#no different from like. having a ton of sneakers so long as you wear them every now and then

[ieropski]

i kinda didnt wanna buy an electric guitar until i was like fairly okay at guitar but guitar center has some big sale going on right now and im like ... 😳

[starsstuddedsky]

hi hi hi! im a new follower but already so invested in "as a matter of fact". i think the storyline is amazing and i can't wait for more updates >< and my wish to your star is a fic of a love triangle b/w seungkwan, wonu and our girl y/n :) if you decide to accept this (totally cool if you don't) - i think a uni au would be nice with tons of fluff and angst. and you can decide who to end up with! thank you for reading this, your works are amazing and take care <33

Date #4

seungkwan x reader, wonwoo x reader

summary: Seungkwan and the crushing realization of having feelings for a friend

genre: angst, fluff, uni au

warnings: food mention, alcohol mention, swearing(?)

wc: 2.4k

a/n: hello!!! tysm for this request!! first of all, i'm sorry it took me so long to get to this, i was in a bit of a writing rut and also real life is so difficult.. that said i had a lot of fun writing this and i hope it isn't took different from what you imagined!! i'm not the biggest fan of love triangles (read: i despite them) so idk how this turned out.. pls pls enjoy &lt;/3

req masterlist | guidelines

Seungkwan has his apron on, tied behind his back in a bow (a skill he learned during the two months he survived working at Foot Locker). He chose all black, turtleneck tucked into his loose jeans, even digging out the sneakers he got (discount price) when he thought he was actually going to run every day. He shudders at the memory of wearing the Foot Locker uniform, thankful yet again to find a job at Soren’s. Close to campus, minimal dress code and iced Americanos whenever he wants them. Plus it rarely gets busy, so most of the time Seungkwan gets paid to read behind the counter. 

He drums his fingers on the counter, scanning the limited view of the sidewalk that the window provides. If only he could take down the giant poster, promoting some campus band, especially since the concert was two months ago. 

He smiles at the memory. Two months ago, the first of these little schemes. You wore your favorite jeans and the purple sweater, with the swirly patterns that Jihoon makes fun of for looking like obscene shapes. Seungkwan had to promise you that Jihoon was just being immature, and there were middle fingers and dicks absolutely nowhere on you. 

That was back when you still had faith in your dates. 

He can see two pairs of shoes underneath the poster, the Sketchers he got you (also discount price) and unfamiliar Nikes that are gray and worn down. Seungkwan is tempted to pour the cup of water already. 

Because of the cursed poster, he can’t see you until you’re opening the door, the little bell jingling softly. It’s still a fond noise to Seungkwan, a notice that customers have arrived and he’ll have to actually earn his paycheck. Jeonghan, the other barista, hates the noise, obvious by the way he drags his feet approaching the register. He shoots a glare at Seungkwan as he walks past, though he agreed to this at the start of the shift. 

“Welcome to Soren’s, how can I help you?” Jeonghan asks in a cheery voice. He stands straight and even though his back is to Seungkwan, he knows that the older boy is flashing a blindingly bright smile and perfectly covering his disdain for the job. 

From his stool on the corner, Seungkwan gets the perfect vantage point to judge your date. He’s tall, broad shoulders, wearing a loose navy blue sweater and brown corduroy pants. A point in his favor, definitely better than Failed Date #2 (Seungkwan still wants to know who let him go on a date in flip flops and board shorts). He has thick glasses, round frames that sit perfectly on the bridge of his nose, which is straight and looks like it’s never been broken (a step up from Failed Date #1, who managed to break his nose during the date). 

This date was set up by Jun (much more reputable than Mingyu by Seungkwan’s judgment). According to Jun, he met the dude in his freshman English class, and cited him as the sole reason Jun passed the class. “Certified genius” were the exact words he used to describe Jeon Wonwoo. 

You order first, though Seungkwan doesn’t need to listen to know what to make. He gets off the stool, hands moving without looking; he’s made your order so many times since he started working here, he could do it in his sleep. 

“I’ll take a caramel latte, iced,” Wonwoo says. His voice is smooth and deep, even Seungkwan feels his heart skip a beat. So far so good. He remembers a night where you were rather drunk and very rambly, and mentioned how you found deep voices attractive. 

Seungkwan doesn’t miss how Wonwoo pays without a word, passing his card to Jeonghan before you can say anything. Another point to the Date #4. Seungkwan has to actually pay attention to his job now, ignoring the faces Jeonghan is making at him. He pours the drinks carefully, making sure nothing sticky is left on the outside of your cup since apparently he got syrup on it last time. 

Seungkwan is proud of how quickly he finishes the drinks. He has gotten rather good at being a barista, though it feels arrogant to say. He sets them on the counter, calling out the order. You and Wonwoo stand at the same time, and your table is close enough for Seungkwan to hear the awkward laugh. 

“Why don’t we go together?” You say, gesturing for him to lead the way. Wonwoo nods, and even though his back is to you, he still smiles. Seungkwan feels a prickle in his stomach watching you two walk up together. You look good together, he realizes. 

You don’t look at him when you pick up your drink, muttering thank you under your breath. Seungkwan has to force himself to smile and nod at Wonwoo, who meets his eyes and thanks him, holding up his glass in a small toast. 

He watches you return to your table and decides it has to be a good sign that you are avoiding him. It must mean the date is going well, since you aren’t making faces at him or giving him the signal. 

You sit facing Wonwoo, though you’re also facing Seungkwan. He shifts the stool so that he can watch you out of the corner of his eye without outright staring. He’d hate to miss the signal like last time. 

The minutes drag by. Seungkwan can’t hear much from behind the bar, but can he see your face light up in that lovely smile that makes your cheekbones pop, see the way you lean into the table when Wonwoo is talking. And even when both your drinks are empty and the ice is melting, you don’t make any move to get up or give him the signal. 

Seungkwan sips on the cup of water before realizing he’s meant to spill it on you. He sets it down, realizing this means he has to resort to plan B. Even if you don’t look like you’re going to give the signal, he should stay ready. It’s his duty, as your friend. 

Friend. He frowns at the word. That is, by definition, his relationship to you, someone with whom there is mutual affection. He is affectionate to you, but watching someone else make you smile, for the first time he wonders if affection is all he feels. 

He ducks his head, wiping the counter down. These thoughts are dangerous, capacity-to-destroy-a-relationship level of dangerous. You’ve always been a precious friend to him, and he won’t throw it away because he maybe thinks he feels something. 

It’s true he’s thought of it before; the first time was in the library, when someone wanted to borrow a chair and mistakenly thought you were dating. It was a careless mistake but for a moment Seungkwan entertained the thought. It passed quickly, his essay on data ethics taking priority, but every once in a while he’ll be by your side and wonder what it would be like to be more than friends. Passing thoughts that vanish before they can destroy him. 

Seungkwan scrubs at the sink, waiting for this thought to pass, but it’s taken root in his stomach, twisting and turning. He has had one iced americano too many, and everything is a clouded mess. 

“What are you doing?” Jeonghan hisses from next to him. “That’s the wrong rag!” He snatches the rag from Seungkwan’s hand, tossing it in the back. Jeonghan shakes his head. “I trained you better than this. Sponges and orange rags only for cleaning the sinks!” 

“Sorry,” Seungkwan mutters, glancing back at you. 

“It’s going well this time,” Jeonghan says. Seungkwan turns to see that Jeonghan isn’t even trying to hide his snooping. He’d shove the older boy if he didn’t think it would get him fired. 

“Can’t you be subtle?” He whispers. 

“No fun,” Jeonghan says, craning his neck to try and get a better look at Wonwoo. 

“I never should have told you anything.” 

“Nonsense, I’m an integral part of this team,” Jeonghan says. “Plus you’re conducting this on company property, I have to make sure you don’t get us sued or anything.” 

“Since when have you cared about getting sued,” Seungkwan says, remembering last week when Jeonghan got into an argument with a customer. 

“I care about getting sued when my protégé can’t focus on his job because he’s too busy being overly invested in the love life of his friend.” 

“How noble.” Seungkwan dares to peek at you again. Is he imagining things? 

No, you’re definitely tucking your hair behind your ear with both hands, though you aren’t looking at him. Still, the signal is the signal. Seungkwan ignores Jeonghan, grabbing the mop bucket from the back. It’s time to prove his worth. 

The mop bucket clatters on the tiled floor, drowning out your conversation. Seungkwan decides it’s fate; he doesn’t need to know why you called for evacuation, he just needs to help get you out. 

So he trips. He doesn’t know how convincing he is, especially when he puts most of his effort into tipping the bucket of water over via mop handle. Unfortunately, as he falls, Seungkwan realizes two things. First, he miscalculates how much strength it would take to tip the bucket, and instead of knocking it over, he sends it flying into the air. Second, he thought the water was still clean but Jeonghan must have mopped before his shift started because the water flying into the air is very soapy and very dirty. 

Seungkwan falls flat on his back, mop handle clattering next to him. He squeezes his eyes and mouth shut as the water sprays all over. 

“Oh. My. God.” He hears your voice and opens his eyes slowly. You sit in the chair, hand over your mouth and Seungkwan realizes he didn’t just spray himself. 

“Are you okay?” Wonwoo asks. He stands, the chair kicking up mop water. “Oh, I’m so sorry.” He holds out a hand to Seungkwan, covered in mop water. Seungkwan tries to think of an excuse to say no but comes up with nothing, so he takes the other man’s hand and cringes when he notices the water on his glasses. 

Seungkwan has failed before, but never this exponentially terribly. 

“I’m fine.” Seungkwan says, unable to take his eyes off you. Why haven’t you gotten up yet? 

“You’re sort of…” Wonwoo points to his chest. Seungkwan groans. He’s covered in the mop water, seeping through the apron. It’s probably all over his face. 

“Here,” Jeonghan says, passing paper towels to you and Wonwoo. “I apologize for the clumsiness of my coworker, he’s new.” Jeonghan glares at Seungkwan, sticking a paper towel to his forehead. 

“I’m so sorry,” Seungkwan chokes out, reaching up to peel the paper towel off his face and use it to wipe off some of the water. Maybe Jeonghan will let him go home early, or, even better, follow through on one of his threats and toss Seungkwan in the dumpster behind the store. 

“It’s alright,” Wonwoo says. “Accidents happen, no harm no foul.” 

You say nothing, staring at Seungkwan. He feels so small when you look at him like that, frown creasing your brow, like you don’t understand why he would do something like this, like you don’t know him at all. 

“Sorry,” he mutters again. 

“It’s fine,” you finally say, though your smile isn’t very convincing. “We’re fine, right?” 

Wonwoo nods. “Absolutely fine, though I think I’ll have to wash this as soon as possible.” 

“Oh,” you say. “Right. Me too, I guess.” 

Wonwoo laughs. “I had fun, though.” Seungkwan knows that he should follow Jeonghan behind the counter but his feet are planted to the ground, stuck standing between you and Wonwoo listening to your very first successful blind date. Except you gave him the signal. Right? 

“I’d like to do this again,” Wonwoo continues, “though maybe with slightly less water involved.” He glances at Seungkwan, as if just realizing that he’s still standing there. Everything in him screams to run but he can’t get his legs to move. 

“Oh,” you say. You don’t look away from Wonwoo. “I… I think I’d like that too.” 

Seungkwan’s heart drops. He hates the feeling immediately, he knows that he should be happy that you’ve found someone and yet his stomach still twists. 

“Okay, well, I guess I’ll see you,” Wonwoo says. He smiles at you one last time before walking toward the door. Seungkwan watches him leave, sees the exact moment he pauses (one foot out the door) to get one last look at you. And then he’s gone.

“What the hell, Seungkwan?” you cry as soon as the door shuts. 

“You gave me the signal!” He says. He tucks invisible hair behind his ears with both hands. “Double tuck!” 

You frown, probably trying to remember whether you actually did it or not. But Seungkwan knows it doesn’t matter. He should have seen how happy you were. With Wonwoo. 

“I really am sorry,” he says, folding his arms. 

“It’s alright,” you say before he finishes talking. “He didn’t take it badly. Actually, he took it quite well.” You smile. “I think I could really like him.” 

Good, Seungkwan tries to say. Then, I’m happy for you. The words get stuck in his throat. And he knows why, the forbidden words lurking at the edge of his thoughts, the twisted sickness that has been growing for so long without his knowledge cannot be ignored anymore, not when it demands a name. Jealousy, the cruel monster. 

Jealousy because without realizing it, he stopped thinking of you as just a friend. It’s not fair to call you anything more, but Seungkwan can’t keep pretending that this is enough, that he doesn’t want to imagine more. He’s spent too long denying it that the floodgates have opened and can’t pretend like he doesn’t want to be the one making you smile, the one you call in the middle of the night because you had a bad dream, the one you call in the middle of the day just because. He wants to look at you and not feel guilty.

But he knows you’ve never looked at him like that, not when you keep going on these dates. So what now? He can tell you the truth, risk losing you completely. Or he can stand back and watch you inevitably fall in love with Wonwoo, or some other man that sweeps you off your feet. 

He stands before you, covered in mop water and sick to his stomach. And he makes a decision. 

a/n2: i'm sorry if anyone doesn't like this ending i just really hate love triangles,, feel free to believe whatever you want about what happens next

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Chapter 4 - Sutures

The next morning, Katrina woke up weirdly refreshed - All sunshine and daisies, she could say - Which was quite a peculiarity, considering how exhausted she felt all the time. Maybe this fresh air from the old eras is a good remedy to get healthier, considering how polluted and foul the air was in her present time, and how great an impact this terrible thing has on their world. 

Advantages and disadvantages can be found in any era, you just need to look around properly and analyze the situation. After all, the infinite spectrum of Grey can only be done by mixing together different percentages of White and Black. There is nothing 100% good, not 100% bad, just like there is no real altruism or real villainy.

Or perhaps it's just her overthinking and pretending to be some Nietzsche or Freud philosopher in her own mind.

The red haired girl messily braided her hair and put it in a disheveled bun, not bothering to properly brush her long hair as she knew she'd be busy all they and all night, so why bother appearing decent when she'll look like she woke up from the dead 3 years later. Instead of garbing one of those beautiful, rich kimonos, she put on a pair of comfortable blue jeans, chose some thin, light sneakers and a large band Tshirt, putting a haori over her shoulder, in case she got cold. After all, she didn't really want to wear her leather jacket or trench coat in a make-shift hospital where she'd get splurted with blood and hopefully not other bodily fluids.

Grinning mischievously at her small bag, where she found the absent-mindedly thrown instruments she used at the clinic - Courtesy of a habit she took from her University days when she'd have 2 spares of anything in her bag ( except for notebooks, papers, crayons, pens, textbooks and literally anything else she'd actually need ) - And swinging the bag casually over her shoulder, she got one of the maids to guide her to the rooms where the patients were being treated.

She wasn't surprised seeing all those injuries, the blood pooling all over them, or the groans and wails of agony and despair - She was, however, surprised to see Masamune helping out in taking care of the victims.

"Yo, cyclops, how's it going?" Kat smirked at him throwing off the haori and bag in a corner, putting on the latex gloves and taking out the tools, looking around at the helpers. "I need some fire to sterilize my tools. I already have a needle, but I need a lot of threat... Some sake, I guess. Lots of water basins and towels, some marigold ointment... Can we get ice cubes? No, wait, I don't think so, it's too early in the times... Then, I will need constant supply of river-cold water. We'll need sulphur fumigation after this... No matter, I digress. What disinfectant was used so early... Hmm... Alcohol... Alcohol... Ah, yes, vinegar, perfect for open wounds! Yes, you guys, please bring me what I just said, it would help a lot." she instructed the healers who she thought were lackeys. They looked at her skeptically as they started whispering between themselves instead of moving.

