better, more balanced. 

He feels right. 

With this thing, he can definitely beat some sense into people and supernaturals alike. "That's more like it," Stiles says, locking eyes with Kira, and grins. "Let's give this a shot." 

"Yes," she says with a grin of her own, "let's."

“Oh, no, she destroyed me.” 

Kira laughs quietly, almost looking a bit ashamed of it. “You weren’t that bad.” That’s true. Once he had the Bo staff in his hands, he wasn’t half as bad as he used to be when going against her or Noshiko with the katana. His body was a lot more in tune with everything and especially itself. There was a balance between his mind and body that hasn’t been there before. Everything came with ease, and, for the first time, being part nogitsune didn’t seem quite as terrible. Maybe once he has his magic under control as well, his level of frustration will go down to where it used to be before shit hit the fan. He certainly wouldn’t mind. 

“I sure hope that stick of yours helps you in lacrosse too,” Brett says, flipping through the Latin textbook in front of him with the expression of someone who’s done before they’ve even started. Quite relatable. Translating shit is boring as hell. But at the very least, Brett is still trying. Isaac has already given up. Although his Latin textbook is lying next to him, he hasn’t looked up from his phone in the last ten minutes. 

Kira places her chin on her hands. "It helped me."

Shrugging, Stiles sinks deeper into the sofa cushions and adjusts the laptop on his thighs. "I don't know if I'm playing."

"You are playing," Jackson calls from somewhere behind Lydia - there's a foot visible on the edge of her bed - at the same time as Brett does. Someone should probably mark this day in their calendars. They agreed on something. 

"Seriously," Brett adds, slamming his textbook shut hard enough that it slides over the desk, "your team sucks so bad. I get bored playing against you, and I love lacrosse."

"Obsessed is the word you're looking for, mate."

Kira laughs quietly, as Brett turns his head to glare at Isaac, who couldn't look any less inconvenienced if he tried. Maybe the guy is a big softy when he’s alone with his pack, so Isaac doesn’t even bother to keep up any pretenses. 

"What I'm saying is-"

Stiles doesn't listen to the rest of the sentence because he hears a key turn in the lock. A moment later, the door clicks open, and Theo emerges from the darkness of the hallway. "Are you fucking kidding me?" 

"Excuse me?"

"Not you, Talbot," Stiles says without looking at the laptop. 

Like Monday evening, Theo throws his keys on the table while Stiles is questioning every single choice he made that put him in this position. He shrugs the leather jacket off before crossing the room and collapsing onto the couch next to him. A little too close for comfort - and in full view of everyone because even Jackson and Danny have gathered behind Lydia to watch the scene unfold live and in color. 

Isaac leans over Brett’s shoulder, squinting at Theo. “What’s that twat doing at your place?”

"Babysitting," Theo says. 

"He somehow convinced Dad that he's the right person to protect me.” Stiles scowls as Theo smirks, looking more than just a little satisfied with himself. The best way to deal with this is by going to the bedroom and ignoring his very existence.

Brett runs a hand through his hair, scoffing quietly. “And you’re going to protect him from whom? The neighbor’s dog?”

Stiles closes his eyes. They can’t keep it together for a second, can they? 

“Mate-”

“No, seriously,” Brett interrupts before Isaac has the chance to finish his sentence, “he doesn’t stand a chance against Donovan. We barely had him under control.” He has kind of a point. Stiles knows that, and Isaac does too even if they both disagree with the delivery. 

Theo quirks a brow. “But I can give him enough time to run.”

Lydia parts her lips, gaze flicking from Theo to Stiles. Her eyes have the same sharpness Satomi looked at him with on Monday. She knows. She knows everything. “How?”

A direct question. Straight to the point. Theo isn’t afraid to deliver. “What do you think? Just because Talbot was faster doesn’t mean I wouldn’t have done the same thing.” Meaning, he would’ve thrown himself at Donovan as well. Meaning, he would protect him again, would pull him out of a burning car again. 

"Okay, that's enough social interaction for you for one day," Stiles says, mostly because Brett is already opening his mouth for another reply. These two really have it out for each other. "See you tomorrow. Good night.” He slams the laptop shut, ignoring Brett’s rather impolite demand to wait. Because he’s not going to wait. He’s going to go to bed. Rolling his eyes, he gets to his feet, laptop clasped under his arm. 

Theo scoffs. "You're going to lock yourself in the bedroom again?"

"Beats staring at you for the rest of the evening."

A chuckle, distinctly more amused this time. "What's the problem? Afraid of temptation?" Theo asks, sounding more and more like he won a game they have never officially started. 

Yes. Stiles takes a deep breath and turns to look at Theo. "I got away with murder once. Doubt I'll be that lucky again." Now go. Leave. He presses his lips into a thin line, holds Theo's gaze for a little longer, and finally manages to force his legs into moving. For effect, he bangs the bedroom door shut. Maybe Theo will get the hint and stay away from him.  

He doesn’t. Not that anybody is surprised about that development. Theo is Theo, after all, and being able to predict his behavior correctly when it comes to this is definitely more than a little reassuring. Stiles has been surprised and confused by Theo more than enough the past week. That doesn’t mean he enjoys the company or wants him here. What he wants is to be fast asleep to get this night over with before something happens that shouldn’t be happening. But he can’t sleep, Brett admitting that he felt helpless against Donovan, it kicked something loose; it's as if the situation finally hit him fully - the risk, the danger, everything. Because Brett's right, what can Theo do against Donovan aside from throwing himself into danger, apart from maybe getting himself killed in the process? 

Taking a deep breath, Stiles tries to push the thought away. But it's not working. He’s overwhelmed and restless, energized yet completely exhausted. His mind is actively working against his body, and in the brief moments when that’s not a problem, memories of Donovan come back to the surface, adding to the terrible pictures of his dad dying and Theo lying unconscious on the cold ground, Lydia’s bruised face as well as her panicked expression after being paralyzed. 

Stiles pulls his blanket tighter around him.  

The mattress shakes when Theo throws himself onto it as ungracefully as he possibly could. Shifting around a little, he occupies the outer corner of the pillow. Since Stiles is lying close enough to the edge, he could roll off if he’s not careful, there’s still plenty of distance between them, yet it doesn’t feel like enough. Instead of shifting closer, however, Theo pulls the blanket higher over Stiles and smoothes it over his shoulder. His hand lingers there for a while, warm and gentle, causing Stiles’ traitorous heart to pick up speed. This isn’t right. This isn’t how this should be. Theo should grab him and turn him around. But he doesn’t. For a brief moment, Stiles could’ve sworn, Theo brushes his thumb over the blanket before pulling his hand completely away. 

The loss of contact makes Stiles shudder involuntarily. He pulls the blanket even tighter around him.  

Theo’s gaze is palpable on his neck and the back of his head  "I'm bored," he informs him quietly, almost as if he intends to give him an option to stay quiet, to keep pretending he's asleep although they both know he's not. 

Stiles thinks about staying quiet, but only for a moment. Something tight inside his body uncoils, loosens and gives him a strange sense of ease, of safety. Maybe because Theo keeps his mind off of all the other bullshit going on in his life. “That’s too bad,” Stiles replies eventually, fighting the urge to turn around. The last thing he wants to do is give Theo the wrong impression. “Maybe you should do something about it.”

“Any ideas?”

Stiles curls his fingers into the pillow. “How would I know? What do you usually do when you’re not killing chimeras or ruining other peoples’ lives?”

Theo laughs quietly, a soft sound in the late evening’s silence. “Planning how to kill chimeras and ruining peoples’ lives.”

The joke is plain as day, yet Stiles refuses to entertain Theo. Despite knowing what he knows, he's very aware of the chimera in his bed and the distance between them as well as how nice the hand on his shoulder felt. Stiles can't tell if it's because Theo touched him, or because he seriously craves any kind of human contact he can get. Maybe it's a little bit of both. "Then you have your answer. Go and do your worst. I'm not stopping you."

Again, Theo laughs. The mattress moves with him. 

The distance feels bigger now, so Stiles dares to turn around, and he's not particularly surprised to find Theo already looking at him. Moonlight spills onto his cheek, makes his skin glow in a way that almost seems unreal. His fingers twitch, and Stiles has to fight down the urge to touch him. 

Theo licks his lips, closes his eyes for just a second, and a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. 

Stiles wonders how it would be like if he woke up to this view on an everyday basis - a picture that buries itself into his mind hard enough that he has to remind himself of who Theo really is. Biting the inside of his cheek, Stiles rolls onto his back and watches the shadows and light dance across the bedroom ceiling. 

A quiet huff catches his attention. "I usually watch movies or play video games," Theo says, crossing his arms behind his head. "I'm not too big on friends."

"I guess that's a consequence of killing people and acting like it's a stroll in the park," Stiles replies, not daring to turn his head even though he can feel Theo's gaze bury into his cheek. They both know that's not quite true. Theo has never been good with social interaction. When they first became friends in the past, it was because Stiles never stopped pursuing the friendship. Before the supernatural world swallowed him whole and fucked him up, Stiles used to be the kid collecting strays. He saw a loner and became friends with the loner. That goes for Theo just as much as for Scott. Maybe that's why he got so hooked on Lydia because he knew, deep down, that she was lonely too. Although Stiles never had many close friends, he surrounded himself with a lot of people without much of a struggle. Even after his mother's death. Then high school came, and everything changed because suddenly he stood at the bottom of the social ladder which Scott so desperately wanted to climb, and Stiles was along for the ride. Then came the supernatural, and Stiles found himself in a position of knowledge, of becoming more and more scared of strangers, of looking for potential signs. 

Stiles wonders how everything would've turned out if the Dread Doctors hadn't found Theo, if they hadn't broken and ruined him, if he had stayed. 

"I'll always protect you, you know that, right? Not just because of the nemeton. Stiles, I-"

"I'm tired, Theo," he interrupts him because all of this is already hard enough as it is without all those confessions. Or lies. Whether they are true or not, Stiles doesn't know what he could say to that. He used to be sure about everything regarding Theo, but after all the shit that happened in the last week, it's so hard. He just doesn't know. 

The mattress moves when Theo rises to his feet. "I'll let you sleep then."

Stiles rolls onto his side again. "Thanks," he says, not a hundred percent sure what he is thanking him for.

The door clicks and doesn't open again until Stiles opens it to leave the room in the early morning after a sleepless night. He finds Theo still fast asleep, his face pressed into a pillow, hair tousled, and the blanket lying next to the floor. His body exposed to the cold air sneaking in through the open window as well as the sound of rain slamming against concrete.

As quietly as possible, Stiles crosses the room and picks the blanket up, trying to ignore how innocent Theo looks, how soft and normal. Biting back a smile, Stiles places the blanket back on top of Theo, and he's about to pull it over him properly. But before he can do so, a growl reaches his ears. Stiles realises his mistake the moment Theo's hand finds his throat, claws digging into his far too easily breakable skin. 

Feeling as if his windpipe is being crushed, Theo pulls Stiles onto his knees. 

"Theo," Stiles chokes, wrapping a hand around his wrist while raising the other in the air, just in case Theo decided to go for another attack. 

Instead, Theo lets go of him as if he's burnt himself, and Stiles doubles over, coughing and trying to keep himself from hyperventilating. Because he's been there, and he knows where it can go. The last thing he needs right now is a fucking panic attack with nobody but Theo around. 

"Fuck." Bare feet hit the hard wooden floor, and Theo crouches next to him, a hand softly placed in his back. "I'm sorry," he says, sounding genuine, and yet Stiles can't help but wait for the snide addition. You shouldn't have woken me up. You should've known not to startle me. He's gotten so used to hearing them over time. Sometimes with the addition that he ruins their lives by canceling a fucking date to protect their crush. Or for getting shit defending himself. But Theo doesn't say anything, he doesn't blame him, and that somehow hits harder than it should, because Theo should be the one doing it, right? Theo should be the one absolving himself of all guilt. Yet here he is, crouching next to him, rubbing small circles into his back, and apologizing quietly. 

Stiles squeezes his eyes shut and shook his head. "It's my fault," he says, feeling old habits take hold of him. "I should've known better."

Theo watches him quietly as Stiles sits down and rubs his throat with a scowl. "You couldn't have." That's true, but that doesn't necessarily mean Theo wouldn't blame him. But he still doesn't. Instead, he crosses his arms over his thighs and sighs. "Living with the Dread Doctors made me a bit jumpy." 

"I wonder why," Stiles deadpans, glancing up at him. 

With a quiet chuckle, Theo stands up and offers him his hand. Not thinking about it, Stiles allows himself to be pulled to his feet. There’s no spark, no electric zap upon touching him. It’s nothing like in the movies. Instead, Stiles notices how soft Theo’s skin is against his own, how warm, how nicely their hands fit. He hates that he doesn't hate it, hates that he doesn't pull his hand away before they both realize they're holding on for far too long. 

Eventually, Stiles does, folding his arms tightly over his chest. "It's pretty early. You can sleep a bit longer." 

"You as well," Theo says, nodding in the direction of the window. "I doubt track is gonna happen in this weather." Oh, sweet, sweet innocence. Coach's 'I don't give a fuck' attitude has fooled him too. Theo is going to have a rude awakening. 

Stiles shakes his head with a laugh. "You clearly don't know Coach."

Theo quirks a brow and turns out the window again. Maybe he's right. The weather is nasty. Really nasty. The type of weather that begs you to stay inside. The type of weather in which track could be considered criminal assault. 

With a groan, Stiles flops onto the couch. “That sucks.” 

Theo sits down next to him, keeping just enough distance not to appear too pushy, yet close enough to keep pressure on Stiles’ personal bubble. “You like track that much?” 

“I don’t know,” he admits, pulling his shoulder up into a slow half-shrug. “I’m good at it. It feels nice.”

“I bet there are other things you’re good at that feel nice.” 

Stiles scowls and slumps against the backrest, shrugging again. “Using magic feels debatable, but I guess using a weapon-” he stops mid-sentence, lips still parted, and watches in horror as Theo’s shoulders shake with a silent chuckle. His blue eyes brighten with amusement. “Oh.” Stiles flushes and swallows, trying as hard as possible to stop himself from pressing his hands to his face. “You mean sex.”

Theo smirks. “Took you a hot second.” 

“Well… I’m not constantly thinking about sex as you do, obviously, because there are more important things at stake, you know?” If he stopped flushing now, Stiles would really appreciate it. 

Crossing his arms over his thighs, Theo leans closer. “I can smell three things on you, especially when we’re alone.” He raises a hand and counts on his fingers, “irritation, annoyance-” Theo pauses for dramatic effect “-arousal.” 

His cheeks heat further. Stiles clears his throat, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “You must be mistaking me for somebody else.” 

“No.” Theo shakes his head. “I recognize your scent anywhere.” 

“Okay, that’s… that’s creepy.” 

Laughing quietly, Theo quirks a brow. “Is it?” 

“Yes, yes, it is.” No, it’s clearly not. Everything about this is the a-typical werewolf thing. These fucking creatures always stick their nose, quite literally, in things that aren’t any of their business. Some are better at it than others. People like Theo are obnoxiously attentive to the little nuances of other peoples’ scent because they need it to fuck with his victims. 

Theo smiles and places a hand on Stiles’ knee. “I like your scent. It’s-.”

“Drop it,” Stiles all but yells, a surge of panic and anger and frustration mixing to a dangerous cocktail. It’s better to leave again before this scale tips in a direction he doesn’t want it to. Theo is too close. He’s so different when they’re alone, and Stiles can’t tell what’s what anymore. He doesn’t know what to feel, doesn’t know what to think, and he sure as hell doesn’t know what to do. 

A sigh reaches his ears when he’s halfway across the living room. “You can’t hide forever.”

“Watch me,” Stiles says, purposefully not turning around. The last thing he needs is to see the face matching the disappointed tone. Instead, he slams the bedroom door shut for good measure. Taking a deep breath, he stands there, glaring out the window. Now what? He has an hour until track starts, probably more because Theo is right, they’re not going to run in this rain. He would sell his soul for two hours of sleep, but that’s not going to happen. He doesn’t even need to try. So, no sleep. Jordan won’t be home for two more hours either. 

Stiles scans the room, hearing Theo’s quiet footsteps on the other side of the door, and huffs out a breath. He can stay in here like an idiot and hide from his problems, hoping his mind won’t play Donovan's attacks in a loop, or he can go outside, stop being a baby and show Theo that he’s wrong. Yes. He likes that plan. That’s good. That’s perfect. Seriously. No hiding in this bedroom any longer. If he can’t handle Theo, he won’t be able to deal with Peter, and he can deal with Peter, that’s one of the few things he’s a hundred percent sure about. 

So, he's going to deal with Theo. 

Somehow.

