#but i thought id share in case anyone wants to take a peek

[wraithsoutlaws]

if anyone is interested dark horse direct has these cyberpunk statues on sale right now. i have the johnny one and its a beautiful figure and especially good for this price

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Satisfied, Part 23

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~~~

She pouted. “Ew. What’s with the ultimatum?”

“I have two younger brothers. I’m not stupid.”

"Fine. Whatever. I’m going to go take a shower.”

“Please.”

She gave him a small shove. “I was going to make cookies after, but I guess you don’t want any.”

His eyes widened. “Wait, what?”

A grin spread across her face as she got up and started grabbing herself some pajamas. “No cookies for you... unless you learn to grovel in the twenty minutes I’ll be in the shower.”

“Twenty minutes? Why do girls always take so long?”

“Not starting off well, are we?” She hummed, before slipping into her bathroom.

When she came out, her hair in a towel, he immediately wrapped her in a hug. “Ladybuuuuug, light of my liiiiiife --.”

Her nose scrunched up as she shoved his face away. “Ugh. I’d rather be insulted.”

“I can arrange that.”

She rolled her eyes. “Surprisingly, I’d prefer if you didn’t do either. What type of cookies do you want?”

“Macarons?”

She sighed. Well, at least she could give some to Tikki, she supposed. The kwami certainly deserved at least a cookie. “Fiiiine. The neighbors are going to hate me.”

“What? Why?”

“You’ll see,” she said cryptically as she started to pull out ingredients.

He waited until she had started whipping the eggs to insult her: “For a designer, your place is suuuuper boring.”

She opened her mouth to defend herself, then paused. “Wait, how’d you know I was a designer?”

The man’s eyes widened and he seemed to be mulling over how to answer, but he was saved from making up an excuse by a rapping on the window. They looked over to find a glaring Red Robin.

Marinette raised her eyebrows and turned off her mixer. Then she opened the window for him. “Hey.”

He was looking right past her, though, the offended expression on his face clear as day. “I cannot believe you came to visit Marinette without all of us! That’s not allowed!”

Red Hood frowned. “But isn’t that what you were doing?”

“Don’t change the subject!”

“But I’m not! I’m just saying that --.”

She left the brothers to bicker as she went to work on the macarons. She smiled to herself as she piped the little circles, then glanced back at the pair, who were pretty much arguing the same points over and over. She considered giving a warning, then decided it would be more fun if she didn’t.

She banged the baking tray on the counter to get the air bubbles out. Red Hood screeched. Red Robin’s head hit the ceiling.

She grinned as she set down her tray.

“Why would you do that?” Whispered Red Hood.

She gave a small shrug. “Needed to.”

She ignored their protests as she walked to her coffee maker, then glanced at Red Robin. “Want any?”

“The good stuff, right?”

“Yeah, of course. I’m not going to cheap out on a vigilante. The way some of you guys are you’d probably shoot me.”

Red Hood huffed. “You shoot one person, ninety times and suddenly it’s your thing.”

She blinked. “Is that a joke?”

“Yeah.”

Her shoulders relaxed slightly.

“I’ve actually shot ninety people, one time each.”

She didn’t know if that was much better.

Red Robin frowned. “I only know of around eighty.”

“Don’t tell Bats.”

Before either of them could respond, they heard someone knock on the window again. She glanced up to see Nightwing and…

Oh, come on! Why did he have to bring him along?

Red Hood let the others in with a small smile. “Hey.”

Marinette could feel Nightwing watching her carefully as she walked over. She knew he was looking for any sign she was injured, so she attempted to mimic her normal walking pattern.

“You’re walking a little weird, are you alright?” The oldest said, a smug grin on his face.

She was saved from thinking of an excuse as Red Robin walked over and slung an arm around her shoulders. “Maybe if you weren’t watching her walk she wouldn’t be overthinking it so much.”

She blinked in surprise, looking up at him. Had he not noticed her walking weird earlier? Or did he have a reason for lying? She didn’t think he did, so her limp must not be all that noticeable.

She looked at Robin. ‘Marinette’ had no problems with the vigilante, they’d never met before. She would have to be nice to him to keep her identity. She beamed and held a hand out. “It’s nice to meet you!” She chirped.

He blinked once. Then slowly, hesitantly, shook her hand. “Nice to meet you, too.”

The coffee machine beeped and the two addicts’ eyes lit up instantly. They walked over as a pair, both eager to drink some caffeine (Marinette’s withdrawal was killing her), but then a realization struct them. They eyed each other warily. They’d made only one pot of coffee. Sharing it would be...

She sighed and pulled away from him. He looked a bit apologetic but Red Robin was never one to turn down coffee.

She sighed. Fine. She’s got to drink something. She reached under her cupboard and pulled out some wine. “You guys can all have this, right?”

Before anyone could respond, Nightwing had snatched the drink from her hands. “It doesn’t matter because you can’t drink!”

Marinette raised her eyebrows. “It’s legal in my country.”

“But not in ours! Where you are currently staying! How did you even get your hands on this?”

She couldn’t tell him that she had gotten it as Ladybug because she knew the clerk wouldn’t ask for her ID, so she just shrugged innocently and tried to change the subject: “You’re more uptight than my actual mom.”

Nightwing scoffed. “Whatever.”

A grin tugged at her lips as she got an idea. “How about a bet? I call my mom and ask her. If she says I can have it, you have to let me drink. If she says no, I’ll give you all the wine in my apartment.”

“THIS ISNT YOUR ONLY ONE?”

“Obviously not.”

His eyes narrowed. “Fine! Call her!”

She grinned and pulled out her phone. She hid the screen with the illusion of hiding her password when really she was just getting rid of the thousands of notifications she’d gotten while she was out. She searched for a bit before facetiming her mom.

The boys clustered around her curiously. Red Robin rested his elbow on her shoulder, sipping at the coffee. Red Hood sat on her other side, his cheek pressed against hers despite her halfhearted protests. Nightwing was forced to stand on the tips of his toes to see and confirm that she was actually calling her mom. Robin stood behind the phone, peeking over to see.

“Maman!” She cheered as Sabine’s face appeared on the screen.

The woman blinked in surprise at all the vigilantes around her, then apparently just chose to accept it as a fact. “You haven’t called in ages!”

Her face reddened slightly. “Maman! Not in front of my friends!”

Sabine huffed. “Fine. We’ll talk about it later.”

Marinette gulped and nodded. The bat kids all gave her sympathetic looks. The feeling of ‘oh crap I missed to many of my parent’s calls’ is almost universal.

“Hi, Mrs. Cheng!” Chirped Red Hood, beaming. “We’re adopting your daughter!”

The poor girl squeezed her eyes shut. “No. No you’re not.”

“Right, right, of course.” He nodded, then leaned forward conspiratorially. “It’s supposed to be a surprise. We’re adopting her. Don’t tell her.”

Marinette rolled her eyes and shoved his face away. “Don’t mind him. He’s stupid.”

“Hey!”

She decided that she should get this call over with before either side could embarrass her. “This is Nightwing.” She pointed him out. “He thinks you won’t let me drink.”

Her mother laughed, rolling her eyes. “This is all you called for? Of course you can.”

Nightwing’s face reddened. “It’s illegal to drink underage!”

“We’re French,” said Marinette with a sigh. She smiled. “Thanks! I’ll call you back when they’re not here! Bye, I love you!”

“Love you, too!”

She hung up quickly, despite everyone’s protests, and set her phone down. She gave Nightwing a cheeky grin. “Told you.”

The man scowled. “I can’t believe this. You’re a child.”

She grinned and pulled away from everyone. She brought down some glasses and glanced back at Red Robin. “Hey, you drinking or are you good with just coffee?”

He mulled it over, then shrugged. “I’ll take some, I guess. It sucks to be the only sober one of the group.”

She gave a small nod. “Makes sense. Someone put the cookies in the oven. Someone else set a timer for, I don’t know, eight minutes and we’ll check on it.”

Robin ended up popping the macarons in because he was closest. Red Hood took out a phone (dang it, it didn’t even have any cool features for her distinguish, it was just a black phone case) and set a timer.

She poured out five glasses, much to Nightwing’s dismay. She waited for him to complain about giving Robin any, which would give a pretty good confirmation that they were the Waynes as he was still underage, but he didn’t. She was left to wonder if she was wrong about her assumption or if he knew what she was trying.

The tiny pout on her face disappeared as they clinked glasses. She plopped herself down on the counter and watched them drink. For the French, drinking was mostly a social thing that you did at a slow pace. For Americans...

Dang, are they even tasting it?

She rolled her eyes. “The wine will still be here in a few minutes.”

Red Robin grinned. “Not at this rate it won’t.”

She had to give him that. He really wasn’t wrong.

“Wanna play a drinking game?” Asked Red Hood.

Nightwing scowled. “No.”

“You don’t have to join in. I’d love to,” said Robin.

Hm. Maybe he was Damian Wayne. At the very least, he was definitely underage, if that look on his face was anything to go by.

Well, then he’d definitely be a lightweight. She suppressed a snicker at seeing the normally uptight vigilante without inhibitions, vaguely wondered if he would be just as annoying when drunk. Also, maybe, she wanted to spite Nightwing a bit for trying to keep her away from alcohol.

“Sure, I’d love to see what you Americans do for drinking games.”

She smiled ‘innocently’ at the glare Nightwing sent her.

They sat in a circle and she sighed as she tipped her head back to rest on the couch. “Really? I thought people only did Never Have I Ever in movies.”

“It’s fun!” Defended Red Hood. “And a good way to get to know each other, since you and Robin haven’t met.”

The pair in question gave each other wary looks from across the circle.

She sighed. “Fine. Never have I ever been a vigilante.”

Red Hood raised an eyebrow at her and she grinned at him, daring him to call her out on her lies right in front of Nightwing; he lost, obviously, and took a drink. Red Robin grinned as he tipped his head back to drink. Robin beamed at the excuse and downed his drink with only a little bit of coughing afterwards. Nightwing glared at her over the rim of his glass.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to get us drunk.”

She rolled her eyes. “The minute I brought out the wine it was going to happen anyways. Thought I’d speed it up.”

He gave her a suspicious look but complied with the rules of the game.

She poured them all new glasses.

“Fine. My turn.” Nightwing gave her a cutting look. “Never have I ever designed an outfit.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “So bitter.”

“You’re one to talk.”

She could only laugh in response. She downed her glass and smiled as she poured herself another.

Robin grinned. “My turn, I guess.” He tapped his finger on his chin. “Never have I ever... attempted murder.” He took a drink. As did every single vigilante in the room.

Marinette blinked. “Is that allowed?”

“Who cares?” Said Robin brightly.

Fair enough.

Red Hood crossed his legs. “Never have I ever...” He  smirked. “Surrogate son-ed my own brothers.”

The oldest cursed and took a drink. “This isn’t how this game is supposed to work.”

“We’re ‘getting to know each other’,” said Red Robin with a small wink.

Marinette grinned and got up to pull the cookies out of the oven, setting them out to cool and narrowing her eyes when she saw Nightwing hadn’t refilled his drink. She stared him down until he did.

She pulled out some more glasses of wine. At this rate, they’d get through her whole supply within the hour.

The moment she saw his face she knew Red Robin was going to get her. “Never have I ever... lived in France!”

She scoffed and took a drink. “Too easy.” She tipped her head to the side. Who hadn’t had any in a while? Damian was going to get himself to drink, so he wasn’t a problem... Her eyes zeroed in on Red Hood, who paled a little. “Never have I ever dropped by my house with the intention of hanging out with me alone.”

Red Hood and Red Robin both drank. Oh yeah. He’d done it, too. Whatever, he needed to drink again anyways.

Nightwing looked affronted. “That’s no fair! We come as a team or not at all! Never have I ever died!”

Marinette was horrified as she watched everyone except for Red Robin and Nightwing take a drink. “You what?!”

“Long story,” Robin waved her off vaguely. “It’s a Robin thing.”

She frowned. Then she remembered Desperada. She rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly and took a drink.

“YOU WHAT?!” Yelled Red Hood.

“Long story,” she said with a small grin. “It’s a Paris thing.”

Robin laughed and shook his head slowly. “Great. I love her,” he said.

She snickered. “Man, how much of a lightweight are you?”

He only shrugged. “Guess we’ll find out. Never have I ever...”

And so, they continued on like that. Calling each other out on stupid things they’d done in stupidly specific ways, telling each other stories. It was fun, and she actually did find herself enjoying it, even if they were exposing the hell out of her.

Red Hood was conscious, but only barely. He laid next to Robin, practically screaming the words to Six in his ear.

Lucky for said vigilante, he had passed out a few drinks in and now laid in the middle of the circle, a few empty bottles were perched precariously on his stomach, wobbling unsteadily with every breath.

Nightwing stared at the ceiling with a mostly blank look on his face. He was mumbling to himself. She swore he was talking about the meaning of life.

Red Robin almost seemed sober, which was shocking because he’d easily drank the most. He smiled calmly as he sipped at his now-cold coffee, seeming content to just relax with his family.

Marinette, the least drunk because she hadn’t been known as long, smiled as she slowly pushed herself to her feet. She walked over to the macarons and looked at them for a few seconds. She’d thought she would get them done that night, but she was realizing that a pattern was emerging: she’d never finish baking anything if the vigilantes came by.

She set the cookies in the freezer to preserve them and hummed to herself as she set a blanket over Red Hood. “Sleepy time!” She chirped.

The grown man pouted at her. “I don’t wannaaaaa!”

She laughed and shook her head. “Well, you gotta. Sleep. And you’re sharing a blanket with Robin, I don’t have a lot.”

He pouted but did what he was told.

She smiled and set a blanket over Nightwing next. He barely even seemed to register the action.

That done, she sat down next to Red Robin and wrapped a blanket around them both. “You think you can carry these three home?” She asked, even though she knew for a fact that he wasn’t going to. She wouldn’t have bothered with blankets if she thought there was a chance of it. Still, she thought she’d ask.

“I don’t even think I can get myself home right now,” he admitted with a shrug.

She snickered and rested her head on his shoulder. “What’s your dad going to say?”

He grinned and put his hands up by his ears to mimic Batman’s costume: “‘How could you be so irresponsible as to let your brother get drunk?! You couldn’t even come home! Don’t you know your own limits?!’”

She blinked.

He coughed into his hand awkwardly. “Not that I’d know, of course. This is my first time doing this.”

“Riiiiight.”

Red Robin was silent for a little bit, then he laughed. “Did you really memorize your crush’s entire schedule?”

She blushed. “I was a dumb kid in ‘love’! Leave me alone!” Then she remembered something. “Wait a minute! You did it too!”

He snickered and rested his head on top of hers. “Yeah, but mine wasn’t a crush, really. I was just a paranoid, nosy little crap as a kid.”

She grinned. “I believe it.”

He huffed and rested his arm around her. “Rude.”

“Mmm,” she said vaguely. She closed her eyes. “Good night.”