"Didn't you hear the Princess? Do as she says! She clearly knows what she's talking!" Masamune's authoritarian voice seemed to make the physicians tremble and run out of the room to do as commanded.

"Uh... Thanks for that. I know I don't have the most authority over people, especially since I've just come here and I didn't earn anyone's respect. To tell you the truth, I only ever treated animals, and even then, we had... Technology and tons of medicaments and modern treatments. Relying on herbs and plants is a huge downgrade and I don't know entirely how potent or fast their effects are. On that note, I will do everything in my power to keep these guys alive. We have a saying in medicine - An oath, you could call it - Primum non nocere. It's Latin, and it means - First of all, do no harm. Basically, as long as you do more good than bad, it's all cool, especially in these times." she crouched down next to the warlord, taking off the blanket covering the man he was attending to, and taking off the armor and top nonchalantly, she saw a nasty gash from one to the other of his abdomen.

"Nobunaga already told us all that story about you being from the future and stuff. By the way you're talking, I can't even imagine doubting you. These tools... They look weird. How do you use them?" the man asked, very curious and intrigued by her words, and in the meantime, the healers came by and brought everything to the girl.

"Well... Watch as I explain everything I'm doing. Oh, and... Don't freak out or something, okay? I heard at some point that these... Western medical practices haven't been accepted in Asia until very, very late... And by that, I mean like, 19th century or something. Relying on praying and plants alone won't solve your problems." she explained as she took a towel and wet it, carefully wiping away all the blood from the gash, and from around, revealing the nasty open flesh wound. "Keep this thread bolt please." Kat handed him the bolt as she took the thread and got it through the needle's ear, and dangled the metal above the small fire the physicians created. "By doing this, I'm sterilizing the metal... It's not the best, but it's as much as I can do. By this, I'm reducing the possibility of bacteria, microorganisms and may other bad, harmful things that we can't see with the normal human eye that can get inside the wound and make it to fester."

"Why would the... Bacteria thingy get inside the wound if nothing except our hands touches it?" he asked, analyzing every move the girl did.

"Bacteria is everywhere. Literally everywhere. It's like dirt. It gets inside, you're screwed. It can get inside even by blowing air on it. I know, difficult to believe such abstract things that you can't see, but that's the truth. First, we disinfect the wound with vinegar, padding the wound with a handkerchief. Now we bring the flesh together... And we do sutures. Stitches. In the shape of the Latin-alphabet X-shaped letter. First with the muscle part inside, and then with the skin outside." she used the forceps to move around the needle with such astonishing dexterity and accuracy that

Masamune's single eyes only gazed, widened and enchanted by the movements, yet the many minuscule knots and the snipping of scissors made it very confusing for him. He couldn't quite grasp why, as she made so many knots, one on top of the other, she'd do different moves, some forwards, some backwards, and... Something?

"He looks like he's sewn like a blanket." the one-eyed dragon stared, stunned, at the sutured wound. His hand went to touch it, but it was slapped away by the girl. 

"Bacteria! Don't touch it with your filthy hands! That's exactly how the wound gets festered!" Masamune's face was bewildered with disbelief, so much that the girl had to look away and laugh lightly. "Okay, sorry, your face was adorable. Anyway, please don't touch wounds, I don't want them to get infected. Now that we're done, I will put some marigold ointment gently over the sewn up wound... Et voila, that's it. It's the best I can do for now. We don't really have antibiotics, I can't do vaccines and stuff... I will forever miss Amoxicillin and Ceftriaxone... But whatever. I will have the other physicians tend to the physiological aspect of it... Give him some medicine soup or something. Until then... We have many more others to take care of, so, if you want, you can help me out... Or maybe you can help bandage them? Whatever you want, it will help either way." smiling at the blue-garbed man, Kat got crawled to the next man, doing the same procedure over several open wounds and cuts around.

"You've got it, lass, leave it to me. I've taken care of my injured men before, I can handle this!" almost as if he got a huge boost of confidence seeing the girl so sure of herself, explaining the procedure and the reasoning behind it, it made him feel reassured that somehow, despite these life-threatening injuries, they will all live.

Despite their best efforts combined, more and more hours passed, yet neither of them seemed to feel any kind of fatigue - Or at least, they didn't let it be seen. One of them was used to such heavy work load in the clinic, while the other was used to fighting day and night tirelessly, so at least for that, the adrenaline rush keeping them focused and steady was doing its job, surging rapidly through their veins with an electrifying speed.

Katrina, despite not being one to speak too much, got used from her clinic time to giving orders to her subordinates to help her or delegate some of the minor work, and thankfully, after Masamune's order, they all followed her instructions to a T. Lovely success, she might say, considering that there was place for a sole woman in a world dominated by narcissistic, egotistical men. And yet, she somehow seemed to gain the... Maybe not outright trust, but at least the respect of the milder warlords, like Masamune and Mitsunari. People like Ieyasu and Hideyoshi were still very suspicious of her, despite everything, and yet, she knew that, with time, she will get through them too. After all, she had no ill-will or bad intentions towards them, and above all, she just wanted to have fun and maybe get through this alive.

Sengoku era was pretty fun, despite all the hardships and non-stop threats upon their lives, but somehow, being surrounded by people and being able to turn to them to have a simple talk or a drink, made her feel less alone than usual. It wasn't like she was an extrovert or overly sociable, but at the same time, her heart suffered greatly whenever she realised how truly alone she was, even surrounded by people, whenever she'd see all the people she was 'friends' with talk to her only out of necessity, or whenever nobody else was available or a hang out. Everyone was either married, had kids, or was at least in a steady relationships, and all the old, lovely friendships quickly vanished, and she was forgotten for the most part.

After all, she was never anyone's first option, and that thought alone truly hurt her.

"Masamune, you idiot, have you been here all day?" a new, sudden voice disrupted the organized chaos that the brownian motion that became their pattern in the room, tending to all the injured people.

"Ieyasu? What are you doing here?" Masamune's lower voice asked, surprised to see the blond warlord there, holding a basket.

"Have you forgotten to eat again? Stupid." the future Tokugawa shogun light-heartedly insulted his friend with a stoic look on his face as he thrusted the food basket in his arms. "Share."

"Thank you for your consideration, Ieyasu." despite saying that, almost robotically, Kat, didn't look up from the procedure she was doing.

"...Masamune? Why are these men patched up like potato sacks?" the man frowned - But Kat's frown was worse, as she suddenly got up, ignoring the dizziness from dehydration and lack of proper nutrition for the day.

"Excuse you? Patched up like potato sacks? I'll have you known my sutures are the peak of beauty! If you insult my magnum opus, I swear I'm going to sew up your mouth and eyes permanently!" she got in his face, her arms crossed, showing how offended she was.

"...Huh?" Ieyasu's eyes grew wide as he made a dumbfound expression, his mouth just slightly agape from the shock of her outburst and the words she used. On the other hand, Masamune's loud, mirthful loud resounded through the room.

"Don't worry, Ieyasu, the lass did a splendid job on these men! She told me all about the importance of disinfectant and these extra small things called bacteria! Ain't that a funny word? Anyway, this sewing thing is said to be a Western practice and keeping the flesh together helps it heal faster!" Masamune went to pat - With a bit too much strength - Ieyasu's shoulder, making him flinch a bit from annoyance.

After muttering some more insults to the cyclops, the blond crouched to one of the man, inspecting his wound. "Interesting..." he hummed, but as soon as he extended his hand to examine and admire the intricate craftmanship that seemed almost like a seamstress's sewing, or an embroidered handkerchief, his wrist was roughly grasped and pulled away.

"Don't touch it." the two shared a look, and begrudgingly, the man took away his hand, making the girl release his hand gingerly. "Sorry about that. It's just... Wounds shouldn't be carelessly touched. You create the risk of infecting the wound and festering from inside, which would really suck." she sighed, speaking in a lower voice.

"I'm half-inclined to say you're speaking non-sense, but at the same time, I'm interested in your knowledge. Masamune, that food is all yours. I want to have a conversation with this one." the blond got on his feet, motioning for the red haired girl to follow him.

"But... The patients... They need constant supervising... And if they spaz out, they risk breaking their stitched and bleeding again." Kat got up, looking worriedly between the sleeping patients and the expecting warlord who looked impatiently at her.

"Don't worry, lass, I've got this covered! Go eat something and rest, you deserve a break." the man's wild grin encouraged her to leave - Albeit still skeptical - Yet a bit more reassured.

The whole way to his home was quiet, except for the crickets and toads singing in tune a beautiful symphony of the night. Thankfully, the way to his place was pretty short. There, as the weather was mighty fine, Ieyasu had his servants put the table and pillows on the porch, lighting up the lanterns so they could see, but the very late dinner was still incredibly awkward and silent, sans the sound of chewing and chopsticks moving. That is until finally, after the leftover food was taken off the table, and the man finally spoke, his green eyes peering into her own green eyes.

"Tell me what you did with the warriors." his harsh voice had an edge to it that was both intrigued yet had an invisible force holding him back from appearing interested in any way.

"And by that, do you want me to medically explain what and why I did what I did?" she raised an eyebrow, questioning for a proper explanation. The man simply said an affirmative answer as a reply, but that alone - Someone actually being interested in her knowledge and skills - It truly made her happy enough to smile.

"Do you believe my time-traveling story?" she asked in a gentle voice.

"Is that relevant?" the man looked away with a roll of his eyes.

"Yes, it very much is." she nodded solemnly.

"Your answer tonight will give me a definitive answer." the girl couldn't help but grin and let out an amused exhale.

"Very well. I asked you because in my time, we don't really use plant-medicine anymore. We use medicaments that are made from various chemical compounds put together into pills, emulsions, ointments, syrups and other liquids for vaccines... That's why, I had a hard time thinking about the proper plants and how to create a proper ointment or treatment based on their wounds. I only know that honey, garlic, ginseng and maybe moldy bread were good to kill bacteria and such, but I'm not sure, and I don't want to risk blindly." she explained briefly the hesitation behind the scarce using of the plants. Except marigold ointment. Marigold ointment is Grandma's famous, legendary treatment. Forever.

"And what is this 'bacteria' that Masamune glamorized so much?" he asked, humming in understanding.

"Bacteria are microscopic living things - It means they are so small you can't see them without a microscope, which is like... A binocular, but you don't look into the distance, but on a strip with a sample... But I digress. Basically, they are quite literally everywhere, and they can cause diseases. That's why they must not make their way into wounds - They can cause festering and necrosis... Basically, the cells and tissues that form the human body... The place afflicted dies, and it turns black because blood doesn't stream through there, so it gets no more oxygen and nutriments, and thus, you have a dead part in your alive body, and this dead body is like the plague - It spreads - Hence why you need to cut it off. However, you can't cut off the torso, can you? If you have necrosis affecting your fingers or limbs, you can successfully amputate them - You cut them off - But... I'm not sure you people would agree to having a limb less, considering you won't be able to fight anymore, but the theory behind still stands. Back then, I didn't necessarily stop you from touching it because it's forbidden, but because you had dirty hands. You have to at least wash your hands with water and soap and then disinfect them with alcohol, like vinegar or... Sake maybe. Did... Any of this make sense?" she asked sheepishly, realising the pondering look he had on his face. Ieyasu nodded his head and grunted an affirmative answer. "We can't quite afford much hygiene measures when at war, but I suppose there are some things we can take care of anyway. I saw a fire inside the room. Was that to kill this... Bacteria?" he pointed out, hesitating as he spoke out loud that foreign word again.

"Yes! Sort of. It's not the most effective method, but it does the trick. Since I used a needle and a thread to sew up the wounds together, you keep the metal in the fire until it colours red, and that kills the bacteria, so you can use the needle on the wound. Thing is, after you clean the wound and you sew it up, people usually do an antibiotic vaccine to prevent getting infections inside." she explained, not realising that she wasn't properly explaining all words, and that people from the past had no idea what she was talking about, and they couldn't possibly corelate so easily foreign words with their roots and meanings.

"Are you going to let me guess what "Antibiotic" and "Vaccine" mean?" the man huffed, kinda frustrated because there was such much to learn, yet things seemed more complicated, as he never heard of these words before, yet this technology and knowledge she held... Ieyasu was craving them.

"Oh! I'm so sorry! Well, 'Antibiotic' is something that kills bacteria. Basically, it's 2 words coming from Greek, and they were put together. 'Anti' means 'Against' and 'Bios' is 'Living'. I find it easier to understand words and medical terminology once I understand the roots of the word and what it means. And a vaccine is... Uhm... A tube with a small, hallow needle. Inside the tube you have a liquid with medicine and you stick the needle... Here, in your vein, and this liquid gets in the bloodstream. The blood uhm... Irrigates the whole body with Oxygen and nutriments and... Since the blood goes everywhere, the medicine goes where it needs to go. I'm pretty sure vaccines weren't allowed in Asia as a proper practice until...About 200 years from now on or something. They were seen as Western barbarian practices and that went against the beliefs of Confucius, Buddha and the ethics and stuff. In my time, vaccines are extremely important and everyone, animals alike, get vaccinated, so they can prevent getting some diseases, especially infectious ones." Kat smiled at the man who could only grunt in understanding again, and... Even agreement, maybe?

"Fear of the unknown makes people afraid of the consequences and don't want to even try to understand, even if the explanation is in front of their very eyes. Most of the time, even the nobles or the educated ones believe in Divine Retribution and the Devil's work when it comes to... "Unorthodox" practices, as a Christian missionary put it. Development, education and technology are the base of a plentiful and rich future, but with how many people still believe in onryos and oni, you can't expect much progress." despite the man being genuine and contemplating, Kat chuckled, very amused.

"Some people called me a Kitsune in my time. Tradition means a lot for this country, and while sure, in the future people don't believe in kami and oni anymore, they still hold the history and culture very close to their heart. On another note... I'm pretty sure I heard Hideyoshi curse Mitsuhide at some point and called him a Kitsune as well." biting her lip in amusement, she twirled around a strand of her hair, resting her jaw on her palm.

"How stupid... But I suppose it's not that far away from the truth anyway." the man rolled his eyes again, scoffing at the ridiculousness of the statement, but he was unable to agree or disagree with it. 

Before he could shoo the girl away, as it was getting dreadfully late, and the tiredness was evidently painted on her face, a quiet, rhythmical trotting sound coming from inside the house, getting out... A small deer, of all things, was revealed. It looked up at the two people sitting on opposite sides of the small, round table. It looked at its owner, and then at the stranger.

"Hello, sweety." the red haired girl slowly extended her hand towards the baby deer, as she carefully sniffed it, and with an unexpected braveness, it jumped in her lap, licking her face, shocking the physician girl. "Wh-Whoa...! I have been blessed!" almost as if scared to touch it, as fawns are fragile and soft and gentle and adorable as hell, her hands carefully went to hug and pet the small critter, sticking her tongue half out as if she was mleming, and the fawn imitated her.

"You're acting like a stupid kid." Ieyasu scoffed, yet his annoyance was a mask for his amusement. "Her name is Wasabi."

"Wasabi...! You're the cutest little baby in the whole entire world! I want to hug you and never let you out of my arms. I love youuuu~!" suddenly, the calm, stoic and collected woman became an overly-affectionate cuddle bug that was spoiling that fawn. In fact, Ieyasu was shocked at such a drastic change in her behaviour, and the sweet voice she was talking in with his pet, but not only that, he also hasn't seen women - Mothers, in particular - Fawn over and spoil a human baby so much as this woman in front of him was practically melting in complete bliss and glee. She truly was peculiar in all the weird sorts of ways. He didn't have the heart to send her home, instead, he just watched the peculiar scene in front of him for as long as it lasted. That is, until he noticed the girl trying to mask out a yawn, only for Wasabi to stick her tongue inside her mouth as she tried to lick up her face. They both retracted their heads backwards, staring at each other in shock with wide, confused eyes. They almost looked as if they were both two baby fawns, so innocent, so pure, and very ignorant of the horrors and dangers of the world around them.