He’ll get to the bathroom, make breakfast, and ignore Theo the whole time. That’s perfect, and that’s for sure going to work. It has to because he is not going to talk about his feelings or attraction for Theo with Theo. That’s so not going to happen. Nodding to himself, Stiles leaves the bedroom again. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches Theo sitting on the couch, already looking at him. 

“Someone changed their mind quickly,” he notes.

Stiles purses his lips, speeds up, and vanishes into the bathroom.

This was a terrible idea. Well, no, not entirely. It was a great idea, he just should've known that it would end in him overdoing it.

His naleśniki taste almost exactly the way his babcia used to do them. The only thing different is the filling because Jordan did not have farmer's cheese and sour cream, so he had to go for cream cheese. It's not perfect, but it works. He placed the dough and filling in the fridge, so he can finish them once Jordan comes home. 

Since he's finished the naleśniki, and he's still having a lot of time to spare, Stiles continues to make something else. Because that's what happens when he is angry or stressed or overly emotional, he bakes. It's a family thing. His mother baked enough pierogis for the entire police department and their families once during a particularly dangerous case his dad had been involved in. His babcia probably still does it. Stiles vividly remembers her standing in the kitchen, basically twenty-four-seven when his mom was hospitalized and her health deteriorated constantly. 

Drinking too much or baking too much, those are the two coping mechanisms he has picked up in his childhood. Stiles usually has a good handle on everything. He often prepares breakfast for his dad without going completely ham. He didn't exactly stress-bake during the past two years, mostly because he was too busy running for his own life or saving that of others. But now, he is stressed for different reasons. Realistically, he is the only one in direct harm’s way, that they know of, at least, so he’s not allowed to be alone - and that’s stressful as hell when the person he ends up alone with is Theo fucking Raeken. 

Baking it is.

Too focused on kneading the dough for far too many pierogi viciously, Stiles only notices Theo when he’s already right next to him, causing Stiles to flinch hard enough to bang his knee against the kitchen counter. “What are you doing?”

Stiles rubs his knee and glares at Theo. “What the fuck does it look like?”

“A kitchen nightmare,” Theo replies, gesturing briefly towards the used kitchen utensils and the spots of flour everywhere. Nobody said baking was the cleanest way to relieve stress. But it’s definitely the much healthier approach. 

Stiles notices in the last second, that Theo is actually attempting to reach for the dough, and slaps his hands away. “This isn’t for you.” 

“But I’m starving.”

“Well, there’s a supermarket down the street,” Stiles says, slapping Theo’s hand away, yet again. He only turns at the huff of exasperation - to find himself far too close to a Theo wearing a distinctive lack of clothing.  That’s not good. 

Theo scowls. “So what, you’re making breakfast, and I have to buy processed food?” 

Stiles shrugs and turns away again, focusing on forcing the dough into a ball. It has to be left to rest for thirty minutes soon, so he has to find something else to do now that Theo has decided he did not want to stare at him from the comfort of the couch. “It’s for Jordan,” he says as a matter of fact.

“Jordan can’t eat all that by himself.”

“I intend to freeze half of it,” Stiles replies, flattening the ball of dough again to prolong the whole kneading thing. 

Theo sighs and steps closer, and although he’s not touching him, Stiles can already feel his naked skin against his arm. He really doesn’t want to think about what his scent might smell like right now because Theo steps even closer, diminishing every last bit of distance between them and wraps his arms around Stiles’ waist. “I’m the one protecting you,” he whispers against the nape of his neck, either ignoring or being oblivious to the way Stiles tenses. “I deserve at least one of your mom’s delicious pancakes.” 

Stiles’ mind grinds to a screeching halt. Theo remembers, and now the memory is pushed to the forefront of his mind; the memory of two nine-year-old boys sitting on the kitchen counter, watching his mom prepare naleśniki for them in the evening because Theo’s parents were extremely late. They forgot him. Stiles’ parents never told Theo, but he’d probably figured that out. He’s always been observant. 

Theo runs his mouth along the lines of Stiles’ thankfully clothed shoulders, then presses his forehead between his shoulder blades. 

Swallowing around the lump in his throat, Stiles forces himself to keep kneading. “They’re called naleśniki and it’s my grandmother’s recipe.” Why did he let him get so close? Why did he allow him to overstep boundaries yet again? Why can't he keep Theo at a distance?

A chuckle presses their bodies closer together.

Stiles frees one hand from the dough and digs his elbow into Theo’s chest. “Back off.” 

For a very brief second, the arms around his middle tighten. For the same amount of time, Stiles wishes Theo won’t let go, that he just holds on, and somehow pushes Stiles into giving in, into letting go of what’s right and indulging in what’s wrong just once. Maybe everything is going to become easier after that. Maybe if he knows- Theo let’s go of him and steps away. Stiles is relieved and disappointed that Theo lets go so quickly. 

A moment later, he knows why. The door opens with a click, and Jordan enters the flat with a yawn. It’s probably better that he let go, but would he have done it if Jordan hadn’t come back? 

Jordan stops in the doorway, hand still on the knob, and takes in the scene. His surprise turns into suspicion. “What did you do?” 

Stiles can’t even bring himself to be offended by the insinuation. “Breakfast,” he says, glancing over his shoulder at Theo, who’s standing with crossed arms far enough away from him to look inconspicuous. “I thought… you might be hungry.” He offers a small smile, trying his best not to look guilty, even though he still kind of does after the weekend and the last three days. When Jordan took him in, he probably didn’t expect that Stiles would be this exhausting to be with. 

“I’ll change into something dry,” Jordan replies after a moment and closes the door behind him. Brushing wet hair away from his face, he lets out a sigh. He eyes Stiles for a moment and draws his brows together. “Did you get some sleep?”

“A bit,” Stiles says, biting the inside of his cheek. “I… uh-” he pokes the dough "- couldn't stop thinking about Donovan. Brett mentioned him and…" he trails off with a shrug, not sure how to end the sentence. This isn't even what he wanted to talk about. "Listen, Jay… I'm sorry for…"

Jordan raises a hand. "I know you are, and I'll forgive you, just- just promise me to be better from now on."

"I promise."

"Good." Jordan's shoulders sink with relief, and seeing the tension he was holding in them vanish doesn't make Stiles feel much better. The last thing he wants to be is a burden, that's why he needs to get this magic under control. He has to be able to defend himself, so Jordan doesn't have to. "Is he eating with us?" Jordan asks, pointing at Theo. 

"Yes."

Stiles shakes his head. "No."

Jordan raises his brows, Theo grins, and Stiles hates everything about this. The guy really doesn't have to get comfortable around here. As soon as Stiles can defend himself or the Donovan problem has sorted itself out, Theo will not set foot into this apartment ever again. "Make yourself useful, then," Stiles snaps, gesturing in the direction of the cupboard, "and set the fucking table."

"Language!" Jordan shouts over his shoulder on his way to the bedroom.

Stiles decides not to comment on that cliche of a parental reply.

"No," Stiles insists, "I'm not riding with him." The last time he was in a car with Theo, his defenses were lowered drastically. He needs time to build them again. Distance, and all that. 

Jordan massages his temple. “You really wanna take the bus?”

“Kinda, yes," Stiles replies, closing the dishwasher with his hip, "I'd rather walk."

"You're overreacting."

Oh no, he is not overreacting. He is everything but overreacting. The last time Theo drove him anywhere, he got way too close, and he's so not going to risk that, not today, not after what happened earlier today. Theo is too close for comfort. They have to work on their distance. Preferably now.

Not that he can tell Jordan about any of that because as much as he wants Theo to leave him the hell alone, he does not want for him to end up being shot by a very protective deputy and his angry hellhound.

"The bus leaves in five minutes," Jordan informs him after a glance at his watch, “and I will extend your grounding if you’re late for school.” 

“Oh my god.” Stiles can’t deal with more days stuck at home, especially if training with Satomi and Noshiko is over. "Fine." Going to school and coming straight home? No, thank you. Not that he minds staying home at all. He simply wants it to be his choice. With a huff, he curls his fingers around the straps of his backpack. “See you later, Jay."

“Have fun,” Jordan replies, amusement clinging to every syllable.

Stiles glares at him then hurries out the door, not waiting for Theo to catch up. Not that his resistance stops Theo in any case. He follows him instantly, steps and keys the only noise in the otherwise empty stairwell. Despite the size of this apartment complex, Stiles is the youngest person living here. The landlord either hates children or he favors people between the ages of twenty and thirty-five - unless they’re a college student. Jordan’s next-door neighbor loves to chat about everything, but especially the stuff happening in here. Stiles really doesn’t want to know what he thinks happened the night when Stiles flung Theo across the living room. 

“You’re in luck,” Theo says darkly before they exit the building. “There’s your chance to keep running.” 

“What’s your fucking problem?” Stiles asks, pulling his hood over his head before shoving the door open. 

A horn sounds before Theo has the chance to answer. “Yo, Stilinski!” Jackson yells out of the barely rolled down window of his new Porsche. “Need a ride?”

“Yes.” Perfect. Absolutely perfect. Grateful for this shot at more distance. 

“See where it gets you!” Theo calls after him as Stiles dashes for the best, yet most unexpected, getaway car he could’ve ever hoped for. Again, he doesn’t turn around. Again, he’s too worried he might not be able to handle the expression matching Theo’s tone. Because Theo doesn’t sound angry. He doesn’t feel angry, not even a little. He’s frustrated with how things are going. Seriously fucking frustrated, and Stiles really isn’t sure how to feel about that. 

Danny turns around in his seat. “He stayed the whole night?” 

“Yes,” Stiles says, fumbling with the seatbelt. “Yes, he did.” 

Jackson glances at him in the rearview mirror. Although his lips twist a little at the wet state Stiles is in, he doesn’t say anything. “Where’s your piece of shit jeep?”

Scowling, Stiles brushes wet hair away from his forehead. “At the garage. Guess being turned upside-down and set ablaze by a hellhound damaged it more than first anticipated.” 

“Hellhound?” Danny asks, his eyebrows climbing high and higher in horror. 

Stiles smiles weakly at him. “Lydia didn’t tell you everything, huh?” 

“No,” Jackson drawls, lips curling into a scowl. “She clearly did not. Who’s a hellhound?” It’s very telling that he sounds more done with everything than actually surprised or disturbed. In fact, he sounds as if he just wants to get over with the introduction to all this madness. Which is understandable. 

Stiles watches the wipers fly over the windscreen with little to no improvement to the sight. “Jordan,” he replies, rubbing his left eyebrow, “although he’s not really a hellhound. It’s more that he’s possessed by one.”

“Oh, yes, that makes it better.” 

Danny sinks into the passenger’s seat. “I remember why I left this town.”

The members of the lacrosse team are a piece of work. The day isn’t half over, and Stiles yanks the third note calling him a traitor of his locker door. It’s not that he’s hurt by it in any way. Not even a little. It’s annoying, and honestly, Stiles wonders why they’re not already tired of it. “This is why I never wanted to be one of the cool kids,” Stiles says, crumbling the piece of paper in his hand. 

“This is exactly why you should be one of the cool kids,” Danny replies, nodding in Jackson’s direction. 

“What’s there to stare at, dickhead?” The freshman Jackson is addressing ducks his head and darts away without another word. It’s not that Stiles doesn’t appreciate the sudden, if not strange, protective streak - and he sure as hell has Lydia to thank for that - but he really doesn’t need it. Not at all. He especially doesn’t need Jackson going around insulting people for him. 

Lydia pats Stiles’ shoulder. “It’ll blow over. It did with Allison and Kate, with me running naked through the woods, and it will with you and Brett.” Out of those three things, the stupid pictures are the least troublesome. Unless you’re a die-hard for lacrosse. Then things are different. 

Fucking nutjobs. 

“When I’m done with them after lacrosse practice today, they’ll stop.” 

Stiles pulls his history textbook out of his locker, glancing at Jackson. "So, Coach did make you captain?" Wouldn't be surprising. Jackson leaving Beacon Hills devastated the guy because he lost one of his two star players. After Danny left as well, it was a miracle Coach didn't quit altogether.

"Co-Captain," Jackson corrects, not without a certain amount of bitterness in his voice. Someone clearly still does not enjoy sharing the top spot. "For now. He'll make his final decision on Friday." He's suddenly next to him, throwing an arm around his shoulders in a way that makes it abundantly clear he's looking for a favor. Stiles might be tired, but he's far from stupid. "And you," he pokes his upper arm, "are my secret weapon."

Danny rolls his eyes. "Here we go."

Lydia laughs and starts walking.

Closing his locker, Stiles follows her with Jackson by his side, who keeps talking about lacrosse of all things, "Coach knows you have potential since that one insane game sophomore year. We'll just tell him I trained you, and you use your abilities for the good of the team." 

Oh god. Stiles cannot handle two people in his life who prioritize lacrosse above all else. "That's called cheating."

Jackson pulls his arm back, jabbing a finger in the direction of his face again. "That's winning, Stilinski. Winning."

“No, that’s overreacting,” Danny tells him, briefly glancing over his shoulder, “it’s a charity game, Jackson. This isn’t about winning, it’s about raising money for people in need.” 

Nobody is surprised when Jackson waves his best friend off. If Liam is to be believed, Coach isn’t much different. No wonder the guy immediately named Jackson co-captain, although it’s the off-season. If Coach makes him the captain of the team, Jackson will torture them the next two weeks, and Stiles is so not in the mood for that. They don’t have time either, or did Jackson already forget about why Lydia asked for their help in the first place?  

"Listen, lacrosse isn’t really high on my list of priorities right now." Before the words left his mouth, Stiles already knew me made a mistake. But he can't take them back now, even though Jackson looks at him as if he just insulted everyone he ever cared about. 

Danny grimaces, then chuckles. 

Huffing out a breath, Jackson shakes his head. "Take one for the team! We need someone who is not above playing dirty every once in a while.” The worst thing about this is that Jackson means every word he says, and it’s hard to tell if that’s supposed to be an actual compliment or a backhanded one. 

Stiles can tell he’s not going to get out of this conversation unless he at very least pretends to agree. “I’ll think about it.” 

“Great!” Jackson smacks his shoulder, either underestimating his werewolf strength or overestimating Stiles’ supernatural resistance. Either way, it’s hard enough to knock the wind out of him. “See you on the field.” So much for giving him time to consider his options.

For some reason, Stiles gets the feeling he’s not going to get out of this one. Well, another near-death experience might do the trick, but he’s kind of over those. Two are enough for the foreseeable future. With a sigh, Stiles enters the empty history classroom. Well, not quite as empty as he anticipated before entering. “Tracy,” he says, stopping near the door, “what are you doing here?” Stiles has no idea what classes she takes, but it for sure isn’t AP World History. Theo does, though, so she might be waiting for him. 

“He was desperate, you know?” Tracy’s lips curl into a cruel smile. Not waiting for Theo then. Fantastic. “He couldn’t fuck me fast enough while you were hospitalized.” His stomach contorts at her words, and Stiles hates himself for it. This shouldn’t get to him. He shouldn’t be jealous of Tracy’s unrequited love, and Theo’s destructive sexual mannerisms. He shouldn’t be bothered by Theo putting sex above Stiles’ health. After all, he knows that all of this is about power and nothing but power.

But that was also the day Brett took his pain. Theo told him he acts out when he’s jealous. He told him- no. No. No, Stiles will not let his thoughts get away from him. He will not get his hopes up. He will not be that person. It feels overly defensive when he hugs the textbook to his chest, even though Stiles is aware he only does it so he stops himself from chucking it in her face. “I really don’t give a shit about what you and Theo do and don’t do in the bedroom.” Knowing that’s not going to change her mind, Stiles tries to get to his desk.

Tracy steps in his way. “He’s quiet during,” she whispers, leaning a little towards him with her arms crossed and that fucking smile still on her lips. It looks like a bad copy of Theo’s presumptuous smirk. It doesn’t look nearly as good on her as it does on him. “He’s quiet until he comes. That’s when he can’t keep his act up.” Well, that’s not new information, yet it’s nothing Stiles wants to hear. He doesn’t want to know anything about Theo’s sex life. Not even a little. He doesn’t want to know how he is in bed. 

“Good for you,” Stiles replies, trying to get past her.

Again, Tracy steps in his way. “I just thought you should know.” 

Don’t engage, Stiles reminds himself. She just wants a fucking reaction. She wants him to- well, fuck, he doesn’t know what the hell she wants. Tell her Theo loves her? Tell her she is everything Theo cares about? Because she’s not. They can have as much sex as they want to, Stiles just really doesn’t want to know about it. “Listen, if you’re cool with being used, that’s great, but let me give you a head’s up,” he says, nails digging into the cover of his book, “have fun as long as you can because it won’t last. Theo doesn’t care about you. He cares about power. He’ll break your heart because someone will come along who’s much more useful to him.”