“Good night, Marinette.”

~~~

Two updates in a day because I am a benevolent god and not at all because I’m procrastinating studying for my economics test tomorrow

~

“Is [Jason] really not going to tell the rest of the bats her identity?”

Yep. It’s a secret. Both for plot reasons (it’s more fun if they all find out individually) and for personal reasons I’ve given the characters (i.e. Jason not wanting to give Dick the satisfaction of being right)

~

Taglist

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[sandwichrin]

A Little into You (Junkyu x Reader) (Ch. 11)

Chapter 11 - One step

Word count: 4.4k words

Genre: Fanfiction, PG13, Comedy, Romance.

A/N: Chapter 11! Wow! Look at how far we’ve come! There’s still more to come in this story though :3 Thank you for waiting you all, enjoy this one <3

“For real? YG Entertainment??” you questioned your team leader again.

“Yes…y/n, you’re acting strange…”

“I-I just…I’m just surprised our company has a client this big,” you said, your voice slightly breathy.

Soomin wrapped her arm around your shoulder, and chuckled, “Yeah! We secured them last year! This is our second time holding and providing lessons for their staff too,”

You smiled at her, an unsure smile. But of course, she has no idea what was running through your mind.

“Oh, but last year we conducted the lessons at their old building. This one here is our first,” she continued.

“Ahh, I see,”

“Is that why you’re acting strange, y/n?” she looked at you, a teasing smile formed on her lips.

“W-what? What are you talking about?”

“You must be nervous seeing such a big building, huh?”

“Oh, that. Yes! You’re right, this building is kind of intimidating,” you nodded at her assumption of why you’re nervous.

“Don’t worry! We’ll be okay!” She said cheerfully. “Besides, one of my close friends work here, so we have nothing to worry about!”

“Aha yeah sure,” you smiled and nodded.

                                                                   *

 (YG Ent. – 5th floor)

 “Lim Soomin! As usual, a little earlier than our appointment!” a man said when he saw Soomin enter the department’s floor with you closely behind her.

Soomin smiled her pretty smile at him and extended her hand for them to exchange handshakes.

The man, also, as handsome and attractive as Soomin, in your opinion, smiled back at her. He peeked at you who was behind Soomin, and nodded as well at you.

You nodded and smiled timidly back at him.

“Ah, you’ve brought a little friend too,” he said to Soomin.

Soomin turned around and gestured at you, “Yeah! This is my friend, and also my new team member. Y/n, this is Bomin, the friend I told you about,”

“Ahh, nice to meet you,” you said.

“You wanna grab a drink at the cafeteria downstairs? Since you’re early and all,”

Soomin gave him a look, “Bomin…” she said with a cautious tone.

Bomin raised his hands, “Hey, just a drink. I swear, and then I’ll pass you your team’s ID card,”

Soomin turned to you again, “You okay with this, y/n?”

“I’m fine with anything, really,”

“Hmm…Okay Bomin. One drink, and then y/n and I will leave with our ID access cards, okay?”

Bomin grinned at her and nodded happily. “Sure, Soomin,”

                                                                *

 The cafeteria was filled with both Bomin’s and Soomin’s loud laugh.

It had been over 40 minutes, and their one drink had turned into 3 rounds of hot coffee by now.

You moved uncomfortably in your seat, holding onto your bladder that was struggling to stay in at this point.

You watched as Soomin and Bomin teased one another, talking about their school days. You smiled and laughed along with the stories they shared, not that you understand most of them since you don’t know them that well, but hey, at least you tried, right?

You stared at your third cup of coffee on the table in front of you. If only Bomin would stop ordering another round of coffee every time he finishes one, you wouldn’t have the struggle of finishing all the three cups that was served.

You let out a soft sigh as you lift the cup to your lips, praying that your bladder would be able to handle at least one more cup of this drink.

“Gosh, Bomin! You’re still as funny as ever!” Soomin said in between her laughs.

Bomin chuckled at this and raised his cup to his lips, “But of course. And you’re still as charming and beautiful as ever, Soomin-ya,”

You almost choked at your drink. Okay! Now is your cue to leave!

Listening to them goof around together was okay, but seeing them flirting with one another was already another thing. You felt like you were third-wheeling a couple’s date.

You placed your cup onto the table and stood up quickly, making both of them turn their attention to you.

“What’s wrong, y/n? Everything okay?” Soomin asked, concerned about you.

“I’m fine,” you said as you waved your hand at her. “I just…really…have to use the restroom,”

Soomin giggled at this, “Omg! Why didn’t you say so?? Sure, sure, you can go,”

You smiled at both of them and hurriedly waddled away.

Soomin watched as you leave the room. She smiled to herself, “She’s actually very cute, don’t you think so?”

“I guess. I mean, you’re obviously cuter,”

Soomin laughed at this and playfully hit Bomin on his shoulder. “Stop that! I told you, we can’t do this here,”

Bomin smiled and nodded at her.

Soomin was about to take a sip off her drink when she realised something.

“Wait! Does y/n even know where the restroom is??”

                                                                 *

 You walked down the wide, open hallway of the floor, glimpsing at every room’s sign and the signages available, hoping to find one signage that says ‘restroom’.

“They usually put the restrooms at the end of the floor right…” you muttered to yourself.

You hurriedly waddled past all the doors of the floor, just wanting to get to the restroom as fast as you could.

And lucky enough for you, you saw the restroom signage right at the end of the hallway.

And boy did you run.

You literally dashed towards the restroom, with the loud click clack of your high heels echoing in the hallway.

Once you’ve finally entered the restroom, you slipped into a cubicle, locked it and sat down to get your business done and over with.

                                                                   *

 Jihoon and Junkyu entered the main door of the building, scanning their access ID before being able to really enter the inside part of the building.

“Yooo they’re playing this music video after so long!” Junkyu exclaimed when he saw the large LCD screen opposite their escalators showing their ‘I Love You’ music video.

Jihoon too, noticed this and snickered. “Hah! Look at Doyoung! I almost forgot his hair was red for some time!” he said as he pointed at the screen.

A staff walked past them and they bowed and greeted the staff before deciding to go up the escalator.

“Come on, let’s head up,” Jihoon said to his friend.

As they were standing on the escalator, they suddenly heard a sort of loud noise approaching them as they got closer to the floor above them.

Junkyu furrowed his eyebrows and turned to his bestfriend. “Did you hear that? What the heck is that??”

Jihoon shrugged at this, his face confused as well.

CLICK CLACK CLICK CLACK CLICK CLACK-------

As soon as they reached the floor above, they looked around.

“Huh, it stopped,” Jihoon said.

“Yeah. I almost thought there was a dinosaur roaming our hallways,” Junkyu shuddered to himself.

Jihoon shook his head and laughed, “Okay but your imagination is just too wild, Junkyu-aa”

“Hey, you never know.”

                                                                   *

 You stretched your arms happily after finally being able to release your bladder a moment earlier.

You washed your hands at the sink of the restroom and made sure to check your appearance, just in case you smudged your makeup or if you forgot to tuck in your blouse into your skirt.

You leisurely walked out of the restroom, since you were sure that Soomin and Bomin were probably still busy catching up with each other right now.

You decided to just take your time and let them spend more time together.

As you were walking towards the cafeteria, you decided to take a long round walk inside it, and maybe only go back to Soomin’s table a bit later.

You observed the walls of the room, taking in the beautiful design of the place itself.

It’s only a cafeteria, and yet it looks so grand. It looks so classy and comfortable.

You smiled to yourself, thinking about your friends that are artists of the company. You felt glad that behind all of their hard work and practice, they were given a comfortable place to eat and rest.

As you were strolling in the cafeteria, you noticed that there was a path leading to an outdoor section as well.

You peeked at the section, noticing that there was no one there.

You took a step towards the outdoor section. Opening the door, you were greeted by a gentle breeze.

“Oh my god, it’s pretty here,” you said to yourself as you take in the scenery of the outdoor eating section. It looked like a private balcony, or a patio in your opinion. It looked cosy and homey.

You stood near the rails of the balcony (let’s just call it a wide-open cosy balcony).

You closed your eyes and let yourself feel the breeze that was floating in the air. It felt so nice. You inhaled and exhaled a few times.

To be honest, this might be the first time ever that you’ve ever felt this relaxed. You felt like you were in a safe space where no one or anything could ever bother or hurt you.

You opened your eyes again to be greeted by the warm sun rays. You smiled to yourself again.

If you were to be working here for the whole month with your team, this balcony itself would be the perfect getaway spot for you to relax.

                                                               *

 “Anyone else need anything else?” Jihoon checked with his group members before wanting to leave the practice room.

“Hyung! Can I come with?” Jeongwoo asked from one end of the room.

“No, Jeongwoo, I need you to stay and work on that leg movement of yours before we start dancing to the full formation,” Hyunsuk replied to him.

Jeongwoo pouted at this but he nodded and followed what Hyunsuk said.

Since no one added anything for him to get, he decided to just head out of the practice room.

                                                                *

 Jihoon entered the cafeteria, hurrying as well, since he didn’t want to take too much time from their practice, especially since they’ve only just wanted to start. He decided to just take orders for the drinks and bring them back to the practice room since most of them just got here as well.

“Hi, can I get two iced coffees, one chocolate milk and three iced tropical juice?” Jihoon ordered as soon as he arrived at the open counter that the cafeteria staff was standing at.

The staff nodded and made his way to make the drinks for Jihoon.

“I’ll come back to get it, yeah?” Jihoon added, since he decided to roam around while waiting.

“Sure,” the staff answered.

Jihoon pushed his hair to the back with his hand and made his way to his favourite spot of the cafeteria.

Jihoon heard loud laughter coming from the right part of the cafeteria and he tilted his head slightly to check out who it was.

There were two people of whom he wasn’t familiar with. Maybe it was one of the upper staffs, he thought to himself.

He shrugged and headed towards the outdoor balcony.

He stopped in his tracks when he saw a figure of another person there.

Jihoon stared at the figure curiously, especially since he knew that the trainees weren’t supposed to be having their break now. And his sunbaes’ were surely a whole lot taller than this figure right here.

Now, Jihoon couldn’t tell it was you because you had your back facing him, and given that your work attire was something he was still unfamiliar with, he couldn’t even tell it was you from the back of your head.

Jihoon was backing away from the balcony, wanting to quietly leave the place and not bother this stranger who seemed so immersed with the surroundings outside.

Jihoon stepped backwards, and accidentally backed himself against the door as he forgotten that he had closed it after he stepped outside earlier.

“Ow,” Jihoon said as quietly as he could.

The sound of him backing into the door made you turn around.

And you saw him, bowing slightly, his hand rubbing the back of his head.

“Oh?” You said.

Jihoon heard your voice, which made his head lift up to see you staring at him.

“Jihoon?” You asked, since he wasn’t saying anything.

You were sure it was Jihoon, since he was literally staring back at you, his face in shock.

And as if on cue, the wind started blowing a little stronger, making your hair slightly float along with it.

Jihoon couldn’t believe his eyes. He felt like he was in a Kdrama, with you staring at him questioningly and standing right in front of him; not to mention the sudden gush of soft wind.

You took a step forward towards him, now concerned since he still hasn’t said anything ever since you both made eye contact.

“Hey, you okay?” You asked again.

Jihoon shook his head slightly, blinking his eyes a few times.

He noticed that you were slowly taking steps towards him so he hurriedly turned around, opened the door and rushed inside the building again.

He ran towards the cafeteria staff, picked up his tray of drinks and ran off towards his practice room.

You, on the other hand, felt puzzled. Why did he look so terrified?? It was Jihoon, right? You were pretty sure it was the right Jihoon that you saw.

                                                                *

 Jihoon ran into the practice room, panting loudly and with the drinks tray in his hands shaking.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hyung? What’s wrong??” Haruto asked when he noticed Jihoon’s panicked appearance.

Jihoon panted, “N-nothing. I just, I ran here so that I could get the drinks here as fast as I could,” he smiled a little, trying to lie his way out.

Haruto blinked a few times and shrugged. “Okay.”

“Okay, everyone! For those who ordered a drink, your drinks are here!” Jihoon called out, gaining the attention of the rest of them.

“Yayyyy hyung got me my chocolate milk!” Junghwan cheered as he ran towards Jihoon to grab his drink.

Mashiho and Hyunsuk both grabbed their coffees from Jihoon whereas Jeongwoo, Junkyu and Yoshi grabbed their juices from him.

The rest moved to their own spots in the practice room, relaxing and drinking their drinks before they began their full dance practice.

Hyunsuk stayed beside Jihoon though.

“Jeongwoo’s so good at the leg step by the way. I corrected him once just now and instantly he managed to do it 10 times better than what I showed him,” Hyunsuk said as he took a sip from his drink

“Waahh, that kid’s a genius I tell you! He’s growing up so fast too,” Jihoon said, sounding a little sullen now that he realised his kids were all grown up compared to when he first met them.

Hyunsuk chuckled at this, “Look at us, talking like real old parents,”

Jihoon smiled and nodded at him. His eyes roamed the room, looking at his members sitting on the floor and talking to one another.

Now, even though his eyes were looking around the room, he couldn’t get the image of your face from his head. He kept remembering the look you gave him when the soft breeze came blowing at the balcony earlier.

“….and better!” Hyunsuk exclaimed.

Jihoon turned his attention to his hyung beside him.

“I’m sorry, what?” he asked, since he didn’t exacly catch what Hyunsuk said before.

“I said, the coffee here just keeps getting better and better! It’s so good! You wanna try some?” Hyunsuk asked as he offered the drink in his hand.

Jihoon shook his head politely at his hyung. “No thanks, hyung. I’d want some of the juice the kids are having though,”

Jihoon saw Junkyu sitting on the floor not too far from him and Hyunsuk, sipping on his drink with one hand and his other hand holding onto his phone as he stares at it. He’s probably watching a video.

“Hey, Kim Junkyu,” Jihoon called out to him.

Junkyu looked up from his phone. “What?”

“Come here,”

“Why?”

“Just come here,” Jihoon gestured with his hand.

Junkyu stood up from where he was sitting, keeping his phone into his pants pocket as he walked towards both his leaders.

The moment he arrived near them, Jihoon pointed at the cup of juice in his hands. Junkyu’s eyebrows raised and handed it to Jihoon, immediately understanding that his bestfriend would like a sip.

Jihoon smiled and thanked him before taking the cup from his hands.

“Look at you both, you don’t even need to say anything and yet you get each other so well,” Hyunsuk said, his face beaming with proudness for his two kids beside him.

“Hyung, I think it’s quite obvious that Jihoon only calls me here to taste my drink. We don’t need to predict him wanting me here for anything else,” Junkyu snickered.

Jihoon rolled his eyes slightly at this. He handed Junkyu’s drink back at him.

“Whatever, Kyu. You’re just too shy to admit that we’re soulmates,” he said teasingly.

Hyunsuk giggled at this when he saw it was Junkyu’s turn to roll his eyes at Jihoon.

“See? Soulmates! It must be nice to have one,” Hyunsuk said.

“Yeah, sure, hyung. Like you and our Doyoungie aren’t soulmates,” Jihoon said sarcastically.

Hyunsuk stopped to think for a while. “Huh…you could say so. We understand each other quite well,”

“See? There you go. I think we’re all quite compatible for each other at this point,” Jihoon pointed out.

Hyunsuk nodded at this.

Junkyu was about to leave with his drink when suddenly Jihoon’s loud sigh stopped him.

“What’s wrong? You seem like you’re distracted about something,” Hyunsuk asked Jihoon who looked restless beside him.

Jihoon shrugged. “I don’t know…I mean, if I told you guys, you wouldn’t believe me anyways,”

Hyunsuk shook his head and ruffled Jihoon’s hair, “Heyyy, don’t say that! You know we’re always here to listen to you,”

“Hmm,” he lets out another sigh.

Junkyu started stepping away from his hyungs when suddenly,

“I was at that outdoor balcony in the cafeteria, hyung. I saw this girl there. She looked exactly like y/n!”

Junkyu, who was a few steps away by then, stopped when he heard your name being mentioned by his hyung.

He stayed in his spot, his cold drink still in his hand. To be honest, he looked like a statue at this point with the way he’s standing still.

“Pfft! As if!” Hyunsuk started laughing when he heard Jihoon’s sentence coming out of his mouth.

“See?? I told you, you wouldn’t believe me!”

“No, I mean—it’s impossible! You need access to enter this building. And, y/n is at work right now, isn’t she?? Why would y/n need any reason to be here??”

Jihoon lets out another sigh. “Right?? See that’s why I couldn’t believe it either. And did you know?? When I saw her, she was glowing radiantly too!” Jihoon exaggerated.

Sure, he saw you being all glowy and pretty earlier but the way he explained it left a different impression on Hyunsuk.

Hyunsuk furrowed his eyebrows. “Glowing?? You mean…she’s all shining??”

Jihoon shook his head, “She looked too pretty to be y/n you know?? I’ve seen y/n few times now and I’ve never seen her look this radiant!”

Junkyu, who was still quietly still on his own, blinked a few times to himself. That’s not true, right? You had always been plainly normal to him, but he wouldn’t say that you were never pretty to his eyes.

Junkyu, realising that he was now imagining what you look like based on Jihoon’s description, started shaking his head furiously. Why would he bother imagining your face at this time of day??

Jihoon noticed Junkyu shaking his head and he assumed that Junkyu was agreeing with what he said.

“Right, Junkyu? It’s impossible that’s y/n, but she sounded and looked so much like her!” Jihoon said, referring to the ‘you’ he met just now.

Hyunsuk kept quiet for a while.

Jihoon and Junkyu’s eyes are on him now.

“Could it be…” Hyunsuk said in a quiet voice.

Jihoon leaned in close to his hyung.

Junkyu too, started walking back towards the both of them, wanting to listen closely to what his hyung is saying.

By the time Junkyu had reached them again, Hyunsuk raised his head to look at both his friends.

“Hey, Jihoon…did this y/n that you saw earlier…did she smell good? Like, smell super, super good?”

Jihoon thought for a while. “Hmm…I didn’t realise what she smelt like, hyung. But! I noticed that the moment she turned around to face me, the wind started blowing. At first I thought it looked like a Kdrama scene but when I think about it…it’s strange that the wind started blowing at that exact time…” Jihoon said. He shuddered to himself.

Hyunsuk covered his own mouth with both his hands. “Oh my god,” he whispered.

“What? What is it?” Junkyu finally opened his mouth this time.

Jihoon too, started doing the same as Hyunsuk. “Hyung! Could it be??”

“Oh no, you both don’t think—” Junkyu knew where this is going.

“Jihoon! The y/n you met was a ghost?!!” Hyunsuk said, holding on to his shriek since he doesn’t want to scare the rest of his members in the room.

Jihoon started shaking Hyunsuk’s shoulders. “Hyunggggg noooooo! No wayyyy! Why meeee,” he whined dramatically.

Junkyu grimaced at his hyungs. He left the both of them to their drama and decided to just sit down in another corner of the room.

He scoffed to himself. How could his hyungs believe that there was a ghost in this building?? And in broad daylight??

Junkyu rolled his eyes and continued drinking his juice.

                                                                   *

 “Thanks for today, Bomin,” Soomin beamed at her close friend, looking like she’s the happiest person in the room.

“No problem,” he smiled back at her.

“Well, I guess, we better get going?” Soomin turned to you.

You nodded at her, “Sure,”

“Aight. Well, I guess we’ll be going off now,” she turned to Bomin and bowed slightly to thank him again before leaving.

The both of you walked towards the access point near the entrance of the building and Soomin took out a pack of access cards from her bag.

“Here you go,” she said as she handed one of it to you.

Taking the card into your hand, you looked at her questioningly.

Soomin waved her card in front of your face and grinned, “Let’s see how this baby works!” she said excitedly.

Soomin hurried towards the access point and scanned her card, making the barrier lift and letting her through to the other side of the hall.

She turned around, her bright, pretty smile showing when she waved her hand to signal you to try your access card as well.

You walked up towards the access point and waved your card at the scanner. Beep! The barrier lifts and you walked right through.

You reached Soomin, shock written on your face.

“Oh my god, I feel like I’m a secret agent entering a secret agent agency for work!” you said, your face still in disbelief that you just did something so cool.

Soomin giggled at you. “Right?? Our office isn’t as advanced as this so like, don’t you think it’s thrilling to have this kind of special access to one of the biggest entertainment companies in this country??”

You nodded at her happily.

“Alright, agent y/n, let’s head back to our boring and dull office,” Soomin said as she linked her arm with yours.

You groaned at her sentence. “Aww must we?”

“Yes, y/n! Now, let’s head back,” she said, giggling.

                                                                    *

 (That evening)

“Guys…don’t you think we’re invading y/n’s life by doing this?” Doyoung asked his hyungs.

“What are you talking about? Y/n should feel lucky that she has friends who are concerned about her like us,” Jihoon replied, though his eyes are still scanning the hallway, hoping to see your figure to show up anytime now.

“Doyoungie’s right, Jihoon. We could just ask her through text you know?” Hyunsuk sided with Doyoung.

Jihoon folded his arms against his chest and huffed, “And what? Scare the rest of our kids when we ask in the group whether the y/n we saw was a ghost or not in our building??”

“Well, technically…only you saw her there…”

“Hush! She could be here any time soon! We must greet her with a warm smile, just in case she gets rowdy since she might be all tired out from work,”

Hyunsuk glanced at his watch. 7.15p.m. They’ve been here for almost an hour now, and when they got off work at 6 earlier, Hyunsuk wasn’t expecting Jihoon to drag him here instantly. He was hoping to at least get some dinner first.

“Jihoon, let’s just text her. We can private message her too! I’m getting hungry, I’m sure Doyoung and Junkyu are hungry too,” Hyunsuk tried to convince Jihoon.

“Hyung, this is an important matter. We don’t talk about matters like these through text,”

Hyunsuk lets out a sigh. He knew it was no use arguing with Jihoon anyways. Maybe Jihoon needed this clarification since he must’ve been terrified when he saw the ghost that looked like you today.

“Besides, why did you bring Doyoung along? I thought I told you this was a leaders kind of investigation session,” Jihoon asked, as he restlessly glanced at his phone for the 8th time by now, checking the time.

“Hey, you brought Junkyu too,” Hyunsuk pointed out.

Junkyu stood quietly beside Jihoon, confused as to how Jihoon managed to convince him to tag along with this silly investigation of his.

Jihoon glanced over at his best friend beside him who was staring into space, a clueless look on his face.

“Meh, he seems fine with it. I only brought him ‘cause you brought someone else along first,”

“Dang, you both fight like you’re both a married couple who’s trying to make each other jealous. Chill you both,” Doyoung chuckled as he said this.

“Can we just go home already? I’m sleepy, and hungry,” Junkyu whined suddenly.

“Oh? You’re saying something now?” Jihoon said, amused with his best friend’s cute whine.

Junkyu shook his head. “I don’t care, I’m heading back. Our floor is literally 10 floors above hers so I might as well just leave,”

“Awww nooo don’t leave yet Junkyu-aa. Y/n will be here any minute! I promise!”

“Nah, who cares if y/n comes back or not, I don’t need to see her anyways—” Junkyu said as he turned around to leave.

And there, right behind him, was you, face surprised to see your friends in front of your house door.

“Y-y/n-“ Junkyu stuttered in all of a sudden, surprised to see you.

“Oh? Y/n! Hi!” Doyoung waved his hand at you, greeting you.

You nodded at him and looked at the four of them questioningly.

“Hi…Why…are you guys here?” You asked.

 To be continued….

[ginny-rose-sixx]

What the Fork? Ch 2

A/N: Well it’s ADHD awareness month and to be honest I have been having a real beast of a time these past 1.5 months. I still have not been able to be in the perfect mind space for writing lately. For example, I will sit down to write and half-way through a sentence I will start to hyper-fixate on trying to remember what Roman Numeral I had to write to when I was in 1st grade. Was it 1 thousand? 2 thousand? 10 thousand? 1 million?? Then by the time I get back to the sentence I was writing, I am so lost. Sometimes it frightens and discourages me so much that I immediately shut the document down. I will also just break down and cry or I will hyper-fixate on some inane object. I have had hours pass that seem to be minutes and vice versa.

Thankfully, I have been able to write more. Chapter 12 is out on WattPad and AO3. Also, I am now finally putting chapter 2 here on Tumblr. Read, reblog, tell me what you think… pretty please? 🥺

Pairing: Not disclosed to reader yet

Warnings: swearing

Word count: 1542

Chapter summary: It’s Roz’s first morning in 1981.

Roz woke slowly. *Gaahh, that is such a gross smell. And why on Earth is there someone in my bed?* Roz cracked an eye open and peeked around the room. *WHAAAT THE FUUUCK???* She started to silently freak the fuck out. *Not good. Not good. Not good at all. Wait, seriously who the fuck is in bed with me??* Roz was done being silent. Now was the time for ear splitting screams. Roz also lashed out at the stranger elbowing him in the stomach and kicking him a few times in the shins. For good measure, she also kicked him twice in the balls.

Tommy sleepily stumbled out of his bed. “Roz?! Roz are you ok?!” Tommy saw Vince on the floor groaning and clutching his crotch. “Vinnie, dude, did you seriously get into bed with Roz after getting home? Are you ok Roz? Did he hurt you or anything?”

“Seriously T-bone? I’m over here in major pain and you think I did something to her?” Vince groaned.

As she listened to Tommy and Vince, Roz became more alert and remembered where she was. “Mornin’ Tommy. Hey Vince, if I catch you cuddling me in my sleep again without my permission, I WILL hurt you. I will shove my wand up your nose and scramble your brain.”

Nikki stood in the doorway laughing, “Well Vince, I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen you kicked out of bed by a chick. I thought you’d have freaked out a little less Roz, you know, being the time traveling witch that you are.”

Roz stood up and glared at him, “Shut up Nikki! You had me go into his bed and didn’t warn him I was there to… what? Mess with me?! Were you hoping that he’d do something to me in my sleep?”

Nikki rolled his eyes, “I knew he wouldn’t, and it was a fucking joke.”

“Not a very good one if you ask me,” said Roz crossing her arms. “Ugh whatever.”

Vince looked between Roz and Nikki. “Is anyone gonna fill me in on the babe from the future?”

“Watch it buddy. I’ve got my eye on you,” Roz stuck her tongue out at Vince. “Anyways, shouldn’t we wait for Mick in case he thought of anything else he wants to know? The less I gotta repeat myself the better.”

Tommy looked at the alarm clock, “Well it’s almost 11:30 so he should be here soon for practice. What do you want to do until then?”

*I wonder why I’m even here. What do I want to do anyways? I can’t always just sit here on my ass with the guys. It’s too bad that to get a job or anything I would need a fake ID or something. I know, I could be their babysitter and maid.* Roz snickered to herself at the thought.

“Earth to Roz….1981 to Roz, are you there?” Tommy said poking her on her right shoulder right where she had a giant bruise.

Roz tried to keep from wincing. “Um sorry I guess I spaced out there. I guess we should come up with some sleeping arrangements because I don’t want to wake up to unexpected people in the same bed as me. No offence Vince. Also, I’m sorry for literally kicking your ass outta bed. So, who wants to share a bed with a witch?”

The guys looked between each other. Just as Vince was about to try saying something, Nikki elbowed him and said “Unless we can get another mattress, you should get your own bed. These two goons can either share or fight each other for who gets the couch. Although, you could always share with one of them.”

“Nik seriously? I’ll just try to be at my girlfriend’s more often. I don’t want to risk my brain getting scrambled.” Vince shrugged and walked out to the living room.

Roz was starting to feel the need for some time to herself. “Hey Tommy, do you have another shirt that I can wear? I don’t feel like being in these shorts all day.”

“Sure thing Roz,” Tommy said tossing her a shirt as he walked out of the room.

Nikki just stood there with his arms crossed analyzing Roz. Starting to feel a little hot under the collar, she cleared has throat and said, “Um Nikki, I don’t exactly want an audience while I change.”

With a wink and a smirk Nikki left the room. Roz shut the door behind him. Roz started to think as she got her skirt and started to change. *Ok, seriously, Nikki was being a little weird just now. He didn’t act this nice last night at all. Maybe he’s just trying to get me rattled.* When she took the shirt off she saw that her whole right shoulder was bruised. *Geez did I fall or something when I blacked out?* Roz did her hair in a messy bun and tied the oversized t-shirt at the waist. Knowing how gross the carpet is, she decided to put her boots on. Once she was satisfied with her clothes, she walked out to the living room to find that Mick had already arrived.

“Hey cuz,” she said as she skipped in and plopped onto the couch between Mick and Tommy.

“So teen witch, I hear you kicked Vince out of bed. Good job kid.” Mick said with a small smile.

Roz laughed, “If he tries anything while I’m asleep I’ll treat him like he’s an Egyptian being prepared for burial”

Vince looked at her like she had 2 heads, “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means that I would shove a white-hot poker up your nose and scramble your brain before I pull it out through your nose.” Roz was having a hard time not laughing at the look on Vince’s face. Taking pity on him, she conceded, “Weeeeellllll I would actually be more likely to punch or kick someone I’m not expecting to be in my bed.”

“So, Roz, what did happen before you appeared under the table?” Tommy asked turning on the couch to look at her.

“Well I was supposed to go to a Harry Potter convention where a bunch of fans get together. That’s why I was dressed the way that I was. My friend Katy was supposed to pick me up but she didn’t show up so I started to watch a movie. I was fiddling around with my time turner necklace and then a blue light started creeping up my arms. I couldn’t drop the necklace, or even move at all. Around the time that it was reaching my head I blacked out. I must have fallen because I have a giant bruise on my right shoulder. Next thing I know I’m under your table.”

“What movie were you watching?” Nikki asked suspiciously.

Roz crinkled her nose and questioned, “Why do you care what movie I was watching?”

Nikki scoffed, “Of course I want to know because it might explain why you ended up here of all places.”

Roz thought *I can’t tell them too much about it. I can’t cause some sort of time paradox or change the future. He probably won’t believe whatever I say anyways* She took a steadying breath and said, “It was a movie with a killer rabbit, French people flinging insults and throwing cows, horny nuns in a convent, and empty halves of coconuts. I was also trying to do some research into the classic physics problem of ‘What is the air speed velocity of an un-laden swallow?’”

Nikki snorted, “Well that’s bull shit. You were probably watching something lame and embarrassing, or something really important. Either way, you don’t want to tell us the truth.”

Roz snorted and shook her head at his response, “Of course you just keep on thinking that Nikki. Monty Python and the Holy Grail is just pure awesome, not crazy. Oh and, Vince, my full name is Eva Rozlyn Roberts. I prefer Roz. Also, Nikki decided that I am Mick’s cousin from Wisconsin. Any questions anyone?”

“Well Roz, that’s all well and good, but we might need more of a back story than that. We gotta have a plausible reason why Mick’s adult cousin moved from Wisconsin. Also, we probably should have a good reason why you stay here and not with him.” Vince said.

Roz thought for a moment then said, “Well as to the moving states, I guess we could say I’m recently parentless and that Mick’s the only family member I have. As to why I’m here and not with him would be his girlfriend doesn’t like me.”

“What will you do during the day?” asked Tommy.

“I guess I’ll help you guys with stuff around here. I would cook and clean, ugh I wish I was actually a witch; magic would come in handy when cleaning this place up.” Roz looked around. She saw copious amounts of trash, broken shit, and burnt cockroaches everywhere.

Nikki watched Roz as she looked around. He thought that she might be a little too tame at the moment. With a wicked glint in his eye he asked her, “What about when we party? Are you gonna be joining in?”

[notaburgler]

Sunday is cleaning day

Bakugo x GN reader- Nsfw

Triggers: oral sex (giving), cursing

It came as a shock when your boyfriend asked you if you wanted to bring some stuff over to his house a few days ago. Your face heated up at the thought of having your own drawer. You went over everything you might need at his house: clothes, shampoo, face cleanser, toothbrush. You’d have to buy a few things, but that was fine.

“Really Bakugo?” You felt the lump form in your throat. “Can I have the top drawer?” Your cheeks burned from the smile.

It was even more shocking when he scoffed, “you won’t be able to fit your whole apartment in just a little drawer you idiot.”

Oh!

That’s what he meant.

It hadn’t been but a few days since getting fully moved in. It was a tight fit, but his spare room came in handy when most of your stuff wouldn’t fit into the rest of his place. He was rather particular about his apartment. It was well decorated- contrary to what you had thought it would look like when you first met- and very tidy.

You always knew him as a bit of a neat freak, so it was no shock that every Sunday was cleaning day at the Bakugo house. He made sure to take the day off from his Hero work to stick with this routine.

You woke up to him sliding into his sweat pants and glaring over his shoulder. “Get up-” His usual cold voice breaking the silence, “- today is cleaning day and the place is a mess because of your crap.”

You had come to accept that he was a bit brash in his way of forming words. He wasn’t the most eloquent or romantic when wooing you. He was harsh and blunt, but it paid off. He didn’t hide behind cowardice poems and flirty innuendos. It was straight to the point with the explosion hero.

He left the room and you jumped out of bed with a yawn. You knew he’d wait for you… impatiently wait for you. You had many fights because he would jump the gun and watch the newest anime episode without you or start eating before you got home from work. A lesson learned when you did the same with him and he came at you with words of fury.

After a quick brush of your teeth, and tossing on something a little more comfortable, you drug your feet to the living room to start your morning.

“Took you long enough.”

That attitude of his was a bit too much before a cup of coffee.

“Attitude.”

It’s the only thing you needed to say before he’d straighten up and apologize- well, apologize by Bakugos standards.

You shared a quiet read of the daily news on your phones and finishing off a cup of coffee before starting. Although he took every Sunday off, he still kept up with hero news and would rush out if ever needed. Sometimes, you hated how much of a workaholic your beloved was. But it was an admirable quality that made you fall even deeper in love with him.

As you placed your coffee mugs in the sink, he came behind you and kissed your cheek. There it was. The apology you had been looking for.

“You start the dishes, I’ll take out the garbage.” He said with his hands resting on your hips and another chaste kiss on the temple.

You hummed placing each dish in the dishwasher. You’d never had one before. It was like magic when you first saw it. Dirty dishes go in- clean dishes come out. He laughed for a good twenty minutes when he found out you didn’t know how to use it. You couldn’t lie, you just tossed everything in where it fit. You’d watched YouTube videos on how to load a dishwasher and read articles on the best way to get a good clean. Honestly, you looked all that up on incognito mode on your phone, embarrassed that someone may see your search history. But you we’re proud of yourself. You managed to get them all in there without much hassle, and before your feisty boyfriend even came back up from the dumpster.

Next: starting the laundry.

This was another machine you’d never had. How much detergent to use? Which cycle was best? You, again, had spent some time on the internet finding answers. Moving the load from the night before to the dryer, you smiled excited. Warm, clean clothes were a fantasy of yours. You fiddled with the knobs on the dryer, finally figuring it out. The tumbling clothes brought a cheerful gaze in your eyes. The anticipation was killing you already.

You rushed around the bedroom, scooping up socks and clothes. You had to admit, the large room had become a bit of a rats nest. Both of you were so tired after work that tossing clothes on the floor for later seemed more appealing than putting them in the clothes hamper, even thought it was only a few steps away.

As you picked up the final sock and started the washer, you heard the clanking of dishes from the kitchen. You started tossing some clothes in thinking Bakugo had found a few dishes sitting around and was simply cramming them into the spaces left behind, but when the sound of porcelain clanking kept going and a few grumbles followed, you had to peek and see what was going on.

“Babe?” Your cute questioning glance made him stop in his tracks, “everything ok?”

He looked back at you, his aggressive expression never changing, “do you not know how these work or something?”

“Not really. It’s my first time using one.”

He grumbled turning back to finish rearranging them properly. Maybe you misread the instructions online? Maybe you missed something?

“If you show me-“

“It’s fine.”

You brush it off your shoulder. He was always loud and pugnacious, you wouldn't take his tone as anything offensive.

On your way back to the washer, you saw a missed pile of clothes in the spare room. “Oh yeah… we did that in there a few nights ago.” A wicked smile graced your lips recalling the moments leading to your back against the door and how the large hole in the wall came to be. “He still needs to fix that.” You muttered as you scooped up the clothes and left the room.

“Babe?”

His intense gaze glanced back at you with dirty soaking wet clothes in hand.

“You have to separate the clothes or you’ll fuck everything up!” A more aggressive tone than with the dishes.

“I’m new to washing machines. Most people said that it doesn’t matter-“

“They’re fucking idiots. You separate the clothes; darks and lights.” He dug through the warm water for more clothes, “and unroll the socks you Neanderthal. They won’t get washed if they are in a lump. Geez…”

You huffed and shrugged with bulged eyes and a dramatic hand gesture. You guessed that the only way to learn was to make the mistake, but every person on the planet couldn’t be wrong, could they?

Instead of running the washer and cleaning the clothes, you’d rather take care of the soft, warm clothes from the dryer anyway. You couldn’t wait for that part.

You smiled and turned to him, “babe, let me take the clothes outta the dryer, ok?” You kissed him not waiting for an answer and went to strip the bed.

He cleaned the toilet as you took off the sheets that maybe should have been cleaned a few days prior. Bakugo did in fact have a high sex drive and those sheets had seen some things over the past few days of you living together.

“Babe?” You called for him, wondering if he’d ever get annoyed with the pet name you called him.

He grunted poking his head from the bathroom, “any particular way I should strip and make the bed?” You didn’t need him going back and changing this one. You’d lived alone for so long and knew how to make a goddamn bed.

He shook his head and got back to work. Perfect! He didn’t care. No specifications on the bed or the sheets. Maybe, just maybe, you’d get this one right.

He was always particular about how things were done. He liked things a certain way and would get pissy if he didn’t get it. He was a perfectionist, to say the least, and hated when it wasn’t done right the first time. So, the dishes and the clothes were no shock. It would have been nice if he would have shown you the right way… and maybe not been a dick about it.

You fanned out the flat sheet, a beautiful hue of soft cream laying gently atop a fitted sheet of the same color. You picked the deep red comforter even though you knew he’d just kick it off at night and curl up with you to keep the two of you warm. You put the cream decorative pillow cases on the foam pillows in the back and the red pillows cases meant to be slept on in front and stood them up straight, just like Bakugo liked. This was something you knew and made sure to do perfectly. You tossed a few throw pillows on top to make it look nice and stepped back to admire your work. It looked great. There was nothing Bakugo could find wrong with this masterpiece. You almost wanted to call him to show him and get the praise you loved so much. Normally, praise meant nothing to you. You didn’t need anyone telling you how good you did or any of that crap; but it was special coming from Bakugo. His brazen tone and blunt words gave praise offered, that much more validity.

You failed to resist the urge and peeked in to see him scrubbing away at the shower. A small snicker came out of you and you were quickly rewarded with a menacing glare. Maybe you wouldn’t disturb him and drag him away form what he was doing.

Your smiled finding the glare nothing more than a false threat, “I’m gonna go vacuum.” You kiss the top of his head.

You lingered for a moment. The smell of caramel wafting to your nose. You love it. You would always look forward to him coming home after a long day; not just because you wanted to see him- oh no. Because he always smelled so good when he was sweaty. You’d bury your face in his chest and get rewarded with a vibrating rumble as he rolled his eyes and reluctantly (or so he’d claim) hold you close. In reality, he loved holding you. It was the best part of his day. With his quirk, his sweat wasn’t a gross, nasty, musty smell. It’s sweet and savory. You demanded cuddles whenever you had the chance.

After the gym: cuddle time.

After work: cuddle time.

After a good training session… you guessed it! Cuddle time!

“Don't work too hard baby.”

“Hey!” You stopped and turned back to him, “I don't hate you, you stupid idiot.” Well… you’d have to work on how he expressed his feelings, but it’ll work for now.

“I don't hate you either babe.” The smile on your face made him smirk. He loved that smile.

He was cute being domestic like this. In all honesty, you hadn’t judged him to be Mr. Clean. You expected him to tell you to do it since he did his hero work and all you did was wait tables at a local restaurant. No, the hero game wasn’t for you. It wasn’t that your quirk was weak, would you expect Bakugo to be with some weakling? No, it was that you just didn’t want it. Hero work was a hassle and a half. It took up a lot of time and was straining on the hero’s body, evident through Bakugos numerous scrapes and bruises and a jumbo sized epsom salt sitting by the bathtub. You were glad he had taken the lead and cleaned the bathroom, he’d always leave the tub looking like an atomic bomb had hit it after he was done.

“Babe!” You yelled as you shuffled through the spare room trying to find the vacuum.

“What!?!?” You hated that tone.

“Where’s the vacuum?”

“Figure it out you fuckin’ nerd.” He kept scrubbing with deep, long, furious strokes. The tub was just so gross.

You popped your head back into the bathroom with a smile, “what was that babe?”

It was less of a question and more of a threat.

“It’s in the spare room.”

“Where in the spare room my yummy little cream puff.” You had officially reached condescending pet names and he knew this was a warning of things to come if he didn’t mind his tone.

“Closet.” If he said any more than that, he’d get chewed out until his ears bled.

“Thanks love muffin.”

The living room and bedroom were vacuumed and looking good. You stood back leaning on the handle with a proud look on your face. If there was one thing you were confident in, it was your vacuuming skills. It wasn’t a hard task, but you maintained your vacuum well and had amazing eyesight. Seeing the small crumbs and dust bunnies scattered across the floor was easy.

“Babe!” His shrill voice screamed from the bedroom.

You skipped back to him, happy as a clam. You’d hoped he saw how nice the bed looked and you’d get that greatly desired, but solemnly heard praise. “Yes, Bakugo.” Your smile brightened the rooms lumenocity by a few watts.

He was hunched over the corner of the bed, the comforter lifted up, “hospital corners babe….” he grumbled fixing the corner to a perfect peak, “hospital corners.” He grumbled again.

You threw your hands up and left the room. He just had to be so particular, didn’t he?

It was then that the clothes on the dryer that you had started earlier we're done. The obnoxious buzz of the machine echoing throughout the apartment, drowning out Bakugos whispered rant about the fucking corners. You calmly ignored your boyfriends mumbles and happily trotted to the dryer with burning cheeks. You were so happy! Taking the clothes out of the dryer, warm and fluffy, was something you had looked forward to for a while. Yeah, Bakugo hounded you for months to just bring clothes over when you’d stay the night, but you’d always decline. You had a routine at home and it worked. Washing them by hand and hanging them out to dry. It just became the norm and you kinda enjoyed it. But this… this was like Christmas morning.

The scent of fresh spring breeze came to you in droves when the door opened and the hot air wafted to your face. You felt the heat transform into tiny beads of sweat for a second until the cool summer air came bursting in through the open window in the spare room behind you. It was so nice, so calming. With both arms, you reached in, hugging the clothes to your chest and feeling the warmth caress your skin. You hummed and nuzzled into it like a cat. It was everything you’d ever imagined.

“Babe?” Your eyes opened to see your beefcake of a boyfriend standing over you with a confused expression, “you gotta take them outta the dryer some time.”

You shot up wondering just how long you had been holding onto them without moving. You were so lost in the moment, you must have spaced out.

“Start folding them and put them away before they get wrinkled.”

With a hop, you got up and dropped them on the floor in the bedroom, sitting down cross legged and started folding. His eyes watched from the hall. You were so cute, happily folding laundry and rubbing socks against yours cheek. He smirked, “what a weirdo.”

You rolled the socks together and folded the shirts in half, then in half again. Same with the jeans- in half, then in half again. A few things needed to be hung up and you gently placed them on the bed so they didn’t wrinkle. God forbid there were wrinkles!

His hero uniform lay in front of you and you smiled running your fingers along the rough fabric. He always looked so good in it. Maybe one night you convince him to wear it for you. You tapped your chin in thought. You'd be a pretty good villain. A villain that can only be taught a lesson if the hero who caught them bent them over and pounded it into them.

A coil heated up in your gut and twisted at the tantalizing thought.

You had house work to do!!! You couldn’t be thinking about how great his muscles looked under the tight fabric. Or how the pants accentuated his most impressive asset. Those clothes won’t be folding themselves!

You laid it out on the bed nicely. You’d let him put it away. Maybe if you left it out he’d- oh my god! Stop!

You slapped your hands to your cheeks to shake this fantasy. House work. House work. HOUSE WORK!!!

At the unmistakable sound of the vacuum, your head whipped to the living room. For the love of god, you already did that!

“Babe!” Now you we’re coping an attitude. “What the fuck? I already did that.”

“It’s wrong.”

****

That night the two of you cuddled on the couch. The house was spotless with a nicely vacuumed floor, clean clothes put away neatly, dishes done and sleeping soundly in the cupboard. The house felt and smelled like a fresh, new atmosphere where you were able to shrug off the annoyance left behind from Katsukis earlier judgements, and move along to a nice night with just the two of you. He made dinner and apologized- not well, but he made an effort- for being so rough around the edges all day. After he went back and recleaned everything, you snapped. Refilling the laundry was your breaking point. You weren’t so much upset that he redid it, it was that he refused to help you do it “right”. He’d just complain and do it for you. But now that the day was done, and the sun had set over the skyline of the city, the two of you enjoyed some wine and a movie.

You couldn’t deny that he was looking good at the moment. Maybe he knew that the white tank top look made you feel things. Access to his sculpted arms, those babies slung over your shoulder like he needed to show the world you were his- even if it was just the two of you. He was so proud to call you his, even if he couldn’t find a nice way to say it. The asshole was top of his class with a 4.0 gpa and he couldn’t string together any words that didn’t end in idiot or dumbass. But… he was yours, and you were elated that he had chosen you out of all of the people throwing themselves at his feet once he debuted as a hero.

Maybe a reward for being a good boyfriend was in order, you think to yourself what you could do for him to thank him. With rent prices and wages being so drastically gapped, you’d never be able to afford a nice place like this without him. And he refused you pay rent. Well, that’s not exactly how he put it, but when you asked what your half was, his response was: “keep your fucking money. Like a hero like me needs petty cash from you.” But what he ended up saying after you spent thirty minutes crying and feeling bad about yourself was: “babe, I’m sorry, what I meant was that I don’t need you to pay me rent. Please stop crying.” He was really sweet and sensitive if he’d just stop and think about what he was saying for a change.

As you stared up into his blood red eyes, it hit you. He saw your stare, and sneered, “what? Stop looking at me like that weirdo.”

You slid down his lap, sliding your arms over his toned thighs, your fingers grasping the elastic of his sweatpants and bringing a devious smirk to his face. You weren’t fond of this. It would be your first time sucking your boyfriends cock. It wasn’t that you didn’t like it, and you had done it in the past, it was just that he never asked for it. Bakugo was more fond of pleasing you over pleasing himself. In that respect, he was by no means greedy. Your pleasure was of the utmost importance when the two of you were in bed; so when you slipped him out of his sweatpants, he groaned.

Precum beaded at the tip, your tongue sliding along it to collect it and making his whole body fizzle at the contact.

Your head bobbed and his eyes pierced through you, a gaze that drew you from your ministrations. “God damn babe,” he pushed you back down, a smile cracking to your lips, “now if you’d just-“ you stopped and removed yourself from him fully.

“Katsuki, baby-“ your voice was showing clear agitation, “I’m putting what you pee out of in my mouth, so if you think now is a good time to criticize my technique, I encourage you to reconsider.”

Look, you accepted constructive criticism with a smile in all other facets of life, and sex was no different. You’d be happy to change how you're doing something to make it better for both of you.

But after today…

After an entire day of him essentially telling you you do everything wrong, you would not accept the criticism.

“But I’m just saying if you’d-“

“Fine.” You stood and crossed your arms, “You redid everything else is did today! So you can suck your own dick. That’s the only way it’ll get done right after all!” You stormed out and to your room, leaving him hard and horny.

You overreacted a bit, sure. But you needed a moment to calm down. There was no way you’d leave him like that, and he knew you’d come back and finish the job once you calmed down. This wasn’t the first time you let your temper get away from you- he was no different. And he was aware that he had been at least semi difficult all day. But if you’d just learn to do it right, he wouldn’t need to fix it!

“Babe?” He peeked his head in after a few painful moments of palming himself to keep his erection but not allowing the orgasm building in his gut to peek.

You pouted from the bed, “come sit down. I’ll take good care of you.” You sniffled letting your lips curl to show you had calmed and were ready to blow his mind.

[jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets]

Slash Fiction - Ch 4

Title: Slash Fiction 

Fandom: Supernatural

Series: Supernatural

Pairing: Destiel (there will be more)

Rating: Lemon (for the series as a whole)

Tags: fluff, angst, pining, canon typical violence and gore

MASTERLIST

AO3

SERIES LIST 

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

Chapter Four

     “Dean,” Sam whispered as Sera walked around the body hanging from the roof, same as the last. 

     Dean heard Sam, but couldn't register anything. He felt his heart rate increasing as he looked at the poor man in front of him. Familiar trench coat hanging around him, blue tie, dark messy hair… blue eyes. 

     “I know those guys said he was dressed like Cas, but Dean, he… he looks exactly like-”

     “Yeah, I know, Sam!” Dean snapped, then quickly turned away from the body, not able to look anymore, and walked down the hall.

     Sam and Sera shared a quick, knowing look between themselves as they watched Dean stop a few feet away and pull out his phone.

     He couldn't help it. Normally this sort of thing didn't bother him too much anymore, it came with the job, but the fact that he was practically looking at Cas hanging from the ceiling made his stomach turn. He had to be sure, he had to ease his mind even though he knew he was being ridiculous, but he had to dial the number anyways.

     The phone rang for what felt like a lifetime before someone picked up, and Dean sighed as the familiar voice hit his ears, “Hello, Dean.”

     “Hiya, Cas,” he smiled, relieved.

     “Is everything alright?”

     “Yeah , I just…” He ran a hand down his face, “Just a rough night I guess, wanted to hear your voice.”

     “Do you want me to come to you? I can fly in, just tell me where you are.”

     “Naw, it's alright, I know you're busy helping Bobby with that vamp nest,” Dean risked a glance over his shoulder, seeing Sera and Sam still investigating the scene then turned back, “just hearing your voice is enough.”

     There was a pause for a moment before Cas said, “As long as you're sure you're alright…”

     “I'm fine, Cas, promise, just…” He closed his eyes tight, focusing for the moment on Cas’s voice in his ear, “Just distract me for a few, tell me about your job with Bobby.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

     “I would love to know what the hell’s going on,” Sam said as he circled the body once, “I was two feet away from what was clearly a spirit and there was no EMF at all. Maybe you're right, it must be broken.”

     “It's not broken,” Sera replied, deep in thought when Sam looked at her in question.

     “Do you know something?”

     She hummed in response then said, “I’ll get Dean then we need to head back to the motel, I'll tell you everything when we get there.”

     Sam nodded to her as she made her way down the hall towards Dean. He was still talking on the phone with his back to her and his head down, she didn't have to ask to know who he had called, who he would need right now. 

     “Yeah, Cas, I’ll call you if anything else comes up, maybe…” Dean scratched his head, “Maybe you can stop by the motel once we figure some things out?”

     “Of course, Dean,” she heard Cas say through the phone.

     “Great, I’ll shoot you a text when we’ve got some time.”

     There was a moment of silence between the two of them as she stood back and watched as Dean shuffled nervously from foot to foot, “Hey, Cas, I…”

     “Yes, Dean?”

     Dean shut his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, and huffed, “I gotta go, I’ll text you later.”

     “Right…” She could hear the disappointment in Cas’s voice through the phone, “Text you later.”

     “Bye, Cas.” And before Cas even had a chance to respond Dean hung up the phone. It didn't take a rocket scientist to know that Dean had already planned on not calling Cas when they got back to the motel. That as soon as those feelings started bubbling their way up, Dean would do anything to tamp them back down again, despite the fact that right now he clearly needed to see Cas.

     She shook her head, then Dean turned to be face to face with her. He quickly stuffed the phone back in his pocket and completely ignored the fact that she more than likely just heard everything he had said, and instead asked, “Anything?”

     She nodded, “I might have something, I'll explain back at the hotel.”

     “Good,” he grumbled as they started making their way back towards Sam.

     “So,” she began cautiously, “is Cas coming by?”

     “I don't know, maybe.”

     She nodded, pursing her lips before adding, “He should. It might be good for you to see him for a while.”

     He stopped walking and looked at her for a second as she kept going, then he shook it off and changed the topic again, “We need to call the cops and report this, get a coroner here.”

     The change in topic definitely did not go unnoticed by her, but she allowed it, for now. “Sam’s calling them, and I’ll get Vincent to gather everyone in the lobby.”

     They made it back to Sam who was just finishing up with the police on the phone as she asked, “Do we know his name, any ID on him?”

     “It's Erik.” She turned to Dean who still refused to look at the body. “His boyfriend’s downstairs looking for him.”

     No words were said between them as they all knew this was a huge hit for Dean. He wouldn't admit it but there were a lot of factors to this particular piece of the puzzle that were too close to home for him.

     Still not looking, he shook his head angrily and exclaimed, “We need to gank this bitch, now!” Then turned and walked away from them.