He hated this girl... He hated her so much, but at the same time, he didn't. He hated weakness, and she was nothing more than a frail little snow-drop, like every other woman he's encountered. On the other hand, Wasabi is just as fragile and in need of protection, and he felt the soft and gentle feeling of love and protectiveness. He wouldn't let anyone even look weirdly at the baby fawn, let alone harm her.  Maybe that's why he hated Katrina so much. Not that she was suspicious - She really wasn't. Despite all the stories about kunoichi and how they disguise themselves as maids and maidens that lure men in bed and then kill them, stealing all the important intel and running away to their employers, Katrina was obviously not like that. He prided himself with being a pretty good judge of character... And what the hell would a woman from the future, that simply wants to go back home, want with them, except for protection until she can somehow find a way to go to her rightful time? She even showed them some revolutionary medical practices and have them important intel, so there was no reason to be as suspicious of her as when she first arrived.

Ieyasu wasn't going to go outright and protect her, that would be too much of a bother, and even thought Nobunaga claims she's some kind of lucky charm for him - That's all she is - HIS responsibility, so why should he bother with Nobunaga's fleeting obsessions? On the other hand, he wasn't going to outright let her die that easily - If only for that intriguing and controversial knowledge she has in that head of hers.

Stupid red head.

He could only watch from his seat as she said good night to him and, with one last kiss on Wasabi's wet nose, left to sleep, since she couldn't stay awake anymore from the exhaustion. She thanked him for the meal and the lovely conversation even, even though she was the one who spoke most of the time. What a peculiar woman, as if she has nobody to talk to. Then again, with the way she flinches away from her so-called paramour, and how she tries to stray away from him and how she scolds and glares at him at all time... And how violent he is with her... Maybe she was just fed up with him altogether and with him being the only person she knows, she was getting lonely.

Never mind, why the hell would he care anyway? Wasabi was in his lap, licking his face, and it was a decent night. It was time for him to get some sleep.

Morning came by faster than expected, and the birds chirped with the rising of the sun, yet their beautiful song wasn't enough to wake the girl up. Her sleep were sweet and well-deserved, and she didn't wake up until pretty late into the day, and even then, she was pretty sluggish. It was finally a normal day! And it was pretty much a free day as well!  Technically speaking, she was free to do whatever she wanted, as long as she remained in Azuchi, so she took advantage of it, mixing her time with having fun, exploring and working, all in a perfect imbalance - As usual.

Getting ready, the first thing she did was check up on the patients and make sure they were in good condition, and after she was satisfied with what she was seeing, she went to have a look at the traveling market and maybe even treat herself to some tea and dango.

As she was absent-mindedly admiring the hustle and bustle of the place, and noticing that nobody was really bothering or even looking at her, thankfully, she smiled softly, feeling content and at ease. That all disappeared as soon as a tap on her shoulder woke her up from her trance and her name was called - Looking at the man calling her, she realised the ninja boy who she got to know recently was there, gesturing for her to go somewhere with fewer people and have a chat.

"I'm sorry I left you alone for so long. How is life at Azuchi castle?" he asked as they both sat down on a bench under an umbrella, outside a tea house.

"Oh, it's quite alright. I got to show off my medical skills by sewing up some people... And I played with Ieyasu's pet, which was adorable, considering my profession is a Veterinary doctor. And you? Your profession here is much more dangerous than mine, are you alright?" she asked the man, looking up at the beautiful azure sky.

"I can't complain. I miss home, but at the same time, if I treat this as a history project, then I'm rather excited, despite all death-threatening things I have to do." he smiled as well, ordering tea for the two of them.

Then, another man, dressed in a burgundy kimono, stepped in front of them, his hands on his hips like an upset mother. "There you were, Sasuke! Who is this?" he analyzed the fire-kissed woman from head to toe.

"Hasashi Katrina. My friends call me Kat, so if you don't mind... I'm Sasuke's friend. It's lovely meeting another of his friend!" Kat got up from the bench and bowed lightly at the man before extending her hand for him to shake - But he merely looked weirdly at her hand, then at Sasuke.

"Shake her hand. It's a way of greeting new people and making new friendships." Sasuke encouraged the man, and with a bit of skepticism, he engaged in this foreign act.

"Sanada Yukimura." he muttered, frowning a bit. "I've never heard of this kind of greeting before. Your name, also, is rather unusual... Your hair as well." 

"Well, I am a pretty unusual woman, you could say." she shrugged, carefree, signaling for him to also sit down. "May I call you Yuki? It's only fair to use a nickname as well, don't you think?" despite the friendly tone in her voice, the teasing was pretty obvious, and the man's cheeks reddened, and he could only look away, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. "Yuki~? Are you okay? You look feverish." Kat's eyes narrowed slightly from amusement, smiling like a mischievous fox as she stepped in front of him, putting the back of her hand to his forehead, making him even more flustered, hurrying away from her. 

"I-I'm fine, jeez!" he stuttered, unable to look at the girl, as she and Sasuke chuckled at his reactions.

"Ah, look, Kenshin, a Kitsune!" another voice, unfamiliar, chuckled, and as the trio snapped their heads towards the new voice, they saw two men, one extroverted, and one introverted. Perfect friend duo.

"Don't compliment me too much, Mister. I forgot my 9 tails at home." Kat giggled, nodding her head towards the two new-comers as a way of greeted them.

"Ohh, this lovely fox has such a charming smile. Are you trying to trap me under your spell?" this chestnut haired man, very bold and straight-forward, stepped in front of the red haired girl, his hand going to her hair, taking a strand of it and twirling it flirtatiously.

"My, my, aren't you a casanova? It was not my intention to enchant you, however, I cannot say I mind it." her fox-like smirk, playful and full of mischief, made this easy-going man laugh boisterously.

"Why don't we have some tea together? I want to know more about you." he raised the girl's chin gingerly, with his finger, gazing affectuously in her eyes.

"We were just having a cup of tea. You and your friend may join us, if you will. I was thinking of getting some sweets as well." she chuckled gleefully as she gingerly put her hand over his wrist and guiding him to the table so the 5 of them could enjoy some nice tea and dango.

"You're at it again... Honestly, please stop it, Lord Shingen, this flirting is really annoying." Yuki sweat-dropped awkwardly.

"Come on, Yuki, you can't expect me to stay silent when I have the honour of being in the presence of such a charming young lady! Or... Maybe it is that you are jealous and too shy to approach her yourself!" Shingen... Takeda Shingen, the Tiger of Kai, teased the boy cheerfully.

"N-NO! It's nothing like that!" but Shingen could only laugh, his arm around Kat's shoulder, as she was just smiling serenely, as if she had no idea that's Takeda Shingen hugging and flirting with her, while Uesugi Kenshin was glaring into the horizon and Sanada Yukimura was blushing like a green boy because of her teasing.

"If you're shy, just say so, Yuki! There's nothing wrong with that. There are many women who are into the easily-flustered type~!" putting her hand over her mouth to stifle her teasing chuckle, it seemed her Kat and Shingen paired up nicely to fluster up the poor boy.

"That's enough, you two. You are attracting too much attention towards you." Kenshin spoke, devoid of any emotion.

"Katrina, since you are a friend of Sasuke's, I will tell you a secret. There will be a war soon. Go to another country as soon as you can." as he said that, the Sasuke tapped the girl's shoulder, motioning for her to get up from the table and step away, to have a semi-private conversation together.

"The famous Yukimura Sanada is worrying about me while Takeda Shingen flirts with me. I think I hit the warlord jackpot." Kat hummed in amusement, only to see the ninja's serious expression.

"How is Nobunaga treating you? Did you tell him about the time-travel thing and the wormhole that will appear in 3 months?" he asked, pondering.

"Yep. All the warlords know by now. Of course, it's only kept between them, thankfully. And I told him about the portal, he tried to bribe me with a bet, but I refused. I think I've got a pretty decent grasp on his personality, he's not as impossible to predict as I first thought... And yet, he still surprises." she tilted her head leisurely to explain the situation.

"I don't mean to scare you, but just in case, you should have a way to protect yourself from Nobunaga or any warlord that may imprison you or put you in danger. I'm sure you know that if you miss the next wormhole, you might never be able to go back to the present again... Which is why... If you think anything's going to happen, use these to escape."  and thus, Sasuke handed her some smoke bombs and ground spikes he manufactured himself by watching online tutorials, which was super cool and made Kat grin, remembering the cosplay costumes he worked so hard on, especially the Temari one, from Naruto. Oh, how she loved Temari and wanted to find a Shikamaru for herself... "Always think of protecting yourself, Kat. The Dragon of Echigo and the Tiger of Kai are after Lord Nobunaga. What I'm saying is... Don't get deeply involved with the people of this time. And before I forget... Watch out for a demon dressed as a monk." as he said that, Kat's emerald eyes widened in realisation.

"Sasuke... The guy who tried to assassinate Nobunaga as Honno-Ji... Was that this guy you're warning me about?" she gasped, only for him to give her a solemn look.

"Unless he delegated, then most-likely, yes." he grunted softly.

"Hey, Sasuke, I wouldn't mind revealing my identity now. I am the Lord of Echigo's Kasugayama Castle, Uesugi Kenshin. Do me a favour and tell people that you have seen us here in Azuchi. I am ready to take on everyone willing to face me in battle." the winter-aesthetic man drew his sword fearlessly, a certain frozen smile on his face.

"That was a brave affirmation of war. Is this how all warlords are, or is it just you two?" Kat asked, hoping to keep things light-hearted and non-violent, at least when she was around.

"Don't let yourself be fooled by this one." Shingen pushed Kenshin away, getting the spotlight. "Kenshin and I have been fighting Nobunaga for years. My name is Takeda Shingen. People call me the Tiger of Kai... But unlike Kenshin here, I don't draw my sword freely, especially now that I've met such a beautiful woman like you." as he said that, he grinned confidently, dazzling, as his hand caressed her hair.

"You're really flattering me, Shingen... Ah, pardon my familiar addressing, I couldn't help myself." she chuckled playfully, feeling less intimidated now as the flirty man was in her aura, not the ice-man anymore.

"How foolish... It's like you need to flirt with women just to survive, Shingen." Kenshin scolded the warlord who could only grin at him.

"You're just jealous this one likes me, and not you." Shingen playfully attacked Kenshin, only for the platinated man to turn away with no reaction, disappointed the chestnut haired one.

"You seem like really close friends~!" Kat chirped, despite knowing very well they were mortal enemies for a long time... Or at least history said so!

However, before Shingen could reply, an obnoxiously annoying voice called out her name, destroying her zen immediately, and Shingen could see the angry and fed up grimace on her face as she recognized the voice's owner.

The man stomped to the girl's side and snatched her roughly by the wrist, in his embrace, glaring at the Takeda lord, who could only watch the scene with passiveness and slight irritation at having that nice moment interrupted.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, flirting with other men when you have me!" Drew yelled in her face, grasping her shoulders harshly, making her flinch from the loud noise right in her ears.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. We were merely having a decent, pleasant conversation about this fine weather. Is that a crime?" Kat sneered at him, lying through her teeth as she pushed away the obnoxious brat.

"His hand was on your hair, and you two were sharing bedroom eyes, undressing each other in your minds, and you really think that such a stupid, obvious lie will fool me?!" yell more and the whole Japan will hear you.

"You're overreacting and being dramatic again. If you have confidence issues, go ahead and solve them, but I have nothing to do with them. Then again... With how painfully annoying and disrespectful you're being to me, I wouldn't mind throwing you to the piranhas and running away with Lord Shingen." Kat started mockingly laughing in his face.

"I wouldn't mind that either, lovely fox~." Shingen, from the back, chuckled as well.

"ENOUGH!" and, shocking everyone, Kat found herself with the blade of a small dagger at her neck. "ENOUGH! STOP CHEATING ON ME, YOU STUPID, DUMB WHORE! I'M FED UP WITH YOU AND THE SHIT YOU DO TO ME! IT HURTS ME TOO, YOU KNOW?!" Drew had tears of frustration in his eyes as he dug the blade deeper into the girl's skin, enough to draw a little bit of blood.

"Are you done?" Kat sighed, rolling her eyes at his childishness.

"...What?!" he gasped, his hand trembling on the dagger handle.

"I said - Are you done? You're wailing like a cat in distress, what the hell is wrong with you? If you want to be a man, you gotta start acting like one and earn some respect. Look at you. You're nothing more than an entitled, whiny brat who wallows in self-pity and sobs to his mummy over the smallest things. You can't even hold that dagger without shaking like a leaf. You couldn't take a life, even if your own life was in danger. What the hell are you good for, anyway? You disgust me. You truly piss me off." Kat's sweet and cheerful voice became dark and threatening, spreading a miasma of freezing poison that made Drew grit his teeth and shake even more.

He knew... She wasn't one to get angry, hence why he took her for granted and would behave any way he wanted to... But he hasn't seen her this wrathful is so long, it slipped his mind that she had such a vengeful side of her. Without the least bit of fear, the red haired girl brought her hand up to the blade, pulling it away from her neck, and as an affirmation of her dominance and strength, she gripped it tightly, enough to draw blood and paint the metal crimson. She titled her head menacingly, the way she saw Michael Myers do in the Halloween movies, but then, she smirked, seeing the man cower in fear and let go of the blade - And she hit him over the head with the handle with all her strength, making him fall to the ground, screaming for mercy - The display was so pathetic and disgusting that Kat couldn't help herself and stomped down on him.

"You know you messed up bad enough if you got me angry. Now you suffer the consequences. You are not a man, you're just a pathetic excuse of a waste of breath who thinks the whole world owes him. Next time you decide to piss me off, remember that you are the one who offered me this dagger, and unlike you... I'm not afraid of using it." and with one more kick in the back, Drew finally became enough of a coward to pick himself up and run the hell away from there, making the girl sigh in annoyance, not wanting to look back at the men staring at her, feeling the burning rage in her heart turn into quick embarrassment.

However, that silence was filled with a single set of steps that walked in front of her, and she found herself being faced with a smiling Shingen, who carefully took her hand in his own, kissed the back of it, then wrapped it up in a handkerchief, before using the sleeve of his own kimono to wipe away the faint necklace of crimson dribble from her neck. "I don't think I've ever seen a woman as brave and firey as you are. Are you sure you're not a Kitsune?"

"...I never said I wasn't, did I?" after a few seconds, the ghost of a half-smile appeared on her face, continuing the playful back and forth with him.

"Sure you don't want to run away with me?" he chuckled, caressing her face, a bright, gigolo smile gracing his features.

"Ask me that after our 3rd date, Shingen. Until then... I'll see you around, maybe?" she mused, earning yet another mirthful laugh from him, as booming as always.

"I love confident, cheeky women like you, yet I have to say, I haven't met anyone to direct and straightforward like you! I'm looking forward to having having that date with you, lovely fox~!" and with that, the 4 men departed back to their castles, leaving the red haired girl to chuckle softly to herself, walking back to Azuchi.

"If only you didn't have cancer, Shingen... You're the only man who ever made me feel like a woman." despite the sorrow in her voice, she still smiled, albeit it was bittersweet.