So much for not engaging.

Tracy's eyes flash yellow. "You mean nothing to him."

"I don't understand why I'm part of this conversation," Stiles tells her, slowly getting more and more annoyed. The last thing he wants is for anyone to hear what she's talking about. One rumor at a time is more than enough. "If you're worried because he's babysitting me, it was Theo's idea, and he's sleeping on the couch." Why is he defending himself? It's so stupid. Tracy just needs to wake up.

"I'm not going to lose him just because he's obsessed with your power."

Hating himself for it, Stiles takes a step back. She's getting angrier by the second, and Stiles doesn't want to be close when she loses her temper. “I’m really not interested in your relationship drama.” Or in getting into a fight for that matter. His karma has to be tremendously bad because every single time he leaves the house, something goes fucking wrong. It’s as if he’s a magnet for bullshit.   

“I’m not going to lose him to you,” Tracy says, curling her hand into a fist. 

Stiles huffs out a breath. "Get off my case. He's fucking you, isn't he?" He waves his hand around, pushes through the ache that comes with learning he's attracted to another person who fucks somebody else. "What else do you want from me? I’m not calling him, I’m not hitting on him, I don’t even want him at the flat. So, as I said, if you’re down to being used, I’m not standing in yo-” he stops mid-sentence when it hits him. 

That’s when he can’t keep his act up. Stiles thought she was talking about his ever so cool and patronizing behavior. But what if it’s not? What if it’s-

She punches him, hard and unapologetic, confirming his suspicion. Pain explodes behind his eyes, and Stiles stumbles back a few steps, dropping his book to save his rapidly dwindling balance. “Fuck.” Despite her threat last Saturday, Stiles didn’t believe she would go through with it, not after Theo’s warning. It looks like Tracy is more of a loose cannon than previously anticipated. Wonderful. Because a jealous affair is precisely what he needs on top of everything else.

Without saying anything else, Tracy walks out of the classroom, leaving Stiles alone with a cocktail of emotions he didn’t ask for. Grinding his teeth, he inspects his cheek in the reflection of the window. It’s red, angry, and tender to the touch. He winces as his fingers brush over the irritated skin. A bit of blood clings to his fingertips. But the pain is irrelevant, as is Tracy’s pain. It doesn’t touch him as it probably should. Although he doesn’t owe her anything, he knows exactly how much it hurts when someone you crush on is interested in somebody else. Yet both are pushed away by the fact that Theo moaned his name. His name. He can’t fake that, right? That means… something. 

Stiles closes his eyes, licks his lips, and tries to push the feelings down again. It doesn’t change anything just because he won a battle Tracy started. But he won. It’s the simple, yet undeniable truth. The flood of feelings blindsides him, and Stiles has to lean his face against the cool window, taking a deep breath. He can’t help the grin sneaking onto his lips. Fucking hell. It doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t change anything at all.

His fingers find his cheek again, the sting of pain more intense with his eyes closed. 

“Touching an open wound raises the risk of infection.” 

Stiles opens his eyes. Theo’s reflection smiles at him, and Stiles turns, swallowing around the lump in his throat. His fingertips itch to touch Theo, touch his face, the stubble on his chin and jaw and cheek. He has to remind himself that nothing has changed between them just because Theo thought about him during sex. Taking a steadying breath, Stiles crosses his arms instead. “This is your fucking fault, you know that, right?” He turns away with a frown. 

“Hey,” Theo says, and it’s the gentle tone that stops Stiles from walking away, not the hand on his arm. “Let me see.”

He’ll heal. He’ll be healed before class starts, so it doesn’t matter. “God, screw you, Theo,” Stiles says, but his words lack any heat. 

Maybe that’s why Theo risks pulling him even closer. “Let me see.” He cups Stiles’ cheek with his free hand, thumb brushing over his skin just underneath the bruise - or the bruise-to-be if not for his supernatural healing. Despite himself, Stiles leans into the touch and closes his eyes at the familiar tug on his nerves when Theo takes his pain. “I’ll talk to her.” 

Stiles sighs, trying to ignore the uncomfortable feeling of his skin, knitting itself back together. “You’ll make everything worse.” 

“I will not-”

“And how about,” Stiles says, bringing his hands up to push Theo away from him because he has to, because he cannot choose the other option, “you don’t moan my name when you fuck her?” The words feel as if they claw their way out of his throat. Every single one hurts more than Tracy’s punch ever could. Not giving in is the right thing to do, but it hurts so much to know that Theo already has someone to crawl into bed with.

Theo looks just as torn as Stiles feels. “Stiles, I-”

“No, leave me the fuck alone, and deal with your whore.” The words taste bitter on his tongue. Stiles despises himself for saying them, for calling Tracy that. It’s not her fault. It’s not her fucking fault Theo plays them both. It’s not her fault they’re both stupid enough to fall for it. 

Anger clouds Theo’s expression. His grip tightens around Stiles’ upper arm, and he doesn’t let go when he tries pulling away. “You’re one to talk,” Theo snarls, eyes burning yellow for a split second. “Don’t play innocent, Stiles.” 

“You’re hurting me.” 

With a growl, Theo lets go of him, watching with bared teeth as Stiles scrambles to get away from him, panicked and angry and confused. This is why he’s unable to get rid of the hesitation, of the doubt, this is why he cannot trust himself around Theo because this is wrong, because he shouldn’t allow someone close who doesn’t mind hurting him every time he’s pissed about something. When Stiles curls a hand around his upper arm, covering the spot he gripped too hard, Theo seems to have realized what he’s done. “Stiles, I’m-”

“No,” he cuts him off, straightening, “if your chimeras let you get away with this bullshit, that’s on them, but I won’t. You hear me? I won’t.” There, that came out exactly as he wanted it. Firm, strong, and without the quiver that desperately wants to sneak into Stiles’ voice. The fact that it’s there in the first place is bad enough. He’ll never forgive himself if Theo hears it. 

Theo swallows. “I’m sorry.”

“Screw you.” 

For the flicker of a second, something crosses over Theo’s features, Stiles hasn’t seen like that before. Only a moment later, his features harden again, shifting into an emotionless mask. “Okay,” he says in an almost defeated tone, “I’ll give you space if that’s what you want.” Theo stays there, looks at him, expecting a response Stiles won’t allow slipping past his lips. With a nod, Theo turns away and walks back to the door tossing Stiles’ textbook on a random desk before vanishing. 

Stiles lets out a shaky breath and hides his face in his hands. 

Kira pokes him gently with her lacrosse stick. “I’m glad you chose to play again.” 

That makes two. Jackson was over the moon when Stiles showed up in the locker room. Good thing he always keeps a clean set of clothes in his locker, or maybe it’s not such a good thing. It depends on how well the practice is going to go. Considering Gabe has it out for him, Stiles doubts it’ll be a great experience, especially considering that the guy is currently defending, and Stiles is on edge ever since his confrontation with Theo. Every little thing causes him to blow up. He even lost his shit in the hallway just because Gabe was clearly trying to get a reaction. The whole point of his and his friend’s reenactment of those stupid pictures was to coax Stiles into doing something stupid, and he did. If Danny hadn’t been there, Stiles would’ve broken his nose. Instead, the whole situation ended up with Gabe banging into his locker, and Mrs. Finch choosing that exact second to come around the corner. Of course, she sent him straight to Natalie. Not the best thing that could’ve happened on his first day back, but she promised not to say anything if he promised to keep his temper in check.

Luckily, he could hide out in the library afterward, but even then. Every noise set his teeth on edge, even the sound of a pen scratching over paper, someone laughing, quiet whispers. Stiles isn’t usually like this. But Theo just- this fucking asshole gets to him. “Yeah,” he says, massaging his upper arm absentmindedly, “Jackson didn’t exactly give me a choice.” 

“Damn straight.” 

Kira looks over her shoulder with a chuckle. These two are truly an odd combination, and Stiles cannot wait to see their relationship unfold. To be fair, he cannot wait to see how Jackson settles back into his old life now that he’s changed - deep down, at the very least. Stiles doesn’t mind the familiar behavior. It’s strangely comforting, and he takes it over everything else. 

“What’s he doing here?” Liam asks from in front of Stiles and nods in the direction of the bleachers. 

Oh no. Theo sits down a row behind Lydia and Mason. His expression is impossible to read from the distance, but the tense line his shoulders are in speaks for itself. 

“He brought his entourage,” Jackson notes, watching the chimera pack settle on the bleachers. 

Well, not the whole pack. Tracy’s absence is like a ray of sunshine on a rainy day. Which is oddly fitting, seeing that the sky only cleared two hours before lacrosse practice started. The pitch is in the muddiest of conditions, but Stiles’ mood lightens when he sees Hayden and Corey to Theo’s left while Josh is sitting on his right. He wonders what he said to her, if he told her to stay away, or if it was Tracy’s decision. To be perfectly honest, Stiles would be fine with either option. 

Coach’s whistle brings his attention back to what’s happening in front of him. Mud flies into the air when Liam dashes towards the goal. 

“Is he going to stay at yours tonight as well?” Kira asks. 

Stiles twists the lacrosse stick in his hand. Watching Liam easily outsmart Gabe and Scott, he nods. “Yeah, Jordan has his last nightshift,” he replies as Danny catches the shot, “and if Theo is one thing, it’s persistent.” 

Coach whistles again, and Stiles picks the ball off the floor. Gabe is the weaker of the two, although he’s pretty decent when it comes to defensive work, Stiles has to give him that. But in the end, it comes down to werewolf versus human, and he promised Jackson to cheat just enough to make first-line and ensure his position as captain. The guy moved from London back to this hellhole, it’s the least he can do. 

He’s watched Brett play with his opponents often enough to know how to confuse them, and their team sucks enough that he doesn’t need to be half as good as Brett to slip past Gabe without much of a problem. That he doesn’t even have to tap into his kitsune speed would be a mildly disconcerting discovery if he gave a shit about lacrosse. 

Gabe sees the same problem, or perhaps his problem is Stiles himself. The end of a lacrosse stick slams against his ankle. Stiles' foot catches on it, and he's losing his balance quickly. There's nothing to stop himself, so all he can really do is prepare for impact, but he’s not going to go down without at least trying to shoot a goal. Struggling to keep his feet underneath him, Stiles adjusts his hands on the lacrosse stick and shoots his shot, then he connects hard with the muddy underground. His elbows connect first, and although he wears protective gear, he can feel it in his bones. The impact knocks the wind out of him. The lacrosse stick clutters away.

Coach’s whistle goes off in the distance. “That’s the spirit!”

He scored. Or Danny let him score. Either way. This is perfect. His shot at the very least went in the correct direction, and that’s all that matters. Even if Danny had caught it. Wonderful. 

"Are you okay?" Scott asks.

Stiles slams his hands onto the ground and pushes to his feet. "I'm fine." He picks up the lacrosse stick and turns, locking eyes with Gabe. This jackass chose the wrong day to mess with him. “I hope you like the view from the bench.” He doesn’t care about lacrosse, but he does enjoy his petty acts of revenge. If it means he has to play first-line, then so be it. Jackson isn’t wrong. A little bit of cheating doesn’t hurt when it leads to winning. 

Scott steps closer. “Stiles-”

“Fuck you,” Gabe spits.

"No, thank you." Stiles keeps his voice slow, steady, and unwavering. "You're not my type."

Throwing his lacrosse stick to the ground, Gabe advances on him. "You piece of shit."

Stiles curls his hands around the lacrosse stick, his body poised to attack. Maybe it's the lack of sleep, maybe it's his frustration with Theo and everything going on, maybe it's just Gabe fucking up his temper, but Stiles allows a smirk to curl around his lips as he stares the other down, unimpressed by the inches the other boy has on him. He hopes Gabe will make a move, just so he can fight back, just so he can break his fucking face. 

Coach yelling at them from a distance is probably the only thing that keeps Gabe from punching him.

It’s Scott who gets in-between them, but it's Stiles he pulls away by his upper arm. “Stop it.” 

“Oh, fuck you.” Stiles pushes him away with his elbow, yanking his arm out of his grip. Part of him wishes he’d be surprised that Scott chose to talk to him, that Scott somehow thought that he should be the one told off even though Gabe clearly started it. Not that he’s going to mention that. He isn’t a kindergartener needing to point fingers. 

With a little shake of his head, Scott regards him almost sternly. “You’re better than that.” 

“No,” Stiles shoots back, curling his lips, “I’m not, and I don’t pretend that I am, Scott.” Deliberately bumping into Gabe, he walks away from both of them feeling equally satisfied and disappointed. Disappointed because he would’ve enjoyed yanking Gabe off his high horse. Satisfied because there’s no guilt crawling up his spine after disappointing Scott. He’s done with that, done living up to impossible standards, done putting others in front of him. If it’s not his fault, he’s not going to make it his job to fix it. So, if Gabe thinks he can run all over him because he takes lacrosse a bit too seriously, he’ll have to deal with the consequences. People need to learn that he’s not a fucking doormat. He’s not going to be used, he’s not going to be kept small, and he’s not going to ignore other peoples’ bullshit any longer; not Scott’s, not Gabe’s, and especially not Theo’s. 

“Slow and steady now,” Satomi says, folding her hands on her left thigh. “Think it, picture it.” 

Brett throws a slice of tangerine in his mouth. “Yeah, make that rope your bitch.” 

Despite himself, Stiles snorts out a laugh, and the rope drops back onto the table like a deadweight. That much he’s learned, the second he’s distracted, whatever magic he’s casting dies the very same second. Which is just super for someone like him. Stiles has no idea how he’ll ever be successful at this. 

Jordan sighs. “You’re not helping.” 

After plopping the last slice in his mouth, Brett grins. “I’m not used to being a cheerleader.” 

“Just shut up,” Isaac tells him, catching the tangerine Kira tosses him. All three of them have a questionable obsession with tangerines, that much is obvious. 

Satomi gestures towards the rope. “Again.” 

Nodding, Stiles takes a deep breath. He can’t help but be a bit pissed off at himself. When he had to use mountain ash back in the day, he did it on his first try. It just worked. No ifs, no buts, no struggles. Now, he’s this useless idiot who makes a rope float or jiggle. Both are better than ripping it, but it’s not the goal. What did he do differently back then? Nothing, right? He had the powder in his hand, he closed his eyes, and he did it.

Wait. 

He had the powder in his hand. 

Stiles reaches for the rope and lays it in the palms of his hands. If touching it does the trick, he’s going to take that as a win. Once he has the hang of this, he can work his way up to silently staring at shit. At this point, even baby steps are progress. Today, he will not give up until he’s solved this problem. He’s going to unknot this rope, no matter how long it is going to take him. Closing his eyes, Stiles focuses on the soft humming in his veins and the rope in his hands. 

“Okay,” Stiles whispers, shifting in his seat. “Okay.”

Taking another breath, Stiles pushes everything else from his mind, focusing on the rope in his hand. Its weight, its rough texture, and most importantly, the heavy knot sitting on his hands. No. Not the knot. The ends of the rope. He can’t force the knot to untie itself from the inside out, but he did try that, so, of course, he tore the stupid thing apart. 

Has he really been defeated by logic all this time?

Stiles places the knot in his left hand and wraps his fingers around the right end of the rope. This is how he solves the problem. It's not just magic, it's logic, and he's good at that. He's good at solving problems. 

The weight of the heavy knot lifts off his hand, but he can still feel the ghost of a touch against his skin. For a moment, the end of the rope twitches then slips through his fingers. Yes. Stiles opens his eyes to watch it unfold, watch as both ends of the rope are slowly pulled back towards the knot, as everything works backward because he told it to. 

“Holy shit,” he breathes.

Kira beams at him. 

The rope straightens and hovers in the air for a few seconds before dropping in a pile onto his thighs. “I did it!” Stiles exclaims, fist-bumping the air because finally. Day three, and he got it right. It was about fucking time. 

Isaac high-fives him, and Brett uses the chance to steal his tangerine. 

Satomi nods. “I want you to practice with little things as often as you can. It shouldn’t take long until it becomes second nature.” 

“How come?” Jordan asks. 

“Kitsunes have a steep learning curve,” Noshiko answers, entering the room, and places a hand on Kira’s shoulder. “Once we have a feeling for our fox, everything comes naturally to us.” Makes sense, kind of. Kira learned how to wield a katana insanely fast. 

There’s just one tiny problem. “Well, but I’m not really a kitsune, am I?” 

Noshiko offers him a small smile. “The fox and the magic the ley lines offer you are one. Neither can exist without the other. That means if you can control one, you will be able to control the other.” To be honest, that’s hard to believe. Mostly because it would be the one good thing after one shitstorm after the other. “And since you can control your magic now, you should be able to handle the bo staff Ken created for you.” 

Nice. “Where is it?” 

“You call it.”