~~~~~~~~~~~

     About ten minutes later the cops arrived, along with the coroner soon after that. Vincent had since gathered the rest of the players in the front lobby and informed them that due to unforeseen circumstances, the game was unfortunately ending. And with the promise of a red lobster gift card for every player, courtesy of Chuck, the small group left the building, except for two other boys who had been asked to stay behind. 

     The three stood back and watched as the police informed Erik’s boyfriend of his death, and as his heart shattered, Sera and Sam watched as Dean’s did too. They all thought back to the boy hanging from the roof, to how much he truly did look like Cas. This one was a little close to home, and they were all so exhausted from it already but clearly had more work to do.

     “Hey, Sera.” She laid her head back against the wall and rolled it to the side to look at Sam. “How did you know to go to the third floor?”

     She turned away from him for a moment and then pushed off from where she was leaning against the wall. Without a word she made her way back up to the second floor with the boys on her heels, both curious but neither voicing it, and followed her up. 

     When they stepped out of the elevator she turned down the small hidden hallway and knocked on the office door. “Amanda, it's Sera.”

     The door opened a crack and Amanda peeked out. Upon seeing it was Sera and the boys, she opened the door and let them in. “Agents, what's going on? Who was that woman?”

     Sera eyed Natasha who was off to the side doing homework again, then leaned in towards Amanda. “Another man was killed.” Amanda covered her mouth with a gasp as Sera continued, “That woman has something to do with it, we just aren't sure what yet. But she vanished before we could get to her.”

     “Oh my god,” Amanda moved to sit in the chair behind her desk.

     “I also need to take Natasha’s laptop.”

     “Why?”

     “While I was reading her story earlier some information popped up on her laptop that could be pertinent to the case,” she shifted her eyes to Natasha then said, “so I need to take it in for evidence.”

     “Is… is Natasha in trouble?!”

     “No, not at all,” Sera assured her, “in fact, Natasha more than likely had no idea that this information was on her laptop. But myself and these agents are going to do our best to find out how it got there and why, so we can stop this from ever happening here again.”

     Amanda couldn't even say anything, she just nodded as she tried to hold the tears back. 

     Sera sighed, then turned away and headed towards Natasha, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Sorry, Natasha, but I have to take your laptop for a few days.”

     “Why?” She turned back to Sera, “I have to finish homework.”

     “Myself and these two guys are federal agents, and we are currently investigating some pretty strange things,” she thought how best to say it without scaring the poor girl too much, “so we're just checking everyone's computers in the area. I promise I’ll bring it back. And if you don't get your homework finished on time I promise I'll talk to your teachers about it, alright?.”

     “Alright,” she handed the laptop to Sera, “but you have to bring it back, I have school work on there, and my book!”

     “I promise,” Sera held a hand up and Natasha nodded. 

     The three then said a quick thanks to Amanda and quietly left the building. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

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A/N: I know its been a long time but here is the next chapter and more to come soon I promise, its already all finished!  And I am so sorry this took so long! I mostly just write this series for myself but if there is someone else out there who likes it too, then I am always happy to share and hear your thoughts! XD <3

And if you or anyone else you know would wanna be tagged, just let me know!

Tags: @kitsunecastiel 

[andrea-lyn]

If you're still open for prompts-- how about Malex + some form of Secret Service/bodyguard/witness protection AU? :-D Thanks!

When they’d told Alex that he’d be going into witness protection until the trial, he can honestly say that he’d never expected this outcome.

“Hi,” Alex says, staring at his new neighbor (his hot new neighbor), and wondering if Kyle is doing this to him on purpose. “I’m Michael Whitman,” he introduces himself, the name feeling wrong on his tongue.

From the way the other man flinches, clearly something’s wrong with it. “Raf Anderson,” he replies. It’s only by the fact that he’s only known him for a few moments that Alex doesn’t make a comment that his neighbor doesn’t really look like a Raf.

He’s not supposed to rock the boat, though.

That’s what witness protection is about. He’s been put here for his own good to hide him away while the government begins to assemble a case against his father. With his father and his brothers and their deep connections, it hadn’t been safe for Alex to remain in Roswell, which means that he’s been ferried away into witness protection by an old friend.

“Behave,” Kyle had warned, while his partner (Max) parked them in front of Alex’s new house. He’d handed him a pile of identity papers, giving him a stern look. “Alex,” he says sharply, when Alex buries himself in the papers.

It’s not his fault he likes to learn. “Michael,” he says, lifting his new ID as he studies the face looking back at him next to a brand new name. It looks real, but that’s the point, isn’t it? He’s about to live a new life, if only to keep his father from finding him until Alex can take the stand and destroy his life.

“What?”

“It’s Michael, now.”

Max throws Kyle a dubious look. “Really?” he deadpans. “I guess you think that’s funny?”

“He deserves it,” Kyle hisses back, and Alex has completely missed the joke.

And now here he is, on his first day inside a new bungalow in Pennsylvania, meeting his new neighbor. His hot new neighbor, who has warm brown eyes and hair that looks like it’ll get golden in the summer. Then there’s the fact that it’s curled, and when Raf lifts up the box he’s carrying, it highlights how broad and strong his shoulders are.

“Do you want help?” he asks lamely, when Alex realizes he’s been standing there staring at his neighbor for an embarrassingly long time.

Raf doesn’t seem to notice. He’s been doing his fair share of staring, and that’s why Alex hopes he doesn’t notice when he echoes the last word. “Help?”

“Yeah, I saw the boxes,” Raf says, gesturing to the moving van with his shoulders, seeing as he’s weighed down by the boxes. “You’re moving in, right? You want help?”

He knows that he’s probably not supposed to invite complete strangers into his home on the first day of his new assumed identity, but Alex is a sucker for a warm smile and kind eyes. There’s beer in his fridge, he’s not eager to put away all the boxes by himself, and if he’s going to be stuck here for the next few months, he wants to be able to befriend the hot neighbor.

Ignoring the little Kyle voice in the back of his head that says this is a bad idea, Alex smiles warmly.

He crouches to pick up one of the smaller boxes, and puts it atop the box that Raf already has in his hands.

“Definitely,” he confirms. “How about we get these boxes inside, then maybe I can see if I’ve got a couple of beers in the fridge.”

Raf heads inside and Alex glances over his shoulder to where he knows Kyle and Max are watching them. Is it childish to throw them a smirk seeing as he’s taking advantage of this whole new neighborhood situation? Maybe. Still doesn’t stop him from doing it, leaning down to pick up the next box to head inside after Raf.

He might as well make the most of this situation if he’s going to be stuck in it.

*

They end up having a few beers, Michael helps put a few boxes away, and then he decides that he probably shouldn’t push his luck too far, especially when he’d seen the van that had dropped the new neighbor off earlier this morning. They part ways with a promise to connect again, and Michael manages a cheerful smile until he’s inside his own bungalow.

Then he gets creepy. He ducks down and peeks through the blinds to watch his new neighbor head back inside, appreciating the extra views he’s getting of how ridiculously smoldering he is with that ‘come fuck me’ smirk and dark hair and perfect eyes, not to mention the ass.

Once he’s fully out of sight, Michael grabs his cell phone in a frantic rush and scrolls through the three numbers in the phone.

Numbers one through three are his lawyer and his officers – also known as Isobel, Max, and Kyle.

Right now, it’s the last two he’s calling.

“You assholes,” he snarls into the phone before he even knows who picked up on the other end. “Michael? Michael! You named him Michael!”

“Michael,” comes Kyle’s infuriating voice sounding tinny, which means that he’s on speaker. “I told you after the last incident that I’d get even with you somehow.”  

“Incident, what incident!”

He knows he shouldn’t ask, because Kyle keeps receipts. “Oh, I don’t know, you showing up in the middle of town and shoplifting from the store using your powers seems like an incident. You’re lucky you turned off the cameras with your powers, but you know that the Manes’ boys are on the lookout for you after the incident. Isobel can’t keep you hidden forever, which is why Max and I are trying to do that for you, but you’re so…you’re so…”

“Difficult,” Max supplies.

“Fucking asshole level of supreme difficult,” Kyle agrees. “So, yeah, you’re gonna cope with him being named Michael. Besides, how did you know he’s ours?”

“You two need a better cover van. It’s the same one you used to move me in,” Michael responds, peeking through his blinds to see if “Michael” is out there still getting settled in.

He is. He’s moving the last of his boxes into the house with a gait that favors one side more than the other. Michael’s going to take a stab and assume that means some kind of prosthetic, though he’s not about to announce that in front of him.

“C’mon,” he wheedles. “You could at least tell me his real name.”

“That’s not how this works,” Max argues. “It’s safer if you don’t know who he is.”

Michael collapses back onto the couch, his frustration building to epic levels. “I’ve been stuck in this shitty suburban neighborhood for months now, and you bring in some new hot guy and you tell me that it’s safer I don’t know who he is. Can you at least tell me when the trial is?”

The long-suffering sigh on the other end of the phone is definitely bad news.

“We don’t know yet. The pieces are moving and we think it’ll be soon, but they want the charges to be ironclad. What happened to you,” Max says evenly, though Michael can hear the rage brimming in his words, “we don’t want it to happen to anyone else. Be patient, okay?”

“Really? Telling me to be patient? And here I thought you knew me,” Michael scoffs, staring out the window and watching his new neighbor standing on the porch, surveying his new little kingdom.

God, he’s so hot.

At least if he’s going to be stuck here indefinitely, the scenery’s improving. “Michael,” Max says. “You know we only want what’s best for you. Please,” he says quietly. “Just hang tight, okay? Don’t do anything that’ll compromise the trial. You can hang out with the other Michael, but don’t give away any of your history, don’t tell him your real name, and don’t you dare tell him what you are.”

The rules of engagement, Michael’s memorized them. He stares at his mangled hand and reminds himself why he needs to follow them, because if he doesn’t take care of himself, then this kind of thing happens.

“I still can’t believe you named him Michael,” he mutters.

“Why?” Kyle asks and Michael can hear the smirk in his tone. “Because when you jerk off at night, you’ll feel weird shouting your own name?”

“…Valenti,” Max protests.

Michael hangs up on him, because he’s an asshole.

He just so happens to also be an accurate asshole who’s got his finger on the pulse of what’s bugging Michael the most about this whole same-name situation.

And yet, it’s definitely not going to stop him.

*

It’s the middle of the night and Alex wakes to a crashing sound in his backyard.

He startles awake, reaching for his gun in his nightstand before he remembers that he’s not in Roswell anymore, and he doesn’t have a piece tucked away for safekeeping, because he’s not supposed to be military. He’s not even supposed to own a hand gun.

He’s Michael Whitman, friendly IT guy. They usually don’t pack heat.

He stumbles out there in a house robe and his crutch, not having bothered to put the prosthetic on. It’s probably a wild raccoon that got into his trash or probably some kind of axe murderer trying to lure Alex out into the night.

The terrifying thought is that it’s his father or one of his brothers who have found him. That’s the thought he really hopes isn’t the case.

He holds onto the crutch tightly as he opens his sliding door and finds his backyard empty. Frowning, Alex steps out, not sure what made the noise, until he glances into the neighboring yard to see Raf trying to clean up something he’d knocked over. Alex squints to see it in the dark, noticing that it looks like he’s trying to reassemble something that looks like a telescope, which hit a trash can.

That explains the noise.

“Shit,” Raf says, when he looks up and sees Alex. He freezes in place, offering an apologetic look. “I woke you.”

“I thought a family of raccoons was making a house in my trash. I’m not sure what to think about this,” he admits, gesturing at Raf.

“I don’t really sleep well,” Raf admits, his hand pressed to his stomach. Alex had noticed it when he’d been moving in, but Raf’s left hand is completely mangled. It’s a mess of twisted tendons and bruises and pock marks, but it’s not like Raf’s staring at Alex’s lack of a leg with judgment, so Alex makes sure to keep his eyes on Raf’s handsome face instead. “Sometimes I like to come out here and stargaze, instead.”

Alex understands. He used to take sleeping pills to help him fall asleep when he’d been under his father’s roof and the only reason he’s able to get some rest now is because he’s escaped from that terrible situation.

“You care if you have some company?”

Raf looks at him warily for a second. Then, inexplicably, his gaze turns to the street, and why, Alex has no idea. Still, he wanders over to the gate that adjoins their yards and opens it. He stands there and coaxes Alex to walk over, extending an arm to help him if he wants it, but not touching him. It’s a small gesture, but it’s so painfully kind and unassuming that it makes Alex want to cry a little.

“Thanks,” he gets out, as Raf brings over a lawn chair to settle by the telescope. “You do this often?”

“Pretty much any night the sky’s clear,” Raf agrees. “You wanna see?”

Alex nods, trying not to come across as too eager, but then again, what other friend is he going to make in the middle of nowhere while he’s waiting to testify at his father’s trial. Does it hurt that Raf is as hot at night as he’d been earlier, in a threadbare white t-shirt and pajama pants?

It absolutely does not.

“Okay, here,” Raf says, angling the telescope so that Alex doesn’t have to move.

The sky itself is spotted with a few stars. They’re far enough away from the city that the light pollution isn’t terrible, but they also aren’t in the middle of nowhere, but when Alex peers through the telescope, he still sees other worlds out there.

It’s also a reminder of his father and his unending quest to try and find aliens. It tempers some of that late-night desire that he’d otherwise feel with a hot guy who happens to be half dressed, but only barely. He shuffles forward and stares into the night sky, waiting until he sees a shooting star.

Letting out a surprised sound, he glances back up to Raf, who’s staring at the sky with wonder.

“You saw it too, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” Raf agrees, pushing a hand through his honey-brown curls, turning to give Alex a sweet little smile. “I made a wish. Did you?”

Kiss me, please, kiss me before I go crazy.

Alex shakes his head. “Nah,” he lies, heart pounding in his chest. “It’s already gone, so I don’t think wishes work like that.”

“Maybe next time, then,” Raf says, and takes back the telescope to adjust the angle, looking for something else in the night sky to view.

They take it in turns for the next few hours, until Alex’s exhaustion betrays him. As much as he might protest that he’s not tired, he starts yawning. Maybe it’s for the best. The sun’s going to come up soon and there won’t be any stars to look at. The best they’ll see if some of their neighbors’ worst habits, and Alex is fairly sure he can get arrested for that.

When you’re supposed to be laying low, that’s not a good idea.

“I think it’s time for me to hit the sack,” Alex admits, pushing up to his feet. He’s a little wobbly, but he gets the crutch under him steadying himself as he gives Raf an appreciative smile. “Thanks,” he says, “for letting me see the stars.” He heads to his side of the yard, but before Raf can respond, Alex turns and decides to keep going for broke. “You should come over,” Alex says, pausing on his deck as he leans his weight against his crutch. He chances a look over his shoulder, letting his gaze slide over Raf. “Tomorrow, for dinner. Maybe if I give you enough good cooking and beer, you might sleep through the night. Besides, I owe you for showing me the universe.”

Raf leans his elbows over the low fence, his gaze sliding over Alex.

“I just might take you up on that.”

Alex lets out a relieved breath and nods, heading back inside.

That night, he dreams of Raf. He thinks of soft curls falling over his forehead in the soft dawn morning light, of warm fingertips pressing over Alex’s skin, and when his phone rings and wakes him up from a very good dream, Alex almost throws the phone across the room.

Maybe it won’t be so bad waiting it out in this place, at least, not when he’s got such good company.

*

The next night, Raf does turn up for dinner.

He’s wearing a navy blue sweater that looks soft enough that Alex wants to bury his face in it, but he prevents himself from doing that. He also narrowly avoids whimpering with pleasure because when he opens the door, Raf’s facing away and his ass in those tight jeans is incredible. “Hey!” Raf greets, holding up a bottle of wine that’s half-open and a box of chocolate.

Which is also half open.

Alex stares at them warily, not sure if he’s charmed or insulted.

“My friend was over,” Raf says, even if ‘friend’ is stressed in a weird way that has Alex wondering if Raf actually has someone on the side. “She decided that the exchange for time spent with me was diving into the presents for you. I couldn’t exactly get to town, either…”

“It’s fine,” Alex insists, and takes the wine. “Your girlfriend has good taste in wine,” he jokes.

“Not my girlfriend. I’m single,” Raf says quickly.

It’s probably too quickly, but Alex hates how happy he is that he’d responded like that. It’s not like he should be pursuing anything. After all, he’s currently using a fake name while waiting to testify in a trial, which means that relationships probably aren’t on the agenda. There also happens to be a viciously selfish little voice in his head that says that the first time Raf kisses him, he wants him to moan Alex and not Michael.

Not that there’s anything wrong with Michael, as names go. It’s just not his.