She was ready to turn in for the night and just chill around in her room, however, one of the men who serves under Nobunaga told her she must attend a war council - She was surprised, sure, but at the same time, pretty excited about being allowed to seat through more of these.

As Kat announced her presence and got inside the room, she noticed the warlords were already there... And Drew as well, was trembling still, sitting next to Mitsunari. However as soon as he noticed the red haired girl, he let out a distressed wail and stormed out of there, making everyone look after him with wide eyes. Sighing and rolling her eyes, Kat turned around to close the sliding door, as he didn't even have the audacity to something so easy. Idiot.

"What was that about?" Hideyoshi asked, very confused.

"It seems our little fire fox came from an altercation with a few scratches on." Mitsuhide pointed out, alarming the other warlords.

"Ah...Well, when a dog is bad and misbehaves, you punish him. You may get bitten in the meantime, but as long as you assert your dominance and authority over it, then it's all good." she chuckled venomously, only to see the silver haired fox smirk at her.

"My, my, what a cunning fox we have here. You're not about to bite our noses while we sleep, are you?" Mitsuhide teased her, as she sat down next to Ieyasu.

"Not at all. In the end, I am no dog owner. That stupid mutt was just greedy and thought he could eat me. It's his fault for being stupid and getting suffocated with my fur. Besides... Noses are dirty with mucus. The neck, however... I can confirm, they are very... Delicious." the fox girl made such a bold implication that made Masamune laugh, while Mitsuhide and Nobunaga only smirked in amusement, while the other three either gasped and blushed at her rudeness, or looked innocently confused.

"Very well, enough of that. Since you've been working so hard, and more, as you've saved my people, I will have you rewarded personally. Until then, let us begin our discussion." Nobunaga smirked from his far away seat of honour, as the main warlord.

But she was not surprised in the least that such a topic of discussion was brought upon, and yet, rumours sure fly fast around the castle - She wondered, for a stupid second, weather social media was as fast as all these spies and gossips around. What a silly thought.

The Dragon of Echigo is still alive and he's sheltering the Tiger of Kai

What a lovely metaphor for such lovely people.

Oh, this was going to be one very fun war council indeed.

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[lucero-is-here]

Headcanons: Kayla Markham

Requested by:

Here’s Kayla:

Now I’m not too sure about her, so this list is going to be much much shorter, but let’s get to it!

1 - She has a collection of earrings. Besides the hoops she wears, she has smaller hoops in different colours. She also has these stud earrings that look like little skulls and she absolutely adores them.

2 - she takes a while to do her hair, and she always finds it worth the time and effort.

3 - purple is her favourite colour. Dark purple especially. She can’t stand anything that is too bright-

4 - apart from the eyeshadow she wears, she doesn’t apply any other form of makeup.

5 - she’s quite strong. She can lift a couple pounds (useful when getting artifacts), and she also has really good arm strength. She basically strong everywhere- she can easily pull herself out of a ditch if you give her ledge or something to grab on.

6 - her body build is towards the more muscular side. She does a lot of physical training, which causes the muscles- though she is sadly easily caught off guard or taken by surprise.

7- she can walk or run for really long periods of time somehow. When you’re searching for artifacts, it takes time, and a lot of dedication and it can be down right difficult. Due to the fact Kayla is very used to her job, she can easily walk or run for ages in the search for artifacts she can get. It takes time and stamina, but she always thinks it’s worth it.

8 - she rarely gets tired. She has short sleeper syndrome. Short sleeper syndrome (copied from the internet): “Short sleeper syndrome (SSS) is a sleep condition characterized by sleeping for fewer than six hours each night. Most adults need seven or more hours of sleep each night to feel rested in the morning. Those with SSS, however, can function normally throughout the day despite less sleep”. She uses this to her advantage and spends a lot of time working, not because she has too, cause she can.

9 - she gets caffeine pretty much anywhere. Tea, coffee, energy drinks- she gets her caffeine mainly from coffee though.

10 - does anything to stay fit and healthy. She knows the risks are job can have, and she wants to be in her best shape while doing her job to avoid any injuries or possible risks of death, so she gets balanced meals as much as possible and drinks a ton of water.

11 - salty over sweet food…She doesn’t eat sweets that much, and would rather eat salty foods than something sweet and sugary. Too much sugar disgusts her.

12 - scars. She has some scars from searching for artifacts. Whether she scratched herself on a rough surface or something else, she has some scars from her journeys, and she’s kind of proud of them.

13 - boots and sneakers over anything. Boots are her number one option, since they are really difficult to get off so her chances of loosing her shoes is almost zero.

14 - can be impatient and reckless at times, but will always find a way to solve whatever issue she has run into.

15 - she can’t sleep still. Expect her to be rolling and kicking about in her sleep. She also can’t hold still in any situation. She’s always tapping her foot against the ground or something-

16 - music? Eh she listens to whatever she thinks sounds good or gets her into the mood of an adventure. She doesn’t care about what genre of music she listens too. As long as it sounds good and the artist isn’t bad she’s down.

I can’t really think of much for her- So that’s it…

[yagi1212]

Best 5 Fashion Wardrobe Hacks for College Students: Stay Stylish on a Budget

College life is all about balancing academics, social activities, and personal growth. Amid the hustle, staying stylish can be a challenge, especially when you're on a tight budget. Luckily, with a few wardrobe fashion hacks, you can stay fashion-forward without spending a fortune. By investing in versatile pieces, being strategic about your shopping, and getting creative with your outfits, you can develop a wardrobe that works for all aspects of college life.

Here are the top five fashion wardrobe hacks for college students that will help you maximize your style with minimal effort and expense.

1. Build a Capsule Wardrobe with Versatile Basics

A capsule wardrobe is a great strategy for college students who want to stay stylish while minimizing the number of clothes they own. The key to building a capsule wardrobe is investing in a few high-quality, versatile basics that can be mixed and matched to create multiple outfits. These should include items like plain t-shirts, well-fitting jeans, a casual jacket, a little black dress, and a comfortable pair of shoes that work for most occasions.

The benefit of a capsule wardrobe is that it simplifies your morning routine, cuts down on decision fatigue, and ensures you always have something appropriate to wear for class, internships, or nights out with friends. With the right combination of basics, you can create a wide variety of outfits without owning a ton of clothing.

How to Use This Hack:

Invest in neutral-colored pieces that can be easily paired with other items. Think black, white, gray, navy, and beige.

Look for pieces that can transition from day to night, such as a simple dress that can be worn with sneakers for class or dressed up with heels for a party.

Focus on items that are comfortable yet stylish, as you’ll be wearing them frequently.

2. Master the Art of Layering

Layering is a practical and stylish hack that every college student should master. It’s perfect for unpredictable weather and allows you to get more wear out of your clothes. For example, you can wear a t-shirt in the morning, layer it with a cardigan in the afternoon, and throw on a jacket in the evening when it gets cooler. The key is to mix and match pieces that can be layered together to create a stylish, cohesive look.

Not only does layering add dimension and depth to your outfits, but it also helps you stay comfortable throughout the day. For instance, layering a simple dress over a turtleneck during cooler months or adding a denim jacket over a tank top can completely transform your outfit without requiring new clothes.

How to Use This Hack:

Layer light fabrics like cotton and jersey underneath heavier materials like denim and wool.

Play with different textures and colors to create visually interesting outfits that reflect your personal style.

Use scarves, hats, and cardigans as transitional layers to adapt your look to the changing weather.

3. Shop Smart with Thrift and Secondhand Stores

As a college student, chances are you’re working with a limited budget. One of the best ways to find stylish, affordable clothing is to shop at thrift stores and secondhand shops. You can often find unique, high-quality pieces for a fraction of the price of new clothing. Thrift shopping is also an eco-friendly choice, as it reduces demand for fast fashion and keeps clothes out of landfills.

Many secondhand stores have trendy and vintage clothing, so you’re sure to find items that match your style. Don’t be afraid to get creative and think outside the box when thrifting. You can easily upcycle or alter secondhand clothing to fit your aesthetic, whether that means cropping a t-shirt, adding patches to jeans, or turning a long dress into a shorter one.

How to Use This Hack:

Visit local thrift stores regularly to keep an eye out for new inventory and unique finds.

Don’t just stick to the section that corresponds to your gender—men’s shirts, for example, can be oversized and worn as dresses or layered over other items.

Experiment with upcycling projects to breathe new life into thrifted pieces, making them truly one-of-a-kind.

4. Invest in Comfortable Footwear

As a college student, you’re likely walking across campus all day, so comfortable footwear is essential. While you might be tempted to wear the trendiest shoes, it’s important to prioritize comfort without sacrificing style. Look for shoes that are versatile and durable, such as classic sneakers, loafers, or ankle boots that pair well with different outfits.

Having a few pairs of good-quality, comfortable shoes can elevate any outfit, even the simplest of looks. For example, a pair of white sneakers can be worn with jeans, skirts, or dresses, making them an easy and stylish choice for campus life. It’s better to invest in one or two solid pairs of shoes rather than buying multiple cheap pairs that wear out quickly.

How to Use This Hack:

Choose neutral-colored shoes that can be worn with multiple outfits, such as white sneakers or black loafers.

Look for shoes that offer good arch support and cushioning, especially if you’re on your feet all day.

Invest in shoe care products to keep your footwear looking fresh and extend its lifespan.

5. Accessorize to Elevate Basic Outfits

Accessories are an affordable and easy way to elevate your basic outfits. Even the simplest t-shirt and jeans combo can be transformed with the right accessories. Whether it’s a statement necklace, a stylish belt, a scarf, or a hat, accessories add personality to your outfit and allow you to express your unique style.

Accessories are also a great way to keep your wardrobe feeling fresh without constantly buying new clothes. You can change up your look simply by adding different accessories. For instance, a pair of sunglasses and a crossbody bag can take a casual outfit to the next level. Since accessories tend to be more affordable than clothing, you can mix and match them frequently to keep your style dynamic and exciting.

How to Use This Hack:

Build a small collection of versatile accessories like scarves, hats, and jewelry that complement your outfits.

Play around with different styles of belts to change the silhouette of dresses, oversized shirts, or high-waisted jeans.

Mix bold accessories with more neutral outfits to add interest without overwhelming your look.

Conclusion

Being a college student doesn't mean you have to sacrifice style for comfort or budget constraints. By building a capsule wardrobe with versatile basics, mastering layering, shopping secondhand, investing in comfortable footwear, and utilizing accessories, you can create a chic and functional wardrobe that works for every aspect of college life.

These five wardrobe hacks will help you stay fashionable while being mindful of your budget and daily needs. Whether you’re heading to class, hanging out with friends, or attending a campus event, these strategies will ensure you always feel stylish and confident. Happy styling, and enjoy your time in college fashionably!

[thezoeydiaries]

ENTRY #4

GALENTINES 2024 *Late Upload

Okay, so you guys turned into adults. You guys went from being 18 to all of a sudden turning 25 this year. From due papers to due bills, from all-day-every-day meetings to annual get-togethers, from experiencing life together to making life updates... no one knew being an adult would come this fast and would hit us like a ton of bricks.

My friends and I are very close. Even if we all don't get to talk on the daily, nothing really changes. We all might be going through different things in the span of a few weeks to a few months, but once we all *finally* sync our schedules and catch up with everything, it's like no time has passed at all.

I guess I'll be mentioning my friends a lot in these entries, so don't worry you guys will have plenty of time to get to know them. I'll make a separate entry for them and make detailed accounts of how they are, how I perceive them, what roles they play in my life, and overall how great they are as friends and as individual people.

So last February 25, my friends and I had a *very* late Galentines Day celebration. I believe you guys already know that GALENTINES is a spin on the words: Gal and Valentine's, which is really just a cute excuse to go on a date with your girl-friends.

Since my friends and I are really busy people (we've all been workaholics since College, maybe even longer than that), it's extra hard to schedule a meeting where everyone can take time off of work or have a free slot in their personal sched to do other things. So for the past few years, we usually end up having an annual meet-up where everyone is free. Unfortunately for this year though, Regina (or Baddie/Reggie as I call her) wasn't able to attend because she had a schedule with the DFA to get her passport ready for an important work trip abroad. And so, it was just me, Kayla (or Lulu as we call her), Alliah (or Patty/Alli), and Gayle (or Gayley).

Now that we have their nicknames in order, you guys won't confuse them for other people HAHAHAHA. Okay so back to the story —last Feb 25, we *finally* met up in Makati and I was extremely late for our date. So just a little backstory, at the last minute I had to go back to our province in Laguna for the weekend to spend time with the family and so, I had to find a way to get back in the Metro by Sunday at around lunchtime. We all planned to meet up around 1 pm, and I initially planned to leave Laguna by 8 (it would take me 2 and a half hours to reach my dormitory, and another 2 hours to get ready for the date), but unfortunately, my family had different plans and decided to take me to Manila themselves.

We left by 11 am and there was crazy traffic that day. I was incredibly frustrated (when we left I hadn't even taken a shower or eaten yet) because I knew that I'd be super late and I'd be making my friends wait for me. So when I got to my dormitory, I had to rush so much. And the thing was, the universe wasn't on my side that day.

*Insert Zoey in stress mode*

The first issue was that I had to clean my room first before I could begin preparing because I could not function in a messy environment. I don't know what it is but I just cannot ~for the life of me~ get myself together when things are untidy and unorganized. And since I left at the last minute before the weekend, my room was in complete chaos. I had to fix that first by sweeping the floors and disinfecting them with alcohol, then by organizing the clutter and putting things back where they were supposed to be (It took me almost 45 minutes to clean everything).

And then I had to find an outfit that matched the theme of the Galentines Date which was Black and Red. Again, this took me so long but at last, I went with a simple Black crop top that had "New York" plastered in front of it, some Black skort, a Red Timberland Hooded Puffer Jacket, and a pair of Red Guess sneakers.

When I finally decided what to wear and finished ironing it, I ran to the bathroom to get a quick shower and proceeded to do my skincare and my makeup, then afterward I fixed my hair. By the time that I was finished, it was already 3 pm. So I booked a Grab to go to Makati, and when I was maybe 20 minutes away (from the dorm), I realized I had forgotten my gift! GRABE! I was already pressed with time and I forgot something important pa! You'd expect me to be really upset at this point (and you were right). So I had to go all the way back to the dorm and then leave for Makati again.

While I was in transit, I messaged them and they were already done eating brunch and started roaming around. Of course, I felt awful that I had missed most of the Galentines Date, but I was more upset at the fact that I had to make them wait for so long. When I reached Makati, they told me to meet up in Greenbelt and I finally caught up to them at the Power Mac Center.

When I saw them, we all squealed and hugged each other. Kasi to be perfectly honest, super duper busy talaga kami and we rarely have the time to see each other in person, so every time we did, it was just this beautiful happy moment. Gayley gave us these crocheted flowers and mine was this super pretty Sunflower <3 (I loved it, thanks Gayle!)

After this, we were trying to decide where to go next because they already had brunch but I was still really hungry (kasi nga paano ba ako makakakain sa mga nangyari HAHAHA), so after walking around for a long time, we just ended up at Chili's lol. When we got to our table, we wasted no time and just made so much chika. When I say so much chika, I mean like SOOOOO MUCH chika (months' worth of stories, plans, and tea ;) hahaha).

We talked about a lot of things. Lulu gave us so many life updates and it was news to me that the baby girl of the group was already talking to someone. I know magkaka-age naman kami pero kasi she's literally the purest, most innocent, wholesome being you'd ever meet, and as you may have guessed, yes, NBSB sya. (Sorry for putting your business out there love you haha). We were really happy for her as she's trying to figure out how she wants to go about this whole dating thing.