Stiles squints at Satomi. “I call it?”

Isaac exchanges a quick glance with Brett, who shrugs, too invested in rolling the tangerine back and forth on the palm of his hand. It must be riveting.

“Don’t worry. It is made out of parts of the nemeton,” Satomi explains with a smile. “It’ll come to you if you need it.”   

That’s not quite as reassuring as they might think it is, but they’re both very relaxed about it. So, Stiles trusts them on their word, and if they’re right, Stiles shouldn’t be running into a lot of trouble with that any longer. Which would be preferable, to be honest. Stiles is already loving magic. A lot. It would be a bummer if it deserts him when he needs it the most. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

Satomi crosses her legs. “There isn’t much more I can teach you,” she says, and Stiles places the tanbō on his thighs, “so I will do so briefly. Magic has rules.” As everything has in the supernatural world. The balance slowly makes more and more sense, the more he learns about everything. He wishes they’d bothered doing so earlier on. How many problems could they have avoided if they bothered to study the rules of the supernatural world instead of running around like headless chickens? “You can use your surroundings for creation and destruction, but you cannot manifest anything that doesn’t already exist. The ley lines will not allow such a disruption to the balance.”

"Hate to break it to you," Brett says, tossing the unpeeled tangerine from one hand to the other with the enthusiasm of a dead slug, "but that means murder is off the table as well."

Stiles contemplates the rope in his hand before dropping it with a sigh. "And there goes my Friday night."

Groaning in frustration, Isaac buries his face in a pillow while Jordan is massaging his temples. “Please,” the latter mutters, “can you two take this seriously?”

“I am,” they say in unison, although Brett is clearly much more offended by the statement. They’re all a bit sensible, probably because they’ve spent way too much time together in the last few days. “Okay,” Stiles waves his hand around, “I’m sorry, and I have a question. So, I can’t kill anyone?” 

Satomi shakes her head. “The ley lines neither support murder nor resurrection.” 

Huh. Good to know. But he did severely hurt Theo. In fact, he did break his neck. Wouldn’t that count as killing? Unless maybe it doesn’t count because he can’t be killed like that. “And there’s no way around that?”

“There can be accidents, but as soon as the ley lines notice an inclination to kill, they will refuse to cooperate.” Because the nemeton exists to keep the balance. 

Stiles nods. “Okay, so, basically, light weakens me, darkness does the opposite.” As pain does, probably, but he can’t tell, and he sure as hell won’t mention it right now because there still is the risk that Satomi and Noshiko don’t know. If that’s the case, there’s a reason for that. Stiles really doesn’t want to make this awkward. Not when they’re all getting along so well. “I cannot kill someone or bring them back to life, and I can’t create stuff out of thin air.” He scratches the back of his head. “Did I miss something?” 

Shaking her head, Satomi straightens. “That would be it for now.” 

“Cool, okay… thanks.” Stiles can’t believe he did it. He actually managed to accomplish something in the supernatural department. It feels like it took him forever, when in truth, he learned all this in less than a week. The nemeton died barely six days ago, and Stiles went from nothing to being in tune with the ley lines, to finding his own balance, to using magic. 

Things are finally looking up. Here’s to hoping it stays that way, at least for a little while.  

chapter 27 | chapter 28

[bangtan-gal]

Wide-Eyed Wonder h.js

Word Count: 2.6k Warnings: fluff, angst, swearing, this was most definitely left on a cliff hanger lol A/N: yeah, I’ll probably write a part two to this

Masterlist Part 2 | Part 3

“You asshole, you can’t do this to me! We paid for this tog—”

The door slammed shut in your face.

Your eyes widened, your breath catching as you stared at the wooden door in front of you. It only took a second for the rage to override the shock and you started banging furiously on the door.  He ignored you of course, his footsteps so loud as he walked away that you could even hear them over your pounding. Your hand fell away, just staring at the dark, mahogany door that you used to open to greet friends.

Friends, you laughed dryly at that thought. They were his friends, never yours, so they never owed anything to you. They never owned telling you that maybe, just maybe, your fucking fiancé was cheating with you on some highschool dropout. 

The walk to your car felt worse than humiliating. None of your neighbors were outside, but you knew they were there: peering out from behind their silk, hand-made curtains, noses turned up. You slid into the driver’s seat, your leggings squeaking against the leather seats of the Prius. They were probably glad to see you go, considering you were the outsider.

Before you had started dating Nico, your life wasn’t any simpler. If anything, it was more complicated, more expensive than the life you lead with the bastard. But the past shouldn’t be your problem, your problem should be now. Now, because he had kicked you out of your shared house (although you actually made for more of it than he did) and you had nowhere to return to. Your parents had disowned you when you followed your heart and the job that been promised to you was taken.

The white iron gates stood tall and proud before you as you drove towards them. As you started to slow to a stop, you noticed Mr. Ryunsoo working on his lawn. He waved as you drove by, a genuine smile sparkling on his face. You waved back, although you found it hard to smile in return. Mr. Ryunsoo had been the only nice person to you at the neighborhood cook-outs and parties, along with his son who occasionally turned up.

Probably the only one who didn’t know you were leaving. 

    The gates opened and you took a breath, knowing that once you drove through them, they would close behind you and you would never be welcomed back. You continued on, teeth digging into your bottom lip. They screeched as they closed behind you and your hands tightened on the wheel, a shaky breath escaping you. 

    You reached for your phone, quickly dialing your friend’s number. The only person you actually trusted at the moment. He probably wasn’t happy with you—he told you not to trust Nico—but maybe you were taking advantage of his kindness. It rang for only a few seconds and then he picked up.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” Mark gasped.

You snorted. “Why do you immediately assume I’m in danger or something?”

“You rarely call and most especially not at this hour,” he explained. Your eyes strayed to the clock on your dashboard, it was very early. 

“Okay, well, things aren’t going as well as… hoped. I-I kind of need a place to crash tonight? And maybe for a few days,” you mumbled, slowing to a stop. Mark’s parents owned a hotel and he was slowly transitioning into the CEO position. He had gotten you a room last minute plenty of times before. 

“Yeah, I have your usual room ready,” he murmured, his voice growing softer. Something told you he already knew exactly what happened. Mark knew you too well and considering you didn’t sound like the other times you and Nico had fought, he probably realized it was over. 

And he wouldn’t ask questions.

“Thanks Mark,” you whispered, “see you soon.”

“Yeah, bye.”

    Mark wasn’t there when you arrived at the hotel. You were partially glad as you trudged up to the simple room on the second floor and stepped into the shower right away. There was nothing special about the room itself; it looked just like every other one, it wasn’t a suite, and nothing significant happened there. It was just a coincidence; Mark had put you there the first three times without realizing it and from then on, it just became your room. 

    He had texted you, saying that he wouldn’t be in until tomorrow, leaving you to do whatever you pleased. Although you were tired and would’ve rather stayed there in bed all day, you couldn’t. You knew you couldn’t because if you did, that would leave you with no choice but to grieve. 

    It was hard to explain your relationship with Nico. At first, it had been as tentative friends to an even more tentative relationships. Then it expanded and at some point you had loved it, or at least, thought you loved him. But in the past few months, it felt more like a fraud. Something went missing and that was when the fighting really began. Part of you wasn’t shocked when you woke up this morning to find three boxes—which barely made up a third of your stuff—shoved gracelessly into the back of your Prius. 

You were more shocked by Nico’s nerve.

You had paid for most of the house.

Almost all of that furniture was yours.

Two of the cars in the garage were yours. 

The only thing Nico did was ask you to marry him.

You gave him the illusion of control. Just because you had lost your position at your parents' firm in the past year, didn’t mean you didn’t have money. The designer you worked part time for paid better than people could guess. Along with that, you weren’t stupid. You saved money more than you spent it. You still had the spare key to the house and the day you stomp back into that house with a couple movers will probably be the greatest day of your life.

Your phone rang.

“Allegra!” You chirped, when you answered the phone. Your best friend, who was currently studying in London, was probably the last person you wanted to talk to. You had a tendency to cry whenever the two of you talked because she always said when she got home she’d beat the crap out of Nico.

“Are you busy?”

“No…” “Fabulous, meet me at McDonalds!” Then she hung up.

Your mouth dropped open.

+++++

You should’ve drove.

    You’d learned long ago that this part of the city could be dangerous if you were the right person in the wrong place. You were reminded of this lesson as you stood facing a wall, the barrel of a gun pressed to the back of your head. It was impossible to tell just how many of them there were, but there had to be at least two. Your jacket and small purse had been taken from you and out of the corner of your eye, you could see your chapstick rolling on the ground. 

    Sure, it was midday, but that obviously didn’t stop these guys. The city wasn’t exactly crowded at a time like this and since the police didn’t patrol until night, they probably had a better chance now than any other time. It wasn’t cold, but shivers continued to race up and down your spine. 

“Dude,” one of them whispered, “we can sell this jacket for a crap ton. I bet the same goes for her clothes.”

You weren’t crying before, but the idea of being stripped down just so they could sell your clothes made tears start to prick at the corner of your eyes.

    Whoever held the gun to your head quietly hummed and he tugged on the back of your shirt. Your teeth tore into your bottom lip and something metallic spread along your tongue. One tear slid along your cheek and you sniffed, your head dropping. 

“Hey, no mov—”

“You two need to fuck off.”

You stiffened as a new voice rang down the alleyway. The person who stood behind you shifted and the gun moved away from your head. A breath of cautious relief escaped you, but it was brief when you noticed your savoir had nothing on him. He held a grocery bag in one hand and there was no sign of a weapon. 

“Oh god,” you whispered, your forehead falling against the wall. One of the crooks said something, but your heart pounded too loudly in your head. You should’ve just drove. 

A gun went off and there was a flash of light. It sounded like something had quietly popped and you found it impossible to move. You were suddenly freezing and your body shook, vision swimming. A hand landed on your shoulder.

“Are you alright?”

You glanced over your shoulder, shocked to see the the boy instead of one of the dickwads. There was no sign of them, only several feathers floating around, your coat, and purse. Your mouth opened and closed. Then the world went black around you.

“Y/N, Y/N you need to wake up.” The voice sounded far away as it called your name. But it was loud enough and strong enough to drag you from your sleep. A male figure hovered over you and at first, you thought it was Mark, but as your vision cleared, you realized it was the boy who saved your ass. The two of you stared at each other, your heart racing and words stuck in your throat. 

    You had meant to say thank you, but instead the world spun too fast and nothing was able to come out. You really had meant to and you weren’t planning on throwing your arms around the boy’s neck and pulling him in, your lips crashing together in the most unplanned, sloppy kiss on the planet. He was surprised, his whole body stiffening against yours as he was pulled close. It took a second, but then you realized just exactly what you were doing, and you pulled back.

“Shit, I am so sorry,” you gasped, “I don’t-don’t know w—”

“It’s fine, honestly. I-er-it’s a normal symptom of shock,” he mumbled, two fingers pressing to his lips. A few nervous gasps escaped him and his cheeks were bright red. He couldn’t meet your gaze as he looked around the room. You looked around as well, quickly realizing you were in your hotel room. It should’ve shocked you, but you stayed calm. 

It was silent for only a few seconds before there was a banging on your door.

“Y/N! Are you alive?” You recognized Mark’s voice immediately. You scrambled up and then awkwardly pointed to the boy. 

“You need to hide or find a way to leave, I don’t know, bu—”

“I can’t leave you,” he interrupted, standing up and shaking his head. He seemed taller than you remembered and there was a glow around him. You shook your head, brushing it off as the sunlight. 

“Well, for one, you probably can’t leave right now, but I need you to hide. And for two, you can and will leave me once he’s gone,” you hissed and then pointed to the closet. 

“Y/N!” Mark’s voice grew louder.

The boy peeked behind him, confusion running along his face. His blonde hair fell into his eyes as he looked back at you. Then he shook his head. You grabbed his wrist, dragging him towards the closet. The door creaked as you ripped it open and tried to shove him in. The blonde was stronger than he looked as he easily resisted you

“You lug, you have to!” You snapped. Mark’s banging grew more desperate and you were sure that any second the door would burst open. 

“Y/N, I can’t leave you unprotected!” He retorted, his voice loud enough that Mark probably heard him. You managed to shove him in and the shut the dingy wooden door behind him. 

“We can talk later, but just stay quiet,” you muttered through the door. Just as you started to walk back towards your hotel door, it burst open. Mark stood there, holding a key card in his hand and looking distraught as his eyes ran along the length of the room. He spotted you and breath of relief fell from him, his arms wrapping around you tightly when he reached you.

“God, I thought you did something stupid,” he mumbled. You nodded nervously, glancing over your shoulder towards the closet. Blondie hadn’t tried to open door the yet thankfully. 

 “Mark, I’m fine… I guess I kind of expected it,” you sighed, pushing the black-haired boy away. He nodded, clearing his throat and looking around the room. 

“He kicked you out?” His voice was quiet. You nodded and then shrugged.

“I have movers on speed dial and my lawyer and I’ll be happily taking my stuff sooner or later,” you explained, “but… uh, Mark, I kind of have to shower, so if you could leave?”

He paused for a moment and then nodded.

    Once the door closed behind you, the closet door banged open. The blonde stood there, looking more confused than angry and it was kind of cute. Then you sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose, realizing that he had a lot of explaining to do. 

“What do you mean, you have to protect me?” You asked as he slowly sat down on the bed. He was quiet for a second, nibbling on his lip.

“I… interfered,” he stated softly, “I shouldn’t have, you were supposed to die, but I just couldn’t sit by and watch. So therefore, I’ve placed my mark on you and it means I have to protect you until natural causes claim you.”

It made zero sense.

“Huh?”

“My name is Jisung, I am an archangel”—you started to laugh—“you were supposed to die, but I changed your fate. Therefore… I’ve marked you and so now you’re like a beacon for all the bad things out there.”

Your laughter continued, but you swallowed it when his eyes started to glow. It was an electric blue and the way he tilted his head had your stomach twisting. It then hit you that it was nighttime and there was no way he could be glowing because of the sunlight. Your jaw clenched, fingers digging into the palm of your hand. 

“What… bad things?” You forced the question out. But as Jisung continued to stare at you without answering your question, you got your answer. As a kid, you’d learned and knew a lot about demons and angels. You’d even believed in them. You stared back, your hand covering your mouth. “Oh my god.”

    You sat down on the bed, burning holes into the wall. He was being serious, you could feel it, it radiated from him. The angel’s steps were light as he approached, coming to stand before you. His fingers pushed your chin up, so you were looking at him. He smiled lightly.

“Y/N, I’m an archangel for a reason, you’ll be fine,” he whispered and crouched down in front of you. His face hovered mere inches from. It was unconscious, so you didn’t realize until too late that you were leaning towards him. Unlike your kiss five minutes ago, this one was more tentative. Your lips brushed against his and then pressed slowly. 

He pulled back with a shaky laugh.

“It’s the angel aura,” he explained as you sat in a confused, light daze, “you’re probably not attracted to me. It’s just the pull of power that attracts humans to me.”

“Oh,” you mumbled, a blush spreading over your face.

He grinned. “Yeah, you’ll have to watch out for that.”

Then his expression turned serious.

“I will protect you Y/N.”

[kusunogatari]

[ ObiRyū October | Day Two | Never Enough Caffeine ] [ @abyssaldespair ] [ Uchiha Obito, Hatake Kakashi, Suigin Ryū ] [ Verse: Of Monsters and Men ] [ Vulgarity, Gore, Death ]

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Sitting at a diner counter, Obito nurses his fourth cup of coffee since he arrived an hour ago. He swears he’s resorted to it for so long now, it’s losing its potency.

It’s what he gets for adapting a mostly-nocturnal lifestyle anymore despite his very human want to sleep when it’s dark. But, well...that was the choice he made, in the end.

Not a very popular one, but...he has his reasons.

One of which is the reason he’s sitting here...and has been sitting here for the better part of the last hour. You’d think by now he’d know not to take Kakashi at his word and just...arrive at least thirty minutes later than his friend tells him to.

He’d waste a lot less time waiting on him that way, but...Obito tries his best to be punctual. Even when others aren’t. Used to be a bad habit when he was a kid, but things change as you get older.

Which is why the previously-prompt Hatake is now usually the one running late.

Hearing the door jingle, Obito glances to it and scowls. “Finally.”

“Sorry, sorry...had a small errand come up I couldn’t say no to,” Kakashi offers in way of excuses as he sits atop the stool beside his friend.

“...uh huh. You know you can just tell me you’re late. The reason doesn’t really matter, it’s all bullshit half the time anyway.”

“You wound me. You think I’d lie to you?”

Obito just deadpans at him. “...do we have a job tonight, or not? Because if not, I can find better things to do than sit here drinking bottomless coffee.”