Dinner goes well. In fact, it goes so well that Alex almost debates throwing his rules out the window and kissing Raf, but he doesn’t. He tells himself that it’s irresponsible and he’s here until the trial, when really he knows the only reason he doesn’t is because he doesn’t want to start this on a rocky start.

He still invites Raf for dinner next week.

For weeks, it becomes their steady routine, until half-started bottles of wine adorn Alex’s counter-tops, because Raf always brings something over and they never finish it completely. It’s more fun to see it added to the collection, at this point, than to polish it off.

One night, when dinner is done, Raf pauses in the doorway as he’s leaving, tugging on his denim coat. “Hey, Michael?”

Alex takes a second to remember that Raf’s speaking to him. He glances up from where he’s washing the dishes, securely tucked away a safe distance where he can’t kiss him. If he even gets an idea, he’ll be prevented by the suds on his hands from scrubbing. “Yeah?”

“I was thinking that maybe tomorrow night, you could come over to my place?”

Alex smiles warmly, ready to accept, but Raf keeps going.

“You know, you could have breakfast.”

The implication is impossible to miss, given the lascivious leer in Raf’s eyes. Alex would be going over at night, staying for breakfast, and there’s no mistaking what they’d do all night. He wants it so badly, and yet, it’d be a lie. He’s not Michael Whitman and he doesn’t want to start anything with Raf until he can be himself.

And so, no matter how much it hurts him, Alex chokes out the, “I think I already have plans.”

“Oh,” says Raf, crestfallen and dejected. “Yeah, sorry, I…”

“It’s not that…” Alex jumps on Raf’s words. “Maybe another time? Rain check?”

Raf doesn’t look convinced and Alex feels like he’s jumped up and down on a puppy.

“Rain check,” Raf echoes.

He doesn’t come back for dinner the next night, though, and Alex is left wondering how the hell he’s managed to ruin a relationship that never even began, not to mention how it feels worse than some of his actual breakups.

*

It’s been three months since Alex moved into his witness protection house and it��s finally the day he’s been waiting for.

Trial day, which Kyle has come to collect him for.

This is what Alex has been waiting for, but the strange part is realizing that his motives for wanting this trial to come have completely changed. At the start, he’d wanted this so his father would have to face retribution and Alex would feel safe out there in the world without looking over his shoulder.

Now, the reason he wants this trial so badly is because he’s sick and tired of being Michael Whitman and pretending that he’s this guy, especially when he’s starting to develop actual feelings for Raf. He knows that he can’t lie to him forever, which is why he’s so desperate for this trial to begin. The sooner Jesse is convicted, the sooner that Alex gets to go back to his old life. The sooner Alex can make up for that horrible night where he’d crushed Raf’s heart by not agreeing to go home with him.

He knows it’s not conventional, but they’d promised.

It had been one of the few reasons he’d agreed to give his testimony. Alex ducks into the backseat of the van to find that someone is already sitting there. “Sorry, I…” He’s apologizing before he even gets a good look, but once he does, he’s gaping.

He steps out of the van to stare at Kyle.

“…what?”

“Hey, Michael,” Raf, hot neighbor, drawls, waving at him.

His hot neighbor that Alex has been developing feelings for. The same one that Alex has felt guilty about lying to. He’s the one sitting in the backseat of a van that’s going to a trial to testify about Jesse Manes’ government abuses digging into alien life.

Suddenly, so much makes sense.

“What the fuck, Kyle?”

“I figured I’d keep my problem children together,” Kyle replies breezily, like he’s completely unaffected by all of this.

Alex is staring at Raf, not sure what this means or what it says about the future, but one thing is for sure – he’s not the only one who’s been lying to protect himself, so maybe Raf isn’t going to be so mad when all the secrets come spilling out of Alex like a strange pinata.

Though, the one question that he can’t shake on the drive over.

If he’s not Raf Anderson, then what’s his real name, and how soon can he get it?

He opens his mouth to ask him more questions, but he never gets a chance. From the moment he gets situated in the van and buckled in, Kyle takes over in his best Agent Valenti voice to brief them on what’s going to happen today, tomorrow, and in the coming weeks. Alex has to settle for sitting in the third row, aware that he keeps missing most of what Kyle is saying because he keeps watching Raf’s neck and wanting to bend forward and kiss it, just to see if it’s as warm as it looks.

“Michael!” Kyle snaps.

Alex’s head snaps up, in time to see Raf’s glare, and gives an apologetic look. “Sorry. Sorry, I’m paying attention.”

“Good,” Kyle says, “because it’s going to be a long ride and it’s not going to be easy.”

Long and difficult is an understatement, it turns out.

The trial takes two weeks before it comes to its conclusion. It’s grueling and difficult. Alex has to deal with his brothers accusing him of not being a good son. He needs to recount years of abuse and torture. He has to talk about the hell that his father put him through, day in and day out, but finally it comes to an end. When it does, it’s the happiest that Alex has ever been in his life. The jury had put Jesse Manes away for life for treason against the government and his abuse of resources. The word ‘aliens’ had never come up, but it’s not like they needed to.

Jesse had plenty of crimes without getting into the spooky Area 51 stuff.

He’s fidgeting with his suit, undoing his tie outside the courtroom as he lets the relief of the decision wash over him. It means that he’s going to get his life back and maybe he can even go back to Roswell.

That relief is cut off when he glances down the hall to see Raf sitting with Max. The both of them are on a bench together, with Michael’s forehead pressed to Max’s. They’re speaking in fervent hushed tones, and Alex wants to wander over, but he thinks he needs to give them some space. He stays where he is, but it turns out he doesn’t need to worry.

It’s only a few minutes later that Max squeezes Raf’s shoulder and leaves him alone. Alex ducks his head away rapidly, so it doesn’t look like he’s been staring, but he catches Raf looking his way longingly.

Alex tries not to get excited, but he fails at it when Raf pushes himself up from the bench and wanders over to stand directly in front of him.

“Hi,” Raf says, as he holds out his hand. “I thought maybe I’d come over here and introduce myself to you for the first time.”

Alex lets out a nervous breath, feeling the smile growing on his face. He loves the idea and he’s all too happy to latch on. “It’s always a good idea to get to know your neighbors,” he agrees. “I’m Alex Manes,” he says, and watches nervously as he says the last name.

Raf’s eyes widen slightly, pupils dilating, but he doesn’t flinch. He does laugh, shaking his head, and mutters something that sounds like ‘that explains a lot’, but he still reaches out to take Alex’s hand in his own, shaking it firmly. “Alex,” he says, and oh, Alex likes the way that trips off the tongue. “I’m Michael Guerin,” he says, and all of a sudden, Alex knows exactly how much of an asshole Kyle was being, handing him that identity. “And uh,” he says, flexing his mangled hand, “I kind of want to go celebrate sending away an asshole who fucked me up really badly.”

It’s Michael now, not Raf, but when his eyes slide over Alex, nothing has changed about the way he looks at him. By any other name, Michael or Raf or whoever he is, looks just as hot and makes Alex feel every bit as alive.

“Do you wanna go get a drink with me?”

Alex is nodding before he even hears the words out of his mouth. “I know a place or two we could go. It even has a little half-started wine there,” he says, eyes sparkling with mirth as he thinks about going back to his witness protection home for one last night.

Michael seems on board with that plan given the way the corners of his eyes crinkle up from his grin. “Lead on, Alex. We’ve got our lives back, and I can’t wait to start it with you.”

[docholligay]

St Raph 4: With All Your Mind

Another release of The Intercession of St. Raphael, The Catholic Boarding School AU. ALl of the released chapters are here, or the full chapters are available on Patreon! 

The dress was, all other things aside, well-constructed and tailed perfectly to Haruka’s body. Mako had given it the collar and simple short sleeve of an Oxford shirt, with sheer panels at the shoulders that kept it just this side of feminine. The skirt fell elegantly from her waist and slipped to the floor, making use of her height. The blush-pale pink complimented the soft gold of her hair, along with keeping Father Anthony off her case for another night.

On anyone else, it would have been beautiful. On her, it was a tragedy befitting a Shakespearean soliloquy.

Haruka looked at herself in the mirror and bit her lip. “I look stupid.” She looked over toward Mina, who did not respond, just continued to gaze at herself, turning to capture each angle. “Mina!”

“What?!” She looked up at Haruka, irritated, still fiddling with her hair.

“I said I look stupid.”

Mina shrugged. “I mean, it’s maybe not your greatest look, you look like a butch les--”

Haruka grabbed her and covered her mouth “SHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!”

Mina bit her palm, and Haruka removed her hand and shook it lightly, nodding her head toward Mako and and Usagi at the other end of the room.

Mina sighed. “Buddy, I’m telling you, this is no great secret.”

Usagi turned around and clasped her hands together with delight. “Haruka, I think you look BEAUTIFUL.” She practically skipped around the room, giving a dramatic twirl of her as she landed in front of Haruka. “I got you something! Both of you!”

“Oh man, am I excited to see this.” Mina leaned against Haruka.

Usagi meant well, nearly anyone who met her would be quick to say. Her skills were not in music, or in art, or in school, or the kitchen, or a mechanic’s shop, or in an athletic fields, or...well the list went on for some pages, despite every sister’s attempt to find her hidden talent. But what  the sisters did not know, but was recognized by this room, was that Usagi’s talent was not hidden at all, simply an underappreciated capacity to love all those that fell into her life.

“These were my mom’s! But I wanted to share them with you, I have a whole box and you guys are my family, too.” Usagi radiated with joy as she dug through her trunk.

Only Usagi spoke of her family--she had merely had the misfortune of having them die, with no other family. She was, Mina observed maybe not the smartest of them, but surely the best adjusted. Haruka had given up on having a family. Her mother never spoke to her after she stepped through those doors, and no one else seemed to take an interest, though a family had taken her for a summer once. To try her out, she supposed, and Haruka had tried to be very good and very helpful, but after the summer was out, she was returned to the school, and their letters tapered off.

She had been eleven.

The thought whipped out of her mind as quickly as it had scuttled in, lost in the temporary beam of Usagi’s excitement. She presented them both with poorly but excitedly wrapped packages.

“I already gave Mako hers,” She leaned forward conspiratorially, “but I told her not to tell you.”

Mina grinned. “Why ruin the surprise?” She tore at the paper, revealing a cheap paste set of bangle bracelets. “Oh hey, these’ll go great with my dress! I love them!”

Usagi glowed under the light of her praise and threw her arms warmly around Mina. She nodded toward Haruka. “Now you!”

Haruka gave a weak smile as she accepted the package. “You didn’t have to, really.” She looked over at Mako, putting a sparkled rose clip in her hair. She looked over at Usagi. “You should really keep this for yourself, Usagi, I don’t want to take your Mom’s things.”

Usagi’s eyes grew wide, her voice soft but insistent. “I want you to have it.”

Haruka turned her attention back to the package, turning it over in her hand. She delicately ripped at the paper, trying to moderate her face so she didn’t disappoint Usagi, revealing a small box. She opened the lid, and tucked inside was a small silvertone tie tack, with a barely perceptible diamond chip.

“It was my dad’s.” Usagi looked at Haruka hopefully. “I know you can’t wear it tonight, but with your uniform! Or, anytime! That you might want to wear a tie. In the future. If you want.”

In that moment it seemed like more than a cheap trinket. It seemed the promise and the possibility of all she’d dreamed, in a small silver disc. She ran her fingers across it, and felt the cool texture of her apartment and her cat and her nice suit in the closet and a girl who kissed her on the cheek when she left for work. It made her feel real.

Haruka unconsciously touched the box to her chest. “Thank you. I love it.”

Usagi barreled against her in a hug. “It’ll look great on you!”

“Told you they knew.” Mina quipped.

__

Haruka paced nervously outside of the St. Stephens gym, which had been festively decorated for the occasion, the music softly streaming into the hallway. It wasn’t like she set up a date. She said she’d see Michiru there. It was not precisely the way she had pictured asking her, extending her hand in an elegant suit, the Prince Charming to her effortless princess, waltzing around the floor, unable to keep their focus on anything but each other.

That she didn’t know how to waltz and had never had a suit were small details at best, as Joan thumped reassuringly against her chest. Be brave, she whispered, God is with you. That God was willing to do the assist on a lesbian love story didn’t seem covered by any apologetic she’d ever read, but, what was that verse? From Genesis? It is not good to be alone? That was true too, wasn’t it? She touched the medal on her chest through her dress. Joan died for France and for God and for Justice but the actual charge she died for was wearing men’s clothing and having short hair, though that detail got left out a lot by the sisters when they discussed her.  Was Joan alone as she stood before the flame? Was she thinking of a girl when the smoke hit her lungs? Did she ever know what it felt like to press her lips to another woman’s, to know love? Did she--

“You look like you’re gonna throw up.” Mina pointed out helpfully, drawing Haruka’s attention from Joan’s martyrdom.

No, of course Joan didn’t think of that shit, she was a literal saint, Haruka, what’s wrong with you?

“Ruka, stop.” She grabbed Haruka’s arms and stopped her pacing. “You’re making me nervous, damn.”

“What if she stands me up?”

“Then we’ll get drunk.” She patted the flask at her thigh.

“You’re not very comforting.”

“Come here.” She walked to a classroom door and deftly picked it open with her school ID. “Sit. Breathe into a paper bag or something.”

Haruka went, more obediently than she expected to, and sat down on the bench at the back of the classroom, her plain black flats, borrowed from Mako and too wide for her narrow feet, peeking out from under her dres, legs spread indelicately as she leaned forward over them, elbows on her knees and staring at the floor.

Mina sat down next to her and patted her back. “Talk to me.”

Haruka looked up toward the blackboard, toward Jesus hanging on the cross at the front of the room. “What if she thinks I’m,” She scratched the back of her head, “You know? Creepy, gross,” she paused for a moment, “Wrong?”

“Trust me, I think Michiru is probably into some weird shit.”

“Mina!”

“No really! Look at how she slithers around, I’m sure if she’s not into weird shit now, she will be later. Catholic guilt makes girls a lot of fun,” she looked up at Haruka, “Or, you know, you.”

Haruka sighed and leaned against the wall, still staring at the cross. “I shouldn’t be this way. I know that.”

“Gay or pathetic? I’m confused here.”

Haruka gave an irritated growl and looked up at the ceiling.

“Okay, okay,” Mina held her hands up, “no more jokes.” She slipped her arm around Haruka’s waist and laid her head on her shoulder. “Question.”

“Answer.” Her voice was resigned.

“You pay a lot more attention to the bible than me, yeah?”

“Everyone pays more attention to the bible than you, Mina.”

“True, but,” She looked over at the cross. “I seem to remember something you don’t, for all your praying and studying and being up St. Joan’s as--” she sighed and continued more gently, “for all the faith you have. You know that guy at the end of the room?”

Haruka looked over to the end of the room. “Jesus. Yes, I’m familiar with Jesus, Mina.”

“Reasonably important, you’d say?”

Haruka laughed. “What are you talking about, Mina? What’s the point?”

“My point is, I don’t remember him saying a whole hell of a lot about you kissing a girl. I think if it was important he’d bring it up. Don’t you?”

“Paul--”

“Oh Paul thinks braiding hair is a sin, Ruka, and that’s how we’re supposed to wear it here.”

Haruka looked down at her. ‘You do pay attention to the bible.”

“You have to know the letter of the law if you’re gonna exploit it.”

She drew her arm around Mina’s shoulder. “Thanks.”

“I mean it, you know. I don’t think there’s a damn thing about you that God or whoever didn’t mean to be there. Well,” she shrugged, “the moping, maybe.”

She chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind.” she sighed. “I guess I should go find her.”

Mina kissed Haruka on the cheek. “It’s okay, buddy, you just gotta get in there and try. What’s the worst that can happen? She turns you down and you continue being a useless lesbian feelings puddle.”

Outside, Michiru could not hear the sweet words that spilled between them, but blushed angrily as Mina kissed Haruka’s cheek, the hurt filling her and becoming purified into anger.

She moved to the gym, heels clacking like a warning call.

__

As a child, she had dreamed that she was a mermaid, that the crashing waves would embrace her, that her soul would be assumed by the sea and she would know what it was to be truly free. Those summers by the seaside were the purest she had ever known, when the sea roared so hard in her ears she could no longer hear the musical murmurings of expectation that had haunted her since birth.

For all that it seemed a fairytale, she smelled the sea in her own eyes, her sight growing blurry under the betrayal of it all.

She had known it was so, and it had been foolish to assume otherwise. Haruka was a polite and gentle and kind girl, and had only extended the invitation as friends. She had another love, and for whatever Mina’s sins might be, she was genuine and fun. She was nothing like the silent sea snake that lay in the deepest part of Michiru’s heart.

She smiled her delicate smile, moving sinuously around Seiya.

“Seiya.” She touched her arm in her soft and tempting way. “What a lovely dress.”

Seiya looked down at the dress she wore, a serviceable black number with a lapel she hoped looked nearly tuxedo style.”Thanks. Nothing on you though.” She grinned.

“Is that what you were thinking? Of nothing, on me?” She gave her practiced titter, and delighted at Seiya’s blush.

She cocked an eyebrow. “You’re gonna get me in trouble, Michiru.”

“Is trouble what we’re calling it? You think so little of me.”

Seiya was not a dumb girl. Michiru was up to something, and when was she not? She could recognize cunning, to be sure, but there was also the fact that Michiru’s shoulders were like cream against the navy of her dress, her red lipstick caressing the curve of her lips, her hair curled delicately like waves around her face.

It was a compelling argument.

As if in thrall, she followed close to the smell of Michiru’s perfume, knowing the danger, unable to stop.

__

Haruka slicked back the sides of her hair in the bathroom. It still looked all wrong. She’d stolen a little bit of cologne from a boy carelessly grooming outside, and it, at least, added one thing that made her feel a little bit handsome. A little bit like Michiru might actually want to be around her, if not with her.

No. Rei had said. Rei was her best friend. She was going to trust.

Haruka walked out of the bathroom, and there she was, breathtakingly beautiful in a way that both seemed absolutely perfect and completely unexpected. Her dress was demure but all the more enticing for it, as if she was a package to be unwrapped, and Haruka’s heart soared to speak with her.

Her lips had begun to part, as miraculously as the Red Sea, when she noticed Michiru’s hand, leading another. Seiya.

It couldn’t be Seiya, not out of all the people in the world that it might be, not her and Michiru. No, she was overthinking things, rei had said, and besides, there was no law saying you couldn’t hold hands with your friends, Haruka be calm, Haruka don’t get upset, Haruka control yourself.

And then, Michiru kissed Seiya.

Passionately. Deeply. Barely shaded by the darkness.

She pulled herself back into the bathroom, her vision clouded.

Seiya pulled away from Michiru.   “Whoa whoa did you forget where we are?” She sniffed at Michiru. “Are you drunk.”

Michiru looked over Seiya’s shoulder. She was so certain she had seen Haruka, here in the hall, but she was nowhere to be seen. It was a silly idea anyhow, to expect Haruka to have been jealous. For her to be jealous, there would have had to be some true and deep affection for Michiru. And who could manage that? Even her parents seemed to struggle under the labor.

She sighed heavily. “I suppose you’re right.” She looked up at Seiya. “Would you like some punch?”

__

Haruka sat in the stall, trying not to cry. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Michiru was a beautiful, high class, talented girl, and Seiya was much closer to her social strata than Haruka could ever dream of being. Every action Michiru had taken to her had been a magnanimous show of pity for Haruka’s poverty, for her awkwardness, for the way that she was different. THe issue hadn’t been that Michiru was straight. It was that she simply wasn’t into Haruka. A chilling thought came over her.

Mina had been making fun of her. She had set the whole thing up as a joke at Haruka’s expense.

She wiped her face on the skirt of her gown. She was just a joke, a freak, someone--someTHING, to be mocked, and Mina had thought it would be funny, she always thought these sort of things were funny, and the rage began to grow in her, fanned into a flame, and any good heart and good intentions she had choked on the smoke of it.

She punched the side of the stall, and heard a girl cry out in surprise.

Fucking Mina. Fucking Michiru. Fucking Seiya.

She burst out of the bathroom, not sure of what she was going to do, not sure was what she was going to say, but knowing she had to say it now, while the fire still burned, while her sword was still drawn, before she could lose course.

Seiya happened to be the first person her eyes found, chatting with her friends by the side of the gym, next to the refreshments. Casually leaning. Casually chatting. As if she hadn’t had a part in Haruka’s humiliation, as if she hadn’t planned this whole thing.

Seiya Kou was having a bad evening, it would be fair to say.

Haruka stomped across the gym and as soon as Seiya looked up, she put all of her weight behind a right hook to the face, knocking her backwards into the punch bowl, the sleeve of Haruka’s dress tearing away from the bodice with a loud rip. As Seiya fell, she reached out desperately, just narrowly grabbing Haruka’s skirt, and Haruka stumbled, unable to right herself, down on top of Seiya, the dark red punch staining her dress as she continued to swing wildly.

It was at this juncture that Haruka had a moment of clarity, as a group of boys yanked her off the top of Seiya.

She needed to take a walk. She needed to cool down. She needed to talk to somebody. She needed to do literally anything other than what she’d just done, the faces of the priests and nuns shining down on her like stone church statues in harsh judgment.

Her gown was torn and stained, and the entire room stared at her as she bit her tongue, willing herself not to cry, not to show a moment’s weakness, and she tasted the metallic salt of blood in her mouth.

A priest grabbed her arm and shoved her toward the hallway, spitting hellfire at her, a peppering of words about respect and being ladylike and repentance, but she wouldn’t listen, couldn’t listen, the whole world moving in slow motion, just thought over and over again about the smile on Mina’s face when she told Haruka, the kiss between Michiru and Seiya, the stares in the quiet gym.

Sitting on a bench near the St. Sebastian’s office, she touched her chest softly.

Her St. Joan medal was missing.

Fucking Haruka.

[sassyshoulderangel319]

Sleepover Date

I like the ASMR recordings so I figured I’d write 3,171 words of what led up to Kiro’s because... what can I say, I was wondering what would lead up to it and I love the guy XD He and Victor are my two favorites

Previous MLQC writings: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

My phone vibrated early Friday morning. I groaned with complaint and swatted around at my bedside table to find it. Once I found it, I peeked through my closed eyelids to see its bright screen with an even brighter smile and eyes on the Caller ID photo.

“Mornin’ Kiro,” I mumbled.

“Good morning, Miss Chips!” His happy tone was a little aggravating this early.

“What’s goin’ on?”

“Oh. Sorry. Did I wake you up?”

“Yeah but you only beat my alarm by four minutes.”

“Okay. Sorry again. I forget that you don’t have to wake up for a morning workout.”

“Thank the heavens,” I muttered. “So, what’s up? To what do I owe the pleasure of your call?”

He giggled like a schoolboy through the phone. “I was just wondering if you’d like to have a sleepover tonight!”

“Uh… what?”

“A sleepover! I’ll come pick you up after work and we’ll eat junk food and watch movies and just hang out, y’know? As friends. I haven’t done something fun like that in years.”

I blinked, brain slowly catching up to me. “Uh, Kiro?”

“Yes?”

“We’re, uh, we’re twenty-two,” I pointed out.

“So what? That means we can’t have a fun sleepover?” Kiro asked, sharper than I thought he’d be.

“Uh… I guess not.”

“So you’ll come over tonight?”

“Sure,” I said.

I could hear the celebratory tone of his voice as he cried out, “Yes! Text me when you get home from work. By the time I make it to your place from mine you should have enough time to throw an overnight bag together, right?”

“Probably, if you don’t mind me being super casual.”

“Mind? Why on Earth would I mind? Heck, I welcome it! I’m gonna be one-hundred-percent casual too! Oh this is going to be great! We can put the couch cushions on the floor like we’re little kids and just have a good time!” He sounded so happy that I couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Okay. I’m excited now. I’ll see you tonight,” I said.

“See you tonight!” He giggled again and hung up.

I set my phone back on the bedside table and hopped out of bed. I pulled on a more casual outfit for a Friday and threw a few things onto my bed that I could pack when I got home after work.

Once I ate breakfast and finished getting ready, I rushed out the door and headed for the office. A sleepover. With Kiro. Oh my word. This was either going to be insanely fun, or a disaster. Probably the former, but sometimes stuff happened. I was really looking forward to a sleepover.

It was kind of amusing—thousands of die-hard fans only dreamt of having a sleepover with Kiro at his house and I actually got to do it. Because we were friends.

Real friends.

All day I could barely focus on work. Neither could anyone else—it was Friday—but I was too excited for tonight. Victor noticed in my over-the-phone report that I seemed distracted and decided before I could even explain that I was just looking forward to some plans for tonight he decided that we’d finish the report on Monday.

Even better. One less task and no berating.

The day passed quickly after that.

Before I knew it, my phone was to my ear.

“Miss Chips!” Kiro greeted brightly.

“Hey! I just walked out of my building, so I’ll be home soon and then packed. I just thought I’d give you a little extra heads-up.”

“Aw! So thoughtful! Text me when you get home so I know you’re safe and sound and home and then I’ll leave to come get you so you have time to pack!”

“Sounds like a plan. See you soon!”

“See you soon! Aw man, I am so excited for tonight!”

I laughed. “Me too. Thanks for the invite!”

“Of course!”

I was on Cloud Nine all the way back to my apartment. When I got there, I texted Kiro that I was home safe and packing up. I got back a string of emojis that seemed to be mostly of the happy and excited variety.

Once at home, I changed into a more comfortable set of clothes and got started.

While I packed my overnight bag, I listened to one of his albums in the old CD player I kept on the floor of my closet. There was something fun about CDs that I just didn’t get with my phone. They didn’t feel quite the same to listen to. Sure phone audio in my headphones sounded clearer than my slightly-fuzzy old CD player speakers, but with the CD player I felt like I was a kid again—before phones were so commonplace.

I sang along and giggled to myself as I packed. Pajamas, change of clothes for tomorrow, toiletries, some snacks, a book, a couple of my favorite movies, water bottle, hairbrush, all the normal sleepover stuff. I also threw in a pack of cards in case we wanted to play a card game.

Though I was positive that with money like his, Kiro probably owned a deck of cards. Still. I liked mine. They were soft and easy to shuffle after years of use.

I was in the middle of singing the chorus to one of Kiro’s songs when I heard an excited knock at the door. I shut the music off and rushed over to peek through the peephole. I figured only one person I knew would be that excited, but I imagined Gavin might also share some enthusiasm when he was in a good mood.

But no. A head of gold hair was standing out in the hallway. I yanked the door open. “Hi!” I greeted.

“Hey there, Miss Chips!” Kiro greeted brightly, giving me a hug. “You all ready?”

“Yup. Let me grab my bag—”

“Now. What kind of gentleman would I be if I let you do that?” Kiro teased.

I snorted. “That sounds like an excuse to go in my bedroom,” I joked. Kiro’s ears turned a vibrant shade of red.

“N-no! That’s—that’s totally not what I meant!”

But I just kept laughing, my own face going red. “I knooow. I’m just playing around. Let me grab it out of my room and then, if you really want, you can help me with it. But I can totally handle it on my own. There’s barely anything in it apart from the obvious sleepover supplies.”

Kiro laughed too, slightly more awkward than mine. “Oh. Okay,” he said.

I went to my room and grabbed my bag, hauling it off my bed and rolling it out into the main room. Kiro was standing just inside the doorway looking around.

“Is that a cello?” He pointed to the instrument near my window.

“Yup,” I replied.

“I didn’t know you played.”

I shrugged. “I’m better at piano but my cello tends to attract fewer complaints from my neighbors. I have a keyboard with headphones in my room for when I want to play piano.”

Kiro glanced at the door I’d come out of. “You can come play at my place any time you want, if you want! I have a real piano that you can play to your heart’s content!”

I smiled. “You’re sweet, Kiro. Thank you. I’ll probably take you up on that. Electronic keyboards aren’t the same.”

“I agree. Now come on.” He swiped my rolling bag’s handle from my hand and offered me his other elbow before I could complain. “Shall we set out on our grand sleepover adventure?”

I laughed, looping my arm through his. “We shall!”

Stepping out, I locked the door behind me—

And heard a familiar voice that wasn’t Kiro’s asking my name.