Patty naman also shared stories about her work life, how she's still enjoying the party scene, and exploring her options. We're on the same page when it comes to dating. We would like to enjoy the "Single Life" and experience things on our own. I mean it is nice to have someone accompany you and make memories with you but there's a certain beauty to enjoying life on your own and figuring things out as you go. We still have a lot of "discovering" to do before we get into the dating game. And it was refreshing to hear Patty say she's just having fun and seeing where things take her. Because much like her, I'd like to take this period of my life to get to know myself more and just see what life has to offer.

Now, with Gayley naman, it's a little different. She's been in a long stable relationship with Neil for years. (He's our friend too and he's also like family). We're very fond of Neil and we all think that they're good for each other. We've known Neil since freshmen year in College, and he's a real standup guy. We see how respectful and how much of a gentleman he is, especially towards Gayle. (We love Neil in this house lol) He was also one of those people who had my back when I was in a really rough situation. Anyway, going back, she told us about her plans for the coming months including trips to Japan and Taiwan. We tried to set another get-together but the next schedule available for us is after May pa (Sabi sainyo eh mahirap magschedule sa amin haha).

We all talked some more (of course I can't tell you guys everything in detail) and I also shared personal stuff like things that happened after Nathan passed, things that happened at work, my plans for the coming months, etc. I didn't really have much to share with them because I just went through a lot over the past few months, and I didn't want to be a Debbie Downer. So after we finished eating we all went to take Lulu to the station because she was rushing to catch the Sunday Mass in Muntinlupa.

*And dahil late ako, siyempre wala ako jan haha*

After Lulu took off, we all went to a coffee shop to talk some more and we all wanted to try new hobbies like pottery and golf among other things. For those of you who don't know, I like taking classes and workshops on different things. If it were up to me, I'd hyperfixate on one hobby for a whole month and attempt to learn everything I could about that thing, and then try another hobby for the next month, and the cycle repeats. Thankfully, my friends are like that too and are more than willing to accompany me but like I said previously it's just not that easy to get us all together in one place because our schedules are always very hectic.

It was almost 7 pm when we decided to head home because we all had work the day after and siyempre dahil tumatanda na rin tayo, gusto palagi na pauwi na HAHAHAHA. So we said our goodbyes, and then Gayle and I shared a Grab kasi we're headed in the same direction pauwi. And when I dropped Gayle off, I started having all these realizations while I was on my way home.

It hit me hard when I realized that we've been out of school since 2021. Regina and I finished school ahead of Gayle, Kayla, and Alliah because they were from different courses (Although both courses were under Communication Arts) but we all shared the same graduation ceremony way back in 2022. While I was reminiscing and getting emotional over the fact that time was passing by us quickly, I was reminded by Kuya Driver that we had arrived at my destination. So I hurriedly paid Kuya and got out of the car, and as I was walking to my room I had this bittersweet feeling in the pit of my stomach.

"Tumatanda na nga kami" I said to myself as mom opened the door. She asked me how the Galentines thing went, and I told her I had fun and that I missed the girls. After telling her stories, I prepared to go to bed. After cleaning up and doing my skincare, I plopped on my bed and went on my phone to see if everyone got home safely. And that was when I opened my gallery to look at this album entitled "College Memories", and I reminisced some more until I fell asleep.

I am filled with so much gratitude toward these girls because they have been with me through the highs and lows, and even when we don't regularly see each other and talk, it's like nothing changed. They are the same people that I loved since College, it's just that we're all on different paths now but still very much a part of each others' lives. While times might have changed our routines, and we may not share the same reality anymore, it's still exciting to see what's in store for us and our futures. (Waiting na po ako kung sinong unang ikakasal haha #ReadyToBeABridesmaid).

I guess that's it for the girls' Galentines Date this year. I'll be making a separate entry about the girls in detail and the whole adulting thing.

Now, if you reached this point, CONGRATULATIONS! That was a really long read lol I appreciate you for seeing it all the way through <3 here's a star for your effort!

*CTTO of the images in this blog post.

Good night everyone, till our next entry~

Love,

Zoey from the 8th floor

[lingeriedash]

Teddies for a night out: the ultimate black style!

Introduction: As a busy woman, you know that time is precious. That’s why we put together the ultimate Teddies for a night out! These versatile pieces are perfect for a night out with your friends or family. Whether you’re looking for something to wear to an event or just want something to spruce up your look, these Teddies are sure to please.

What are Teddies.

Teddies are made out of fabric and often have a design on them. There are several different types of Teddies, such as clothes, hats, and sunglasses. You can find Teddies at most stores or online.

What are the different types of Teddies.

There are several different types of Teddies: clothes, hats, sunglasses, and other accessories. The most common type of Teddie is the shirt, which you can wear alone or with a hat or accessory. Other popular types of Teddies include pants and skirts. You can also make your own Teddies by using some basic sewing skills and a pattern from a store or online.

How to make Teddies.

To make your own Teddies, you’ll need some supplies like fabric, thread, needles, scissors, and a machine that makes fabrics like jersey cloth and felt. To start making your own Teddie clothes, you’ll need to cut the fabric into strips about 2 feet long by 18 inches wide by 12 inches high (or whatever size you want your teddy to be). Then try out different techniques for making teddies like piecing them together or embroidering them with textiles like lace or sequins.

How to Wear Teddies.

There are a ton of ways to wear Teddies, but here are a few tips to get you started:

-Wear them as a top: Teddies can be styleable in many ways, so try wearing them as a top and pairing them with either pants or skirts. This will give you a lot of options for how to wear them.

-Wear them as part of an outfit: When you’re looking to add some fun and excitement to your outfits, consider dressing up your Teddies in something different. For example, if you’re going out for drinks, why not dress up your Teddies in a nice dress? Or if you’re going out on a date, choose something daring and stylish that will stand out from the rest.

-Wear them as part of a look: There is no one way to wear Teddies, so go for whatever looks best on you. Try mixing and matching different styles and colors to see what works best on you. And don’t forget about accessories! In addition to wearing Teddies by themselves, add some accessories like sunglasses or earrings for added appeal.

How to Style Teddies.

When it comes time to style your Teddies, there are several things that you can do:

- Start by choosing the right fabric: When it comes time to style your Teddies, it’s important that the fabric you choose is comfortable and durable. If the fabric is too delicate or soft, it may not last long against the wear and tear of daily use.

-Choose designs: You can also choose to have different designs printed on the front or back of your Teddies. This will give your outfit more personality and would be perfect if you want your friends and family to recognize your outfit when they see it later on.

-Make sure they fit well: When trying on clothes for the first time ever (or even just getting dressed up for an occasion), make sure they fit well enough so that they look good without having too much excess clothing around their waistlines (i.e., avoid tight jeans).

Tips for How to Wear Teddies.

When you want to dress like a cool, broody guy or girl, go for a T-shirt night out. Here are three tips on how to do it:

1) Look sharp in afunky shirt with a clean look. Ditch the shredded clothes and spikes for something more stylish and fun (think: Stone Roses or U2).

2) Start with basics: A light-colored T-shirt, sweatpants, and sneakers will do. However, if you’re feeling fancy – or just want to put some extra spice in your outfit – consider wearing a nice dress shirt or blazer.

3) If you’re looking to rock some classic rock tunes while out, head over to one of the many Tedsie bars in town. They’ll have great live music all night long!

Conclusion

Teddies are a unique article of clothing that can be enjoyed by both men and women. They come in different styles, colors, and materials, making them the perfect choice for any occasion. With a few easy steps, anyone can make their own Teddies. Whether you're looking to wear them casually or have an event planned, following these tips will help you enjoy your Teddies to the fullest!

Black teddies lingerie

[fashionbibleblog]

i’ll admit. i struggle with transitional season fashion. aka spring and fall. and right now in the in between time, i’m trying to curate my winter wardrobe and gather inspiration for the colder months. i’ve been wearing a lot of cozy loungewear and not really going anywhere that requires dressing to the nines. having just returned from portugal, i almost feel like i’ve been on a fashion hiatus since i got off the plane. while on my vacation, i was dresssssing. think euro chic with a twist. some staples; denim maxi skirt, a men’s tie as a scarf, vintage 60s/70s sunglasses, cross jewelry, silk slip skirts, and little tops. oh and these vint (vintage mint) moschino sunglasses i thrifted on my travels. i’m obsessed with them. anyway, now that i’m back, i’m gravitating towards cozy knits and lazy ensembles. plus my uggs ofc. it’s honestly hard for me to dress when the weather is so all over the place. i always dress for comfort. i’m not someone who is gonna go for a skirt in frigid weather (power to u if u are!) so the weather and feeling comfortable are my main factors when getting dressed in fall/winter (besides looking good.) one of my fav items to wear for this type of weather is a cashmere knit lounge pant. it looks put together, but it’s really about the comfort for me. another good transitional piece is an oversized leather jacket. i have some great leather jackets, but not quite the shape and fit i’m looking for this season, so i just ordered one from anine bing that i can’t wait to get some use out of this month (and for many seasons to come.) it’s a great jacket to have year round, but especially for fall because it’s the right weight for it. now, thinking ahead to winter and some trend forecasting...knits of course. while last year and the year previous, crazy colors and patterns were big in knitwear, i think this year we will see more muted tones and classic silhouettes. mohair is still big. aside from knits (which is to be expected), i think “gorpcore” will heavily influence this winter’s trends. personally, i’m going for gorp by day (parachute pants and puffer coats, skull cap beanies, tactical boots and sneakers, etc) and a much more classic model off duty look by night (sleek well fitted sweaters, denim, luxurious long coats, and classic black boots.) this is how i can play into different styles that i love throughout the season- from an edgier streetwear look, to a chic and put together vibe. to prepare my wardrobe i have been shopping for great quality basics that can be layered well and that i will get a ton of wear out of. winter is all about layering, so finding pieces that work well together and will keep you warm is my best advice to get your closet prepped. first focus on basics and then sprinkle some statement pieces into the mix and you’ll have endless outfits that will keep you from getting bored this winter season.  <3xx

[mrsmerken]

The Best Shoe Paint For Jordans

The Best Sneaker Paint For Jordans

In a hurry? This is our favourite product: Angelus Starter Kit. Some shoes are almost impossible to live without. You wear them to work, when you exercise, go for a stroll, or just socialize. The sneaker has become an allround shoe. And there is no sneaker more iconic than a pair of Nike Jordan. So, why on earth would someone want to paint them? Well, there could be lots of reasons. They could be old, worn out or you just don't like them the way they are. There are a ton of different brands and colors to choose from, so you can find the perfect paint for your sneakers. In this article, we will discuss the best shoe paint for Jordans and why it is such a popular choice among sneaker fans. So whether you are looking to change up the color of your favorite pair of Jordans or just want to learn more about this popular trend, keep reading!

Spray Paint For Shoes

If you're looking for a way to add some personality to your sneakers, consider giving them a new paint job. It's a fun and easy project that can be done in an afternoon, and it's a great way to breathe new life into an old pair of shoes. Plus, with so many different colors and finishes available, you can really let your creativity shine. Just make sure to use spray paint that is specifically designed for use on shoes; otherwise, you may end up with a sticky mess. And once you're done, be sure to seal the paint with a clear coat to protect it from scuffs and weather damage. With a little effort, you can turn even the drabbest pair of sneakers into a true work of art.

Top 5 Acrylic Paint For Jordans

When it comes to painting your shoes, there are a lot of different products and methods to choose from. It can be hard to know which product is the best for you, and even harder to decide on a paint color that will look good with your sneakers. We've done the research for you and have found the top shoe paints for Jordans. Our picks include both spray paint and brush-on paints in a variety of colors, so you're sure to find the perfect shade for your sneakers. Angelus Leather Acrylic Paint Kit

Looking for a pop of color in your life? Angelus Leather and Sneaker Paint is a great choice! These brilliant paints are perfect for decorating and staining smooth leather, vinyl, or anything permeable. They'll stay put once they're dry, but remain flexible - so you don't have to worry about them cracking or peeling off. Plus, they're water-based so they're easy to clean up. If you're feeling really inventive, you may also mix them with 2-Thin to create a mosaic effect on mesh, cotton, and laces. Just mix it with Angelus Duller for a soft, matte look. With so many possibilities, there's no limit to what you can do with Angelus Acrylic Paint! Check it out Smalltongue Acrylic Paint Kit for Leather Shoes

The Smalltongue Acrylic Leather Paint Kit is the perfect way to add a personal touch to your shoes, bags, and other leather accessories. The kit comes with 12 vibrant colors, so you can mix and match to create any color you want. The acrylic paint is also perfect for airbrush projects. And the included leather preparer ensures that the paint will adhere to the surface and create a long-lasting finish. With the Smalltongue Acrylic Leather Paint Kit, you can show off your creative side on your Jordans anytime. Check it out Marabu YONO Acrylic Paint Markers for Custom Sneakers

Looking for a paint marker that can do it all? YONO Acrylic Paint Markers are perfect for customizing sneakers, thanks to their high-quality ink and versatile design. The water-based ink is lightfast and opaque, meaning your artwork will look vibrant and realistic, no matter what surface you're working on. And with YONO'sSquare or Spot tip, you can create any style you want, from street art to avant-garde. So whether you're dressing up your kicks for a night out or adding a personal touch to your everyday wear, YONO Acrylic Paint Markers are the perfect tool for the job! Check it out Fantastory Acrylic Paint Set, 24 Classic Colors

The Fantastory Acrylic Paint Set is the perfect way to get started with painting or to take your art to the next level. The set includes 24 vibrant colors, each in a 2 oz/60 ml bottle. The paints have a creamy consistency and high pigmentation, making them ideal for both large areas and fine details. They also dry quickly and stay beautiful over time. The set also comes with three free paint brushes, so you can start creating right away. Whether you're a professional artist or just getting started, the Fantastory Acrylic Paint Set is a great way to produce beautiful, consistent results. Check it out Wilkins Premium Paint Pens

If you're looking for a way to touch up your sneakers and make them look new again, Wilkins Midsole Marker is the perfect product for you. This acrylic-based paint pen is specially formulated to provide a durable, flexible, and waterproof layer that will cover up marks and blemishes. The natural color shade will match the original midsole, and the Matte finishing color will give your sneakers a trendy look. With just one layer, you can see the difference. So don't go another day with damaged or yellowed sneakers. Pick up a Wilkins Midsole Marker and get your shoes looking like new again! Check it out

Sneaker Painting - How To Do It

Jordans are one of the most popular shoes on the market, and many people love to collect them. If you're looking to add a personal touch to your collection, why not try painting them? It's a fun and easy way to show off your personality, and it's also a great way to revive an old pair of shoes. Here's how to do it: First, you'll need to gather your supplies. You'll need acrylic paint, a small paintbrush, and some clear sealant. Make sure to lay down some old newspapers or a dropcloth to protect your surfaces from paint spills. Next, assess your shoes and decide what design you want to paint. Once you have an idea, start sketching it out with a pencil so you have a guideline to follow. When you're ready, start painting! Use thin layers of paint so that the colors don't bleed together. If you make a mistake, don't worry - just let the paint completely dry and start again. Once you're happy with your design, seal it with a layer of clear sealant. This will help protect the paint and keep it from chipping or fading. And that's it! You now have a one-of-a-kind pair of painted Jordans that are sure to turn heads.

From Tennis shoes to Nike sneakers

Some footwear are almost impossible to live without. You use them when working out, walking, running or simply socializing. Today the sneaker is as much an allround shoe as a shoe used when playing tennis. So, how did the tennis shoe evolve from a low shoe only wore when playing an upper-class sport, to the global fashion phenomena it is today?