“Not feeling chipper tonight?” Kakashi asks as he rummages through a deep interior coat pocket.

“Not really, no. There’s never enough caffeine before running a job with you.”

“Ha,” is the dry reply as he finally fishes out what he’s looking for. “Got a tip about a seedy place downtown said to be up to no good.”

“What kind of no good?” Obito asks, watching as Kakashi sets down a manilla envelope, from which he starts fetching documents and pictures.

“Harvesting organs kind of no good.”

Obito’s nose immediately wrinkles. “...human, or…?”

“Nightwalker. Maybe some humans on the side, but this operation appears to be focusing primarily on non-human trade. Quite a few in-the-know humans - and even some Nightwalkers - believe in that hocus-pocus bogey crap. You know, like...a vampire’s liver will help you live longer, or if you want to up your sex life, you grate some -”

“Okay okay - I get it,” Obito cuts in, grimacing. “So it’s like...natural medicines and such? Like rare animal parts, but...Nightwalkers.”

“Mhm. Nasty business. A lot of innocent Nightwalkers end up butchered, packaged, and auctioned off in the black markets. Enforcers do their best to shut these kinds of places down, but as soon as you bust one ring, another pops up to take its place. Like damn roaches,” Kakashi mutters. “While I can’t confirm it, I suspect I lost some acquaintances growing up to these real monsters. Kids would just...vanish off the street. And that never meant anything good.”

“Well...I guess that’s why we’re around,” Obito replies, looking over the pictures. A few are of a building’s exterior, one or two of an interior, and others of confiscated organs, limbs, and even an entire body with an empty torso, already harvested. “...fuck, that’s nasty.”

“Yeah, hence why you and I are going to tear this place apart.”

“Just the two of us?”

“It’s still a small operation, just a handful of runners and one actual mortician. But that’s part of why it’s been handed to us.”

Obito perks a curious brow.

“She’s like you.”

His face then goes slack in surprise. “...what?”

“Mhm. Thing is, we’re not sure how yet, just that she is. Which makes her especially dangerous for any Nightwalker to confront.”

“...so you’re leaving that to me, instead.”

“You have the best odds. Your control over space and time gives you an edge I’ll never have. Sure, I’ve got good senses and sharp teeth, but if she’s got any skill in Taming, those won’t be any use to me.” Kakashi then gives his friend a serious look. “...she could even turn me against you.”

“I know...but she’d have to be pretty damn strong to do that.”

“Still, it’s not something we can risk. So I’ll be handling the runners and making sure none get away. You will take on the witch.”

“Don’t have to make it sound like such a dirty word, you know. You might offend me.”

Putting the intel away, Kakashi just chuckles. “I don’t think it’s possible to offend you. You’re already an ex-Hunter on the run from your clan, working with your mortal enemy to help save more of your mortal enemies. You’ve got no shame, Obito Uchiha.”

That earns a grin, deepening the scars on his face. “You make it sound so epic, like I had to fight my way out of their den. As if any other Uchiha will ever find me, let alone take me out. Besides, the only reason they’d really care is because of my blood.”

“Well, still. You’re about as much of a runaway mutt as I am now, hm?” The werewolf gives a grin as he pulls down the kerchief he keeps over his face, showing off wolfish teeth. “A witch and a wolf. Orphans, runaways, vigilantes. Maybe it is a little epic, hm?”

Obito just snorts. “So, where is this place?”

“Red light district. Easier to pull off shady business that way. But there’s no hiding all that blood from a nose like mine, even with all the other smells going on. Been casing it for two weeks now. I think we’re ready.”

“Then let’s get going. I’m going to lose what edge this coffee gave me before too long. Then you’ll have to deal with post-caffeine crankiness.”

“Think I’d rather face the witch than that.”

The pair leave the diner behind, hopping into Kakashi’s rather aged ride. The nighttime hours mean there’s little traffic, so the drive is relatively short.

“So...how best to do this…” Obito muses.

“I figured I go in first and scatter them. The runners will, well...run. I’ll chase. And you come in behind and make sure the witch doesn’t escape. Try and catch her if you can, but you’re clear to kill her if that’s simpler. Better guarantee her dead than risk her escaping if it comes down to it.”

“Got it.” From his shirtfront Obito pulls a mask, slipping it over his face as they abandon the car along the curb. Long-coated men give them furtive glances, women with sultry eyes clearly trying to catch their attention.

“All right...ready? This is the place,” Kakashi offers as they step in front of what claims to be a cigar shop: the front for the real business down below.

“Sure, just one question. If she does Tame you, what do I do?”

“...well, you’ll just have to take her down before I rip out your throat,” Kakashi replies simply.

“Can’t I just Tame you first?”

“That’ll just slow me down, since I’ll have your will and impulses nagging at me. Besides, she could still try and wrest control, remember?”

“...right. Sorry, haven’t seen another witch in a hot minute.”

The wolf just nods, easing open the door to the shop. A scrawny, twitchy man behind the counter shoots upright. “Here for a smoke, mister?”

“You could say that,” Kakashi replies, hands in his coat pockets and mouth hidden behind his kerchief. “I’m here for something a bit more exotic than a Cuban, if you catch my drift.”

That only seems to make the guy twitchier. “That’s downstairs...and I’ll have to frisk you first. Safety and all that, right? Some people’ll kill for this stuff.”

“Oh, I’m aware.” Stepping up, Kakashi gives the fabric over his face a tug, revealing a grin. “And some others will kill to stop it.”

Eyes widening, the guy freezes for a moment too long before attempting to bolt.

The key word being attempting.

In a blink, Kakashi’s a wolf the size of his car, leaping over the counter and pinning jaws around the junkie’s throat. Any cry he might’ve offered is immediately silenced, but the loud thump is likely still telling.

Glancing back, Kakashi gives a jerk of his head that clearly says, “Get going!” before shouldering his way through a back door in search of more lackeys.

Grinning beneath his facade, Obito slips down the stairs leading to the building’s underside...and just as he does, a scream starts, and is then abruptly stopped.

In spite of himself, he feels his heart leap up his throat. Shit, sounds like they’re literally processing someone right now. Which means a life is on the line. Snarling, he streaks down the rest of the stairs and barrels through a door.

Behind is a rather makeshift operating room. A cot supports a body, a rather pointless privacy screen nearby as a bright, dead light bares the entire scene in a staunch, unfeeling glow. Monitors, machines, tools, and waiting coolers litter the place. One human startles with a yelp, clearly just a body to get item A to point B.

But over her shoulder, a woman gives Obito a cold glance. Heartless eyes of amethyst stare out from beneath a blade-cut black fringe. A surgical mask covers the bottom half of her face, midnight hair caught up in a tail.

The latex gloves on her hands are bloody.

“Sorry lady, but your medical license has been revoked,” Obito declares, hidden behind his own mask. “Seems you’ve been caught in a malpractice suit! Now, you can either come quietly...or I’ll just give you a taste of your own medicine…!”

Glancing to her cohort, the woman demands, “Get what we’ve got out of here. Now.”

Not needing to be told twice, the man swipes a cooler and bolts for it.

“Don’t worry, he won’t get far - my partner has a nose like a bloodhound,” Obito chimes.

But he’s largely ignored as she strips off her gloves, apron, and mask. “And what special attributes do you possess?” she instead asks, facing him fully. “Depending on what it is, I can get a pretty penny for your parts.”

“You’ll just have to wait and see!” Striking a mocking pose, he doesn’t move as she takes up a scalpel, throwing it directly at his chest.

It sails right through and clatters against the concrete wall of the basement.

“...space and time, it seems,” his opponent muses. “So, you’re not a monster...you’re like me.”

“You know my secret power, so...seems only fair you tell me yours, y‘know.”

“You really want to know…? Very well, I’ll tell you.” The woman holds up a hand. “My touch is necrotic. One little brush, and you’ll start rotting. So it’s only sensible I deal in death.”

“Ooh…! Then I’ll just have to make sure you don’t touch me! The ultimate game of tag!” He strikes another pose, persona in full tilt. “Try and catch me~!”

The space beneath the shop, however, is hardly ideal for a fight. As the woman does her best to dodge and reach through the clutter of medical equipment, Obito activates and disables his magic at will to simply evade her. He’ll tucker her out a bit, and then see about subduing her.

...or, that was his plan. But after a scant few minutes, it seems she realizes her handicap. And with a spark, she shatters the light and leaves them in darkness.

Obito fumbles for a moment before realizing she’s already fled. “Aw, man!”

“Oi, Obito!”

“Down here!”

Making his way down a few steps, Kakashi cusses at the darkness and pulls out his phone, light on. “Where’s the mortician?”

“Gave me the slip.”

“What?!”

“But I think there’s someone alive down here! Bring your light!”

“We should -!”

“We’ll catch up with her again later. For now we gotta get this guy loose!”

Realizing he can’t change the Uchiha’s mind, Kakashi joins him, dodging scattered supplies. “Jeez, you sure made enough of a mess…”

“Hey, that was all her! I didn’t touch anything!” Literally. Approaching the cot, Obito and Kakashi both freeze at what they see.

Shifted, a body lies atop the cot, chest rapidly rising and falling in panic. A gag keeps them silent, cuffs restraining all four limbs. But rather than arms...they have wings. And their legs are half-scaled and backward. Grey eyes are wide and staring in terror, flickering between the two of them.

“...harpy,” Kakashi murmurs once he realizes what he’s looking at.

“Why is she -?”

“Look.” He gestures to her bonds. Pinning her limbs in place, they have needles embedding into her flesh. “Silver. Keeps a Nightwalker in whatever state they’re in upon contact. She must make them Shift to get the organs in the state she wants…”

Watching the woman’s face, Obito hisses, “Enough! We need to get her the hell out of here, now!”

Chastised, Kakashi starts releasing her bonds.

“Don’t worry, we’re here to get you out, not...hurt you,” Obito offers, feeling a bit awkward. While plumage hides the more sensitive parts of her body, she’s still very much nude. The sooty-spotted white feathers make him think of those owls way up north...must be what she is.

...he sort of wants to touch them but that feels highly inappropriate.

“There,” Kakashi mutters once the last latch gives way, untying the gag and letting her gasp for air. “Can you Shift back?”

Rather than reply, she struggles to sit up with an ear-splitting screech, feathered and scaled limbs alike flailing in panic. Talons sweep dangerously close to them both.

“Whoa, whoa! Easy lady, we’re not -!”

Ducking around behind her, Obito manages to pin her ‘arms’ to her side, his own wrapped around her torso. “I told you, we’re here to help! We’re Enforcers!”

Well, sort of.

At his words, she slowly stops her movement, breath rapid in exertion. Obito keeps his hold, feeling her eventually go slack.

“...I-I…?”

“You’re safe now,” Kakashi assures her, hands lifted placatingly. “It’s going to be okay, miss. But...we can’t take you out of here looking like that. There’s humans up there.”

“She probably needs a minute to calm down, first,” Obito mutters. “Go find her a coat or something to put on, will you?”

“Coat, right, okay. Hold on.” Handing Obito his phone, Kakashi makes his way back upstairs.

Obito then very awkwardly releases his hold. “...sorry, I...didn’t want you to hurt anyone.”

She brings her limbs up around herself, looking entirely unsteady. “It...it’s okay. I didn’t...mean to -?”

“You had every right to panic.” She was about to be butchered like a hog, after all. “But we’re here to help.”

“You’re...really Enforcers…?”

Lifting a hand, Obito removes the mask over his face now that the trouble is over. “Pretty much. Long story, but...we help Nightwalkers who need it. You’re safe with us.”

She studies his face, worry and sorrow plain on her own. “But, you...you’re a…?”

“Yeah, uh...another long story.” He itches his neck idly. “All that matters now is that I’m on your side. I’m Obito, by the way.”

“...Ryū,” she murmurs in reply after a pause. “Thank you, for...for saving me. I thought I was going to die, and be cut into p-pieces…” As the reality sinks in, her eyes well with tears. “I-I -!”

“You’re safe now. And we’re going to find the woman who did this, and make sure she never hurts anyone else.”

Hearing the menace in his tone, Ryū glances aside somberly.

He wants to say something, anything to cheer her up. There’s something that really gnaws at him to see her looking like that. But before he can, Kakashi returns down the stairs with another flashlight. “Found a second hand shop still open and got her some clothes. No idea if they’ll fit, but better than nothing.”

Obito sheepishly looks away as Kakashi hands the garments over, letting her change in peace. When he turns back, she’s fully human again: no more feathers, and dressed in a simple pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt. Even without her greyscale owl form, her hair is still white, and her eyes that same shocking silver.

“We’ve got a safehouse for people like you,” Kakashi offers. “You can stay there for as long as you want, until you feel safe to go home.”

“Thank you...will I have to stay there alone…?”

The men exchange a glance. “...we really should go after that woman,” the wolf offers. “But maybe we need some backup. Did you learn her powers?”

“Necrotic touch. Nasty business,” Obito replies.

“Ha, how fitting. Well, I’ll report back and see if we can get any reinforcements. You take her back to the safehouse and make sure no one gives her any trouble. Take the car, I’ll go on foot.”

Nodding, Obito catches the keys and helps Ryū up the stairs to the shop above. “Anything I can get you in the meantime? You want anything to eat, or drink?”

“...I guess I am sort of hungry...I’ve been here at least a day. There were…” She grimaces. “...others she killed before she got to me…”

“All right...we’ll get some takeout and you can eat at the safehouse.”

One drive-through stop later, Obito pulls up to the house in question. It’s at the end of a quiet human neighborhood. They’ve never had any trouble...yet. Ryū follows him in with many a wary glance of their surroundings, eating silently as she perches on a couch.

Obito, in the meantime, sends Kakashi a text confirming their arrival. Odds are he won’t reply for a while - business takes time. “There’s a few rooms you can choose from to sleep in, if you want to stay that long.”

“Thank you…”

Seeing her still looking withdrawn, Obito nibbles the scar on his lip before deciding to sit on the cushion beside her, giving her space. “So, uh...got anyone you need to contact?”

“...no,” is her soft reply. “Not really. I’ll...call my workplace in the morning. What should I tell them…?”

“The truth, but only as much as you feel safe revealing. You were kidnapped, rescued by some officers, and will be back after a doc ensures you’re able.”

She snorts. “...the irony is, I work at a medical clinic.”

“Really?”

“Mhm, I’m a nurse.”

“And no one’s ever…?”

“Not yet. I know it’s risky to work with humans, but...I have to make a living somehow. And my mom was involved in medicine, so...it felt right. I like helping people.”

“Then I’m sure they’ll understand. I can talk to them, if you need proof.”

“Well, we’ll see. Hopefully they’ll just believe me. I’ve been really good about absences up until now, so...they should know this isn’t usual for me.”

Obito eyes her as she fiddles with her empty cup. “...I’ll admit, you’re handling this really well.”

That gets her to look up. “...do you...often save anyone from places like that?”

Obito hesitates. “...not really. Usually it’s...already done.”

Fear flickers in her eyes. “...o-oh…”

“But I’m glad we got there in time.”

“...me too. It...it was horrible…” She brings her legs up, hugging her knees. “It constantly smelled like blood. And the screaming was...was beyond words, I-I can’t begin to describe it. She would keep them alive as long as she could…” Tears escape her eyes, expression wavering. “...how could anyone d-do that…? We’re not monsters, we’re just...people! People who are different!”

Sighing, Obito murmurs, “Some people just hate what’s different. What they can’t understand...unless they can profit from it. Others are just cruel. No real reason.”

“...can I...ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Why do you...help us? Nightwalkers, I mean. I-I’ve always heard that witches hate us. That a lot of them work with Hunters to exterminate us…”

At that, Obito hesitates. “...I...was raised in a Hunter clan. Then they figured out what I was, and fast tracked my progress. But on my first mission, I...met Kakashi. And I figured out real quick that the things they taught us were mostly lies. Nightwalkers aren’t monsters...we were monsters for killing innocent people just for being different. I couldn’t abide by it, so...I left. And now I do vigilante work for the Senators with Kakashi. It’s difficult, and doesn’t pay well...but we’re doing good work, even if most would say otherwise.”

Ryū watches him as he speaks, still curled up on her cushion. “...well...I’m glad someone like you is helping us. It’s nice to know that not all humans want us dead.”

“Not all humans are bad, just like not all Nightwalkers are either. Most of us are just in the middle trying to get by.”

“Mm…” As the night finally catches up with her and a full belly weighs her down, Ryū looks ready to drift off. And before Obito can ask if she wants to head to a bed, she goes limp and just...slumps against his side.

He immediately stiffens, unsure what to do. Surely she shouldn’t rest here! But...what if he wakes her up trying to move her?