Once the key was out of the lock I turned around, other hand still on Kiro’s arm. “Hi Lucien! This is a friend of mine. We’re just going to, uh…” How was I meant to say “have a sleepover” without sounding like a kid? If I even brought up the word “sleepover” in Victor’s presence—heaven forbid—I’d never hear the end of it. Lucien was a little more understanding, but still, I liked to have some dignity.

“I’m a musician,” Kiro cut in. “We’re going to my place to record her playing the piano.”

I squeezed his elbow in thanks.

Lucien seemed vaguely curious. “Sounds like an enjoyable activity. I hope you have a good time.” That last sentence was directed entirely at me—like Kiro didn’t even exist. Since Kiro was usually the center of attention, I wondered if he was irritated or relieved that Lucien wasn’t paying him any attention at all.

“We will. Thanks. See you later, Lucien!” I said as Kiro and I resumed our walk to the elevator. I waved over my shoulder. Lucien waved back. The elevator doors closed and cut off our view.

I sighed in relief.

“Whew. Thanks. Lucien’s an understanding guy but trying to explain a sleepover to my neighbor when we’re both adults just seemed… awkward,” I said.

Kiro couldn’t help but chuckle quietly. “Yeah, that’s why I said we were gonna record and I threw in the piano because… I’ve never heard you sing.”

I made a face as we reached the ground floor. “I’m okay at singing but I’m a much better pianist.”

“Well, you’ll have to sing for me tonight and I’ll be the judge of that,” he teased as we left my building and got in his car.

The drive to his house took a while, but we laughed and chatted the whole way so it didn’t feel that long. Kiro drove markedly slower than Victor did. Victor always seemed to speed everywhere. Kiro didn’t appear to be in any sort of rush. He followed the speed limit signs anyway. And he didn’t needle me for looking at him a lot. Especially when he was talking. Victor would have needled—“You’re looking at my face. Why?” Or something along those lines.

Kiro was very different. Friendly, open, sunshiney.

When we got to his house—villa—he got the door for me and got my bag before leading me inside. He had a nice, warmly-decorated interior. Sure it was spacious—I could probably fit most of my apartment in the foyer alone—but it didn’t have a cold, minimalistic, white look to it that other fancy mansions I’d seen on TV and been in for work had.

His was decorated in pale yellows and other complementary shades, giving the atmosphere a warm homeliness.

“Your place is so pretty!” I couldn’t stop myself from blurting out.

Kiro just chuckled. “Thanks! I didn’t do any of the interior designing but I did say I didn’t want it to feel empty. So there’s stuff everywhere.”

I glanced over at him playfully. “And… where’s Key’s secret room?”

He laughed. “Oh, Key doesn’t need one,” he said. “None of Key’s electronics are suspicious enough that they can’t be stored out in the open. Because Key isn’t an amateur.” He ruffled my hair teasingly—then sobered up. “Okay, no, but seriously, I don’t keep much equipment. Don’t really need to.” He shrugged and changed the subject. “Anyway! Lounge is through here. I got out some snacks. I also thought we could order pizza or something.” He led me through a double glass door with gossamer curtains on the other side to a nice, warm-toned lounge room.

It was decorated in creams and with red accents like throw pillows. I smiled upon seeing it.

“Your house is so beautiful.”

The tips of Kiro’s ears went red. “Thanks,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

I smiled. “My pleasure.” I plopped onto the creamy sofa and looked around casually. “So. What movies did you have in mind to watch tonight? I don’t have any particular preference as long as it’s not gory or gross and it might be fun to go on a run to the store to rent one and—what? Why are you staring at me like I just stabbed a cake with a pencil?”

“You can rent movies?!” Kiro demanded.

I blinked, confused. “Uh… yeah. It’s cheaper than buying them and when you have no intention of watching a movie more than once it’s really the best option. You didn’t know that?”

“No!”

My posture slouched. “Oh. Well. Okay,” I said, unsure of how else to respond to that without sarcastic contempt for privileged lifestyles that allow someone to just outright buy a movie they’re going to watch once and then never again.

Kiro dropped onto the sofa next to me and grabbed my shoulders. “Let’s do it! Let’s rent a movie!”

His innocent excitement made me laugh. “Okay, okay. Let’s just make sure you don’t look like you so no one mobs you at a supermarket movie rental kiosk.”

“Definitely! Let me go get my disguise stuff!” He hopped to his feet and ran out of the lounge room.

“You’re not wearing a teddy bear costume to the supermarket, okay?!” I called after him.

“No duh!” he shouted back.

Shaking my head in amusement, I pulled out my phone and started looking up new movies we could rent. Somewhere else in the villa, I could hear Kiro bustling around in a hurry, knocking stuff over with quiet exclamations of, “Shoot!”

After a few minutes, he reappeared in the lounge room, wearing a pair of hipster glasses, a dark outfit, and a floppy beanie over his bright hair. “How do I look?” He beamed at me, spreading his hands out and giving me a spin like he was showing off a concert look to his stylist.

“Decidedly not like the Kiro that gets mobbed by fans the second he exits the door,” I teased.

Kiro pumped his fist in the air. “Bullseye!”

I laughed. “Let’s get going, you dork.”

“You know what will really throw people off from believing I’m Kiro,” he remarked as we headed out of the lounge. Before I could even open my mouth to ask what would make him look different, he reached out and took my hand. “Holding your hand. As far as the world knows, I am single as a Pringle, baby!” His giggle made me laugh as we wandered out of the door.

He opened the door to the car for me and helped me in before circling the car and ducking into the driver’s side.

We drove to the store, chatting and laughing all the way.

“I hope I can say this without sounding weird,” I began, “but I really love hanging out with you.”

Kiro shot me a quick glance before returning his gaze to the road. There was a sparkle in his eyes. As usual. “Me too. You’re, like, the only normal part of my life. And even then… we’re both Evolvers. But you’re rarely hustling me around sets or concert venues or nagging after me like my manager does. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate his hard work but I always feel like I can relax around you. And just be me. Not my public face. Heck, you even know about Key.” He gave me another quick look, this one accompanied by a sly smile. “I really love hanging out with you too,” he added.

I smiled at him. “I’m glad. Did I sound weird?”

“Not at all. I’d hope that at this point we’d be close enough friends that you could admit you actually like being around me.” He laughed at his own joke—prompting me to join in. “That’s kinda the point of being friends, right?”

I nodded. “Right.”

***

A pair of strong arms scooped me up from where I was half-dozing on the sofa cushions on the floor. A gentle rocking sensation alerted my brain that whoever had picked me up was walking. And by “whoever,” I mean Kiro. Because there was no one else in the house besides us two. My brain was just slow at processing when it was sleepy.

After a few moments of the rocking, I was placed gently on a soft mattress.

Footsteps moved away from me.

“Kiro… stay…” I mumbled. “Please?”

There was a pause. Footsteps returned.

“Still don’t want to sleep?” His voice was tired and soft, but I could sense his usual energy and enthusiasm behind it. “If you don’t want to sleep… how ‘bout we find something to do?”

My brain activity picked up enough to register the question. I nodded.

“Well… what do you want to do?”

I thought for a moment. What did I want to do? It felt like we’d done everything that classic sleepovers involved. Kiro continued before I could answer after a moment of silence.

“Wanna play games? Or… wanna hear me sing?”

I definitely didn’t miss the flirtatious tone to that second question, but was too out of it to be embarrassed.

“I always wanna hear you sing,” I said.

Kiro smiled, but then his expression fell. “But… we seem to do those pretty often…”

I hummed in agreement. There was a long pause between the two of us while we thought up ideas for what to do. It was late and we were both tired, but apparently not tired enough to sleep. Kiro perched on the edge of the bed he’d set me in and settled comfortably.

“How about…” he began. “Let’s do something else.”

“No duh, Sherlock,” I muttered under my breath. He didn’t seem to hear me.

“Oh I know,” he said, softly, as though a glimmer of light illuminated a perfect idea, “read poetry?” His face leaned in close to mine. “Do you want to hear some?”

I hummed thoughtfully. I’d really rather hear him sing, but if he was determined to do something else, poetry was the next-best thing.

“Sure,” I mumbled.

He smiled. “Okay, okay. Let me look…” He trailed off. I felt him get off the bed and walk over to the other side. I heard him pour a glass of water and set it on the bedside next to me before going to look at a shelf on the wall. I barely processed his noise as he looked for some poetry to read.

After a minute or two—time was hard to tell when I was so tired—he came back, sitting on the edge of the bed again. He flipped through a few pages, some faster than others, looking through the book.

“Oh! This one is good,” he said, enthusiastic but quiet. He giggled. “Okay! Ask me why I picked this one!”

“Why did you pick this one?” I mumbled.

“Because this poem… it expresses how I feel…” His voice went from speaking low to a whisper. He scooted closer and gathered me to him. “And now, holding you in my arms, I will read you this poem.”

He paused. Probably for dramatic effect, and took a deep breath.

“Let’s start. You may not believe I have often imagined you…”

[lizzodorito]

quick vent

because i legit have no where else to put this sort of feeling and just.. writing it in a book or a doc just... isnt as cathartic. Hope this just fades into the void, please dont bother reading it.

Hey. screw proper grammar and spelling I just need to get thihis out.

my name is liz and hoenstly fuck this website because last time i actively used it for something other than mandolorian memes or sims mods/cc my ex boyfriend was fucking stalking me on it and catfishing me and comfort me by sending me those ask lists and i... i dunno if im over that. Fuck you Sven.

not the point, just wha t I have to think about every single damned time I find myself here no matter what.

I am so lonely. I dont have many friends at all and the ones I do are out to use me or not Get Into It with me, thouhg fair because im a shit load of a lot to deal with i guess. other friends i have are pretty backstabbing and they refuse to properly grow up and LIVE and THINK FOR OTHERS AND ALSO THINK FOR THEMSELVES WITHOUT IT HAVING TO BE DEFINED BY HOW PROUDLY TERRIBLE THEIR MENTAL HEALTH IS FUCK

And then i get shit for it

love being used guys hell yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah  no i dont i hate it so much literally when was the last time anyone loved me right outside of my family and even so its not like my parents treat me well. mother you may have improved drastically,  but similar to my self esteem, its still very much BELOW PAR and i hate having to witness both.

I am so lonely.

I go so long without saying any word sometimes, its a wonder i stil breath, although sometimes when i was young id forget to.

why is it that i get more depressed when i come back to the family home

does anyone else understand being family oriented to a family that really for the majority doesn’t treat you the same?

The voice in my head wont stop. it wont stop telling me all  the ways i have potentially fucked my budding friendships with my new friends isha and matt 

how am i a person who shares so little yet so much

BUT MY LORD THANK YOU these are people who... who are considerate and are processing what i am saying and are thinking of me

but how fucked up am i

and will that push them away

im often distasteful but all the same complex and layered and so useful and so interesting

and that’s why often enough it seems people dont put in the effort, or frankly, dont give a shit about me once i requrie effort, though their “care” for me beofre then was only for their own benefit.

im exhausted 

One of my best internet friends was raped and i was the one who revealed that to her and she just didnt realize it yet and i havent been able to fall asleep without thinking about it

i have needed to cry for over a week now and i haVent gotten to still i am so sad i am SO SAD

I am so charming yet cannot help being alone no matter how enjoyable i am for others to have around

Matt

He makes me question if im asexual

But I am only a human

porbably deifntieyl still asexual

but too much all the same 

Im just lonely and touch starved probably (more than usual to be clear) and want to be hugged and loved and he’s so smart and we talk for hoours and comfortably, for me, occupy eachothers’ space we talk for 

hours.

this is becoming poetry.

I feel like i am beginning to sound like a hobo johnson broken record

stop being poetic fuck off liz

he;s so 

I havent been hopeful like this in people for a long time

we went to a museum to support isha (she had to do a project that invovled socializing so ya know the inrovert crew (though i dont know fi matt considers himself one)) and we just were togeter (in rather close proximinity) just speaking in accents, partly hoping to excite the strangers crowding everywhere about “foriegners” being here at the exhibit... but i think it was mostly just for us. for our fun 

because voices is what we like to do

i love voice acitng 

he committed to it, i fell out of it more times than he did and he gets more specific with accents than i do

he likes what i do

he loves the characters and my many talents

he loves my writing

he wants me to join his dnd campaign over the summer with his friends

is it for me?

does he want... me

or just my character maggie that everyone loves

he wants me to join the campign he’s in npw with his friends, as he’s a player character and not a dm as he would be over the summer

he doesn’t quite get how lonely i am

i worry i made him and isha uncomfortable last night... i joked about actually being loved properly

he immediately looked at me strange, me not realizing the joke was taken as truth

“Liz, is there something you need to talk about?”

“Oh! Oh, well, um...” hi i come from an abusive family and you both dont realize how much it meant to me that you wanted me to come and are consitently telling me and thanking me for coming because... you’re telling me im good company and its been so long since i have had real friends or gone out with friends and ACTUALLY FULLY AND COMPLTELY HAD A GOOD TIME OH MY GOSH YOU DONT EVEN KNOW I AM SO SHY ABOUT ALL OF THIS BECAUSE HOLY FUCK I CANT EVEN ASK HOW I BECAME SUCH A BASKET CASE BECAUSE I ALREADY KNOW I ALRWADY KNOW I ALREADY KOW I ALRADY KNOW AND I HAVENT’ GOTTEN TO REALLY TELL ANYONE IN SO LONG WITHOUT THEM LEAVING ME 

its been so long since ive been understood by a peer

(hi my name is liz and i am weepign right now)

“No, not yet at least.”

*isha laughs and it joined by matt soon. I’m smiling comfortably. I genuinely have a soft, contented hope i might get to tell them at least some of it one day.*

“not yet at least! sorry matt you have to be at least a level 4 friend to learn the tragic backstory”

thank you isha for lightening the mood

thank you for making the joke so many people who gave less than a fuck about me got offeneded at and confused when i made it so often years ago.

my comment was laughed off, we continued to watch the critical role espidoe i had missed

soon it was just matt and i. isha was to bed.

just him and i, and i, like id been all night (concious but making the decision to pipe down and trust the people around me), was all curled up, very relaxed and off my posture, sinking into the couch. MAtt was always upright ish. sometimes hed sink a bit or rest his hips on their side curl a little rest his head, but not as intesely as i did

sometimes he’d scoot closer to me, sometimes hed scoot away. sometimes hed move his legs so our knees would touch. i dont mind (not because i was finding it romantic, im not twelve, i just am understadning of the small situation we are in and its a knee for crying out loud) i wonder if i was taking up too much space with the way i’d sit comfortaly. I wonder if he thought so.

i would be lying if i said i didnt imagine us actually having contact with eachother. cuddling platonically.. on multiple occassions.

I have an imagination that thinks of everything and so many scenarios all at once and all the time after all

i was comfortable with the idea but

it would be a bigger lie to say i wasnt absolutely and perfectly content wiht the way it did go.

i dont thiink i will ever know if he was comofrtable on that couch or more so if it was me he was comfortable or uncomfrtoable with. 

I will respect him to tell me.

he;s good at eyecontact and its comfrotable enoguh where i dont have to look away (it’s been a problem i never used to  have recently)

I’d peek up at him when he’d talk to me

i felt young again

when the stream was over he got up to leave.

i dont know if we daudled. dawdled? yep thats the word

i dont know if we did

we made small talk

shitty jokes that he declared wouldn’t be the last thing we said to eachother that evening

i agreed.

the last words that night were goodnights.

me with my raspy evening voice from a day full of talking and him with a look over the shoulder from the hall as the door closed behind him

he was obviosuly very slap happy sleepy as he was talking about the light not being too bright in the hall (to his happiness)

it was a nice night

when was the last time i went to bed so happy? thanking God over and over and praying for my friend i mention way earlier

i didnt even have to drown my insomnia with a youtube video

i just went to sleep

2 am

i hope the weather continues

- jaques cruzio, pink panther

now im just in bed

at the family home

not my dorm

fighting my depression (its been three hours, i was getting exhausted by 9:30 due to it) as i rest

i was curled in a ball, slumped and face planted, arms slumped when i decided i need to talk to someone, or say something mroe than what i vented to my little sister (small bits about how lonely i feel and how i worry ive fucked things up) hours ago

and here we are 

12:14 am

just some broken twenty something asexual with a mind that’s usually over sixty talking about the amazing people i met two weeks ago while in the background i think about the girl i used to be the boss of (online moderator work) and how she’s essentially in love with her idea of me and how i make her feel... and not just for me.

i am mysterious and cool and smart and hot and talented and useful to her.

I want to be complex and dedicated and helpful and pretty and so skilled and hardworking and wanted for me.

i want to  be considered and deserving and im hoping that isha, matt and my other two roommates can help start to fill that hole in my life

because, God, so far they have so much potential for it in my eyes

(so far)

thanks for listening, void.

actually feeling quite a bit better. the misery is still lingering, i wonder if i should cry more. But, i can breathe easier and my eyes dont feel dead. I just am tired and am prepared to enjoy things again.

proabbly will watch claire from BA make jelly beans.

or the Noel Miller guy isha told me about.

I dont know if it’s appropriate if i downloaded matt’s contact into my phone from when isha put us both in a groupchat together and i hope its not weird and i hope maybe he did the same, but by God i dont think i’ll be texting him first.

i like in person better.

with anyone.

always have

i have so much more on my mind

[weartirondad]

These Hands Could Hold The World (But It’ll Never Be Enough)

Prompt: Field Trip - i need a fic called "the 5 times tony went to peter's school and the one time peter went to tony's work/meeting/SI" by Anon

Warnings: Major Character Death (no description of actual death!), dissociation (not quite but just in case)

A/N: WE CAN FINALLY POST OUR FIRST PIECE FOR THE 1K CELEBRATION AND WE’RE SUPER EXCITED TO SHARE IT WITH YOU! 

FF.net I ao3

i.

The first time Tony sets foot into Midtown School of Science and Technology, he’s immediately overcome with everything he has always hated about high school.

There is the smell. Putting several hundred pubescent teenagers into small hallways and tiny classrooms tends to create a special kind of odor that makes him want to cover his mouth and nose with his hands as soon as the smell hits him. Of course he doesn’t do that, even though he’s about seventy five percent certain that either someone has died in there or the cafeteria has already started to prep for lunch. Maybe both.

He doesn’t dwell on it as he saunters through the empty hallways gracefully, taking in the lockers with all their dents of past fights and hissy fits and maybe one or two bad break ups. He remembers his year in high school vividly enough to remember what the insides of them look like. He hopes Peter hasn’t made similar experiences, he hopes his kid has been spared some of the torment that comes with being a genius in a world full of people whose thoughts are running so much more slowly and organized than your own.

Midtown is supposed to be better, though, with it being a STEM school it’s supposed to encourage thinking outside the box and nurture given talent. At least that’s what all the flyers are saying that May shoved into his chest the second he mentioned that Peter’s intellect might be better off in a private school.

Now, as per usual, May Parker has been absolutely right to keep her nephew with people of his age and not to tear the one friendship apart that has lasted a literal decade already despite their young ages. And while he hasn’t gotten another word in on the whole ‘which school is the right school’ debate, she has asked him to step up as one of Peter’s emergency contacts.

Which settles his anxious heart a little more than he would like to admit.

He tried to play it off with a wave of his hand and a “Sure, just put my number there. It’s fine.” but May didn’t buy it and simply smiled at him knowingly.

Tony isn’t sure what it is about Potts and Parker women that gives them the ability to just look through all his masks within seconds. Frankly, it’s scaring him a little to be that see-through but he’s been together with Pepper long enough to know that it’s usually for the best that they know what’s going on.

Apparently, though, the school didn’t believe it when one May Parker came up to them to put Tony Stark as her nephew’s emergency contact so, in mutual agreement of Pepper and May he is now making the way to Midtown himself. With an actual appointment. Like some normal parent wanting to talk about their normal child. As if anything about any part of their relationship was normal.

So here he is, pretending that this trip is a nuisance to a perfectly planned day full of very important appointments while secretly being relieved to get out of one of the countless board meetings. And, maybe he is looking forward to getting a glimpse at the reason for it all.

He’s already walked through most of the school and is about to turn left to follow the sign pointing him to the principal’s office when he hears a familiar high-pitched voice calling his name behind him. He grins.

“Mister Stark? What are you doing here?” Peter looks suspicious now that he’s recovered from his initial shock and maybe a little worried. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s great, buddy,” Tony finds himself reassuring the kid and, as soon as he’s within reach, he puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes it gently, pulling the teenager into his side momentarily. It’s crazy how instinctual these moves have become. “I’m just here to talk to your principle and sign some papers.”

Peter squints up at him skeptically. The motion makes his nose scrunch up and wrinkles appear on his forehead. He looks positively endearing.

“You’re not gonna buy the school, are you?”

And, even as he starts venting about what kind of picture the kid has of him, he has to admit that he would absolutely buy the school if he thought it would get Peter an advantage somehow. Good thing it doesn’t. He doesn’t want to have that conversation any time soon.

“Nah,” he shrugs finally, “May wants to put another emergency contact for you should she be busy and somehow the school didn’t believe her when she gave them my name.”

The kid snorts but his shoulders slump a little. “Yeah, I mean why would anyone believe that you even knew me?”

“Mister Parker!” a loud voice hollers through the hall then, making both Tony and Peter jerk in surprise. (And maybe Tony’s hand is going to his gauntlet watch and maybe he’s positioned himself between Peter and the noise but no one has to know that, right?)

“What are you doing in the hallways during class?”

A person accompanies the voice. A very non- threatening person in the form of a middle-aged well-rounded blonde secretary who peeks out from behind the office’s doors. Tony relaxes at the sight and puts a casual arm around the kid’s shoulders and a charming smile on his face just in case the teenager is actually in the wrong here.

Peter just waves a bleached out hallway pass at her and mumbles something about coming from the bathroom.

Tony really doesn’t like how the kid shrinks in on himself under her watchful gaze, as if he’s minutes away from being punished for something and he doesn’t meet his eyes.

“It’s a fateful coincidence, though,” he breaks the awkward silence and tugs on Peter’s jacket to drag the kid along to the office, “As I am here for Peter.” His smile is so forced it starts to hurt his cheeks but he keeps it in check like he always does. “His aunt and I have come to the conclusion that it would be for the best if he had two emergency contacts and that the second emergency contact should be me. You know, in case he’s sick and needs adult supervision to leave.”

“I-Uh-I-“

She stutters for another two minutes and Tony’s sure he’s broken something inside her. But he feels Peter’s body shake with suppressed laughter, still tucked into his side, and decides that it’s one of the best feelings in the world.

“I can just write down my name and number real quick,” he offers finally and earns himself a frantic nod and a pen almost stabbed through his hand in the flurry she creates getting the paper ready.

It’s pretty anticlimactic, if Tony’s being honest, but by the time they leave the principal’s office he’s at least in some way officially responsible for this kid and said kid is beaming up at him, his eyes shining again.

“I’ll see you later?” It’s more of a fact that they meet up on Wednesdays after school but Peter still manages to phrase it like a question he expects to be denied.

“We will, kiddo,” Tony smiles and ruffles his hair, earning himself an annoyed grunt, “We’ll get ice cream on our way to the tower. Now get back to learning important stuff.”

He pushes him away gently and watches the boy until he disappears into one of the classrooms. There’s a skip in his step now and he’s walking more upright and if that’s all Tony’s presence in his school accomplishes than he would take another eternity of the obnoxious smell that is high school.

  ii.

“Mister Stark?”

“Kid?” Tony frowns and checks the caller ID again. “Why are you whispering? Shouldn’t you be in school?”

A pause follows in which the billionaire can only pick up on hushed voices and a door slamming shut before Peter replies. “I am. I just- uh.”

He’s still whispering but his faint voice breaks halfway through the sentence and he sounds more nasal than usual. Tony’s on his feet immediately, ignoring the frantic whirring of Dum-E who only just catches the screwdriver before it can fall into the wiring of the newest version of Rhodey’s leg braces.

“Are you crying?”

“Uh- No, I mean,” and the way he lets out a very deliberate breath into the phone, tells Tony enough to get F.R.I.D.A.Y. to unlock his fastest car and open the garage.

It’s what Pepper calls his kid-in-distress mode and it’s worrying how often it has come into action in the last couple of months. He doesn’t dwell on the fact how instinctual worrying for Peter has become, how vital the kid’s wellbeing is to his own.

“C-can you come and get me?”

“Already on my way, buddy. What happened?”

.

Tony’s heart doesn’t stop racing until he’s in front of the locker room and Ned opens the door for him. Really, it doesn’t stop racing even when he meets Peter’s glazed eyes and drops to his knees next to where the teenager is curled into himself on the floor, it just settles enough for his hands to stop shaking and his voice to come out even. No need to agitate Peter any further.

“Hey there,” he greets him with a quick card through the sweaty curls, “how’s the ankle going?”

“Think i-it’s broken,” the kid stammers, eyes squeezing shut in pain when Tony’s hand settles on his shin ever so lightly. “I-I can’t walk. It hurts really badly. A-and May wouldn’t p-pick up a-and –“

He shushes him with a wave of his hand and reassures him before he can start apologizing again because really, he doesn’t look like he’ll manage to keep his cool for much longer. The kid’s a trooper but broken bones just fucking hurt. No matter how enhanced one is. Not that he knows but Steve once described it as being even worse because the pain is just much more easily perceptible.

“I’ve already called Bruce and he’s prepping the med bay for you so he can put you back together the second we get to the tower, alright?” He doesn’t wait for Peter’s nod and simply keeps talking, trying to distract the kid to the best of his abilities while he prepares to lift him. “You’ve always wanted to meet The Bruce Banner, right? He’s a pretty cool guy. Got a bit of an anger management issue but otherwise – ”

That gets a choked laugh out of him which is all Tony can hope for at this point.

As he’s squatting down beside Peter he’s grateful for how stretchy his workshop pants always are and that he’s regularly lifting a multiple of the lightweight that is this particular teenager. He moves slowly to let Peter know exactly what he’s going to do and when he adjusts his grip one last time, under his knees and ribcage, he waits for the kid’s final yes before lifting him up.

Even though he knew when it would happen, he still can’t keep a small whimper from escaping his lips and it pierces through Tony’s heart like a poisoned arrow. He waits for Peter to sling an arm around his neck and nestle into his chest more securely before he starts walking.

Every step seems to be agony and so, in an attempt to distract, he starts talking again.

“I thought your Spider Sense is supposed to warn you if there’s danger not get you into an accident.”

“It’s not that easy,” Peter mutters through gritted tears, “It basically goes up for everything and anything that might possibly be dangerous. It just took me by surprise is all.”

With Ned’s help Tony carefully maneuvers his precious cargo through the door and into the, thankfully, deserted hallway. “And it made you trip and break your ankle?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, “It’s really not as glorious to get bitten by a radioactive spider as people make it out to be. Spidey sense sucks.”

“I don’t think anyone has ever made it out to be glorious, if I’m being honest, kid,” Tony quips. He’s breathing a little easier now that they’ve almost reached the front doors. “You just-“

Before he can finish the great joke he has lined up, another voice interrupts them.

“I’m sorry, sir. What exactly do you think you’re doing?”

Now that he thinks about it, it does look a little like a kidnapping the way he’s carrying a visibly uncomfortable teenager through creepy school hallways.

“I can explain that,” he says as he turns around to face a teacher who has the good thinking of taking a step back once he sees who he’s talking to. “You see, the kid tripped and sprained his ankle and he can’t walk anymore so I’m taking him to a doctor. I admit I should’ve thought of signing him out with your secretary but I was kind of –“

- too worried to think straight because this kid has wormed his way deep into the dark abyss that is my soul. Promise I’ll call ahead next time.

“You can’t just take a child out of school!” The teacher glares, taking a step closer and looking like he is about to take Peter from him. Which does not bode well with Tony.

“Oh really?” He snaps, tightening his grip on Peter and pulling him closer to his chest protectively. “I would really like to see you try and stop me taking my kid out of school to see a f- freaking doctor for his ankle.”

He is about to venture a tirade about the school’s inability when Peter’s small voice cuts him off.

“It’s okay, Mister Daniel,” he says with a forced smile, “Mister Stark is my emergency contact and he’s totally allowed to take me out of school in, you know, emergencies. Can you please let the secretary know? My ankle is hurting really badly.”