Started as tennis shoes Tennis shoes were first made in the 1800s. It was a very simple design with a rubber sole. Back then they were called plimsolls. People first started to call them "sneakers" years later on after some marketing. The company producing the first "plimsolls" saw that the shoes' soles were serene and didn't make any type of noise at all, on any kind of surface. Hence, "sneak". The next company that offered a tennis shoe was Converse. This was back in the year 1917. Since their sneakers were used when playing basketball, they called the model Reverse All Star. Later on this footwear became the Chuck Taylor All Star. It became a must have for every basketball player, as well as for youngsters, for more than half a century. The sneaker came along The sneaker kept on evolving when the two brothers Adi and Rudolph Dassler started Adidas back in 1931. Their models could be used for running as well as soccer. After some disputes between the two brothers, Rudolph Dassler started his own company, the Puma Schuhfabrik. Two brothers actually started Adidas as well as Puma. It occupied till the 1950s for athletic shoe to be the preferred shoes of young adults after When James Dean was photographed with jeans and white sneakers, the sneaker became the favored footwear among young adults. Kids, as well as ladies, used the sneaker as a symbol of disobedience and revolt. In 1968 Phil Knight and Bill Bowerman started, what was later to become the giant Nike. They named it Nike after the Greek Goddess of Triumph. The famous logo, the swoosh, was actually designed by an external graphic designer. Nike bought it from him for $35! The birth of Jordans In 1979 Nike produced the very first Nike Air shoe. With its advanced air-cushioning technology, this was true innovation and would revolutionize the sneaker scene. The most iconic shoe line ever, is the Air Jordan. Nike launched it in 1985. Nike led the industry well into the 2000s. Converse even became Nike-owned. Sneakers are no longer exclusively for athletes. In fact we would argue that a sneaker is mainly a lifestyle shoe. It is urban, all-age, versatile, stylish. In 2004 Reebok created Noise and Rhytm in collaboration with musicians and artists. They wanted to emphasize the connection between music and sneakers in the eyes of the youth. Whether you're a sports person, a professional athlete, music lover or design junkie, there's a sneaker model just for your. Today there are multiple cool brands in a variety of niches. Did you ever know that a staple like the sneaker had such an interesting story to it?

Conclusion

So, what’s the verdict? Are you looking for a new way to customize your sneakers? If so, any of these shoe paint options would be great for Jordans. We hope you enjoyed reading our selection and that it helped you make a decision about which product is best for your needs. As always, let us know if you have any questions or need help with anything else related to shoe care!

Frequently Asked Questions About Sneaker Care

How to paint on sneakers? There are a few different ways to use sneaker paint. You can use a brush to apply it directly to the shoe, or you can use a spray bottle to apply it evenly. Make sure to let the paint dry completely before wearing them. Where can i buy sneaker paint? There are a few places you could buy sneaker paint, but the best place to start is probably an online retailer like Amazon or eBay. You could also try looking for a specialty store that sells paints and painting supplies. How to change sneaker color? There are a few ways to change sneaker color. One way is to use a fabric dye. Another way is to use a paint specifically made for sneakers. Read the full article

[whattheshoes]

How Many Pairs of Shoes Does the Average Man Own? (EXPLAINED)

Women are obsessed with shoes because these accessories make them look better. What about men? How many pairs of shoes does the average man own?

Men do need footwear to compliment their looks. Let’s check this article to figure out how big a man’s shoe collection should be!

How Many Pairs Of Shoes Does The Average Man Own? 

A man often has 7 to 20 pairs of shoes. This significant gap results from the lifestyle, job, location, fashion sense, and storage space differences. 

Almost every man has sneakers, boots, and dress shoes. Although they don’t have white-collar jobs, they have to prepare for formal occasions. 

This table will help you picture what kinds of footwear and how many are necessary for a man.

What Shoe Styles Do Men Need?

The number of footwear you have doesn’t matter as long as you find them useful. How to determine if they need you or not? What should you have in your closet? 

Regardless of what your style is, it would be best to have the items below: 

Dress shoes

These items are essential for any man’s collection since they help you look best. 

It works in every case, no matter if you’re going to work in a suit or want to shine out at a big event. 

A dress shoe is any style of footwear that you would wear on formal occasions. It comes in many different styles, such as Derbys, Monks, and Brogueing. 

Almost every man has a pair of leather black dress shoes in their closet. This idea is excellent because black looks good with any color, and leather displays your footwear’s charm.

Casual shoes

You can’t go wrong with a pair of casual shoes because they are suitable for many events, including vacations, daily business, hanging out with friends, etc.

The big plus of this item is that it looks less formal than the previous option, but it has a modern and classy vibe. 

There are tons of choices available for you. So feel free to get Chukkas, Moccasins, or Chelsea Boots and go out to shine. 

If you don’t want to have many items, choose gray or blue casual shoes because they can match many other colors. 

Moreover, avoid the items in black. They are good, but this color makes them too formal for a casual look.

Sneakers

There are many kinds of sneakers. If possible, get yourself one pair for each because they serve different purposes. 

Running sneakers

A man needs at least one pair of running footwear. If you are serious about running, invest two or more to switch and last longer. 

Some people wear casual sneakers for running. However, it’s never a good idea to wear the wrong footwear for exercise. 

The right running shoe should feature a supportive, firm, and comfortable midsole. Investing in high-quality padding in the heel area is also necessary. 

The shoe needs a thin, sturdy outsole for continuous training and flexibility to support your foot effectively. 

Gym sneakers

This item shares the same idea with the running sneaker: have at least one to wear every time you go to the gym and two or more if you are passionate about the gym. 

Training sneakers are ideal for gymnastics, lifting weights, and running on a treadmill. They allow you to participate in more activities and will support your feet better than conventional sneakers. 

However, since not everyone likes the gym, consider how much time you spend there before buying training sneakers. 

You waste your money when investing in these items when you prefer running and you already have footwear for that purpose. 

Casual sneakers 

Unlike two other kinds of sneakers, these casual models suit more occasions. A man should have at least two to three pairs of them.

These items are perfect for outdoor activities, such as shipping, dining out, or walking. The diversity in their style makes them more popular. 

Besides, you have a lot of choices in terms of materials. Leather, mesh, suede, and nylon are the most common ones.

Boots

Boots are essential items for men because of their fashionable style. It would be best for a man to have one or two pairs of them.

At first, people wore these items for rainy days. However, as they look very nice in many outfits, people like to wear them for casual and formal events.

Outdoor shoes

Your closet should have these items if you love outdoor activities like hiking or boating. Their stylish appearance and versatility may attract every man. 

These models can be resistant to dust, snow, and mud without sacrificing comfort or aesthetics. It’s the material that brings out this kind of magic.   

Sandals

It’s a pity to go on summer vacation without sandals. Hence, a man should prepare one to two pairs.

These models come in two styles: casual and sporty. If you don’t like beach activities, choose the casual designs and wear them on your holiday. 

Flip-Flops

Flip-flops are perfect for your summer trips. You can even walk around your house and backyards with these items. 

However, since they don’t serve many purposes, one pair of them is enough. Remember to choose the one with cushioning for the comfort of your feet.

Slippers

A pair of slippers can keep your feet warm and comfortable. Hence, buy one and wear them to walk around.

How Many Shoes Should A Man Have? 

There is no one-size-fits-all answer to this question. You need to consider the following factors before jumping to a conclusion. 

Lifestyle

Your lifestyle is the first thing to check. It determines how many shoes you should have and what kinds they are. 

Some pairs of formal footwear are necessary if you work in the office. Hence, you can cut down on the number of sneakers or flip-flops and your total number of shoes. 

Taste

Ask yourself: What do you like to wear? Your fashion taste has a big impact on your shoe collection. 

A fashionista likes to mix their outfit with the right footwear. Hence, they surely need more shoes. 

If you are a minimalist, you may need a few items for certain purposes. For example, you only buy one pair of sneakers for hangouts and workouts. 

Location

The number of your footwear might also depend on your location. You can wear more boots or winter footwear if you live in a colder country. If it’s hot outside often, wear more flats or sandals instead. 

Space

Because of the high demand for accommodation in cities, many people like to live in small apartments. This tendency means people have a smaller space to set and arrange their stuff. 

If you live in an apartment, you can’t have too many shoes. The limited space only allows 30 to 40 pairs, depending on how you organize it. 

If you share your apartment with a roommate, you have to share half of the storage space. It’s a tricky job to stuff all your footwear there.

Frequently Asked Questions

The following information reveals some surrounding issues about our shoe collection, and you will find all of them interesting. 

1. How many pairs of shoes does the average American own?

According to a survey, the average American male has 12 pairs, and the average American woman has 27 pairs. The national figure would be around 19 pairs for one person. 

2. How to tell if I have too many shoes?

The only way is to count how many of them you often have on your feet. If you can’t recall the last time you wore any, they’re probably taking up much space in your closet. 

3. What age group buys the most shoes?

The 25 to 34-year-olds have the most extensive collection of all age groups; each has nine pairs of footwear. With eight and seven pairs of footwear, the 35-44 and 16-24 age groups rank second and third, respectively. 

4. How can I cut down on your shoe collection? 

You can free some space in your closet by matching your footwear number to how often you wear them. Remove the ones that you do not usually wear from your wardrobe by selling, giving, or donating them.  

Also, make an informed and careful decision whenever you want to buy footwear. Invest more time to find the right one instead of getting all the models you love at the first sight. 

Conclusion 

On average, a man has 7 to 20 pairs of shoes. This number varies depending on different factors. However, don’t mind if you wear all of them often and have enough space to store them.

Hopefully, you will find this article helpful. For any further information, please feel free to ask. Thank you for reading!

Source: https://whattheshoes.com/how-many-shoes-should-a-man-own/ 

[tropes-and-tales]

Honor Amongst Thieves

CW:  So many!  Derogatory terms for sex workers; talk of past abuse; murder; domestic violence; smut (PiV, unprotected; obliquely described oral sex for both m! and f! receiving), 18+ only. 

Word Count:  13,262

AN: For the lovely (and very patient!) @chemicalalice! 🌻

AN2:  Shit got waaaaay out of control.  13k words?  Get the fuck out of here, me.

AN3:  Guaranteed typos.  Word kept wanting to change “Merrimen” to “Merriment.”

When Ray Merrimen is released from prison, his girlfriend is the one who picks him up.  Holly, his on-again, off-again girl.  Started dating in high school, broke up when he joined the Marines.  Got back together.  

She says that she’s been faithful during his stint in prison, but Ray doubts it.

Ray doesn’t care either way.

He’s home for all of a week before she starts on him.  She’s waited long enough, she informs him.  She’s tired of waiting any longer.  She wants what her friends and her sisters have:  a big fat diamond on her ring finger, then marriage.  Kids.  A house in the suburbs.  The whole domesticated routine.

Ray’s not really into the whole domesticated scene, so he breaks it off.  Packs up his shit—there isn’t much, just a few bags—and moves in with Mack in his Mission Hills home.

The few bags of his effects summarizes Ray Merrimen better than any military head shrinker or prison case worker ever could:  he’s a man who doesn’t like baggage.  He’s a man who travels light.

-----

Mack’s place is fine.  Ray settles into his room, doesn’t bother to decorate.  Keeps his bed made to military precision, keeps everything neat and orderly.

The rest of the place is chaos.  Mack has tons of family, tons of friends—and he calls them all “cuz.”  He seems to know almost everyone in Los Angeles County, and that includes his neighbors.

“Old couple on the right of us,” he tells Ray when he gives him the tour.  “Retired, keep to themselves.  He’s an old con and she’s his old lady, you know?  Nice though.”

Ray nods, doesn’t say anything.  Makes note of the keeps to themselves comment.  He doesn’t want nosy neighbors tipping off police if they happen to see something they shouldn’t.

“Girl to the left of us, single.  She’s nice too.  Quiet.  Minds her own business, but keeps shitty hours,” Mack continues.  

Another silent nod from Ray.  Another mental note that the girl next door minds her own business.  A mental note of the shitty hours comment.  

Ray files it all away in case he needs it later.

-----

He doesn’t meet you—the girl next door—until a month later.

He sees you plenty before then, though:  sees you leaving your house, coming home.  Sees you dressed up like you’re going to a fancy party, sees you in all black workout gear, leggings and black sneakers and a black hoodie.  Sees you late at night, just as the streetlights are switching on, sees you early in the morning.  

Shitty hours, Mack said.  He wasn’t lying.

Ray doesn’t know what you do, but he can guess:  irregular hours, different styles of clothes.  Sometimes your hair is drastically different, and he guesses that you wear wigs.  Some days, you have blonde hair, an icy silver that is stick straight.  Other days, long auburn curls.  

Once, even pink, a short little cut that brushes against your jawline.

Ray guesses that you’re a sex worker.

Not that he cares….or judges.  People do what they can to get by.  Why should he care what you’re doing, so long as you mind your business and turn a blind eye to what he and Mack and his crew may be doing?

-----

He meets you a month after he moves in.  He and the guys are in Mack’s garage, built out into a gym.  The door is up, and they are blasting music—old school rap, metal.  Ray’s going through his reps with a military precision, and there’s a moment where there’s a throat clearing, then Mack reaching to the stereo to turn down the music.

Ray looks up and sees you.

This seems to be the real you:  the way he sees you when you’re just around your house, in your backyard.  Your real hair, your real clothes.  Just you.

“Hey, Mack,” you say, greeting the man with a smile.  

“Music too loud?” he asks.  He shakes his head, a little rueful.  “We can keep it down.”

You wave him off, your smile never wavering.  “You know you’re fine.”

Mack nods, and you turn to the other guys.  You nod at each of them, greet each of them by name.  

Then you look at Ray, and Mack catches your glance.

“This is my buddy,” he tells you, introducing the two of you.  “Ray Merrimen.  Moved in about a month ago.”

“Hey,” you tell him.  “Welcome to the neighborhood.”

Ray just nods, you nod back, and you turn to Mack.

“I’m headed out of town for a few weeks.  Mind keeping an eye on the place while I’m away?”

“You know you never need to ask, sweetheart.”

You grin at him.  “And you know that I always ask anyway.”

-----

Turns out, you and Mack trade favors, like good neighbors sometimes do.

He keeps an eye on your place when you’re out of town.  You sign for Mack’s packages when he isn’t around during the day.

Once, you stop over when the guys are in the driveway, changing the oil on Bosco’s Trans-Am.

“Hello, boys,” you call out, your usual teasing grin on your face.  You nod at each of them in turn, then look at Mack.

“The brakes on my car have been acting up.  You mind if I bring it over for you to look at?” you ask.

Mack shakes his head.  “Think you can make it to the shop?  I can put it on the lift there.”

Ray perks up at that:  he doesn’t like the thought of you in the chop shop.  Not that they leave their blueprints and guns and body armor there, but still…

“That works for me.  Tomorrow, then?”

Mack nods, then he sidles up to you, hooks an arm around your shoulders and pulls you close.  “You know what it’s gonna cost you, sweetheart.”

You laugh, feign a punch to his stomach, and Mack pulls away, pretending to be wounded.

“I know what it costs,” you say, laughing, and you walk away with a backwards wave.

Ray waits until you are inside your own house, then he turns to Mack.  “You really inviting her to the shop?”

The smile on Mack’s face disappears, and he turns serious.  

“She’s solid, man.  I trust her.”

Ray shakes his head.  “You sure you’re thinking clearly?  You can’t trust a girl just because you fuck her.”