Eventually he debates himself so long he just...decides to do nothing, sitting as a living pillow for her to sleep on. If Kakashi sees this he’ll never hear the end of it, but…

Slowly, he lets himself relax. He can feel her breath on his arm, her cheek resting against his shoulder. She looks so much more at ease, now.

...she’s actually pretty cute…

Banishing the thought and going pink, Obito just settles in for what might be a long rest of his night. While it wasn’t a perfect mission, at least they got someone out alive. It’s not often a task like this has any sort of happy ending.

It’s a nice change of pace.

     Day two! And right into the thick of not-nice subjects xD I have GREATLY missed writing this verse so I indulged myself =w= That and Meg brought it up on Discord the other day so...it was fresh in my mind, ahaha~      Poor Ryū...will I ever be nice to her in my fics? Probably not :’D There’s been a lot of depressing stuff in the pieces so far but that’s just how life be for her kjdfhjgh I’m terrible.       Also vigilante team Obito and Kakashi gives me life. TECHNICALLY in canon nightwalkers only women can be witches, but...well, it fits Obito too well xD And it’s MY canon so I’ll bend it how I see fit, heh heh.      But I guess that’s it for this one! Thaaanks for reading!

[icanetwork-customer-acquisition]

Easy Remodeling Ideas for Your Home

The key is to prepare the project out in advance, employ the ideal individuals, allocate the suitable quantity of time, and make provisions for delays. Try not to make the completion date correspond with your birthday or anniversary.

Don't enforce a time span on yourself or your professional that will develop stress. At the same time, get a clear understanding of for how long the task will most likely take, and when it will start. If it's a three month task and the work won't start until November, your house will not be all set for a New Year's Celebration, unless you're commemorating Chinese New Year ... This is a surprisingly common issue - how much time the homeowner thinks a project will take and that actual work time needed.

There are no Specialist Fairies (and I refer here to the wonderful ones! Ha, ha, ha!) who can slip in the middle of the night and have the job done by the morning, although that would be good! (I'm guessing that there 'd be some truly loud dance music, anyhow, which would just keep you awake ...!) Have your Specialist include a likely time span with the quote.

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Is there a quick repair?

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Replacing your front door can provide the house a real increase and probably include a bit of safety, too, because numerous of the new doors are made of steel. If you are attempting to make the task as easy as possible, think about using Rosettes for the corners, then all the cuts will be straight ones.

Altering out the Garage Doors in an Older Home to Update the Exterior look of your house is a great concept. Changing out the Garage Doors can develop an incredible new look for your home.

I'm putting one in the new home, it's so cool! It looks like a fridge-- some the same height and practically the very same size, and some a little much shorter. Anyway, it conserves 'losing' all those products at the bottom of a routine freezer that you can't keep in mind and discover a couple of years later ... Likewise, there are some truly neat brand-new little appliances that will include more performance to your kitchen.

If you have a small space with a closet (front entry, bed room), consider altering the routine doors to mirrored doors. That actually opens a room and supplies more light, quickly.

You can make them out of Crown Molding if you like the wood appearance, or you can develop them out of plywood, cover with cotton batting, then material to fit your space, and staple them at the back. The fairly new wrought iron curtain rods with all the cool accessories are truly appealing, too. Tie-backs can make a real distinction, too, so have a wee look at them.

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A truly basic way to alter the appearance and feel of your house is to reorganize the furniture. Sounds painfully easy, but it can breathe new life into a space.

Significant Remodellings

Ha, ha, ha! If you race through a task, you'll have lots and lots of time afterward to look at all the mistakes. If you have the Walls and the Floors on the same list, do the walls first - it'll be less stressful when the paint splashes!

If it's a substantial remodeling task, think about how you will handle all the mess. Do you have another place where you can live throughout the restorations? How about a little area of the house that you can keep as a sanctuary? Give this some major thought prior to starting. It can be surprising how challenging life can be during a reno project. If you happen to have an RV, this is most likely a good time to 'camp out', if only for a little break from the mayhem.

[addictofsupernatural]

You Can Tell Me Anything

Jughead Jones x reader

Author Note: This is taken place during season one when everything was simpler.

(I don't remember these episodes perfectly so I'm sorry if I miss some things)

Summary: Jughead is trying hard to make sure you don't know that he's homeless, but sooner or later you find out.

Word Count: 1888

Jughead was beyond mad. They were going to close down the drive in, his job. His home. Of course nobody else could know that, especially not you.

Jughead's had a crush on you for a while. You were just always so happy and ready to help. You helped Jughead with the blue and gold, as well as solving mysteries that you guys got yourselves into. You were the only one who understood his references.

The last thing he wanted to feel like was The Help. He didn't want you to see him as a loser or helpless. Not that you would, but Jughead couldn't help but feel embarrassed.

Jughead angrily climbed over you in the booth. All of you stared at him. "They're going to shut down the drive-in."

"What?" You said, the only one who seemed to care. Betty had switched sides the squish in with Veronica and Kevin. The three of them knew of your crush on Jughead Jones, and were reading to help anyway they could.

"Closing down the Twighlight Drive-In is just one more nail in the coffin that is Riverdale, no, the American dream. As the great Quentin Tarantino used to say-"

"Please, no more Quentin Tarantino references." Kevin said.

"What? I'm pissed. And not just because I'm losing my job, but because the drive in should mean something to Riverdale. People should be trying to save it!"

You slide over your plate to Jughead, and he starts eating your fries. "Well, in the new age of Netflix, who would go to drive-ins anymore?"

"People who want to buy crack." Kevin bluntly says.

"Kev." You say, nodding to Jughead.

"And cinematics and car enthusiasts!" Jughead argues. "Am I right y/n/n?"

"Yup." Nodding your head.

"Also, you guys should come to closing night." He says sadly. "I was thinking American Graffiti, or is that too obvious?"

"Oh, I would love anything starring Audrey Hepburn." Veronica said, with Kevin nodding in agreement.

"Y/n, what do you think?" Kevin asks.

"Mm, maybe Rebel Without a Cause?" Jughead smiles at you.

"I'll be right back." Betty says, getting up when seeing Archie, his dad, and the music teacher.

"Betty wait!" You said, knowing that it was about the weird relationship of the two. You and Jughead shared a look. He knew too.

Betty said something, and her and Archie went outside. Jughead slouched as he stared out the window to watch, and you leaned on him, putting your hand on his chest to watch as well. Veronica then went out to see what was going on.

"What was it like before she came here?" Kevin asked. "I honestly can't remember."

"Huh." You say. Kevin nodded his head.

You and Jughead were passing out flyers for the closing night at the drive-in. "Why didn't you guys give me a heads up?" Archie asked.

"I am, by nature, an objector." Not saying anything to neither you nor Betty was the most moral decision I could make."

"And you?"

"I try not to associate myself with stuff like this." You explain. "Don't get me wrong, I'm nosey and I like to know things about other people, but I physically stay out of drama."

Jughead smiled at that. "And that's what keeps the blue and gold running." You smiled back.

"Could you guys just please let me know if Betty does anything crazy?"

After school you both went to the mayor's office. "I'm sorry, but the Twighlight Drive-In has become a hangout for gang members and transients. The deal is done. Andrews Construction is scheduled to destroy it on Monday."

Jughead was beginning to panic. It was happening too fast, and he didn't know where he was going to go if the drive-in really would be gone. "Mayor McCoy, when I was a kid my family and I would always go. We couldn't afford tickets for everyone, so Jellybean and I would hide in the trunk, then come out when the car was parked. It's like my home."

Jughead felt hot under your gaze. He shifted in his seat, wanting nothing more than for you to have not have heard that. "That's a sweet sentiment, Mr. Jones, but the future of Riverdale is at stake here."

"And isn't Riverdale the town of warm, fuzzy memories?" You spoke up. "I mean, might as well get rid of Pop's for the 50's theme. Riverdale thrives on the fact that it's a place where people build times to remember with their families."

"Look, I'd love to help you both, but the deal is done. You should find out who they are to get some answers."

"Thank you for your time." You said.

Next was Andrews Construction site. "Mayor McCoy says that you have a contract to tear down the drive-in." Jughead said quietly. There was something about Archie's father that made anyone, especially Jughead, calm down. Fred Andrews was a respected man.

"I do. Look, I'm sorry guys. I love the drive-in too."

"Mr. Andrews," you said. "Just give us one week to track the man who bought the land."

"And convince them not to demolish this holy house of cinema." Jughead said angrily.

"Jug, y/n/n, this is a big contract for me and my guys."

Jughead was staring intensely at Fred, before softening his features. He didn't move. "Y/n could you wait outside?" He asked quietly.

You looked at Jughead, confused, then at Fred. He nodded his head for you to go. "Okay." You responded.

"You put one Jones out of work, and now another, huh?"

He sighed. "Jug, your dad was stealing equipment. I had to let him go."

Jughead scoffs. "Right. You're just doing what you had to, just like now. Later." He averted eye contact. Although he was mad, he knew it wasn't Fred's fault.

He found you sitting on the steps waiting for him. "You okay?"

He kept on walking. "He's not gonna do it."

You caught up to him and grabbed his hand, bringing him to a halt. "That's not what I asked." You quietly said. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. It's whatever. I gotta go get everything ready for closing night. See you tomorrow." And with that he walked off.

You then went from gift store to gift store, trying to find Jughead something that he'd like. You wanted to make him feel better. You knew that his sadness wouldn't completely go away from the Twilight Drive-In, but it could probably lessen. And that was your goal.

You went to the back of the drive-in, where Rebel Without a Cause was playing from. You knocked on the door. Jughead poked his head out of the door. "Y/n, what're you doing here?"

You smiled. "I came to see if we could watch the movie back here together."

"I would, but there's a lot of tapes and equipment to organize. Sorry." Jughead hated the words coming out of his mouth. Of course he wanted to watch the movie with you. Of course he wanted to be with you alone, especially right now. He wanted you to make him feel better. But he couldn't have you see the bed.

Your smile faded. "Oh. Okay. Well, could you come out here for a second then? I want to give you something."

He went outside and closed the door. He gave you a teasing smile. "Is it the deed to this place?"

You laughed. "I wish. It's, uh," you raised your hand, showing a Bates Motel key chain with the circular chain around your index finger. "Tada."

He stared at it. He didn't know how to react. You knew him so well. "What? You don't like it? I'm sorry, I was just trying to make you feel better and-"

"What? No! Uh, no, it's not that." He put on a tiny smile. "It's just, thank you. It means a lot."

You went up to him and hugged him, loving the warmth resonating off of him. He was shocked for a second, before coming back to his senses and wrapping his arms around your waist.

"Course Jug. You're my best friend." You pulled away and out your hands on each cheek. "Alright. C'mon, where's that smile I love so much?" He looked away and did his dorky smile that made your cheeks heat up. "There it is." You then slipped out of his hold. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask." And with that you left.

Jughead watched you leave, then looking down at the key chain in his hand. As he went back inside and packed his things, he hooked the key chain onto his backpack zipper, sighing as he looked at it.

The next three days Jughead was sleeping in the janitor closet at Riverdale High. It was perfect. He had his sleeping bag, and they had showers and bathrooms. You just couldn't find out.

That was until the fourth day. Archie had caught him. "Jug, what are you doing here so early?"

He put on a fake smile. "Just using this school's amazing state-of-the-art facility."

"No, seriously, what are you doing here?" So he showed his where he was sleeping. He explained that this was his living ever since the drive-in was closed. "I'll be back. I'm going to talk to my dad about you staying with us."

After some arguing, Jughead reluctantly agreed. "But Archie, you can't tell anyone about this. Especially not y/n." Knowing of his friend's crush, he nodded his head. He then headed out of the school, getting his phone out of his pocket to send you some texts.

The was a knock on the closet door. Jughead let out a laugh. "Archie you don't have to knock, it's not like this is my room or anything."

The door opened, you leaning against the door frame with a bag in hand. Jughead's smile immediately came off. "Can I come in?" You quietly asked.

"He told you?!" He stood.

"Please don't be mad at him!" You quickly said, going in and shutting the door. "I'm glad he did. Why didn't you tell me about this Jug?"

"You think I'm proud of this? I'm living in a closet. I use the school showers. I'm pathetic y/n."

"No you're not, Juggy. You You should've just told someone. You could've gotten help!" You huffed, putting the bag in your hand down. "I really didn't think you had a big ego. You should know that I don't care about where you're living, or if things are going bad. You just need to talk to me."

He scoffed, then looking at the bag. He was still angry, but curiosity got the better of him. "What's in the bag?"

You breathed out a humorless laugh. "Pop's. Eggs and bacon. I also stopped by a liquor store and got chocolate milk."

"For me?"

"For us." You looked back at him, his expression still looking angry. "What? Getting drinks separately was cheaper, and I like YooHoo okay? I figured I could make you feel better and save some money at the same time but I guess I was wrong and-"

He cut you off with a kiss. It surprised you at first, but you soon returned it. You cupped his face with his hands finding your waist. When he pulled away for air he kept your faces close. He looked downwards, and you smiled wide. It happened. It finally happened. You had just kissed Jughead.

"Aw, c'mon Jug." You stroked your thumb at his cheek. "Where's that smile that I love so much?" He looked to the side and gave you a big goofy smile. "There it is."

The door then opened and Archie saw the both of us in each other's embrace. "Oh. Sorry should I have knocked?"

Author Note: In case you were wondering this is what I pictured Jughead's goofy smile would be like.

[whimsically-ominously-auspice]

Ive always liked Alex we always seemed to grow up together from NYC to Texas to Oklahoma he always seemed to be around

And he was usually pretty nice.

Even if he got on my nerve he always seemed to get me to like him, he's quite easy to talk to with a nice personality

So, he wanted pets and as long as he's not abusive to them then I told him he could. He, too was privileged to be asked what he wanted.

So in his next room he has fish, bunny, hamster, bathroom and a real bed and fluffy pillows.

He said "just a prison room and all the animals that can fit" and he asked for a pony. I was like dude no that's too much. Maybe a stuffed one.

In Jr high his dad was pretty abusive so he stayed at my goose often. I had bunk beds but he would fall asleep in the floor then climb up into his own bed. Or say "dad I'm cold" and shiver in the floor... And not get up. I learned to get up off the opposite end of the bed and turn on the light and tell him to open his eyes and shake his foot otherwise he would grab mu leg and try to fight me while he was asleep. Then i would pull him a blanket down and cover him he would ask me "who are you?"

Id tell him "im your friend from school"

Sometimes he would tell me he didnt go to school or say "school I miss that place" and/or ask if i kidnapped him

I learned to tell him i did kidnap him otherwise he would sleep walk all over and I would find him in the pagan's yard asleep or some other random place in the morning.

Cause in his mind he thought "if I'm not kidnapped I'm free to leave"

And he was but not while sleeping.

And so if i had to tell him he was kidnapped he would ask if he could eat. I learned to tell him, "in the morning" otherwise I would make food he wouldn't eat or he would sleep cook and I would hear him choking and coughing.

Usually we played 20 questions. Sometimes I pretended to be asleep and he would climb in my bed like a little kid "I said who are you?!?!?"

Eventually i learned to say "Sabrina, you're safe for tonight, all the doors and windows are closed and locked, you're free to sleep in the house right where you are" then he would snore deeply until morning.

Sometimes he just showed up at my door, looking like some kind of wreck. "I just need a place to sleep. I don't eat"

But I would make him food and he would eat like he hadn't in days.

Just one of them ruffian kids that wouldn't make you feel sorry for him, you just did.

Whenever I looked at him in Oklahoma somehow he just made me cry. I didn't even remember him and we rarely talked he lived at this party house I sometimes went to down the street from my grammas.

He went down to Lawton a lot. That's where a lot of us got our weed. They all said that was where he was from.

Lawton was a distribution center for Mexican red hair from what I heard. That was all I smoked. Sometimes we had yellow hair...

One time me and Steph drove him to OKC to catch a bus because the fare was cheaper and he didn't have a car. He went to Lawton to "check on stuff"

He wasn't always rich or a jerk.

He is just who he is

So he has a phone now so his live feed will be turned off

As it was explained they only have live feeds for their loved ones because they don't have a phone with internet. He has a Galaxy 9 Note. So its a lot bigger than the others and what he had before. He had requested a large phone and computer as well. And a desk and its in his other room

So some people like Jesse have the ability to tunnel and make new rooms and he has two concrete rooms and 2 bathroom areas. And the one in the new room has a privacy curtain as requested. So he can shit in the nude and not all the guys be looking.

Jesse's hands do not hurt, too much. And he's convinced they're love bites from his demon wife he found on the beach. So he's happier. Yes he did request such a woman. He's quieter as well.

Which I like.

The winds came and destroyed Nathaniel's outdoor cameras with extreme fury at the house. So that was interesting.

My air conditioner was on 60°F and I turned it up to 69° and it was better but it worked attentively better when I turned it up two degrees to 71° I tried various degrees up to 75° but 71° works best.