Tony expected more of an argument but it seems not even actual functioning adults can deny this kid anything and so he’s allowed to carry Peter through the doors and into his car without much more fanfare.

“What do you say – we let Bruce set your bone and then get ice cream?”

Peter nods slowly as he sinks down into the leather seats of the car. “You really think of me as your kid?”

The billionaire meets his mentees eyes shortly before pulling out into traffic. “Of course I do. I couldn’t have asked for a better one.”

Somehow the media finds out about Tony calling Peter his kid and headlines of Tony Stark’s illegitimate son dominate the papers and social media for weeks. The teacher is fired immediately, and Tony and Peter?

Well, Tony figures that at some point the world would have to find out about the kid he intends to make the heir of his multi-million dollar company. And Peter doesn’t like the press but there are worse things than being called ‘my kid’ by one Tony Stark.

 iii.

When May texts him that she has something important she wants to talk to him about, Tony’s mind draws up a list of one hundred and forty three reasons how he has fucked up in the matter of a few minutes.

The question whether he wants to join her for the upcoming parent teacher conference is not on that list. In fact, it’s not even in the realm of things that he thought would ever be on any list other than ‘Bad ideas. Do not do.’

However, in May’s eyes it is, apparently, the next logical step in their road to co-parenting their vigilante superhero genius kid and so he doesn’t question it and rather just nods along when she’s listing everything he has to remember, topics they have to address and teacher they want to talk to. He’s glad F.R.I.D.A.Y. is smart enough to record the phone talk because his mind shuts down after the opening question.

After May leaves him to his thoughts and the contents of their conversation slowly trickle into the conscious part of his brain, he’s excited.

He never thought it to be possible to be as excited as he is about something so incredibly ordinary. But he is giddy with joy. This is his kid and he gets to be part of his normal life, outside of the whole superhero mentoring business they have going on. It makes his chest feel almost painfully full with emotions he can’t quite wrap his head around.

Tony is nothing if not thorough and by the time the PTC rolls around, he has planned everything to a tee and there are fail saves for his fail saves in place because this has to be perfect. He won’t be satisfied with anything short of an excellent meeting and he doesn’t care about the jabs he’s fallen victim to from both women and Peter himself.

This is important.

And, much to everyone’s surprise, the evening actually goes along without a hitch.

May and Tony have reached a comfortable pace of silent conversations and friendly jokes on the other’s dime and they stand strong on anything that is for Peter’s best (though what exactly that is differs sometimes). So, more than a forced co-parenting meeting, it feels like he’s here with a friend and partner in crime and he doesn’t understand why any parent would ever miss out on it.

They’re in the middle of a conversation with Peter’s art teacher who’s swooning over their next field trip to the Museum of Modern Art, when Tony pauses and ends up interrupting her long monologue about all the skills and knowledge the students are supposed to be taking away from it.

“Are there any field trips planned to visit universities?” By May’s gaze that wanders over him and settles on the woman in front of them questioningly, he can tell that that was a good question.

The teacher stutters for a moment before telling them to talk to one of the science teachers about that which, of course, they do.

And that ends up being one hell of a long conversation that evolves mostly around money issues that Tony just stops with a wave of his hand and a patient tone that Pepper would be proud of.

“The school is only allowed a certain amount of field trips for each class,” the physics teacher tells him again, “We’re a state funded school and simply don’t have the expenses to do more, even if we want to give our seniors the possibility to look at their options. And the trip to the museum has been voted for by most of his class members. I’m really sorry, but there’s not much I can do about that, Mister Stark.” He sounds apologetic and it’s the only thing keeping Tony from making a show of rolling his eyes.

Instead he leans forward and tries out the calm approach he has perfected in his trial runs for this exact situation.

“Expenses aside,” he starts and May besides him shoots him a half grin because she knows exactly where he’s going with this and for once she’s not going to keep him from waving the billionaire card. “Would it be possible for the kids to make a trip to, let’s say, MIT? Normal field trip, just a day and for purely educational purposes, of course.”

Mister Bryant cocks his head to one side, seeming to go over the schedule for the year before he nods, “Hypothetically speaking we could probably replace one of our project days with a visit to a university but –“ he pauses and meets Tony’s gaze a little sheepishly, “Maybe it would be more manageable to go to a university that’s a little closer. Columbia maybe.”

“Ah,” Tony shakes his head with a small grin, “No, I really think Peter and his classmates should be able to look at the best possible option and that is not Columbia, trust me. I’ve been there.” He leans back then, legs crossed and hands resting calmly on top of his knees. “I really think that MIT would be the best choice. I’ve still got some pull on campus and the flight from New York to Massachusetts is only about an hour.”

“I-uh I –“ Mister Bryant falters for a moment and gulps when he looks between May and Tony, a united front that does not take no for an answer but he tries anyway, “I think that would go way beyond the scope of what we can afford even if you did donate to the school, there’s just no way we can pay for plane tickets and –“

Now it’s Tony’s turn to frown in confusion, “Who said anything about me donating to your school?” Which, to be fair is phrased in a way that can be misunderstood easily and he enjoys the look of pure terror on the teacher’s face for only a second before he presses on. “I mean, I will of course support the school wherever I can but I am going to pay for that trip. And we will be taking my private plan so there won’t be any need for tickets and long waiting times at icky airports.”

That’s when the man in front of them finally cracks and starts thanking them on hands and knees for their support and frankly it’s a little disgusting how often he pats Tony’s hand but the billionaire appreciates the sentiment. This guy is thankful he can offer his students more than a state-funded school usually can and that’s something he can get behind. He puts a mental reminder on his growing to-do list to donate to schools more often.

They say their goodbyes and Tony’s watching May converse easily with parents and teachers alike, projecting a calm and nonchalant attitude that Tony can tell is a farce. A farce she manages to obtain for almost twenty minutes before she drags him through the hallway and out of the building only to hug him fiercely.

“Thank you,” he hears her say over and over again and his hands find their way to her waist to pull her away gently. He’s about to response when a bright flash startles him and suddenly they’re surrounded by reporters with microphones and cameras.

He can only about get the gist of what they’re all shouting at them and he’s more annoyed at himself of not thinking about this. The media has been going nuts about Peter and him ever since finding out about the teenager and his role in Tony’s life and of course they would figure out that today is the parent teacher conference.

With a growl he pulls May behind him to hide her from the lights that burn in their eyes and the questioning stares she is already getting.

“Does Miss Potts know you’re cheating on her with your son’s mother?”

And –

What?

Tony almost cracks up right on the spot because the guy who’s shoving a microphone into his face looks scared shitless as he repeats back what the person on his inner ear headphone must’ve told him to say.

“Miss who?” he asks innocently and keeps a straight face despite the painful jab in the ribs he’s getting from behind.

The reporter’s eyes widen and there’s a mutter going through the masses but no one steps forward to save the man who can’t be older than twenty five and who is probably praying for the ground to eat him up right then. He soldiers on, though, and that takes a lot of courage so Tony doesn’t interrupt him.

“M-Miss Potts, sir?”

Sir. This guy was a child.

“Ah,” he nods with a big, shit eating grin, “My lovely fiancée. No, I don’t think she knows I’m cheating on her with my son’s mother but if you don’t mind, I’m begging you to publish that nice little candid you took and tell her all about it.”

God, he loves messing with the vultures. He loves how they have no clue.

He turns to all of them with his arms wide open and a little bow, “Please feel free to publish any and all of these pictures. I would love to see the article and even more I’m going to enjoy watching while my beautiful fiancée destroys all of you before she’s done with breakfast.”

May is still hiding behind him but she’s holding on to his jacket, as if she expected him to assault one of the guys, and he can practically feel her shaking with laughter. It makes his grin grow even wider even though it earns him another light punch in the back.

“You think there’ll be any articles about this tomorrow?” she asks when they’re finally alone again and strolling casually to his car. She’s adjusting her back on her shoulder and biting her lip, obviously a little worried about the whole thing but he gives her a reassuring pat on the back.

“If they’re smart there won’t be. And even if there is, they didn’t get your face and we’ll make sure it stays that way. Peter has gotten enough public attention through our acquaintanceship as it is. I’m not letting them make this any harder.” It’s a hard promise to keep but one he means from the bottom of his heart.

She smiles, “I know. You’re a good man, Tony. I’m happy Peter has you.”

Tony doesn’t know what to say to that without his voice giving away just how much her words affect him and so he simply nods, puts the car in drive and brings her home so they can get the pizza they promised their kid.

There are no articles about Tony’s newest love affair whatsoever but Pepper somehow manages to get her fingers on the picture of May hugging Tony and frames it. It joins all the other pictures of his family in his lab.

  iv.

Peter’s already sitting on one of the bar stools, inhaling his third bowl of cereal when Tony comes trudging through the door. He only stops to ruffle the kid’s hair and let out something that he hopes sounds like a greeting before continuing his way to his literal life saver: the coffee maker that’s already brewing the very first steaming mug of his deliciously smelling elixir vitae.

He’s already dressed, of course, and he’s kept it a little more casual than his usual three piece suit. No, today he is wearing a navy dress jacket with red studs and a white dress shirt. He hasn’t forgone the tie, though. No, he’s sporting his favorite custom made tie – a red one with dark blue highlights and designed to look like the Spider-Man suit, the colors matching his jacket perfectly. Instead of his usual dress pants he’s in much more comfortable faded denim pants. All in all, he really does like his attire.

And the kid’s face when he notices even makes him crack the first smile of the morning.

“Close your mouth or you’ll spill the milk,” he grins over the rim of his cup as the teenager splutters and actually does spill some of the milk but from his bowl by putting down the spoon with too much force. Ah, he loves catching Peter off-guard. It doesn’t happen as often as it used to anymore.

“Where’d you even get that?” he asks once he’s gotten his mouth to form words and he points to the shirt as if Tony needs any hint on what he’s talking about. “Are you gonna wear that? Like, today to MIT?

The billionaire spares his outfit a fleeting glance and leisurely takes a sip from his drink. “I designed it and then ordered it. How do you get your clothes?” he asks, fondness coloring the ironic quip, “And what else would I be wearing? You have a tie with science puns you haven’t told me about?”

That actually snaps Peter out of his staring and he glares at his mentor. An attempt at looking intimidating that is completely cancelled out by his baby blue t-shirt on which sodium and neon are out joking each other. “Even if I had, I’d only share them with decent people.”

As if on cue Pepper walks in, hair in a messy bun and tucked into a soft dressing gown that only shows a peak of Peter’s favorite ion joke.  

“I give up,” the older man sighs in mock exasperation and downs the last bit of coffee, gratefully taking the next cup his fiancée is handing him. “Why do I even bother with this menace, Pep?”

She drops a kiss to the top of both his and Peter’s head before curling up on one of the chairs. She rests her chin on her knee and grins lazily up at him as she quips, “To atone for your sins?”

Peter cracks up at that and he’s suddenly laughing so hard that Tony is worried he’ll slip and tumble to the floor like the weird chaotic energy filled bouncing ball that he is. He’s already halfway out of his chair when the teenager composes himself and just sticks the tongue out at him cheekily.

Before Tony can reply, Pepper is reminding them that they should probably get going to collect everyone before they start worrying he forgot. Really, not everyone is as used to him being late to important meetings all the time. Although, this time it’s an actually important meeting.

So he shoos the kid to go brush his teeth and get whatever kids need to go on a field trip nowadays before turning to get ready himself. And, lo and behold, they actually make it on time (well, six minutes and thirty seven seconds late, but really Peter is just overreacting).

He’s at the front of the class with the teacher when they give the excited horde of kids the rundown and it feels weird, if he’s being honest. He has spent enough time with Peter to have a feeling for how to handle teenage kids but standing there and having them look up at him with their big eyes, wanting to learn more?

It’s amazing but scary. Is this what teachers feel like all the time? To know they have the power to educate and thus shape the next generation, the future?

Tony finds himself pondering about the what-ifs and could’ve-been’s and would-I-even-be-any-good’s but eventually his gaze always lands back on Peter who is listening to what his teacher is saying with such an earnest expression and when their eyes meet, he beams at him. And he feels that, maybe, he is doing an alright job in shaping the future.

The trip ends up going a lot more smoothly than he has ever hoped it would. The kids love the private airplane and the games Tony has stocked it with just for this occasion. Most of them haven’t flown before and it’s actually endearing to watch Peter fawn over how pretty the sky is looking with all his nerdy friends.

It seems that campus life is one of the few things that still intimidates teenagers and during their tour no one so much as steps out of line. They’re all too distracted by how big the campus is, by how old and honorable the buildings seem with all their fancy names and Tony simply enjoys watching his kid geek out over the labs they’re being shown even though he’s got his very own work station in Tony’s personal lab but that’s just how Peter is.

He’s excited about all of it. He’s writing every little thing the tour guide and Tony are saying down and takes everything in.

Tony’s heart is hurting with the thought of how close college suddenly seems. Not even a year and Peter will be going someplace else to grow and get even smarter and eventually change the world. He’ll jump out of the nest and spread his wings and actually fly. And while he’s so proud of everything the kid is going to achieve, he has to swallow past a lump in his throat when he beams up at him.

They only get a moment to themselves on the flight back.

Most of the kids are passed out in their seats and it’s quiet enough for Peter to lean into his side almost as if they are alone.

“Thank you so much for this,” he whispers as he stifles a yawn into his mentor’s shoulder. “And thank you for tagging along.”

He smiles, a wave of fondness crushing over all the little things that might have annoyed him that day until all he feels is the familiar feeling of Peter’s soft curls tickling his neck. “Anything for you,” he replies with a smile and brushes a bang from his forehead.

The boy snuggles a bit closer and they enjoy the peace and quiet until they hear some other kids talking in the seats behind them.

“Do you think Peter can get Mister Stark to give us a tour through Stark Industries, too?” A girl wonders. To which some guy replies in a hurried whisper, “Stark Industries? I hope he takes us to the Avenger’s Compound! Can you imagine –“

Tony laughs quietly to himself but Peter is adamantly shaking his head, never lifting it from the warm shoulder. “Over my dead body,” he mumbles, tapping Tony’s wrist for good measure, “We’re not making a field trip there.”

“Oh, really? Don’t you mean over my dead body?” he quips, pulling the kid closer, “Who says I want some gangly teenagers roaming about my company?”

He knows, should Peter ask, he would give his class the world’s best tour through the company anyone has ever seen. He knows there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for this kid.

 v.

The first time Tony set foot in Midtown School of Science and Technology he noticed the nauseating smell. He dimly remembers having been nervous and excited at the same time. Proud. Over-whelmed. He remembers feeling good.

When he enters the school now, he doesn’t feel much of anything.

There’s guilt lurking at the door and the grief that has become a part of him, sure. But then, they’re not really there at all. The pain that has been with him with every heartbeat, every breath since – The pain’s not there, either.

There’s nothing.

He is nothing. Merely a shell of what used to be a person. His body is there but not much else. Not his mind, not his gut instinct and definitely not his heart. No, he left all of it on –

“Mister Stark.”

Right. He’s not alone.

The ki – No. Not the kid. Ned.

Ned is the one who tugs at his sleeve clumsily after not having gotten a reply. It’s Ned who leads his body down the never-ending hallways that taunt him with the empty echo of their lone footsteps. It’s Ned who goes to work on the lock, removing the shackle from the solid brass body with practiced ease while Tony watches on dumbly.

The padlock’s clicking sounds dull, Ned’s voice is drowned out once more by the blood rushing in his ears and he can’t breathe because his lungs won’t pull the air in. It’s so familiar he doesn’t feel the pain that shoots through his body when his heart clenches at not getting enough oxygen.

“-eter needs you to breathe. You have to breathe, Mister Stark.”

He’s not breathing?

Tony exhales tentatively. Oh. He wasn’t breathing. Now he is. That’s nice. His heart unclenches and his mind starts picking up on his surroundings again.

They’re in a school. Dirty hallways, dented lockers, dust everywhere. It’s eerily quiet. No school should ever be this quiet, not even in the middle of the night.

It’s not the middle of the night. It’s noon.

Noon? Why are they in a school at noon? Why isn’t he working? Where’s Pet – Oh.

He blinks when the world starts turning, to focus on the open locker and the k – teenager in front of it. There are text books, carelessly thrown in after a long day of school because why bother arranging the books when you would use them again the next day? Advanced trig is standing dangerously close to the edge and only the weight of some tome that looks to be English literature is keeping it from falling.

Funny. Tony can relate. Though, he’s already falling – has been for weeks – and nothing is holding him back. He’s waiting for the moment he finally hits the ground and breaks apart. That would be easier. He can fix himself back up, he’s done it before. And even if he fails, at least it’ll stop the suffering.

Ned looks back to the locker when Tony doesn’t move with a sad sigh. Tony thinks he has been talking all along but he just can’t be sure. He’s zapping in and out. On and off. Alive and de –

“-lways working on the new formulas in chemistry so they should be,” he rummages through the depths of the locker, somehow keeping advanced trig from falling until he stops on a notebook that has seen better days. The sides are full of spilled ink and dog ears. But he doesn’t see that.

His eyes have stopped on the familiar writing – a familiar name – on the upper left corner of the cover. P –

Tony clears his throat, hand shaking as he reaches out to take the pad and it gets worse when he starts flipping through the pages. It’s too much of him in these pages – little doodles and structural formulas and quickly scribbled equations that are too advanced for any high schooler.

Not this one.

He stops when he’s found what he’s come here for, ignoring the way his fingers are gripping the page so tightly he might tear it off. But there, in neat handwriting is the newest recipe for synthetic spider webs. Unprecedented, never tested, never even left the ground of the school they’re standing in.

“That’s it,” he says and his voice feels like it hasn’t been used in months when it’s only been days. Same difference, he supposes, considering that time’s not real anymore. Nothing is.

His eyes are still roaming the page and he lets himself get lost in the science of it. Science is something he can grasp. This is something he can make. This is something that won’t turn to ash in his arms and leave him reeling and fighting for air on an alien planet –

“I- I can make this,” he presses on, desperate to keep himself inside the science and away from the nightmare that is everywhere his k – he isn’t. “I’ll make it for him. He’ll have it the second he’s back.”

Because that is the plan.

It still surprises him that there even is a plan but they’ve gotten back up and that back up is a woman. Figures that she would be able to think of something. He has always known that women are stronger in every way that counts. He’s glad he can let her carry the weight of the universe for now because he can’t even lift the weight of his own guilt.

Everything is set in motion and right now all they can do is wait.

Tony has never been known for his patience. That’s why he’s here – to have something to do, to grasp at something meaningful and important that can keep P – him safe when he’s back.

“He’ll be so happy to have his webs back,” Ned rambles, “Maybe a little mad because we went through his stuff but mostly happy I think. God, I can’t wait to have him back.”

“You will get him back,” Tony replies, closing the notebook and turning on his heel. He has to get out of here. “Just a few more days and you’ll have him back.”

He can hear the frown in Ned’s voice when he follows him, “We both will have him back, Mister Stark.”

Tony’s face smiles. He feels nothing.

vi.

“Your permission slip, Mister Parker?”

He blinks dumbly at his teacher who’s towering above him with an outstretched hand, waiting for the paper that has been burning a hole into the back pocket of his jeans for the past couple of hours. It should be a relief to finally get rid of the thing that has been haunting him for weeks and he can’t wait to never see the damn thing ever again. But – handing it over to his teacher means signing what he’s sure is going to be his death warrant.

For a second he entertains the thought of getting up and walking out of class without a backward glance but even as his gaze settles on the door, his only way out, he knows he doesn’t have the energy to do any of that. Hell, he barely has the energy to get out of the bed in the morning. Most days May literally drags him out by his arms and manhandles him into clothes and force feeds him.

Peter drops his head and reaches into his pocket. The second his hands touch the offending piece of paper the world starts spinning and he almost recoils but doesn’t. He doesn’t do a lot of things he wants lately. He grabs the crumpled-up slip and hands it to his teacher without looking up. He’s hoping if he can’t see the big fat name on the thing, it won’t hurt as much.

Which is ridiculous. How could there possibly be a pain worse than this? (Anymore and it might actually kill him.)

The second his teacher has his slip, he marches back to the front of the class and starts talking about their field trip. And if Peter thought he was feeling like dying before? Well, it only gets worse from here.

He tries to focus on the bright green emergency exit sign above the door instead of on the words that travel through the air and hit him with a force that knocks the air out of his lungs. Every word is like a gunshot wound, like someone putting holes in his body over and over and over again.

Exit.

He has to get out. The little white stick man is waiting for him to follow after him. Where? He doesn’t know, doesn’t care.

He wonders what it would be like to get lost in a white square. To have light surround him instead of the darkness that has been clinging to him for months. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get that feeling again.

Which doesn’t mean there’s no light in his life, no. There’s May and Ned and even MJ who has stepped up as someone akin to a friend. There’s Mr. Delmar and his sandwiches and there’s his cat. There’s the people he’s saving every day. But there’s no –

“-loyees of Stark Industries have suffered enough and I trust you all to be –“

Emergency exit only.

What constitutes as an emergency, he ponders. Is it an emergency when his lungs feel like collapsing and his entire body feels like it’s disintegrating again? Is it an emergency when he feels like dying but knows he isn’t? Is this constant state of loss and sadness he’s carrying an emergency?

Emergencies are sudden, unexpected. His grief is six months in the making. At this point, it’s neither.

Even though he feels like dying, he knows it’s not an emergency because this has become his new normal. And he has long since realized that there is no immediate action to be taken against this. There’s nothing. Just him and his pain.

He doesn’t know, can’t understand, why May thought this would be a good idea.

Pepper, Rhodey and Happy have all tried to reach out to him. Hell, half of the Avengers have tried and failed to get him to even look at them because when he sees them, he thinks of him and he’s not strong enough to go there. He’s not strong enough to see his name, his genius, his legacy plastered everywhere.

There shouldn’t be a legacy. Peter shouldn’t have had to sign his name on a dotted line making him the heir once he is of age. There shouldn’t be a heritage because he shouldn’t be fucking dead.

He breathes out very deliberately and tries to ignore the worried glances Ned is throwing him. His best friend thinks he’s being subtle but he really is about as subtle as – What’s not subtle?

The only thing he can think of his how he was sitting in front of the TV in 2008 with his uncle and his aunt and they were watching the news and he was hoping to get another glimpse at the newest superhero. He remembers some press conference that he didn’t understand. He remembers what came after, remembers how it changed his life forever.

Well, that’s not subtle at all.

His uncle’s voice is in his head and then another one joins it, overlapping with it until their words are the only thing he hears. Together they make up a tragic melody of loss.

You can’t change the world with subtle. You have to be bold, Pete.

“Hey Parker, think you can get us into the forbidden areas with your intern status? Think that’ll still mean something now that –“

His nails cut into the heel of his hand. He hears his skin tearing and he smells the few droplets of blood that spill. He concentrates on it and clenches his teeth to keep from screaming.

“Don’t know,” he spits out, chest heaving heavily with how fast his heart is beating and he can barely contain the hot rage that is pooling in his stomach. “Haven’t been there in months.”

Six months seventeen days and about twelve hours. Ever since he met Helen Cho’s eyes that only held an apology and he bolted out of the med bay.

Thankfully Flash doesn’t pry further. Even he seems to realize that Peter is close to losing it with how pale he’s looking and how he hasn’t moved a muscle more than he absolutely had to ever since they boarded the bus. He hears them talking about it anyway.

They’re speculating about just what went down, what sacrifices had to be made to save the world this time.

It’s not just the world. And the sacrifice was too high.

You’re alright.

He isn’t. He’s dying and no one realizes because he’s walking, talking and breathing.

“We’re here, Peter,” his best friend tells him and Peter is glad that he’s gripping his shoulder as tightly as he is. He’s singlehandedly pulling him back from the abyss that is his mind and into the next hell which is his reality. He doesn’t know which one is worse.

They make it through the front doors without an incident and up until the front desk, Peter manages to avoid looking at the trademark logo but there’s one hanging right above the area and once his eyes have found it, he can’t bring himself to look away. Even when his vision his becoming blurry, he just keeps staring.

Are you trying to catch flies? It’s just a sign, kid. Through here, that’s where the magic happens.

“Looks like I’m missing one visitor pass,” the cheerful lady that seems to be their guide today notes and is about to turn to the woman at the registration desk when his teacher intersects.

“I was told that Mister Parker won’t need a badge when I called ahead,” he tells them and Peter wishes he would’ve just stayed in his own headspace. He really doesn’t feel like explaining that he hasn’t touched his badge in almost a year because he never actually needed it around here. He just –

“Ah, Mister Parker.”

Knowing eyes find his and the rage in his stomach is rearing its head even as he forces something that he hopes resembles a friendly smile on his lips. He blinks and the red anger settles with his next exhale.

“Do you have your badge with you?”

Don’t be a spoilsport, Happy. The kid doesn’t need to wear a badge.

He shakes his head because his throat is suddenly too dry to get any words out and he fears that even if he did, they would only cause more pain.

Another voice sounds them suddenly. “Mister Parker has full access to all Stark Industry buildings. Welcome back, Peter.”

Peter is on fire. His skin his burning, his insides are consumed by the hot flame that is the rage he can barely control.

It is nice to finally make your acquaintance, Mister Parker. Boss has talked very highly of you. I’m F.R.I.D.A.Y. I’m in charge of the tower.

He can hear his classmates talking over each other and even his teacher seems surprised but doesn’t delve further into why a lanky high schooler would need access to all company buildings. Ned shushes them and Peter can go back to concentrating on his breathing.

I’m not letting you sit this one out, Peter. You can’t run from this forever and if it takes a stupid field trip with your class to face your demons? Then so be it. You need to keep living, baby. I miss you.

He misses himself, too.

He misses how he used to laugh too loud and talk too much and how his mind was always moving too fast. He misses how he used to feel so many emotions, how he had the full kaleidoscope of colors when all he sees nowadays is red and black. Red is his anger, black the grief.

 Objectively, the tour is nice.

Their guide is going out of her way to make this an interesting experience and she shows them a lot more than visitors are usually shown. Sometimes she stumbles on a more science-related question but before Peter feels the need to jump in, the helpful AI answers from the ceiling, earning surprised gasps and delighted chuckles whenever she chimes in.

Peter is proud how he stays upright the whole time and doesn’t let his anger get the better of him once. He’s in a peaceful state of oblivion. Floating somewhere between the things he’s seeing, hearing and feeling, and something else, something easier to handle. There are no strong emotions in this world, just a deep blue sea with occasional ripples. If he’s not careful he might drown. Maybe he’ll stop being careful for just one –

He’s snapped back into the reality, where the air in his lungs is acid and tries to kill him with every breath he takes, by his phone and a text message he chooses to ignore.

If he keeps ignoring everything about this, maybe he’ll survive the day. If he just stays in that other world, where he might drown in the sea, maybe he won’t die in this world. Because he doesn’t want to die. He doesn’t want to leave his aunt and Ned. He just doesn’t know how to not die anymore.

“If you don’t have any more questions regarding the labs, I will take you to the heart of any tour through our building – an exhibition about the history of Stark Industries,” the cheerful lady is leading them down the staircase again and into a wing of the building Peter has never been to before. His body follows the group mechanically.

“As you all probably know, Stark Industries was founded by Howard Stark in the early twentieth century as a –“

Flying cars, super soldiers and better weapons. That’s all my old man ever talked about.

“-age of twenty one, he assumed the role of CEO and the company flourished for almost two decades –“

Your moral compass has already surpassed mine by – I don’t know, F.R.I.D.A.Y., what’s a good comparison?

“-wanted a whole wing about Miss Virginia Potts and her accomplishments since taking over as CEO. Soon after, Stark Industry started investing more into renewable energies and, with Stark Tower, managed to –“

His phone buzzes again but he quickly presses decline and pushes it back into his backpack. Why couldn’t they just leave him alone? Why do they have to make it worse?

Peter has almost made it back into the peaceful space of his mind when two things happen at once.

“- the late Tony Stark –“

“Peter!”

The cheerful ladies voice clashes with Pepper’s concerned one and suddenly the CEO and late Tony Stark’s fiancée is standing in front of them, searching the group until her eyes fall on Peter.

For a moment everything is dulled and then the sounds come back. They’re too much. Too loud, too bright, too full, too much.

He searches frantically for something to cling to and all he finds is a picture of his mentor. His late mentor.