Mack laughs at that, throws his head back and laughs.  Laughs so long that Ray rolls his eyes, crosses his arms.  The other guys chuckle, the laughter infectious, and Mack eventually calms.  Swipes at his eyes where a few tears crept out.  He slaps Ray on the back, but he doesn’t clarify what is so fucking funny.

-----

What does it cost for Mack to fix your brakes?  

Not anything sexual at all.  You pull into the shop the next day, climb out.  Reach into the passenger seat to retrieve a platter covered in foil.

It’s fucking lemon bars, and Mack helps himself to three before he even puts your car on the lift.

You wait while they work on it.  You sit on the table where, until just recently, the blueprints for the club they want to rob were laid out.  Ray studies you out of the corner of his eye:  you’re in shorts and a t-shirt, canvas shoes.  You look scrubbed-up and fresh-faced, a girl next door after all.  You swing your legs a little as you chat with Bosco and Lavoux.  

When Ray finally gives in and helps himself to a lemon bar, he catches you watching him.  You watch him as he takes a bite and chews, a little smile curving your lips.

-----

Couple months in, Ray starts to get a better feel for you.  All told, the two of you have only shared a handful of words—hey, bye—and the usual nods of acknowledgement.  But Ray learns more from the favors you and Mack share.

After the club heist, Ray catches Mack handing you a paper bag with most of his cut.  He watches as the big man bends his head to yours, giving you instructions too low and quiet for Ray to make out.  You nod at the man, serious, and take the bag to your house.

Later, Ray asks about it, and Mack shrugs.

“She launders it for me.”

Ray stills at that intel, his beer half-raised to his lips.  “She launders it?”

“Yeah, she handles it for me.  Washes it clean.  Sends some back to my family in Samoa, puts the rest in an offshore account where it draws interest and is safe.”

Ray stares hard at his friend, his perception of you shifting dramatically.  “Wait, I thought she was a hooker.”

Mack shrugs again.  “Don’t know what she does in her own time.  But she helps with this stuff.  She’s good at it.  She’s a whiz with all that computer shit, you know?”

“You trust her?  How can you be sure she’s not stealing it?”

His friend shrugs a third time, shakes his head a little.  “I know she sends the cash to my family because they get the cash, right on time, every time.  And I have the bank details for the off-shore account.  The balance is always square.”

“What’s her cut?”

Another shake of the head.  “She doesn’t take one.  Calls it ‘the friends and family’ discount.”

-----

Ray just wants to run perfect ops, plan perfect heists.

But some of his mental capacity is taken up by you now.

He doesn’t like it, doesn’t like that you are burrowing into his head.  You are, though.  He’s curious about the money laundering, about the computer shit Mack mentioned, how it shifts his perception of you.  He’s curious about your odd hours—are you laundering your own income from sex work?

He’s curious about what you are up to.  Why do you help Mack so much and ask for so little in return?  New brake pads don’t seem to make up for money laundering and whatever else you may do for the man.

Ray also doesn’t like the other thoughts about you that roll through his head:  the scent of you, when you stand close enough, the light floral scent over something sweet.  The way your legs look in your jean shorts, the frayed ends against your smooth thighs.  The way you smile at Mack and the others (and sometimes even him), the way you tilt your head and squint your eyes, the smile a little crooked.

He doesn’t like how those thoughts seem to flare up at night, and how they lead to other musings:  the smooth skin of your thighs—what would it feel like to touch you?  The sweet, subtle scent of you—what would it be like to put his mouth to you?  Would you taste as sweet?

----

A month later you stop over again, and it’s not like any other time.  You aren’t smiling and goofing around with Mack, nodding at the guys as they lift or hit the punching bag or work on one of their cars.  You are jittery this time, and even though it’s just Ray and Mack chilling with a few beers in the garage, you ask if you can talk to Mack alone.

“Whatever’s up, you can say it in front of Ray,” Mack tells you.  You glance over at Ray, and he’s never seen you like this:  scared.  He offers you a half-smile, as if to tell you that it’s fine.

You nod, after a long moment.  You take a deep breath.

“I need a gun,” you tell them.

-----

Guns.  Ray Merrimen knows guns.  And there’s something about how scared you seem that sparks something protective in him that’s been dormant for a long, long time.

He and Mack pull together options, and Ray walks you through them one night when Mack is out at the shop and Ray is home alone.  He lays them out on the kitchen table, and he tries to ignore the feel of you right beside him, studying each gun as he describes it.

“This is a Glock 19.  9 millimeter.  Reliable, best in class.  This is what a lot of cops carry.”  

He points to another.  “This is a Glock 43.  Also 9 millimeter.  Less popular because it carries fewer rounds, but for protection, you only need a few shots anyway.”

“But this one,” he points out, “is probably the best one for you.  Smith and Wesson Shield.  9 millimeter too, but it’s nice and light.  Small.  You could carry it in your purse and no one would know.”

You look at him and frown.  “I don’t need to carry it in my purse.”

Ray returns your gaze.  Frowns too.  “What do you mean?  Don’t you want to carry it for when you work?”

“Yes, but…” You trail off, hesitate for a moment.  “But I don’t carry a purse when I work.”

Ray doesn’t know that much about hookers.  Most of what he knows is hearsay, or learned from television, which is to say:  nothing reliable.  Still, don’t women carry purses?  Wouldn’t it make sense for you to carry one while you work?

You seem to sense his confusion, and you tilt your head.  “What do you think my work is exactly, Ray?”

“Aren’t you a hook…a sex worker?” he amends at the last minute, not wanting to offend.

You pull in a sharp breath, and he thinks he has offended you after all, but then you laugh.  Your laughter shifts you off balance, and you reach out a hand to steady yourself on his bicep.

“Why would you think that?” you manage to wheeze out between gales of laughter.  “My god, Ray, honestly.”

He can’t help but smile at your glee.  “You work weird hours.  And you’re always dressed up…weird.  Every time, weird hair, weird clothes.”

It sets you off into a fresh wave of laughter, so much that he chuckles along as you start to cry, and then cough from the force of it.  You let go of his arm and plop down into a kitchen chair, and he gazes down at you for a long moment—taking in the sight of your bent head, the way the hair at the nape of your neck curls.  He can just see down the back of your collar a little, at the soft-looking skin between your shoulders, and he has the brief, mad thought of what it would feel like to kiss you just there.

He shakes his head and sits down beside you instead.

“I’m not a sex worker,” you clarify once you recover.  “No judgement, though.  I did work as a cocktail waitress a few years back, but that was as close as I got.”

“What are you then?”

You don’t answer.  You cross your arms in front of you on the table and stare at the guns.  “I don’t need a gun for protection,” you offer after a long moment of silence.  “I need a gun to kill a man.”

You shock Ray with this:  the statement, and the straight-forward way you say it.  But you aren’t facing him, so you don’t catch the look of surprise on his face, and he has time to school his expression.

“That’s a different matter then, sweetheart,” he says, and Mack’s nickname for you comes out so smoothly he doesn’t realize he’s said it until it’s out of his mouth.  You turn and look at him, wary, but he gifts you a small smile.

It takes a long beat, but you smile back.  

-----

You don’t know a damned thing about guns.  It’s obvious, the way you try to hold them.  Half afraid, a loose grip, as if it’ll twist around and bite you if you aren’t wary.

Ray chooses for you:  a gun for premeditated killing is different than a gun for maybe-killing in self-defense.  He has an old Colt Python, a .357 Magnum caliber revolver from 1992.  An old model, untraceable.  A heavy gun, but reliable, and able to do the one job of killing perfectly before it’s dismantled and scattered.

“It looks old,” you comment, and Ray sidles up to you, shows the advantages of it.  Semi-automatics, he explains, spray their casings everywhere.  A revolver keeps the evidence within the gun, leaving less evidence behind.

“Smart,” you murmur.

“So let’s go teach you how to use it.”

-----

Ray does most of his shooting at a nearby range where he’s a member.  For this, though, he doesn’t want you on camera practicing with a gun.  Doesn’t want you signing in to use a .357, only to have a .357 used in a crime that can be linked to you.

He knows a place out in the Mohave, and that’s where he takes you.  The two of you leave before dawn.  He stops at a gas station outside of the county limits to get the two of you coffee and breakfast sandwiches, greasy hash browns that leave your fingers slick with cooking oil.  It takes four hours to get there, and the first hour is quiet.  Not that Ray minds—he likes the quiet.  You don’t seem to mind either; you only watch the landscape out the window, watch the dark sky lighten in the east.

It feels comfortable, the silence, and Ray notices it.  He never had that with Holly:  if he were quiet for too long, she’d ask what was wrong, and a fight would start soon after.

An hour in, you clear your throat.  He can feel your eyes on him.  

“Appreciate you doing this,” you say.

“No big deal.”

“Still…I know you have better things to do, Ray.”

He turns and looks at you, offers you a smile.  “Not today I don’t.”

-----

There’s the barest bit of small talk for the rest of the ride, but halfway there, you ask if you can turn on the radio.  Ray nods, and you fiddle with the tuner until you find a classic rock station.  Zeppelin, Hendrix, Pink Floyd.

You don’t sing along, not really, but Ray catches you mouthing along to the words when the Stones’ “Play with Fire” comes on.  Must be one of your favorites, like you can’t help yourself, yet you try to hide it—you turn away, and he catches your reflection in the window, your lips moving anyway.  He bites back a grin to see it.

-----

The place in the Mohave is just a shitty trailer where some of the guys go for different reasons.  Mack took a cousin there once, strung out on heroin, and helped him detox in the middle of nowhere.  A pseudo-hippie friend of Bosco did a bunch of sweat lodges there for a string of months.

Ray hardly ever comes out here, but it’s quiet and far from civilization.  The perfect place to practice shooting in privacy.

He teaches you the way he learned.  He has you take the gun apart to show you how all the pieces fit together.  He has you name each piece, over and over.  He makes you explain it all back to him, how it works.  He makes you put it back together, makes you run a bore snake through the barrel and charge holes, cleaning the entire thing.

You are a good pupil.  You stop him to ask questions.  You nod at what he says.

He takes you out back, a box of empties from the previous occupants—Bosco’s buddy’s sweat lodge assholes—in his hand.  He lines up cans and bottles on the rail of a fence, then has you load the revolver.  

Ray show you how to stand, how to hold the gun.  And sure, he takes advantage of the situation, stands close to you.  Stands behind you and kicks a foot between your own, nudges you to spread your legs a little more for a sturdier stance.  He’s taller than you, an entire head taller, so he takes advantage there too—takes a deep breath right above you, catches the clean, soapy scent of your shampoo.

He starts you at five yards, and you suck at first.  The gun obviously scares you:  you cringe before you pull the trigger, jerk the barrel up in anticipation of the kick.  The gun is heavy, but the kick isn’t terrible, and you get used to it.

You get better.  You are a fast learner.  

Five yards, then ten.  Then fifteen.  You miss a lot of the cans and bottles, then you start nailing them.  You catch the rhythm, and Ray recognizes the moment when you stop seeing the pistol as a weapon and start to see it as an extension of yourself.  As a tool.

This is the moment where Ray Merrimen falls in love, possibly for the first time in his life.

He’s certainly never felt anything like it, this moment with you in the Mohave.  You stand in the sunlight, the wind kicking up little eddies of dust, ruffling your hair, as the Colt gleams silver in your hand.  You look like some goddess of the desert, bright and beautiful and harsh and deadly, and Ray Merrimen—who has only loved the precision of the military, the precision of robbing banks—falls into messy, chaotic love.

-----

On the way home, the two of you stop in Barstow at the Denny’s.  You take a corner booth, and the restaurant is almost empty.  Over your waffles and his pancakes, Ray tries to draw out the situation that requires you to get a gun.  He mentions, as obliquely as possible, that he has the know-how to help plan something, that he’d help you…  

You don’t tell him anything.  You press your lips together until they are a thin line, and Ray sighs.

“Look, you don’t trust me, that’s fine.  Just…when you’re done doing whatever you’re going to do, bring the gun back to me.  I’ll clean it and dissemble it.  I’ll get rid of it.”

You stare at him a long moment, then you nod, once.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” you offer.  “I just don’t let a lot of people into that part of my life.”

“I get it.”

Another long moment where you gaze at him.  Another nod.  “Yeah, I suppose you probably do.”

He drops his voice even lower.  “You know the shit I get up to.”

“This a quid pro quo thing?” you ask with an arch to your eyebrow.

“Maybe.”

You sigh and take another bite of waffle.  You chew it, swallow, take a sip of coffee.  “Okay, fine.  Before I do anything, I’ll come talk to you.  I’ll let you know the…the shit I get up to.  At least a little of it.  Okay?”

“Fair enough, sweetheart.”

You snort at his co-opt of Mack’s nickname for you, but you duck your head too, and Ray wonders if you can guess at what he’s feeling.

*****

Life was a hell of a lot easier before Ray Merrimen moved next door.  It stayed easy as long as the guy remained his usual silent self—contained to only glowering at you, gifting you with a nod and a “hey” when you go over to Mack’s.

The whole gun situation cracks the tight little sphere of your life open:  first when Ray takes the time to give you options, then when he takes an entire day to teach you how to use the gun.  You catch him looking at you out in the desert, and you feel the tight bands you keep around your heart crack open a little too.

Ray fucking Merrimen, of all people.  

He raises a fair point at Denny’s, so you think it over.  Would it be so bad, letting someone in?  Mack could probably guess at some of your less legal activities—he certainly benefits from some of them—but no one knows your real work.

There’s something about Ray that you recognize.  A quietude that sets him apart from others, and you understand that.  The feeling of being a bit outside of things, a bit out of step with the rest of the world.  You’re alone but not lonely, but still…maybe you could reach out a little.

-----

You make your final plans, and you keep your promise to Ray.  You invite him over a few nights before the big event, and the two of you sit at your kitchen table, each with a beer in hand.  

“I’ll give you some details,” you tell him.  “And you can ask any question you want, but I reserve the right to answer or not.”

“That’s fair.”  He takes a sip of his beer and looks at you, steady.

“But whatever I tell you will be the truth, even if you may not want to believe it.”

Ray nods.

“Okay then.”  You take a deep breath.  “You know I wanted the gun to kill a man.  I’ve been looking for this man for a very long time.  I finally found him, and now I’m going to kill him.”

Any other man would laugh at you.  Or be horrified.  Ray is neither.  He nods and sips his beer.

“This guy hurt you, I guess?” he asks.

“Yes.”  You pause, weigh the words.  There’s some words you don’t like to say aloud, words you don’t even like to think.  “The usual way a man hurts any helpless person,” you offer.

That makes something cross his face, some expression like a cloud scudding over the moon, making his eyes dark and dangerous for a swift, short moment.  The expression passes, and he nods his understanding.

“He hurt a lot of others too.  When I found him, he’s…he’s currently in a position to hurt more.”

“I get it.”  Ray reaches a hand out across the table, and he doesn’t touch you, but he lays his hand, palm up.  A gesture of supplication.  Of understanding.

“I learned a long time ago that the only justice a person can get in this world is the justice they take for themselves,” you say.  “So now I’m going to take it.”

Again, it should horrify him.  Ray just nods.  Asks what the play is and how he can help.  It makes the tight control you have—over your life, over your heart—crack open just a bit more.

“You’ve already helped,” you tell him.  “More than you’ll ever know.”

“Still,” he replies.  “Walk me through it, whatever you’re comfortable sharing.  I’ll let you know if I see any trouble spots.”

You hesitate for a beat, but then you nod.

*****

Ray could have guessed at this, could have guessed the vengeance angle.  It doesn’t explain why you have such irregular hours, all the costumes and disguises, but it explains the gun.