I also tried "dry mode" which removes humidity from the air which worked well until it began to rain then,it was miserable again.

So meddle with your air conditioner numbers until you feel the best coolest air flow.

And it's good to try it at night ... To find the absolute best.. If it works well when it's cool it will be working as best as possible when it's 105° real feel and it's less frustrating. You just know its the best you got even if it's not good enough

Right now with the rain and humidity it makes it more complicated so it's better right at dusk

Stay hydrated and peaceful.

I know I'm being kind to prisoners whom don't rightly deserve kindness but their punishments are harsh. And what kind of person am I if I'm just mean to everyone?

Well.. If you ask me... Well..

There's this philosophy that being great to people invokes guilt. The feeling they have wronged. Most especially while being punished. They realize they should have treated better when they had their freedom.

It only works while they're incarcerated. Once they obtain their freedom they're like a flesh eating bacteria and go back to their bullshit

So we are very aware of this. So while they are not mistreated and their accomodations are as they wished and some get better over time as it is earned.

They will stay there. I did make contingency for work release but I am told NHRA has not allowed them to be on The schedule which I do appreciate

Nd it is for the safety

Matt Hagan got 2 ten pound bowling balls.

The reason we have low pounds is because our guards -- heavy weights thrown at guards can be very damaging. So a guard can take a 10 pound bowling ball to the gut but not a 30 or 50.

Amd they're bowling balls at 10 or 15 pounds because they're harder to handle these don't have holes. So if they're practising throwing them then they get taken away.

So then when they have weights and they go outside they have to put them on the bed or opposite side of the door along the wall, be handcuffed through the food slot and then they have to stand in the middle of the room and do a count down breathing and stretching session and then they approach the door then they can be foot shackled and the prisoner connects it themself

So you have wrist handcuffs and feet then a chain from both so they can't swing their arms and hit others.

Once connected it needs a key to unlock but it shows trust and cooperation and it's a good exercise

They keep their exercise equipment if they connect their cuffs correct. Its almost impossible not to. And they get shown how.

The guard can do it but it's an attempt to allow independence and recognition of choices and self authority and to say "you got yourself in this situation, take responsibility"

The guard didn't do bad things to have to be there. The prisioner did. The last straw for them to be properly arrested was what they did.

We allowed them 12 years. And they all made "bets" aka promises and so on and so forth. And they failed at being civilized human beings..

Jesse James wrote with shit on the wall and then ate shit the first night.

That is an obvious failure.

Its what he always does tho. But he has to live in it and clean it because he chose to do that and no one is going in his cell

That's his room. There is times that guards will but normally it's not necessary and it won't happen.

Alex will to have help with his animals but that's a little different it's for the animals welfare. Its once per week.

Like for their trash they have to request trash receptacle. They can pick the size or have a large and small and they have to request trash bags. Then they fill and Tie It and show the guard or cameras and then they have to place it 2 foot from the door and then stand on their bed or at the opposite wall and spread 'em arrested style. Arms and legs spread, hands against the wall back to the door. For guard safety. Then the guard gets it and locks the door and let's them know by saying the equivalent of "okay" in the language of the day. If the prisoner doesn't respond, the guard knocks on the door.

Its their room. Their house. Someone is at the door.

Then they say thank you in the language of the day when they respond and remove from their position.

Otherwise they have to be shackled. So this is simpler and easier and allows trust and cooperation and human decency and also the reminder they're in prison.

But most trash is food and so most just put it all back on their tray when the guard comes to collect.

So there's an old fashioned slot so if they tray falls to the hall. There's a basket there that should catch the tray and trash.

If they throw the tray out to make a mess in the hall, the tray of their food is covered with a light non tight layer of saran wrap then shoved through the slot to make it fly and make a mess.

The loose layer of saran is to protect the food... But at the same time it's loose and the point is made. As Well as a mess.

And then betrer behavior occurs.

So it's obvious who is in control but sometimes they wanna try their hand. But I'm a very angry person so my prison personnel puts up with nothing.

They don't question or wonder. What is done to them, they do in return.

They have their rules of humanity but when prisoners go on the wind, the guards blow back.

So if they get hit, 3 guards hit the prisoner. Always. And then rights get taken away. And all kinds of shit happens.

So we try to prevent violence against each other because if a prison riot occurs, my guards will be out of jobs.

So everyone has their own rooms and their wishes and they can ask and get nearly anything

Matt for example got 10 pound weights because he had a large body mass of muscle. And so that is what he worked for and earned. So he gets a 10 pound. And we go up to 15 but Idk i guess he didn't ask for top weights.

But the point is also he can do weights all day long as opposed to just half a day. And he can max the muscles if done properly.

But someone with smaller muscle mass will get a lighter weight

Like I said to protect the guard but also to protect the user of the weightsm too heavy can cause damage.

Going to a smooth bowling ball is cumbersome as opposed to weights with handles which of course is why he didn't get the 15 lb. He needs 2 weeks or so on the lighter ball in case he dropps it on his head or something like that and there is great over the head exercise. So I'm not being dumb.. It could happen.

So we treat them like we would kids

Like with Alex... Some of them never have been. And so they need that.

I know if i was always abused and treated like shit and had one year to live as they do with COVID, id like to be treated humane. I'd like to be treated like i had a mom and dad out there that love me.

I'm an orphan and i have been abused and I'm a good person. But I have been to jail. Arrested for real as an adult. So.

I been there. Just for a little bit. It was for weed and telling a cop he sucked. Some felonies. I went to rehab with Alex and it's all off my record now.

So it wasn't a super bad thing.

But if it had been....

I care about me, and i put myself in some places i could be in. And I try to make them better.

Me? I don't like being touched so having the last part of the cuff system up to me to put on -- it says like 'you know, i dont really want to touch you either.'

Like its a little bit of space around me just being able to do one little clip. A little bit of extra room in a super scary situation, being a girl, alone. Anything could happen... But.. I clip it right I have some argument space like "you can't rape me. I'm a model prisioner. I always clip my cuffs right! I'll tell they will believe me! You'll lose your job!"

So it's a privilege. As well as the acceptance of responsibility. I'm not the guard. But i got me here and im gonna be kept here but I'm safe.

[sainathsen-blog]

How to Build an Awesome eCommerce App? A Complete Guide to Developing a Mobile Application

A Complete Guide to build an eCommerce App

Shopping Spree, Shopaholic, Fashionista, and what not! All thanks to Social Media Platforms for bringing in the fact that people love to shop; irrespective of the time; irrespective of the place. With the touch of digitization, the entire brick and mortar commerce arena revamped itself into eCommerce, wherein people started shopping online with the very ease provided by their devices, that too in the very comfort of their home.

eCommerce website, what once was a revolution has been commemorated by eCommerce mobile application. Indeed! eCommerce mobile apps with the slogan, “Shop on-the-go” are reigning over the smart users and their smartphones today. Amazon, the biggest player in the eCommerce game along with its counterfeits Alibaba, Myntra, Snapdeal, have become an integral part of people while malls and supermarkets are being lowered to “Selfie zones”, “window shopping fads”, and “Check-in” hangouts.

Who would want to spare the precious time of their weekends, standing in long queues at the billing counter, waiting for their turn while France is playing against Croatia! Well, with eCommerce mobile app, all they could do is shop and yet never miss the game. So, an eCommerce app is an awesome game-changer in so many different ways.

That’s eCommerce mobile app for you!

Who doesn’t have a dream of running a successful business with customers crowded all over the shop? eCommerce mobile app can be your dream come true business as you can target the customers from across the world and you don’t have to travel to market for your brand; that’s an added advantage.

Recently, there has been a great rise in the demand to build an eCommerce mobile app. Every single day, startups are getting into the eCommerce business and all they target is mobile-first, website-second!

Cutting it short, if you are an aspiring eCommerce businessman, you have landed on the right page. Let me tell you, developing an eCommerce mobile app is not a very big deal today, especially with the nascent of tools and technologies playing around.

And the future of eCommerce, AI and VR technologies are decked up to renovate the eCommerce ecosystem completely with unforeseen features like virtual changing room. Must say, even the future of eCommerce is way too bright and now is the time you should seriously consider building your very own eCommerce mobile app.

To start with, it is important that you define your eCommerce business goals with utmost clarity. What type of eCommerce mobile app do you want to launch your business – Android or iOS? What is your product going to be? Who is your target audience? Which brands are you targeting?

Once this is sorted, you can move to the next important step which involves defining the right features for your eCommerce Mobile Application.

Features are the reflection of your USP. That is going to make all the difference for your target audience, when it comes to an eCommerce app. Basically, they are but the deciding factors of whether your revenue grows or flows away to your competitors. Hence, it is important to plan the features for developing your eCommerce mobile app. Below is a list of features extracted from the successful eCommerce Mobile App and you cannot afford to miss any of these:

A Simpler Registration Process

As easy as this sounds, it can be an exhaustive one for your customers and they might simply choose to uninstall the app with pages and pages of information to fill in. Who’s got time anyways! Ensure an easy registration process. With everybody having a Social Media Account today, you can enable sign up and login with two clicks at maximum and your customer is on-board! Plus, an extra brownie point for learning their preferences through their digital age on their Social Media Accounts!

Supports Multiple Payment Options

Let’s say, you have a big fat customer who mostly shops online and visits your eCommerce mobile app to give it a try. After dumping his stuff into the cart, he realizes you do not have the payment option that he prefers. You just lost a big customer. And many more who prefers the payment option that your app does not offer.

To play safer and smarter as an eCommerce businessman, you have to open the doors to the most popular payment methods. Credit card, debit card, net banking, and eWallets being at the top, ensure that you subtly push your customers towards using your app’s in-built wallet.

Push Notifications

Your customers have their needs and want, you have the required supply to fulfill them but how to bridge this gap of communication? Push notification is the key!

Push Notification is one of the most important features that map the success of an e-commerce mobile app. They enhance the customer engagement as it keeps them informed about the referral, discounts, sales, promotions, and offers, to keep them coming back for more. This, in turn, provides you with the opportunity to cross-sell and up-sell for getting you better profits.

Social Media Integration

Don’t tell me that you do not want ALL the attention of your customers. You even want their social media time. And your demand is justified considering the fact that you are running a business.

Not only for one-tap login, Social Media integration will ensure that your eCommerce mobile app is right in front of your customers wherever they are; chatting on Facebook, Tweeting on Twitter, or pinning on Pinterest. This will also help them easily share your special discounts on their social media accounts. What better than word-of-mouth marketing and user-generated content! An eCommerce app that taps the power of social integration works – It’s as simple as that when it comes to an application of eCommerce.

Complete Synchronization

You have your eCommerce website and an eCommerce mobile app. You have come up with a very exciting feature that is sure to strike a chord with your targeted audience and take their buying experience to the next level. But you have to launch this feature before your competitor does. You want better time-to-market but with edits to be made in both the portals separately, time seems to have stopped. What would you do?

Speed up the process by getting our eCommerce mobile app synchronized with the website. Save plenty of time, beat the competition, and increase your sales.

Google Analytics

It’s just been a while since you launched your eCommerce business. You think you are faring well so far. But keeping your gut feeling aside, how do you gauge what is working for and against your business?

Ok, like every time, Google has the answer you want with Google analytics. Optimize the use of Google analytics to find out how your customers are really finding to be on your mobile app with the help of real-time data. Know which product of yours need a different packaging, what offers can make an appealing combo, and which demography is resonating well to your business, all this with Google analytics. Your application of eCommerce will definitely grow from strength to strength.

Review & Rating

Don’t shy away from the fear of getting bad reviews and poor product ratings. A wise businessman is the one who is open to both criticism and learning.

Empower your customers to review and rate your app and its features. The possibility is, the products that you are offering are nowhere in the wish list of your buyers and reviews will help you achieve this sense of realization. Again, after improvements do not delete the negative feedbacks, rather thank them and show what steps you have taken. This will make them feel important and who knows they will stick to your brand like forever!

Wishlist Button

It’s the end of the month. The salary is one week away and your customers don’t want to miss out on what they have recently found out. They want to buy it, not now but definitely after a week. Let wish list play its share.

Wishlist, at times, can be a savior to your sales. It helps your customers to save products they wish to buy later. Plus, you get an edge over knowing the preferences of your buyer and personalized offers and SOLD!

Easy Checkout

All the enthusiasm and energy of your customers is gone in making their choices and adding items to cart. Now’s the tough part – the payment!

To ensure that they do not abandon the cart, build your checkout process as easy as possible. Help them save their card and e-wallet details and take them faster through the payment gateways. As said earlier, your customers hate to wait in the billing queue, don’t let them wait with virtual billing system as well!

There are myriads of eCommerce mobile apps already in the market. You need to stand out from the crowd and these features will help you make a move. If you follow a customer-first approach by providing them the utmost ease to shop, you will easily be able to retain your customers. On the other hand, when your competitor has an amazing experience to offer in reference to features, your customers will be inclined to them.

In this situation, the smart way is to build an eCommerce mobile app with the right features and avoid any fluff that could possibly take away your customer engagement rate. Make them feel that you understand the issues they face while shopping with other mobile app and the solution. Give them the value of the time, energy, and money they spend using your mobile application. This is the only important key to win over your customers and has an upper hand over your competitors.

Things to Take Care of While Building an eCommerce Mobile App

Right from conceptualization of what USP of your eCommerce Mobile app is going to be to launch a Beta Version, there are many important aspects that are to be taken care of.

With time, experience, and analytical skills, I have collated a complete guide with elaborated information on the important aspects of app development.  

If you are a first-timer, you might feel the hardship right from the beginning. You might even end up scraping the entire business idea. But do not drop yet. We are here to help.

The basics of any eCommerce mobile app remain the same. All you need to add is that pinch of your branding and the spark of your USP to make your business stand out and stay at the top in the Google search engine results. Some of the fundamentals that you should consider basic while building an eCommerce mobile app are:

· Easy navigation

· UI/UX with right features

· Visual appeal

· Brands integration if at all you are into multi-store eCommerce

· Inventory management

Here is an ideal step-by-step process for creating and launching an eCommerce Mobile app that you should follow in your trail to run a successful eCommerce business:

Keep in mind your eCommerce business goal even before you begin with the development process. Know what uniqueness you bring in or what issue you are going to solve for your customers with your eCommerce business. Do not go “all in” with the launch of your business. You need to know what works and what doesn’t. You need to know your real-time buyers. You need to know what gender you should target. You need to know a lot! Start small but concrete. Make expansion only when your business is ready. Get help from talents and app development experts to upgrade your business version. Take a look at this guide to outsource the best app developers.

In the urge to following the ABCs of your eCommerce business, do not forget the M for Marketing. You need to reach out to your potential customers to help them reach out to you.

Attract them with onboarding referrals, convert them with your USP, close your sales by keeping them engaged, and delight them with information about the products they need and your offer.

Ultimately, it all depends on the quality of development. Hire experts that are passionate about their work as much as you are about your dream eCommerce business. Retain them by providing them the perks and incentives that are best in the industry.

Trustable Ecommerce App Development Companies

Key Aspects for eCommerce App Development

Before proceeding any further, let me give you a detailed glimpse of the key aspects to focus on while developing an eCommerce mobile app:

Market Analysis and Buyer Persona:

The basis of an eCommerce mobile app development lies in determining the buyer persona for your business. Ask yourself, “ Who are you selling your products to?” Accordingly, carry out your research for your target audience. Analyze the behavior and patterns of your target audience. Know their digital age and their likes & dislikes. This will help you create your app as relatable as possible for them.

Know your Competitors:

Extract a list of your competitors. Create a separate list of what they are into and what makes them the obvious choice for the buyers. Do not duplicate their features or their business model, rather research well about the business model and make the maximum out of your analysis.

Choosing Technology:

Know the ins and outs of your business so as to decide on the technology to create your eCommerce mobile app. Keep an eye on the budget of development, know your inventory and select the CMS, database, framework, and most importantly the backend and frontend languages to code your app.

If you want a better time to market, go for the hybrid app, if you want sustainability, go for a native one. Similarly, you have to decide whether you want to launch an Android app, an iOS app or both at the same time, keeping in mind the device usage of your target audience for designing your application of eCommerce.

UI and UX Design:

Give your brand the voice it deserves by soothing color schemes, appealing visuals, and smooth transitions for your customers from one page to another. Create options for your logo and leverage it to the optimum. That is going to be your business’ identity for your target customers. Play with the subconscious mind of your customers by leveraging smart branding tactics for creating a lasting impression.

Cost of Developing an eCommerce mobile app:

Ultimately, it narrows down to whom you are investing and how much you are investing. Without a doubt, the budget is the front of the mind concern for the app development. To save you from this budget dilemmas, I have created some pointers for you to remember while going forward with app development:

· Features: Whether you want to launch your eCommerce app with MVP, or a mixed bag with MVP and advanced features, or a full-fledged eCommerce mobile app with advanced features.