I’m never late. Everyone else is simply early.

Something in him breaks when he sees the brown eyes that are guarded on the photograph. The smile is fake but it radiates exactly what he wants. He’s always been good at getting people to see what he wants them to see. He’s always been good at getting what he wants.

Wanted.

Late Tony Stark.

Suddenly the anger is back and he can do nothing but let it consume him. Every last pore is filled with hot blinding rage and he snaps when a hand is on his shoulder and someone is trying to calm him down.

He hasn’t realized he’s been screaming.

“You’re alright, Peter. It’s okay.”

“It’s fucking not!” he bursts out then. Everyone keeps telling him that it’s okay and that he’s alright but it isn’t and he isn’t. He’s lost and broken and he doesn’t know how to tell them that he can’t possibly move on from this.

“He’s fucking gone. He’s gone he’s –“

“He saved the world.” – “He’s a hero.” – “He’s –“

Peter doesn’t care because he might be a hero but he was also his mentor and his father figure and he’s gone. He’s vanished from his life as if he has never been there only then it wouldn’t hurt so fucking much.

Pepper meets his eyes and he’s not sure how she does it because he swears his eyes are shooting flames but Pepper has always been able to handle fire.

“You know why he had to do it.”

Listen, Pete. You’re probably going to hate me when you see this but this was the only way to get you back. I can’t – I can’t keep living like this. I have to get everyone back. I have to get you back.

“I never asked him to,” he screams, “I never would’ve agreed. How could you let him do this? Why didn’t you stop him? I – I thought you loved him, too. I thought –“

He breaks off when a sob forces its way past his dry lips and when he blinks the tears start running down his cheek and they’re doing nothing in cooling his anger and they’re doing nothing in curing his pain.

“I love him.” Pepper’s voice is calm, not accusatory. “Nothing I could’ve said would’ve stopped him.” She’s not taking the bait, she’s not fighting back. He hates it.

“I hate him,” he whispers and in that moment he means it. “If he had cared at all – if he had loved me at all he wouldn’t –“

I love you, Peter. I love you so much it kills me to be without you even one second longer. If you take one thing from this stupid video message, please let it be this. I love you and I will always love you. No matter what.

He’s breaking down.

His nose is running, the tears are flowing freely and he can’t control his body anymore. His hands are shaking and his knees scrape over the ground when he falls over but before his face hits the floor, someone catches him. Pepper is warm and soft and familiar and he buries his head in her neck and lets go of the anger for the first time in months.

It has become an integral part of him and now that it’s slowly seeping out of his pores, all that’s left is the overwhelming pain of losing the third father figure in his life and the feeling that he’s alone again.

Why does he keep losing people? Why did it have to be him for the rest of the universe? Why couldn’t someone else do the sacrifice? Why – Why does Peter have to suffer? Why does he always have to suffer?

It’s selfish but sometimes he wishes he would’ve stayed dead. He’s not strong enough to go through this again, not now that he’s back in the real world and he feels the pain again. He can’t.

You’re the strongest person I know, Peter. Between you and Pepper, there’s no one stronger.

I’m sorry it has to be you. I’m sorry.

Sorrysorrysorrysorrysorry –

He must have lost consciousness at some point because when he wakes up, May is carding her fingers through his sweaty hair and he’s tucked into the softest blanket he’s ever felt. He surrounded by a feeling of home. He freezes when he realizes why.

The blanket, the scent and the calming sound of rain hitting the window at a volume he can enjoy. He is home. Sort of.

“Hey sweetie,” his aunt whispers, “Pepper called me. We’re staying over tonight, is that okay?”

Instead of answering he turns his face into the pillow more fully and inhales the scent that is so uniquely Tony. Now that he has it, he doesn’t know how he has made it six months without it. Here, in his bedroom, it’s like he’s just been here. As if he’s just stepped out to get a glass of water.

Tony is still alive in here.

He has tried so hard to bury every memory of the man and it has killed him. But now? Now he remembers.

He remembers how he made him breakfast in bed and helped him with his homework late one night. He remembers how Tony’s snoring woke him after they both fell asleep watching a movie. He remembers the small smiles and hair ruffles.

He remembers the I love you’s. The ones not on some video message but stored away safely in his heart.

Before he knows it, he’s crying again and his aunt pulls him closer and then Pepper is there, too. And he feels like Tony is there, too, as long as he remembers.

fic by @josywbu

art by @lieselfh

[jinjojess]

DR Kirigiri Vol. 5 Summary Part III

I’ve had most of this done for over a week now, but god am I so tired these days.

< LAST PART | NEXT PART >

Chapter 1 The Mania of Existence: The Museum of Medieval European Torture Devices - Mizuiyama Sachi

Like Yaki, Mizuiyama was introduced in DRK3 during the Takeda Haunted House case and was given a specific Duel Noir to handle last book. Mizuiyama was the one who was framed at the Haunted Mansion case, the tiny woman in kimono with glasses. She also seemed to be developing a crush on Yadorigi last book. 

Anyway, this part opens with Mizuiyama arriving at the museum a few hours after leaving the others, musing about how the building was originally for storing things for a nearby university, but about twenty years ago was turned into a museum, only to then more recently wane in popularity thanks to its creepy vibe and the surrounding home owners not being crazy about being so close to torture devices. It’s this bizarre, unnerving building up on a hill overlooking a peaceful residential area.

In the past, Mizuiyama had actually been called out to inspect the property because there was interest in refurbishing the building, but ultimately the university decided it wasn’t worth the cost, so they just closed the museum down. What’s happened there since then is known only to those in the neighborhood.

The reason Mizuiyama had come by before had nothing to do with what the museum housed, but rather to see the building. It was one of those famous places that she’d wanted to visit as a young scholar. 

Arriving this time, she notes that the vibe of the place hasn’t changed--it’s still got the glass facade and the imposing square structure. She does notice that the sharp edges of the building have been angled off, maybe to try and off-set how creepy the building looks.

Also, to her surprise, the grounds are crawling with people. 

Not patrons, of course, but the police and the fire department. Looks like she’s too late.

Pretending she’s supposed to be there, Mizuiyama heads inside the building, drawing some eyes but not being stopped by anyone. There’s a chill in the air inside the building, and it isn’t long before a man, wearing a university staff badge around his neck and standing by the entrance counter, approaches her to ask why she’s there. They aren’t accepting any visitors today because there’s been a...problem. About to ask further, Mizuiyama trips on her zouri sandals and her glasses go flying, which unnerves the staff member a bit as he picks them up and asks if she’s okay. She tells him it’s fine, the glasses are made to be particularly hardy (ignoring his confused clarification that he meant is she okay), instead asking for more details into the problem.

He reluctantly tells her that there’s been a fire on the premises, which is a surprise to Mizuiyama. A fire? Didn’t the challenge card distinctly say the murder weapon would be an iron maiden? (This is the Virgo case, P.S.) This prompts a short dip into what an iron maiden is, and about its supposed use as a torture/execution device for the likes of Elizabeth Bathory and such in the Middle Ages, but its actual role in history is disputed today. Mizuiyama remembers the museum has a replica of the iron maiden from Nuremberg (the original having been destroyed by bombing during WWII), and she had been assuming that the victim of the case would be killed by locking them into the iron maiden replica.

So what’s the deal with this fire? Is it related to the Duel Noir and the Committee for the Salvation of Victims of Crime at all?

She asks the staff member if anyone died in the fire, to which he replies yes, someone affiliated with the university perished. When Mizuiyama asks for the person’s name, the man gets suspicious and says that if she’s from the media, he’s not going to talk to her.

It’s at this point that Mizuiyama starts to impress me. 

So yeah, she could just tell him that she’s a detective investigating what is now a possible homicide, but instead she takes a completely different approach, since she doesn’t know who this guy is or if he’s part of the Duel Noir or not. Remember, Mizuiyama is cautious to a fault--she didn’t even want to meet with Kirigiri and Samidare until the other detectives showed up.

“Do I look like someone from the media?” Mizuiyama showed off her Japanese outfit. “My husband works for the university. I came worried that something may have happened to him...”

“O-oh? My apologies, may I have your name?”

“Mizuiyama.”

“In that case, there is no need to worry, ma’am. The deceased is a professor named Idogaki. ...Um, Mizuiyama-san, which department does your husband work in...?”

“Idogaki-san is dead?” Mizuiyama asked, ignoring the question. “My husband has been indebeted to him many times during conferences.”

“I see... My condolences, then.”

“Would you mind sharing the specifics of what happened?”

“Um, my apologies, but as you can see, things are a bit of a mess right now...”

“I owe Idogaki-san so much. At the very least, please tell me what happened.”

She doesn’t even miss a beat here with the lie, it’s kind of incredible.

Thanks to her pushing, the guy breaks down and give her an overview of what happened. The fire broke out in a small cottage built of prefab in the courtyard around four hours ago, 1 p.m. on January 11th, which was the time that Mizuiyama was with all the other detectives divvying up cases. The fire department was called and rushed out, putting out the fire quickly, only for them to find the charred remains of fifty-year-old university professor Idogaki Fukuju inside the burned hut. His cause of death has yet to be determined.

Mizuiyama asks if the building has been closed all this time, and the staff member reveals that usually it is, as a few years prior it was purchased by some organization. The only people who come are those to take a look at the records and items stored there. Mizuiyama’s next question is who the person is that is responsible for those things, but the staff guy doesn’t know--he’s only worked for the university since last year and has been mostly doing office work. Her final question is if all of the torture devices inside are still where they’re supposed to be, to which the man answers probably, but starts to look suspicious. Noticing that, Mizuiyama thanks him and leaves.

Though her usual detective work is with wood and concrete, Mizuiyama actually has a really good talent for reading people (GET IT? CAUSE SHE’S THE MEGA JAPANESE ONE?). She’s so good at picking up on facial expressions and tones of voice that if she’d become a therapist, she’d surely be running a famous clinic by now. In fact, she has experience being a school counselor. However, she believes that buildings are much more complex and difficult to read than humans, and she has an academic interest in studying and understanding the souls of buildings. (It’s a Shinto thing.)

What sort of soul dwelt in a building full of torture devices?

That’s the whole reason Mizuiyama took this case--in order to find out. Since the goal was just to gather information, nobody should complain if she wants to exercise her academic curiosity. 

There’s still too many holes here in the case though--why is the victim burned to death if the listed weapon was an iron maiden? Why choose this place as the site for the Duel Noir at all? Mizuiyama decides she needs to know more, and heads outside into the courtyard to get a look at the remains of the burned-down hut.

When she heads into the back garden, it’s as she remembered it, save for one thing sitting on top of the large hill in the center.

An iron maiden.

It’s just chilling there on top of this snowy hill, the highest thing in the entire garden. Mizuiyama realizes at this point that the Committee is definitely involved. She knows their calling cards well. Strange cases. Strange motives. Strange methods. 

There’s a bunch of footprints in the snow leading up to the iron maiden, which Mizuiyama assumes are from the police. Making sure to mix her footsteps in with theirs, she makes her way up to the device, and realizes something’s off about it. It’s certainly in the shape of a woman, and you could shove someone in there, but it’s missing its head.

Thinking for a second that a headless corpse might be inside, Mizuiyama peeks into the iron maiden, but sees nothing in there. Which makes sense, since if there’d been a body, the police probably wouldn’t be leaving the device on its own like this, and there’d be blood on the snow around it. Upon further investigation, Mizuiyama notices that the iron maiden is...really small. Like, even with the head, it would only be big enough for non-fully-grown girl to fit inside. Both halves are closed, but she can still see countless spikes within. Given this is a replica, for safety reasons they’ve been rubbed down into a non-threatening crayon shape.

It hardly strikes fear into one’s heart.

Two guys then show up asking what she’s up to there. They’re in suits, so Mizuiyama assumes they’re cops, and shows both her inspector’s license and her detective ID card. She wasn’t intending to give away her real identity while here, but trying to keep track of a bunch of lies wouldn’t really help much with investigating. 

The cops ask what she’s doing there again, and she turns the question back on them. One looks offended while the other snorts as if she’s joking, and they both show their IDs, proving they’re actually the police. Mizuiyama is one of the many detectives out there who isn’t good with dealing with law enforcement, especially after her horrible encounter the day before (yes, DRK3 was one day ago in DRK time) at the Takeda Haunted House. Though she’s itching to get back at the police for all the questioning and indignity of being treated as the prime suspect, she decides to tamp it down for now and be good.

Instead, she shows a copy of the Duel Noir challenge card, explaining that she received it and thought it was a joke, but decided to come check things out just in case it wasn’t. One of the cops takes a look at the copy, commenting that he has no idea what it says, thanks to an effect applied to it that makes it difficult to read. She points out that you can just make out where it talks about the museum, and says that she received it from an unknown fax number (faxes are still a thing in Japan to this day). Mizuiyama reports that some other detectives she knows also received it, and asks if something has actually happened.

The policemen share a look and one of them comments that he’s heard a rumor about a black challenge card before, and wonders if this could be it. Mizuiyama plays dumb, asking what he means by a black challenge card, thinking to herself that it would make sense if the higher ups in law enforcement know that the Committee exists and were trying to find a way to combat them.

The cops ask Mizuiyama if she can spare some time to talk to them about the Duel Noir challenge card, and suggest heading back into the museum, but she wants to know what the iron maiden is doing outside and how long it’s been there. Though they have no clue why the device is in the garden, they finally relent after Mizuiyama refuses to budge in telling her that it wasn’t there as of the day before. 

“So it was placed here right before the fire?”

“We don’t actually know if that’s the case.”

“So then the fire and the sudden appearance of this strange thing in the garden are unrelated?”

“We have no idea.”

“So they aren’t related.”

“Er...Mizuiyama-san?”

“Is this the only thing you found left here in the garden?” Mizuiyama continued.

The two police detectives exasperatedly shrugged.

Despite that the plan was for the two policemen to question Mizuiyama, in the end she’s the one asking questions and they’re the ones answering. She considers this to be appropriate payback.

According to the intel she receives from the cops, the cottage was a fairly large one (like, larger than my 2DK apartment) that’s situated at the bottom of the hill behind the museum. Mizuiyama was only able to catch glimpses of it, since the two cops were standing in the way. It was mostly used for storage.

Though the inside was completely charred, the hut managed to keep standing. The windows were broken by the time the firemen arrived, which was judged to be a result of the fire itself. The windows and doors were locked from the inside, with keys being discovered in the pants pocket of the victim. However, there’s a possibility that the key discovered does not actually go to the locks on the cottage entrance and windows. 

Still, when the fire broke out, there’s no doubt it was a locked room situation.

The fire started after noon, and if anyone were to approach the cottage then, their footprints should have still been in the snow. The victim was found face up on a futon in the center of the room, with no outer wounds nor signs of struggle. For the time being, his cause of death is considered to be burning.

Apparently, the origin of the fire was his pillow, and there were matches and cigarettes found in the general area, so the current assumption is that the blaze was started by a lit cigarette.

While this is all well and good for a news story, there’s still several things that don’t add up. For one, why was Prof. Idogaki smoking himself to sleep in a locked storage shed on the property of a closed-down museum? 

Apparently he’d quit smoking several months prior, and perhaps was getting his fix in private. Maybe since most of the campus was becoming non-smoking, he decided to hide away in an abandoned spot that belonged to his place of work?

This is the police’s explanation, and most people would consider the case closed at this point.

However, the cops have ignored one huge, glaring piece of evidence.

That lonely, headless maiden that suddenly appeared in the garden.

She’s the one who holds the key to this locked room murder, Mizuiyama thought.

< LAST PART | NEXT PART >

[anastasiaskarsgard]

Hydrangea - Chapter 1

The home was large and imposing. Located on the second largest island, in the Stockholm archipelago, it was connected to Stockholm by a bridge, which meant it was in the perfect location to quickly reach the rest of civilization whenever the moment was required -- but was enough out of the way that I didn't have to be bothered by anyone. The quiet location of the home allowed me the peace and privacy recent events, had made so valuable.

Upon stepping inside, I noted the dust that covered every single surface within the home; and on the kitchen table -- sat a magazine from six years ago. It had been a while since anyone used this place. It had been in our family for several generations, and although it was grand and beautiful in the summer, it was a hard place to live in the winter. Just heating it, was a small fortune, especially considering it had no protection or barriers to help shield it from the ferocious frozen winds, that relentlessly lasted the coldest months of an already savage cold.

 My tiny Pomeranian, Max, took a moment to sniff around. He was as fearless as he was adorable, and I could only pray that he managed to stay out of trouble. Max was my loyal little man, and when i was at my lowest, he really helped me keep going. I had given up on myself, but I couldnt let my little Max down. I leaned down and gave him a quick back rub, before he trotted off to sniff around some more. I could only imagine the sensory overload all this was to a little city dog, that now had an entire new world to investigate.

I walked around the house, going from room to room, opening up windows to let in the fresh air. I peeked over at my neighbors house, and was pleased to see people were there.

Back when I was growing up, I would come here every summer, without fail. During that time, I had managed to develop amazing friendships with the children who had lived next door -- Bill and Eija Skarsgard. Bill was the tall and lanky boy who would always have scrapes and bruises, and absolutely zero fear whatsoever. Eija, was just as bold as her older brother. She never failed to be confident in any situation -- even when I was hesitant about something. In fact, if I tried to chicken out, or god forbid, not even try, she always found a way to change my mind. I was a naturally timid child, but they would have none of it. There were 3 older brothers, and although theyd often humor us, they were too old to play our silly games of pretend.  But looking back on the events that led me here, I couldn't help but wish I’d stayed that sweet timid girl, that cried when i caught a fish, because id made its mouth bleed. Being fearless and passionate hadnt gone well for me.

These days, from what I'd seen online and read about in articles, it seemed that almost all of the Skarsgard brothers were actors. I remembered the father was some sort of artistic type, and was shocked his sons had followed suit, all but one of them, got so embarrassed by his unapologetic nudity. The boys I grew up playing "make believe" with as children, were now critically acclaimed actors. Not only that but beautiful ones at that! Bill had grown into quite the looker. He was handsome by anyone's standards,  with his rich and dark brown hair, sinful full lips, chiseled facial features and penetrating green eyes. Looking at him in magazines, it was mind-blowing that this was the same boy that helped me build dams out of stones, or dig in the dirt for hours. I was sorry I'd lost touch with them but was too shy to reach out to them now that they were famous. That wasn't why I missed them, although I'm sure that's what they'd think. I hoped that the fame hadn't gone to their heads and that they were still the friendly, free-spirited family that I had always remembered them to be before I couldn't find the time to come back to this place.

When you're a teenager, you don't want to escape the rat race; you want to be in the thick of it. I was by no means a party girl, but I did enjoy an active social life in my teens, and all through college. I was obsessed with getting good grades and was a bit of an overachiever, so I kept myself busy. I was always aloof with boys because frankly, they all seemed more trouble than they were worth. I had high standards and was of the mindset that I would rather be alone than settle for someone perfect for me. Then I met Adam.

Adam appeared perfect, at least at the surface. He was naturally athletic and tall, attractive by conventional standards; and very funny -- as well as charismatic and successful. He honestly had it all, or so I thought. People, myself included, were instinctively drawn in by him. Adam could always be counted upon for a good time with a great story. He was your typical all-american boy next door that you wanted to do bad things with. It’d actually flattered me, when he took an interest in me, and tirelessly pursued me.

If I had to describe myself, physically, I was fortunate enough to be naturally conventionally attractive as well. However, I had a standoffish vibe. In my defense, resting bitch face is a thing that can’t be fixed for some people, but with every cloud, there's a silver lining. Especially since it's saved me from numerous creeps approaching me, and at least gave me the illusion that I blended in, and didn't draw much notice.  I HATED being the center of attention. On a Friday night, you're more likely to find me at home curled up on my couch engrossed in a good novel -- rather than dealing with strangers and drunk people.

I had a very secure career as a  business analyst, for a big utility company; so I was not the person you ever wanted to see. I analyzed our various departments and employees, to always be sure, we work at our most financial efficiency, and if I did come to see you, it wasn’t because to give you a high five. As long as I kept us out of the red, and looked professional and clean, they really couldn't have cared less about aging or being fashionable.

As time progressed within our relationship, I thought nothing of it when Adam got a new assistant at work named Alexis. Alexis had a lovely face and Victoria's Secret body. She was slender, and never appeared to have a single strand of hair out of place. A few friends made comments, but I defended her, annoyed people only looked at her superficially, and didn't take her seriously. I had suffered this same plight, my entire life, so I refused to acknowledge her beauty as anything suspicious. She was brilliant and tenacious, and her organizational skills were spectacular, and coming from me, that's quite a compliment.  She also knew a lot about healthy eating habits and managed to share diet and exercise tips with Adam when he started to find it difficult to fit in some of his suits. I thought it was sweet of him to make a new friend, and treat her like a peer and looking back, I want to choke myself.  I was, quite frankly, the most naive, trusting idiot on the planet.

It started simply; she would occasionally "forget" to give him some messages from me and once in a while laughing a little too much at one of his jokes that just wasn't as funny, or always would touch his arm or back or shoulder. Honestly, it was a tint bit annoying, but he had always been a handsome, charming guy, that made people feel comfortable. She wasn't the first one to be a bit too familiar, but at the end of the day, he loved me and wanted to marry me. I had no reason to not trust him because of her actions. If I'm honest, I probably should confess I am a bit of a reclusive type and am not very attentive or needy. Alone time is right up there with oxygen, for me, so I have to trust completely, or I’ll drive myself nuts.

If I’d paid closer attention, id have questioned why he started staying later and later at the office. I just assumed he was taking on more cases, that he had gained from all the free publicity when he had represented a notorious South American cartel crime lords son, and saved him from what was thought to be a certain a guaranteed death sentence. He’d still received a life sentence, but considering the 74 crimes had been guilty of, that was damn near a miracle! So, I didn’t mind when he had to cancel several dates with me. In fact, I was proud of him for getting more work, rising in the ranks of the legal hierarchy as well. Then there was his sudden disinterest in looking at houses with me. One of the most significant conflicts in our relationship had always been that I refused to move in together until we were married. Since we were going to be getting married at the end of summer, he had been foaming at the mouth to pick out our future home, but now it was like he planned on buying a house after we were married. I didn't let it bother me though, I figured that because of his busy work schedule, it would just be easier for me to take photos of the houses for him, and put them all in an online portfolio for him to review at his convenience. I even went as far as completely buying his bullshit excuse of "needing something to hold back his hair out of his eyes, while he was at the gym" when I found a woman's hair tye in his fucking bathroom. (Believe me, if I could go back and slap the shit out of myself --) :

It wasn’t until I received a call from my gynecologist with the results from my yearly pap smear -- that I was doused in the cold hard reality of what was going on. I had chlamydia, and quite frankly -- I wanted to cut his manhood off and make him eat it, I was so mad. I stormed into his office and burst through the doors dramatically slamming the test results on his desk in front of him. And you want to know the embarrassing part? I still didn't think it was Alexis.

“What dirty ass whore, have you been sticking your dick in? Who was worth throwing us away, because its fucking over.” I said menacingly enough, he scooted back a bit.

“I dont think you should talk about her like she cant hear you, for fucks sake,” he said looking over at Alexis who continued to work quietly and avoid eye contact with me; almost pretending as if nothing were wrong and she could not in fact hear me.

I was at a complete loss. I stood there with my mouth agape, trying to process this information, and when I could feel the lump in my throat rise, and the tears threatened to fall, I turned on my heel and left, without saying another word.

Looking back, I should have noticed several signs that something was amiss.

About six months ago, he became very concerned with his appearance; hitting the gym, eating healthy, buying anti-aging products, investing in several expensive wardrobe pieces, getting a new hairstyle. I had found it funny that at 30 years old, he was having a mid-life crisis. I’d tease him about it a little bit, and he’d just roll his eyes and say he wasn’t a natural stunner like me.

I’ve always been very low maintenance, but that’s because my body knows it has to keep it together because I’m not doing a bunch of crazy stuff to stay young. I’m totally fine with gray hairs, wrinkles and wearing my Juicy tracksuits that haven’t been in style, for a decade. There were better odds that I’d get superpowers than I’d get Botox.

I had been so blind. Such a fool.

When Adam came by my home to pick up his possessions he’d left there over the years, she came along and even had the audacity to come inside with him. She had this smug look on her face, and kept whispering to Adam and giggling. I knew she was trying to get a rise out of me but was a lady dammit... I held it together until they finally left, and as I closed the door and locked it behind them, I pressed my forehead to the door, willing myself to stay strong, but my legs got so weak, and the air felt like it’d been knocked out of me. And I suddenly felt far too heavy to stand. I crumpled to the floor, and curled myself into the fetal position, and cried like I, ve never cried in my entire life. Hysterical, slobberyface, sobbing with boogers, till my throat and diaphragm hurt, and then I cried some more.

My heart was broken. I felt like my life was over, and my chance at happiness had left with him. I sunk into a pretty deep depression and stopped cleaning the house and speaking to anyone outside of work. If it hadn't been for my loyalty to Max, I don't know if I would of left my house. I had to take care of Max tho, so I pressed on although I was a shell of my old self.

I’d torture myself looking at their social media accounts, with all their cute little pictures and sappy comments. I’d never been one to post 1000 pictures of my life or write to my boyfriend. I saw every day, professions of my love for all the world to see. I updated my Instagram maybe once a month, unlike Alexis, who seemed to update hers about once an hour. It was disgusting.

That’s how I saw the hydrangea bushes.

I always loved hydrangeas and had asked Adam if I could plant some at his office, and he’d always said they were too problematic. I’m an analyst, so rather than argue, I gathered various varieties and strains, what their strengths and weaknesses were, what colors were offered, how often they bloomed and what was required to keep them alive. I had presented Adam with the top 3 hydrangea candidates in folders that were the color they’d bloom to be, and was rather pleased with myself. He’d been busy at the time and handed the folders off to Alexis, promising to look them over later. I asked him a few times if he’d gotten a chance to look them over and he’d get annoyed, so I just let it go.

Now I was sitting here, seething with rage, looking at Alexis, posing next to a sizeable Bloomstruck hydrangea bush holding my motherfucking folder.

I don’t know what came over me, but I had to destroy that bush.: I stayed up all night, figuring out the best strategy. Finally, I decided to go by his office before sunrise, since no one would be around, for me to douse said bush in lighter fluid and walk away to let it soak in. Eventually, once they had arrived at the office a little bit later, I would wait for them to all be inside and then casually stroll on by and toss a lit match in the bush.

 Burn baby, burn! 

His office building was made out of bricks and the flowering bed was also encased in bricks; there was no risk of it getting out of control.

I jogged by, splashing the contents all over the bush, and then crossed the street to the parking garage, where I took the stairs up to the sixth floor, where I could see them arrive without being seen. People never look up.

It didn't take long before I saw Adam’s shiny black Mercedes pull into his reserved parking space, and imagine my surprise when Alexis got out the passenger side. I guess he was giving her rides to work now too, or maybe they even lived together. Frankly, I didn't care, but they were not getting happily ever after, with my favorite fucking flowers!

They kissed and held hands, in front of God and everybody. It was repulsive and so unprofessional. He pulled her into a deep kiss and then went inside, leaving her outside. What was she doing? I bet she was going to take some fucking selfies. She walked over to MY bush, digging in her purse. More pictures with the bush, but when she pulled something out of her purse, my stomach dropped. In her hand, she had a cigarette and a lighter. She tried to light her cigarette, but it was a windy day. Thank God, I breathed a sigh of relief until she huddled down into the bush, using it to block the wind and lit her cigarette. I'm not exaggerating when I say; she quite literally burst into flames.

 I watched in horror, as she ran around flailing her arms and screaming completely engulfed in flames. Then I turned around, and I ran as fast and as far as my legs would take me in the opposite direction.

I want to give a huge thank you for helping me with editing @imaginationlane. She is such a good writer, and she took the time to help point me in the right direction and I'm very thankful. I actually edited something!!!! Yeah!!!

If I should keep going, like or comment or reblog. I welcome any comments, good or bad.

[luxexhomines]

Hello! I was reading through your blog and wanted to ask if you could write for Tsumugi with a female S/O who is the Ultimate Witch? In or out of the V3 universe is fine. Thank you!