· Android or iOS? The price tag of iOS is on the higher side, decide what device you want to be primary for your business. You can always scale your business later.

· The low maintenance of expensive backend development or the low budget high maintenance third-party APIs.

· A better time to market with hybrid app development or better sustainability with native app development? Make your choice wisely, you are in the business game for the long run.

Outsourcing the resources have a visible effect on your budget and so you need to be very careful hiring them.

Again, a number cannot be projected with respect to the react native app development as there are variables. However, to be as helpful as I can, I have put down an estimate on the basis of the trends I have witnessed considering the generic app development scenario.

· If we consider the most basic version of the app with only the MVP features and simple UI/UX design, the projected price can go to $60,000 just for development. However, there is very little support and maintenance required.

· If we consider a mixed bag of basic features including a few advanced features, the price an go up to $60,000 to $80,000.

· If we consider the app to be developed with advanced features, then the price can be as high as $80,000 to $120,000.

Outsource Developers for eCommerce Mobile App Development:

On the basis of your scope of work, you would want to outsource resources and skilled developers for building your eCommerce mobile app.

There are many different types of pricing models that you could choose from – time-based, scope based, fixed price and fixed time pricing model, or dedicated resource hiring.

Dedicated Resource-based Hiring

When opting for a dedicated resource based hiring, ensure that you know the scope of work and that you are not paying for an extra resource, when it comes to eCommerce apps.

To develop a basic version of your eCommerce mobile app, you will need –

· UI and UX designer

· 2 – 4Developers

· Quality Assurance Engineer

· Backend Developer

· Project Manager

To develop an advanced version of the eCommerce mobile app, you will need –

· Team Manager/Project Manager

· UI/UX designer

· 3 – 4developers for each platform

· Quality Assurance Engineer

· 2–3 backend developers

· Admin panel developer

After this virtual tour to developing an eCommerce mobile app, are you ready to step into the real world with real hiring of skilled resources for your to-be-real eCommerce mobile app?

Having helped in weighing all the angles of your eCommerce mobile app, we can be the partners in your endeavors with our rich experience worth boosting. We believe in work than words. Have a look at various case studies that are being written every time we faced a new challenge and the creative solution we provided.

Nothing better than a client talking to a client. Know what our clients have to say about our work and achievements. Yet not convinced? Here we are with practical and live applications that we have created for our clients. You can go ahead by testing these apps, who knows you might find your perfect app development partner!

We would love to be a part of an eCommerce mobile app development.

Please drop an inquiry about your needs and our experts will get back to you as soon as possible to make your eCommerce business possible.

Are we helpful to you in your venture of building that perfect eCommerce mobile app of yours?

Yup? Nope? Whatever? Still in doubt?

We would love to hear from you. Please feel free to comment your views or confusions and we will strive to get them resolved for you. Drop your inquiries in the comments section below, or drop us an email at mitesh.b.addweb@gmail.com

[german-italian-ties]

Awkward Part 3

Summary: Both Feliciano and Ludwig haven’t been acting like themselves. Kiku decides that it’s up to him to figure out what’s going on. Three part story

Pairings: Eventual (?) GerIta

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |

A/N: It’s finally finished! I was going to update Forget Me Not first, but I got stuck. But I can finally say that I finished a multi chapter fic. I just need to kick my muse into action so I can finish a major multi chapter fic. Until then, I got one-shots to help keep my muse happy and a possible n s f w thing that might come to life if I ever get the courage to write it. I also definitely need to rework how I write my multi chapter stuff. That way what’s going on with Forget Me Not doesn’t happen again. Though I’ll figure something out. Enjoy and see you guys in the next post.

~*~

Feliciano moved through the ocean of students, occasionally looking at the room numbers to make sure he was going the right way. The Italian always wondered why the halls always seemed to be busier after school on Wednesdays. It was terrible, especially when you had to make it to club meetings or meetings in general. As Feliciano moved further down the hall, there became less and less students which the brunet breathed a sigh of relief to. He looked at the classroom numbers once again and opened the door to room 254. After making sure the room was empty, the Italian made sure to put the room’s doorstop between the door and its frame before dumping his backpack on one of the desks and sat down.

Feliciano pulled his cellphone out and texted Kiku with nervous fingers. He didn’t like being in this room alone. Last time he was alone in here, the door closed and got stuck causing the poor Italian to be trapped for almost three hours. As the brunet waited for his friend’s response, he wondered why the Japanese man chose this room out of all the other available ones in the school. Everyone knew that the door to this classroom loved to get stuck. The only way to get out was for someone outside to open the door which was why the door was either left open or use the doorstop kept it cracked during class.

To calm his nerves, Feliciano began taking out his Chemistry book and notes. The brunet was happy that Kiku finally found some time to help him study, even if it was the day before his big exam. He would have been there with the Italian, but Elizabeta needed the darker haired man for a favor, causing Feliciano to go on alone. But it was okay! Once Kiku showed up, he would help the brunet. The Japanese man knew many ways to make his work sound simpler, just like Ludwig did!

Feliciano blinked at the sudden thought of the German and did his best to push it aside. Unfortunately, the thought of Ludwig was a hard one to pass up and his thoughts immediately went to their disastrous study session. Sadness was quick to settle in and the Italian couldn’t help but internally yell at himself. Why couldn’t he pay attention? He just had to zone out and let that kiss happen, didn’t he? Ugh. Nothing was ever going to be the same between the two of them again!

A loud squeak broke Feliciano out of his thoughts and he looked up to see the door opening up. The brunet sighed with relief. Kiku showed up at the most opportune moment. The Italian could really use a distraction. But as Feliciano stood up to greet the Japanese man, he came to see that it was Ludwig at the door. The German was just checking the doorstop when his blue eyes met with surprised amber ones.

The calm air became tense as the two friends stared at one another. Feliciano could just feel his blood run cold and his head seemed to feel lighter than it did just a second ago. Ludwig looked equally tense, his hand still on the door’s handle and his backpack hanging off one arm. The two of them just stared. Neither of them seemed to know what to do. In an attempt to break the unsettling silence, Feliciano moved his stiff arm to give the blond a small wave.

“Hi, Ludwig.” His voice was quiet. It seemed almost unnatural to him.

“Hello.” The German’s was equally quiet, though he cleared his throat and continued a bit louder, “I-I’m sorry for disturbing you.”

“Oh, you don’t need to apologize.” Feliciano laughed, “I’m just waiting for Kiku. He’s going to help me study.”

The brunet bit his lip at the word study while Ludwig flinched. The blond recovered after a few seconds and gave the other a silent nod while pulling his backpack back onto his shoulder. He had moved away from the door, but it looked like he wanted to leave.

“I-I was going to meet up with Elizabeta here. She said she had an idea for a club but we can talk about that outside since you need the room.”

“Wait!” Feliciano called out, seeing Ludwig move to head outside. The blond paused, giving Feliciano some courage to continue. “W-Why don’t you stay? You can sit at a desk and be comfortable that way instead of standing outside.”

Ludwig stared at the brunet. He could see those begging eyes and Feliciano even motioned to all the available desks in the room for emphasis. It was…tempting. As much as he wanted to sit and enjoy his friend’s presence once again, he didn’t want to deal with anymore awkward silence than he had to.

“No, it’s okay.” The blond shook his head, giving the Italian an apologetic look, “Thanks anyway.”

It hurt to see Feliciano looking sad at his rejection, but the brunet just nodded and offered him a smile in return. “Alright. I’ll see you later then?”

He nodded and turned to leave the classroom once again. As he approached the door, it sounded like students were arguing outside and only proceeded to get louder. Just as Ludwig moved to push the door open, two people slammed against the door causing the German to jump back. Through the window, he was able to see Alfred, the school’s Quarterback, being pushed by Ivan, a Wide receiver. The two teammates yelled at each other and nearly started wrestling in the middle of the hall when a teacher came along and broke them up before leading the two away.

“What happened?” Feliciano was standing in front of his desk, trying to peek out the door window.

“Looks like Alfred and Ivan got into another argument.” Ludwig shrugged, adjusting his backpack once more, “It’s best to ignore the reasoning when it comes to those two.”

After determining that it was safe to leave, the blond pushed against the door only for it to not open. He blinked in confusion, looking to the ground to see the doorstop had been dislodged. Ludwig felt his body grow cold at the realization that Alfred and Ivan closed the door on them during the fight. In one last effort to see if he could force the door open, the German rammed his shoulder into the door. The only thing that resulted was having Feliciano inch closer to the front of the classroom with worried eyes.

“Um…” Ludwig looked over to the brunet, mirroring the Italian’s worried look, “I’m afraid we’re stuck in here.”

“W-What?” Feliciano squeaked, the color draining from his face.

The poor Italian thought back to when he was last stuck in this classroom and had to lean against a desk to steady himself. Those three hours came back. Nobody was around to hear him banging on the door. What if the same thing happened, except he was stuck there for the whole night?! Feliciano nearly ran to the door, banging on it and rattling the handle in desperation while he called for help. There couldn’t of only been Alfred and Ivan in the hall. Someone else must be out there!

“Give it up, Feliciano.” Ludwig sighed, “There’s no one else out there now. You’re just wasting energy.”

The Italian stopped, standing there in silence before moving to sit at a desk. He was shaking like a leaf and could only internally panic. His heart seemed to be trying to beat out of his chest and his eyes began to sting. Ludwig immediately took Feliciano’s place and the Italian watched as the blond leaned up against the wall to stare out the window with crossed arms. The German was stuck in here with him. He wasn’t alone. That thought alone calmed the Italian. Ludwig was with him and keeping watch. Feliciano’s heart slowed to a steady beat and he took a deep breath. He didn’t need to panic. Everything was going to be okay.

Feliciano jumped when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He quickly got it out and saw he had a message from Kiku.

I apologize for taking so long. After helping Elizabeta, Mr. Aden asked for some help.

Feliciano felt his hope fall then rise again. Kiku was their key out!

Please hurry! The door closed and now I’m stuck in here with Ludwig.

After a few seconds passed by, Kiku sent another response. I’ll try to hurry. I’m already in the middle of helping him. Why don’t you talk to Ludwig about what happened?

He felt the blood run from his face and his heart nearly stopped. No! I can’t talk to him about that now. I don’t know what to say. What if he shuts me out?

He wants to talk. Trust me on this. You just need to give him the push to do so.

Feliciano stared at Kiku’s last message, feeling his heart beat racing again. He was right, but he was scared. Their friendship was hanging by a thread. The Italian didn’t want to be the one to make it snap. With a deep breath, the brunet pocketed his phone and turned his attention to his best friend.

“H-Hey, Ludwig?” Feliciano spoke up, causing Ludwig to glance at him for a moment before looking back out the window, “We need to talk.”

“About what?”

“About…what happened…”

Ludwig’s body seemed to become rigid, face brightening up before the blond began fidgeting. He refused to look back at the other man, reaching out to try the doorknob once again as if the door would magically become unstuck despite knowing otherwise. The silence that was somewhat comfortable before became tense, even more so under the Italian’s eye.

“…There’s nothing to talk about.” he finally stated, continuing to stare out the window.

Feliciano was quiet, staring at the one person who became his first best friend. Was that accidental kiss really going to tear apart their friendship? The brunette’s eyes began to sting at the possibility, but he blinked away the tears that wanted to form.

“Yes there is!” Feliciano almost shouted, standing up quickly.

Ludwig’s head snapped towards the smaller boy, surprised by the brunette’s actions. His body stiffened up upon seeing Feliciano in distress. Those amber eyes shining with forming tears, body shaking from pent up emotion… Ludwig never liked seeing Feliciano so upset, but even with his instinct to step forward and comfort him came; the blond couldn’t move.

“…You probably already felt it.” Feliciano continued, his voice quieter as his gaze fell to the floor, “Every time we see each other… it’s just been one awkward encounter after another. It’s like we have begun to build a wall between each other and…” A sniffle was heard and when he finally brought his head up to look Ludwig in the eye, the tears he had been trying to keep back began rolling down his cheeks. “Are we going to be able to stay friends? I don’t want to think about not being around you…” Wiping the tears with the back of his hand, Feliciano lowered his gaze once again. “We… we could pretend it never happened. I just want us to be back to where we were before…”

Ludwig stared at Feliciano, unsure of what to say… unsure of what to do. He really had a strong urge to just go and embrace the Italian, to say that everything was going to be okay. But would everything really be okay? Releasing a frustrated sigh, Ludwig pushed a hand through his hair and walked to the other side of the classroom, very aware of the amber eyes that followed his every move.

“This… this isn’t something we can just ignore!” Ludwig voiced, throwing his hands in the air and covering his face, “We can’t just… pretend that kiss didn’t happen. This isn’t some problem that we can word differently just because we don’t like it. If anything, that’s just going to make things more awkward!”

“Then what?” Feliciano asked, moving towards Ludwig, afraid of what the blond would say, “I don’t want to stop being friends. I… I didn’t mean to ruin our friendship!”

“You ruin our friendship?” Ludwig lowered his arms, staring at the other, “Why are you taking the blame for all of this?”

“Because I-” Feliciano paused, staring back at Ludwig with confusion, “You… don’t blame me for the kiss?”

Ludwig opened his mouth to speak, but nothing coherent came out. He quickly shut his mouth, cheeks reddening. Feliciano’s face wasn’t paler in comparison as the whole thing donned on the two of them. The silence seemed suffocating, but neither could figure out what to say. Despite what was being implied, it had to be too good to be true. They couldn’t both be at fault.

“Ludwig…” Feliciano was the first to break the silence. The Italian seemed to have recovered, eyes looking hopeful as he stepped closer to the blond. “I do like you. Like… really like you.”

The German’s face only got redder, though he did manage to find his voice this time, “I… really like you too.”

A big smile formed on Feliciano’s lips as he rushed over to Ludwig and hugged him. Laughter filled the room, at first only the brunet’s but the blond followed suit before hugging the other back. The room soon became silent as Feliciano pulled away, a few stray tears from before escaping but were quickly wiped away.

“I’m so happy.” The Italian beamed, taking Ludwig’s hand into his and squeezing it.

“Me too.” He responded squeezing back.

Feliciano went and hugged him again. The two shared the pleasant silence, enjoying the new closeness between them. The smaller man moved back slightly, staring up into the blue of the German’s eyes. As if by instinct, Feliciano moved closer as Ludwig leaned down and tilted his head. Their lips were just inches away when a loud squeak made them jump away from each other.

“Did you two get together yet?” Alfred called from the open doorway.

The new couple’s faces turned bright red seeing that along with the Quarterback, there was also Kiku, Elizabeta, and Ivan in the doorway. The two of them spluttered incoherent sentences while Kiku and Elizabeta glared at the American. Alfred noticed and gave the two a confused look.

“What?”

“Alfred, you’re too loud.” Ivan shook his head, feeling sorry for the couple.

“W-What’s the meaning of this!” Ludwig shouted, finally having a grip on words. His anger had finally taken over his embarrassment of the situation.

“I apologize, Ludwig, Feliciano.” Kiku stepped forward, “This was for your own good.”

“What do you mean?” Feliciano asked, staring at everyone in confusion.

“We came up with a plan to get you two together.” Elizabeta elaborated.

“Though, locking you guys in here wasn’t part of the plan.” Alfred offered with a nervous laugh as he rubbed the back of his neck, “That was pure improv on my part. I was just being a hero and saving the day!”

“Yeah, with three days detention.” Ivan pointed out coldly.

The American laughed and slapped the Russian’s back, “It’s worth it in the end.” By the look in Ivan’s eye, he didn’t believe it.

“But why?” Ludwig demanded, “What could have possibly made you guys come up with this scheme!”

“I’m the one who talked to the two of you.” Kiku reminded, “Both of you admitted to having feelings for the other.”

“Why not just tell us then?”

“Would either of you believed me if I said so?” The silence in the room answered Kiku’s question. “You had to see it for yourselves and this was the only way.”

“Besides,” Elizabeta smiled, walking into the room and guided Feliciano back to Ludwig’s side, “The two of you look adorable together. Everyone suspected it was going to happen eventually.”

Ludwig’s face flushed with embarrassment once again and tried to make words come out of his spluttering mouth. Alfred and Elizabeta just laughed while Ivan commented on how lively everyone was getting. Feliciano just simply smiled, feeling just as embarrassed as the German, but also happier than he’s felt in a while. He locked eyes with Kiku who was smiling at his two friends, happy with the outcome. The Italian mouthed a quick thank you to him and took Ludwig’s hand into his own once again.

“Hey, since both of you are here, can you help me study for the exam tomorrow?”