Hullo, anon! Thanks for the request!! Although Tsumugi isn’t my favorite character, I so enjoyed writing this. I put it out of the V3 universe, so there are no spoilers for anyone wondering. Wasn’t sure if you wanted the reader be doing “real magic” or magic tricks, so it’s a little vague, haha.Icon credit to 64pxs! Also wow my third request finished in one day although it’s past 1AM & technically a new day here now!

Guess I’d classify this as fluff, too. It’s not that long, so it’s not under the cut. Here you go!

Tsumugi x Female! Ultimate Witch! S/O

You knocked on her door and grasped the doorknob, fully intending to open it and peek in the gap, but your plans were abruptly foiled by her voice.

“Don’t even try,” she cackled. “The door’s locked and I’ve got a chair keeping it closed, you know?”

When you tried to turn it, it was true. It wouldn’t budge an inch.

“Oh, come on, Tsumugi!” You whine right outside the door, making sure she could hear you loud and clear. “I haven’t seen you leave that room for a third day now! I know that you’ve got snacks and a bathroom connected to your room, but that can’t be healthy,” you beg. “Please come out…”

Either she’s ignoring you, or she’s ignoring you. Two perfectly possible options. You could even hear her plaintively humming a random tune, a tune that seemed reminiscent of a folksong–but what did that matter now, when part of her reasons for doing so was to drown out the sound of you?

“Can I at least come in, Tsumugi?” You knock on the door again, but you’re soundly rejected.

“No! You’re not allowed in here for the rest of the week, even if I do come out of the room,” she says firmly.

She was getting strangely obsessive about hiding the contents of her room from you, and you were extremely worried. The only times she ever pulled stunts like this was when she hadn’t finished preparing a cosplay for a con coming up soon, but the problem was that there were no cons coming up soon. As you understood it, she had taken a leave from work to do whatever it was she was doing in that room, and you had no clue what was so important that she’d take a week off of work to do it. She thrived off of that income to make living wage and make cosplays in addition to all her the money from her sponsors.

You could only sigh at the plain white door and walk back to your own room, resigned to your lonely fate for the rest of the week. It was anyone’s guess what she was doing or why she was hiding it from you, including your own, despite being her girlfriend.

You supposed you’d go practice your magic for the upcoming magic show you were holding while Tsumugi did…whatever it was she was doing. There was no time to waste at her doorway, calling her name to a silent answer or pounding on the door in exasperation. 

You took a deep breath and gathered your focus for the first act, a rather simple attention-getter with birds flying from your sleeves like colorful ribbons spewing from them. Somehow, it was always the easiest magic that was easiest to mess up, so you ended up practicing the act for at least an hour, worried about the possibility of success in a live performance.

Falling back on the bed, you pant slightly in exertion. Who said magic was as easy as waving a wand? That’s only what magicians wanted other people to believe, after all. If the magician was dropping dead from exhaustion, no one would enjoy the show–no, it was much better for them to believe that the magician possessed unlimited amounts of mana and could continue performing magic for an entire day but just ended it at around an hour for the audience’s scheduling convenience.

But even magicians weren’t immortal. You decided to take a break and walked to the kitchen, grabbing a drink of water to hydrate yourself before returning to practice, throwing a bitter, yearning look toward Tsumugi’s closed door.

It was going to be a long week, just you and your magic.

On the day of the magic show, you hoped Tsumugi would emerge from her cave, maybe make an appearance. But it was fifteen minutes before the show, and she still hadn’t come.

You let out a sigh of disappointment and return to your dressing room as you pick at your ratty, ripped seams of what used to be a smart looking, black long-sleeved tailcoat and matching pencil skirt. You’d had it since your very first show, and you liked it very much, but it was ready to retire and had been for a while now.

In fact, you were surprised Tsumugi hadn’t commented on it–she usually would make note of any clothes you owned that were no longer serving a functional and aesthetic purpose and bring you out to buy new ones. Speaking of Tsumugi, your dressing room just burst open with a long, blue-haired girl in spectacles and carrying what looks like a newly pressed outfit in black.

“Tsumugi! You’re here,” you gasp. “I thought you weren’t coming.”

She rushes over to you, out of breath and frenetic.

“Oh, good, you’re in your dressing room! Take this,” she thrust the plastic protected outfit at you along with a box of what you assumed to be shoes. “Sorry I’m late, it took me so long to finish this. Go change, your show is starting in ten minutes!”

You look at her in confusion, but do as she asks. You’re used to her frantic nature, even if she was rather laidback most of the time. When you finish dressing, she claps her hands together in delight, and swooning.

“Oh, I knew you’d look great in this! I’ve had this idea for forever, I’m so happy I finally get to see you wear it. I can die happy now,” she declares passionately, almost drooling with excitement, her blue eyes glimmering brightly.

You examine the outfit, which includes a pair of white gloves, black heels, a black top hat, and a similar black tailcoat, black dress shirt and pencil skirt, along with a tie of your favorite color wrapped snugly around your neck that curves over your bust gently.

“Tsumugi, you made this for me?”

She nods proudly.

“I think I did a bang-up job of it, too! It’s absolutely perfect for you,” she beams at you, as lovely and warm as the golden sun, and you can only grin like a fool in response.

“You sure did. You sure did,” you repeat, amazed by her accurate, neat needlework and toiling dedication she had offered you in making the outfit.

“Now, go out there and amaze the crowds,” she encourages you, giving you a light push on the back and going out to join the audience below.

The magic show goes splendidly–you don’t know if you’ve ever done a better job, and all kinds of flowers, roses, daffodils, daisies, skyrocket toward your lone figure standing at the center of the black stage, hoping to be caught by you. You wave at the audience happily and skip on and off the stage to the standing ovation before exiting for good.

Luckily for you, Tsumugi is waiting at your dressing room, so there’s no need for you to push through the masses to find her, and you immediately envelop her in a hug, tackling her, and her breath leaves her with the impact you’ve come at her with. She wraps her arms around your back, and you can feel her pride for you simply seeping out like radioactive waves.

You don’t let go of her for a long, long time, and when you finally let go of her, you smile at her in a daze. You can’t believe your girlfriend is this gorgeous, kind, devoted, thoughtful girl standing in front of her.

“I think I’m in love with you, Tsumugi,” you say, staring straight into her eyes, endless pools of blue.

She smiles back, pushing her spectacles up slightly.

“A good thing, too, because I think I’m in love with you, too. That is, if you couldn’t tell after I spent over a week cooped up in my room to make this ensemble for you,” she replies, gesturing at your outfit.

You pat her on the head.

“Yes, yes, I know, good girl. But I was so lonely,” you pout. “Did you have to leave me alone like that for such a long time? I could have died of loneliness!”

She simply laughs full-heartedly.

“I suppose we’d be in trouble if you were a rabbit, huh? But there’ll be no more loneliness on my watch. That sounds rather presumptuous of me to say, but you can trust me on that,” she smiles charmingly as she puts a hand on her hip.

You laugh back at her, sharing in her joy and playfulness.

“You’d better live longer than I do, in that case,” you tease.

Tsumugi bends toward you and places a small kiss on the tip of your nose.

“Your wish is my command, royal magician of the court,” she chuckles.

You smirk and slip a hand around the small of her back, pulling her in closer so that both of your bodies are pressed against each other, and kiss her on the lips deeply. 

“Then, my first command is that thou shalt stay at my side for the rest of our mortal lifespans.”

You can feel the corners of her lips stretch out and upward at this, and you take that to be her response as you draw her in for many more sweet kisses.

[ivadeshin]

Five Soda Maximum (High School AU) pt 15

(need to start from the beginning?)

“What do they do in Germany for dates?”

Caleb laughs and opens a bag of chips. “I would not know.”

“C’mon.” Molly’s tail flicks behind him, amused. Caleb shrugs and tries to think.

“Same thing as Americans, I guess. Kids go to movies. Adults go to restaurants with the lights at... hmm. Medium lights?”

“With the lights dimmed?”

Caleb nods. “With the lights dimmed.”

“And a single tea light in the middle of the table,” Molly adds in a serious hush, pretending to cup his hands around a tiny candle between them. “To roast... your tiny fancy restaurant marshmallows on.”

Caleb snorts. “On toothpicks?”

“Yeah,” Molly agrees. “You could use the ones that come in hot chocolate mix.”

“Nein, those are... too hard, they are like sugary American cereal pieces. What is that brand Jester tried to - oh, Lucky Charms. Those are not marshmallows!”

“They’re... marshmallow... inspired?” Molly pulls out something wrapped in foil, and it turns out to be half a meatball sub. Caleb makes an interested sound, tugging the bag toward him and rummaging for the other half. “Is your stomach thing getting better?”

Caleb feels a mild rush of embarrassment, but it’s more minor than it would have been several weeks ago. The entire group seems to have settled on offering to share what food they’ve got, happy when he eats full portions and not pressuring him when he can’t. It’s a lot less confrontational than what he gets at home, and he feels a little silly for expecting outsiders to treat him the same as his parents. “Yes,” he says honestly. “I think um, just unpacking... knowing my school schedule... understanding more English...”

“Being settled,” Molly finishes for him. Caleb nods.

“Yes, good word. Settled.”

“Is it that new things, um, stress you out, or was it specifically moving from Germany to here?”

“Much more the second thing.” Caleb tucks some hair behind his ear, taking a deep breath and looking around a little. He can smell faint tobacco smoke from the alley they went in - it seems like the employees take their breaks there instead of up here, and so it’s unsurprising that they haven’t seen anyone else come up. That’s probably why Molly picked it.

“Did you move for work?”

Caleb blinks, a little too lost in thought to make sense of the question.

Molly shrugs. “I mean, your dad, or your mom, did they have to move here for a job.”

“No.” Caleb laughs softly. “Their jobs here are... are not better, I think they are, they, they are much worse, actually.” He unwraps his sub and takes a few bites.

“I’m not making the best conversation to get you hungry, am I.” Molly rubs his horn and looks away.

Caleb wants little more in life than to keep Molly from being sad. “S’ok,” he says around a mouthful of meatball. “Did... you... mag...dese?”

Molly laughs. “Yeah, my own secret recipe. I wanted us to have some hot food but I can’t make much.”

Caleb shakes his head and makes a thumbs up sign, glowering at his thumb when he sees that it’s already got a streak of red sauce on it.

“Oh! Here, hold on.” Molly sorts through the bag, pulling out a large plastic chip clip that’s holding on to a small stack of paper napkins. He pulls a couple out and then sets the clip on the table between them. Caleb’s just finished cleaning himself up when his phone chirps.

Nott (green fist emoji): sup

Caleb grins at his phone. “I am going to take a picture and send it to Nott,” he says, and stands up to take a top-down photo of the items spread out on the table. Molly starts to lean back, getting his folded arms out of the shot. “No, it is okay, you are part of the...” Caleb blushes and Molly laughs, leaning in further and crossing his eyes at the camera lens. Caleb takes the picture.

“We should take a selfie later,” Molly is saying, as Caleb clicks through the options to send the attachment to Nott. “My Facebook profile picture is super old.” He stops when Caleb freezes. “Friends take selfies together here, guy friends, it’s-”

“I cannot go on Facebook,” Caleb says too quickly. “I mean, I can. I can look at it but I cannot, no pictures.”

Molly blinks. “Even if I don’t tag you?”

Caleb shakes his head quickly. “I’m sorry, it’s, it’s complicated.”

“How would your parents even know? I’m not trying to be an asshole, I just...” Molly gestures with the remains of his sandwich. “You filled out that form to not be in the yearbook, and it’s like, there are parts of it I don’t get, I guess.”

“Those two things are not about my parents, exactly.” Caleb looks down at his sub, sitting up a little straighter and making himself finish it before he says anything else that’s going to send him into stomach cramps. He’s almost done when he realizes Molly hasn’t said anything, is waiting on him, aware that there’s more. “I cannot have my face show up on the internet. Neither can my parents. We came to America because we could not hide well in Germany.”

Molly’s voice gets quiet. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.” Caleb crumples up his tinfoil very carefully, turning the corners inward and then the corners made by that, over and over. “It is not, we are not terrorists or something. The German government is not mad at us.”

Molly doesn’t say anything.

“It is hard to explain and I have not told anyone yet. I do not want people to know. I had to... there is a queue you must wait in, they decide if you can m-move to the U.S. and we had to go quickly so, so I made up, I.” Caleb takes in a shuddering breath and realizes he’s trembling a little. He tries to complete the sentence, but his mouth opens and nothing comes out. The table shifts a little as Molly gets up, and Caleb looks up and sees Molly rushing around the side to scoot in next to him, grabbing his hand on the table and squeezing it.

“Are you having a panic attack?”

“I do not know,” Caleb says, and laughs a little desperately. “I am sorry... this... it is all very...”

Molly shakes his head several times, then tilts his head so his left horn is resting gently against Caleb’s right temple. “Um. I can’t remember anything from before I was fourteen.”

Caleb inhales slowly. “A... again, please?”

“I can’t remember anything from my life from before I was fourteen. I only remember things from age fourteen to now.” Molly’s face isn’t visible to Caleb right now, but he sounds like he’s smiling and also like he’s kind of hurt. “Does that help? I’m not trying to one-up you, I’m just. Trying to make sure you don’t feel weird.”

That certainly wasn’t what Caleb was expecting to hear. “You... hit your head? Something hit your head?”

“No.” Molly’s thumb strokes over his fingers in slow, gentle sweeps. “They did a bunch of scans because that’s what everyone figured, but there was no, you know, internal swelling, or skull damage, or any brain damage...”

“Are you sick?” Caleb sounds about as scared as he feels.

“No, there’s no reason to think so.” Molly pulls back and frowns at Caleb’s expression “I think I scared you worse. Shit.” He laughs and shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I kind of panicked.”

“But that is real, what you said.”

“Yeah, it’s really real. I don’t remember anything. They think it might be psychological but that’s, like, impossible to rule out, so it’s always on the table? If that makes sense?”

Caleb tries to reach into his mind, searching for what he knows about memories and brains and... “Trauma, sometimes it gets locked up and you cannot ... think of it?”

“Yeah.” Molly shrugs. “Like, to be fair, I was in a city famous for runaways and gay homeless kids who got one-way tickets from their families, so if something awful happened to me, I was in good company.”

“I’m sorry, one-way tickets, I do not understand.”

“Like, if your shitty family finds out you’re gay, they give you a one-way ticket to a big city and tell you to never come back...” Molly nods at Caleb’s disgusted expression. “Yeah.”

“That is awful.” Caleb tries to imagine this. “My parents would never...”

“Yeah, mine maybe did.” Molly shrugs. “Or maybe they were great and died! Or, I don’t know.”

“What,” Caleb tries to digest this. “What is your first memory?”

“Like, a haze of a few days where I was lost and trying to find a familiar street, and then I gave up on that and begged, but that wasn’t getting me much money...” Molly peeks up, maybe gauging Caleb’s reaction so far. “Some, um, some working girls found me... wandering around lost, so they sort of adopted me.”

“--what?”

“They were like, ‘You’re a kid! It’s not safe out here!’ They yelled at me and told me I was a fucking idiot and I could get hurt and... and they took me to a Waffle House and bought me like all the food I could eat.” Molly sniffs. Caleb watches his face, the sad sort of calmness of it. “I stayed on one of their couches for a few weeks. I hung out with them a lot and one day they got busted and, um, and the cops thought I was, you know...”

“...also working?”

“Yeah.” Molly laughs. “I busked, sure. Other than that I was in their apartment. One of them had been making me watch educational tv to make up for the fact that I wasn’t going to school. Like... yeah.”

“Did you get arrested?”

“At first? Sort of? They couldn’t process me because I didn’t have any ID or anything, and the cops, um, were mostly human, it was one of the tiefling girls that finally convinced them I was a young kid, and they did some blood test and were like, ‘oh, shit, you’re a minor’, and then my case changed departments like seven times... finally most of the girls got out by giving up dealers’ names and I went into the foster system.”

Caleb frowns. “So your name is...”

“Made up.” Molly shrugs. “The girls called me ‘Empty Stomach’, and then just ‘Empty’, and that sort of sounded like ‘M.T.’, and so by the time the sting happened I was M.T. It’s sort of dumb.”

“It is not dumb.” Caleb turns his hand awkwardly under Molly’s, wrapping his fingers around Molly’s hand and squeezing it. “I like it a lot.”

Molly snorts and ducks his head a little further. Caleb doubles down, switching his left hand to hold Molly’s so he can reach out with his right hand, initiating a hug across the other boy’s shoulders.

“Do you ever remember more pieces? Or is it just... not there?”

“Just not there.” Molly pulls his hand free, standing up - but it’s only to pull his food to this side of the table, so he can resume eating without moving away. Caleb smiles. “My memory of things now is pretty normal. There’s just, you know, nothing before a certain time.”

Caleb ruminates over this for a while, taking a drink from his water bottle. “Do other people know?”

“Gustav knows. Yasha knows. Tova knows. Bosun and the twins don’t.”

Caleb nods. “I will not say.”

“It’s not bad, I’m not embarrassed, it’s just... weird.” Molly shrugs. “Like yours, I guess.” When Caleb laughs hollowly, Molly hesitates. “Yours... is bad?”

“Remember the ‘huge mistake?’”

Molly frowns. “That you texted about? It’s that? You did -  what the hell could you have done to make your family have to move?” He pales a little and goes quiet. “Did you kill somebody by accident?”

“What!? No.” Caleb slouches on the bench. “I... my friends, we liked computers, and... we thought we were, you know, big shots.” They were so stupid, Caleb thinks. They were kids. “We had, you know, a computer club at school, we would use proxies and do whatever we wanted... we got dark web browsers and decided we would take down one of the little empires on there. They sold, um, very awful videos. And we tricked them and got some information on some of ... of the people who made the videos, and leaked it to the police. They were busted. Nobody...”

“You were like internet super heroes?”

“No!” Caleb hits the table, making it reverberate. “We were idiots. We could have died. They were criminals and they did not care, and, and, and they, they did not all, they were not all there, they were all in different countries. So some were arrested, the rest were very mad... they traced us, they started calling our houses, watching us on security cameras, they wanted us to pay.”

“Holy shit.”

“We had to tell our parents what we did. Local police could not do anything, these men were in other countries, using spoof phone numbers, hiring...” Caleb buries his face in his arms and shakes.

“Caleb.” Molly’s hand is light between his shoulder blades. Caleb tries to take full breaths, but he can’t, so he just gasps for air as quietly as possible, over and over, until he feels an insistent swatting feeling on his thigh. When he moves his arms to see, it’s Molly’s tail, giving him the gentle little friendly smacks like during their lunches. In spite of himself, Caleb chokes out a brief laugh, and Molly tilts into him and covers his body with his.

“I do, I do not think I make much sense,” Caleb mumbles into Molly’s shirt.

“You tried to stop some shitty people and they tried to get back at you?”

“Yes.”

“And they wouldn’t stop and the cops wouldn’t help?”

“Yes.” Caleb hiccups. “They said they would poison my friend’s family. And burn my house down. They had plans for all three of us.”

Molly holds him tighter.

“I am sorry I am a big mess.” Caleb can feel the perspiration covering his skin getting Molly’s shirt damp. “I think maybe I am not good for dating.”

Molly is still for a moment, then tucks his head in carefully, pressing his lips to a spot on Caleb’s neck. “We’ll just have to keep trying until we’ve both run out of crazy fucking stories.”

[thecoroutfitters]

Written by Guest Contributor on The Prepper Journal.

  According to statistics, the average number of property crimes committed in the United States from 1999 to 2015 was about 1,800. However, it might surprise you to know that California alone has had more than 1 million property crimes reported each year from 1999 to 2015. In fact, there are several states that experience above-average property crime rates annually:

Texas – All-time high is 1.02M in 2003, all-time low is 778K in 2005

Florida – All-time high is 809K in 1999, all-time low is 570K in 2005

New York – All-time high is 490K in 1999, all-time low is 318K in 2005

Georgia – All-time high is 389K in 2008, all-time low is 309K in 2005

As we can see from the report, the latest data available, it is true that property crime rates have been subsiding over the years. Vermont currently has the lowest in the U.S, clocking in at only 8.81K in 2005. But that doesn’t mean that we should let our guard down, as these numbers are still very high compared to the property crime rates in other first-world countries such as Switzerland, Iceland, and Japan.

If you live in any of the hotspot areas listed above, it would be wise to consider the safety of your property and loved ones (if you share a home with other people). To do that, here are 8 prepper tips that you can try out which will hopefully give you a better chance of thwarting the heinous plans of any would-be house intruders.

Use Your Head

Not literally, but figuratively. One of the first things you should do when you hear a knock on the front door is to stop and think. Ask yourself the following questions: Were you expecting anyone over? Did you invite somebody, or could it perhaps be the mailman or someone dropping off a package? What time of day is it? Do people usually visit at these hours?

If you have no clue who the person at the door could possibly be, that’s the cue to start being cautious. The next step is to discover the identity of whoever knocked and determine what their reason for standing at your door is.

Increase Visibility

Now, some might reason out, “Well, I’m not expecting any visitors, so I simply won’t answer the door.” That IS a possible option and there is certainly nothing stopping you from doing that.

However, suppose your neighbor had an emergency and needed help? Wouldn’t you like to help them?  What if somebody was trying to surprise you with a gift? You need to find out who’s at the door but in a cautious and safe manner.

The solution to this is to increase your ability to see who is there. This can be done in several ways:

Peepholes – these can be easily installed on a door and they allow you to see what’s on the other side of the door without opening it. A peephole only goes one-way, so your visitor will not be able to spot you checking them out

Door Chains – these allow the door to be opened partially for the purpose of communication or passing small objects, while at the same time disallowing easy access to the house.

Door chains are rather weak, but they are not meant to prevent unauthorized entry; instead, to give you a chance to view the person while having a small measure of protection.

If this person was an ax-wielding psychopathic maniac who would stop at nothing to get in your house, well, neither a door chain nor any other locking device would have kept you safe, but will provide with with some valuable time to react.

Security Screen Doors – these are great because they act as an initial layer of protection aside from your main door. If this person has ill intentions towards you, he or she’ll have to hack his or her way through this door first which will give you enough time to plan your next move. The screen allows you to view and speak to anyone without any possibility of physical contact, unless they are armed with a firearm.

Home Surveillance – there are many types of home surveillance systems, CCTV systems, cameras, and other wonderful digital inventions that can provide external visibility and even record footage to keep as evidence. Nest (owned by Google) even has a doorbell with a camera that can talk, as does Ring! (Editor’s Note: When I googled “ring doorbell” the first three results for the search were for Google’s Nest! Remember, any device connected to your wi-fi can be hacked).

The last and final option to increase visibility may be the most obvious. It’s also the most affordable. If you have windows near the door or any other means of flanking the person to get a peek at them, by all means, please use them.

Psych Them Out

If you can’t identify the visitors and they won’t stop knocking, consider playing mind games to either intimidate them into leaving or get them to state who they are and what their business is.

Ask who is there without opening the door. There’s no guarantee their answer will be true, but at least you’ll hear the voice and know their gender.

You can also try to loudly shout, “We’re not interested!” – If they’re genuine callers, they will identify themselves and their purpose immediately. Using the word “we” also lets them know that you’re not alone in the house and they shouldn’t try to pull any funny moves.

In the event that you don’t want to talk, you can try banging or rapping loudly on your side of the door without speaking. Sometimes this action is enough to scare away would-be house thieves, solicitors, or anyone else who doesn’t have important business with you.

You can also use props to scare away possible burglars. Place a large dog bowl or a pair of over sized men’s boots next to the doormat. They’ll think twice about what they’re planning next, especially given the thought that a large, angry man or gigantic Doberman might appear at any moment.

To remove solicitors from the equation, consider posting a “no solicitation” sign on or near the front door to deter any rogue sales folk that might wander onto the premises.

The Art of Door-Opening

If you aren’t able to increase visibility or psych them out by using any of the tips above, your absolute last resort is to open the door – like a ninja! Opening the door to an unidentified person can be a risky move, but there are safe ways to do it right:

 Position your foot firmly against the bottom of the door and curl back your toes to act as a sort of anchor. This will allow you to crack the door open wide enough to see who’s outside, and still be able to prevent it from being opened all the way.

 Don’t stand in front of the door. The most common strategy employed by an intruder would be to push the door back right after you’ve turned the knob, which would throw you onto the floor and into an extremely vulnerable state.

 Hold a portable phone to your ear when opening the door. They will not know who you are talking to and it may cause them to change their plans.

 Once you’ve opened the door, ask to see their ID so you can confirm their identity.

 Be wary of people with a story. It’s a common modus operandi for intruders to invent something to distract and cause you to let your guard down. If their car has broken down or they need help, offer to call 9-1-1 for them.

If you don’t know them then never leave the house for any reason, even if they ask you to come over and help them with something important. Stay calm and call the police on their behalf.

f) Avoid having a false sense of security. Just because it’s broad daylight and even though the person at your door is a woman, it doesn’t necessarily mean everything’s peachy. Professional criminals know what the average Joe expects, and they’ll usually find a way to surprise you.

Remember, keep your head clear and your wits about you. Malicious people tend to prey on weakness and fear, so keep your emotions out of it.

Prepare Your Arsenal

As a prepper, using weaponry should absolutely be a last-resort method of intimidation or self-defense. Having said that, it pays to be prepared in case a visitor makes clear his/her intention to enter your house or cause harm. Have your sidearm stashed in a safe and hidden place where it can be quickly retrieved but not easily found by either the person outside or any children that you have in the house.

Be wary in discharging your firearm. You are only justified in shooting an intruder if there is a substantial threat to your life (he/she has a weapon and is threatening to kill you, for example).

Some of the best guns to carry for home defense are the Beretta 1301 Shotgun, Glock 19, Ruger GP-100, and the Ruger PC Carbine.

A safer and cheaper alternative to carrying a firearm is to purchase pepper spray or an electroshock weapon such as a Taser. These can incapacitate an opponent, allowing you to call the cops or at the very least, buy you enough time to lock yourself in a room or flee through a back door. (Editor’s Note: Only if your are faced with a single assailant).

Having a large family dog at home for security or protection is also a fine idea. The German Shepherd, Boxer, Rottweiler, Great Dane, or Doberman Pinscher are all breeds that excel at guard duty. They are loyal animals that are naturally protective of their owners. Their loud bark can sometimes be intimidating enough to scare away amateur burglars.

Reinforce the Door

Sometimes, prevention is better than cure. There are ways that you can reduce the likelihood of a home invasion taking place, such as reinforcing the front door. Doing this will discourage criminals from choosing you as the victim and will also make it a lot harder to actually get inside if they decide to do so.

Some extra-fortified door upgrades to consider are using larger hinges or adding an extra hinge, upgrading old locks, installing a peephole and slide chains, and putting one or more deadbolts in place. Deadbolts that are keyed on both sides are recommended. Install all deadbolts and lock with the longest screws you can find. Door framing is more decor than substance so sinking those screws into the studs framing the door is a great improvement in your security.

If you have a larger home and feel unsafe due to the multiple exit/entry points, start by reviewing alarm systems to get a good grasp of the best security package for your home.

Also, be wary of any windows near the front door, while they increase visibility they also can be easily broken. Consider remodeling this area of your home if you feel there’s a considerable security risk.

Trust Your Instincts

As the saying goes: go with your gut. Sometimes if you feel something isn’t right, trust that feeling and don’t answer the door. It’s better to be safe than sorry.

If you are quite certain that a person intends on breaking in, call the police immediately. Don’t be afraid to be called paranoid or anything else.

Some people feel compelled to answer the door immediately as it is the societal “polite” thing to do, but don’t let this sentiment get in the way of your better judgment.

When your safety and security are at stake, caution is always more important than politeness.

Knowledge Is Power

And finally, we arrive at the most important tip of all. Don’t just read this article and keep it to yourself – share it and educate your family and friends!

Make sure each and every member of your household knows what to do in an emergency situation and how to deal with a possible home invasion. Have an escape plan in place in case things get rough. Hopefully, you will never have to use it but it’s certainly a very smart idea, and having a solution to a problem before it happens is what makes you a prepper, right?

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The post Defend Your Home: 8 Tips to Answer Your Door Safely appeared first on The Prepper Journal.

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