The two of you polish off a six pack, him drinking the lion’s share of it.  He’s not drunk, but it loosens his tongue, which warms you up to him.  The reserve you held before thaws a little, and his own reserve around you thaws in turn.

You walk him through the plan without giving any specifics.  No name of the intended target, no specific location.  Ray has to admit—it’s a solid plan.  He’s impressed.  You’ve thought of every angle, and he doesn’t have much constructive criticism for you.

“I’ve killed, you know,” he tells you.  “Both for the country with MARSOC, and not.”

“I know.”

“It changes you.  It’s not something you can take back, sweetheart.”  He isn’t trying to change your mind, but he wants you to understand it.

You gaze back at him, your mouth tilted into a smile without any of its usual warmth.  You stare at him a long moment, your smile spreading until you say, “he won’t be the first one I’ve ever killed, Ray.  He’ll just be the first one I shoot.”

You don’t answer any of his questions after that.  You just smile and shake your head, politely declining.  Ray would think you’re bluffing, that you’re feeding him a line of shit, but he believed you when you promised to tell him the truth.  

Besides, Ray can pretty reliably suss out a bullshitter, and he is certain you’re being honest with him.

He thinks back to that day in the desert, shooting the gun.  How beautiful you looked.  How deadly, the gun in your hand and you aimed at the line of bottles he’d set up.

Like some goddess of vengeance.

If he thought he was going to get out of this unscathed, the warm unfurling in his chest never given a voice, Ray was dead wrong.  You’re a fucking killer, efficient and professional, and he’s never wanted anyone like this before.

-----

The night of, Ray comes over to your house beforehand.  Some of the steps you take might seem like paranoia to others, but to Ray, he recognizes the reality:  this is good, solid planning.  You’ve covered every angle.

“Here,” you tell him, handing you your phone.  “I took the lock off of it.  Just fiddle around on it tonight.  Go into the different apps, leave it on.  Run one of the streaming services on my TV too.  Actually, watch ‘Narcos,’ if you haven’t seen it.  I’ve seen it before.”

“So your phone won’t ping on any towers,” he adds, nodding at the precaution.  “And so it doesn’t looks suspicious, your phone being off, if the cops narrow on you and a span of time.  And the streaming as an alibi.”

You grin at him.  “You got it, hoss.”

You leave your own car in your driveway, lights on in your house as Ray pretends to be you.  Mack drives you to the chop shop where a different car is waiting for you.  Everything is checked out on it, Ray knows:  he’s the one who checked it.  Taillights and headlights operational.  Up to date tags.  Nothing to draw a cop’s eye for a traffic stop.

After that, Ray just waits.  He fiddles on your phone as he promised, and if he’s looking for any hidden intel on your life, he’s disappointed.  Your social media is just reblogs and bland commentary on celebrity gossip.  Pictures of sunsets and puppies.  An entire schtick to throw anyone off who you really are.

-----

It feels like an eternity, but the reality is that you return within a few hours.  You drove back to the chop shop, and Mack drives you home, and that’s that.

Ray stands up when you come through the back door, all in black.  You push the hoodie back from your face, and he can see a million things on your face.  A million emotions playing out in real time:  your eyes wide and a little vacant, your lip chapped from where you’ve been worrying at it.

“Everything okay?” he asks, cautious.  He takes a few steps toward you, his hands out in a calming gesture.

You nod.  “It’s over,” you say, your voice raw.  “It’s done.”

“How do you feel?”

You don’t answer.  You hold up your own hands, as if you expect to see blood there, but Ray knows you wore gloves.  Three pairs of them, in fact, to protect against all the evidence you may leave….and all the evidence that may have followed you.

This black gear you’re in now is not what you wore to the scene of the crime.  Ray knows all of it was burned the minute you got back to Mack’s shop.

You reach into your pocket and you hand Ray the gun, as promised.  By this time the following night, the gun will be dismantled and scattered across the county.  

“I feel weird,” you tell him.  “I thought I’d feel relief, or maybe even guilt.  But there’s nothing.  Just…keyed up.”

“That’s adrenaline, sweetheart.”

“Yeah.”

“You want to talk about it?” he asks.

You smile, but it comes out a grimace.  “You’ll probably hear about it in the news.

Something about you sparks at that protective part of him, even if you are a killer.  Even if you just killed.  You aren’t a natural born killer; you’d been hurt, and this was revenge.  But maybe he wasn’t a natural born killer either.  He had been a boy once, just a carefree kid who wanted to look at girls and cadge cigarettes from his older brother before a slick military recruiter talked him into signing his life away.

A head shrinker might point out that Ray’s protectiveness over you is a way to deal with his own lost innocence, the boy who went into the military and didn’t come out a man, but a machine.

“Come here,” he mutters, and he holds his arms out.  He doesn’t even realize what he’s doing until you step into his arms and he enfolds you against his body.  You stand there, rigid for a moment, then wind your own arms around his waist.  You hug him back.

“Thought I’d feel done,” you say, and your words are muffled by his broad chest.  “Thought I’d feel complete.”

“I know.”

The moment stretches on.  You shift a little on your feet and hug him tighter, and Ray holds you tighter in response.  He’s never touched you before aside from incidental stuff, or when he took you out shooting and corrected your form.  

It hits all most of his senses at once, you in his arms.  The scent of you, that floral, subtly sweet scene underneath something sharp and dangerous—that adrenaline-laced sweat that Ray recognizes from both battle and crime.  The feel of you, solid and warm, your hair tickling against his neck.  The sound of your breathing, deep and even.

Ray can’t remember a moment like this.  With Holly, fucking was a chore, a duty.  The willpower to get hard and stay hard, more bored than aroused.  Just this—just holding you, his little killer-next-door, his goddess of vengeance—makes his dick twitch to immediate life.

You feel it.  You tilt your head, crane your neck to look up at him, and there’s no recrimination like he thought he’d see.  

There’s a question in your eyes, a dark little gleam that makes him even harder.

Ray bends his own head and kisses you.  It’s no fairy tale, no romance:  a brutal mashing of his lips against yours, of his mouth working yours open so that he can slide his tongue into you and taste you.  You kiss back just as brutally, biting his lower lip, sucking against his tongue, and Ray Merrimen’s descent into messy, chaotic love is cemented right here.

-----

You said you didn’t feel anything, which may be why you take Ray to bed.  

Actually, he takes you to bed:  he slaps your ass, slaps the side of your leg until you get the hint and hop up into his arms, one looped under your ass, the other around your back as he carries you to your room.  He stumbles on the way there, blinded by his own lust, distracted by the increasing need you seem to have.  The desperate way you kiss him, the way you grip his short hair in one hand to tilt his head and grant you access to his neck, where you lick against the pulse point, nip against the tendon there, making him groan.

He tosses you onto the bed, smirks at how quickly you recover from the bounce:  you get your legs under you, you kneel on the mattress.  You gaze up at him with eyes that are almost black, your pupils thrown wide by how turned on you are.

“Don’t you dare be gentle,” you order.  “I want to feel it tonight, and I want to feel it tomorrow.”

“Then I’ll just fuck you tomorrow too,” he drawls, and you pounce on him, a messy scrabble of your hands to get his flannel off, his t-shirt.  He’s tugging at your clothes too, hears fabric tearing but is too far gone to care.  Once he’s shirtless, you bend your head to his chest, bite hard against his pec.  It hurts, your sharp line of teeth leave indents in his skin that you run your tongue over, but fuck if it doesn’t make his cock ache with how hard he is.  

Ray reaches out and grabs your ponytail.  Grips it in his fist, and he steers your face away from him, pulls your hair until your head is tilted back.

“I gotta put a muzzle on you, sweetheart?” he growls, and you snap another bite, this one playful, at him in response.

It’s messy.  Messy and brutal, and it’s the best fucking sex Ray’s ever had in his life.  Not to be a romantic asshole about it, but when he’s tearing off your clothes and shucking off the rest of his own, he wonders if it’s because you’re cut from the same cloth.  You are both so similar.  Ray’s only ever fucked women who live on the right side of things, girls who are just the regular amount of damaged and dirtied up by life.

You?  You’re like him.  A killer.  Completely out of step with the rest of the world, but completely in step with each other.  The fucking girl next door who turned out to be the dark, shadowy version of that.

Once naked, you turn away from him, get on all fours.  No need to convince him:  he climbs on the bed behind you.

“Don’t be gentle,” you remind him.

He isn’t, but he’s not not gentle.  Not at first.  He goes slow by necessity, his pulse already in his cock, already putting him on the narrow tightrope of coming too soon.  Fuck, when was the last time he had that problem?  With Holly, half the time, he couldn’t even come, only stopped when she sighed and told him to give it up.

You’re so fucking wet.  Hot and wet, and gripping him like a vise.  Ray grits his teeth as he bottoms out in you, the end of him nudging at some part of you that makes you gasp when he hits it.  He looks down, and that’s a mistake—almost comes from the sight of himself buried in you, almost comes when he pulls out a fraction and sees how you’ve soaked him.

He builds up to it, finds the rhythm that makes you fucking sing.  A goddamned symphony of sounds, whines and cries and moans that make the blood roar in his ears.  It’s obscene, the skin-on-skin sound, the way the two of you work against each other—him riding you hard and deep, you pressing back with your arms to meet him as he does.  

“I said…don’t be…gentle,” you pant out, and Ray snarls.  Grips your hips harder and hammers into you, his fingertips pressing into your soft curves, likely leaving bruises that will bloom in the morning.

Your orgasm comes quick and hard, giving him no warning.  You arch your back like a fucking cat, the sight gorgeous just as your pussy ripples against him, just as you groan out, fuck, right there.

He rides you through it, curves his body over yours.  Reaches out a hand to wrap it around your throat, but he doesn’t choke you.  He isn’t into that shit; he just wants to hold you steady, wants to feel the way your pulse hammers against his thumb, the way those whines of yours tear out of your throat when he comes too.

-----

Who can say if it was just the heat of the moment, the adrenaline leftover from you exacting your vengeance?  

Still, you don’t kick him out that night.  He falls asleep beside you, his leg thrown over yours, and he sleeps so deeply that he doesn’t dream.

Ray wakes early, a habit from being in MARSOC and in prison.  You’ve turned in the night; you face him now.  Your face, he realizes, must always have a subtle tension in it.  Only in seeing you asleep does he realize it.  Now, asleep, you look peaceful.  Like the girl you might have been if life hadn’t hurt you so badly.

He doesn’t get up.  He only watches you sleep, and when you finally stir to wakefulness, Ray keeps his promise:  he fucks you again before dawn, and this time it is slower, and quieter.  A quiet moment that leaves you gasping in his arms, leaves him biting off your name between his clenched jaw when he comes.

-----

Whoever you killed, it doesn’t hit the news in a big way for a while.  Or, it’s hard for Ray and Mack to know.  That night, there were as many murders as there ever are in Los Angeles County, a handful, but Mack and Ray can’t know if the victim was even found the next day.  The ones that were found shot include a convenience store clerk, a low-level drug dealer, a jogger in Griffith Park, and a homeless man in Venice Beach.

You never say a word.

It’s two days after the event that there’s a big, splashy news story.  

Ray had made assumptions, but he was learning that assumptions, when it came to you, were a lost cause.  Ray had thought about what sort of man might have hurt you, might have inspired you to seek your revenge and kill him.

Best Ray could come up with was maybe a college boyfriend who hadn’t taken ‘no’ for an answer.  Or any date, really, some handsy fuck who forced himself on you.  Or maybe something darker, like a stepfather with wandering hands….but no.

You killed a priest.

The news story, at first, is somber.  Carefully contained outrage.  Father so-and-so, longtime priest, transferred to such-and-such church a few years ago.  Beloved by his parishioners.  Beloved by his fellow priests.  At first, the news story is just an excuse to editorialize about the rising crime.  How could a man of god, jogging alone in Griffith Park at dusk, be gunned down?  

At first, the news called it a random crime.  

Then the story shifts.  There’s a dismal press conference where the cops talk about leads.  Ray’s skin breaks out in a cold sweat, but the leads don’t just point to you, if they point to you at all.  

The leads point to an entire army of children this man has hurt.  How can the police narrow it down to one or two suspects, when Father so-and-so has so many victims?  Those victims grew up to be adults, those victims have parents and siblings and loved ones who may have sought vengeance on their own accord.

The story shifts a third time, recriminations against the church.  They knew, of course.  Why else did the slain priest bounce around the U.S. (with a stint in Mexico, too) every time accusations started to flare up?

You never say a word.  Not when Mack asks, and not when Ray asks.  

When the news breaks about the other victims, countless children, Ray makes an off-hand comment to you. Says something casual, a metaphor about killing a rabid dog, how no one should mourn a predator when it’s finally taken out.  

You stare at him for a long beat, and your eyes get shiny with tears before you nod at him.

You don’t start to cry in earnest until he pulls you into a hug, just like that first night, but with a key difference:  this time, he just comforts you, holds you until your tears and your shaking are spent.  Ray’s heart, he has found, is not as small and as shriveled as he thought it was.  Some soft part of him survived war and prison, like a seed that’s lain on parched land for years.  Only now it’s started to unfurl, to find purchase.

-----

You and Ray fall into a thing.  You aren’t like Holly; you don’t force him to define it.  You don’t put a fence around it, call it one thing or another.  You still keep your strange hours in your strange disguises, and Ray focuses on their next hit.

Or, he tries to.

For the first time, he finds his precision in planning is off.  He’s got another club in his sights, a rave this time, and he finds his mind drifting from the planning to you.  Instead of focusing on routes to and from the rave, he thinks about your mouth, the way it felt on his cock the night before.  The way your eyes had peered up at him through your eyelashes as you worked your tongue against him.

Instead of studying the blueprints of the club, he thinks about another night when he ate you out.  The way your eyes had gone wide when he coaxed you into sitting on him, then the greedy way you had ridden his face, using him for your pleasure.  The way you had soaked his face, the way he had felt used and fucking loved every minute of it.

Instead of coming up with a plan to handle all of the cameras inside the place, he thinks about all the intel he’s learned about you.  The two of you trade off, usually after sex, a tangle of sweaty limbs sharing inside information.  He opens up about the shit he saw in the Marines.  You open up about your rocky childhood back east.  He tells you about prison.  You tell him about your job as a process server (a giant lightbulb goes off in Ray’s head—all those costumes and strange hours finally making sense).

He tells you about his heists, past and present and future.  You tell him about your real work—that’s how you phrase it, your real work—which seems to be a sort of killer Robin Hood, exacting vengeance and stealing from scum.  How your job as a process server gives you some inside baseball with the courts.  How you see the way the rich and powerful elude justice.

How you dole out your own justice.  The sneaky ways you punish them:  sometimes just robbing them blind, sweeping out their bank accounts and running the cash through a hundred digital laundries before it lands in a handful of offshore accounts.  

Sometimes, though, you kill them.  Never the same way, never enough to clue in law enforcement that there’s technically a serial killer in their midst.  An angel-faced, girl next door who makes her crimes look like accidents or misadventures or accidental overdoses.  

The assistant district attorney who got caught with child porn?  Cut a deal and evaded prison time, ended up hanging from the rafters in his garage.  It wasn’t a suicide, no matter what the coroner said.

Other human scum, handled by you.  Hot-shots laced with fentanyl.  Subtler drugs that look like a heart attack or stroke.  A house fire attributed to faulty wiring.

You take out the worse monsters to walk Los Angeles county.  You take their money, wash it clean.

No wonder then—for the first time in his life, Ray Merrimen is distracted.  He lays out his crimes against yours and finds himself a bit ashamed.  He loves heists because it’s a game, a test against his own mind.  Can he think of every angle, can he execute it properly?  Can he read the people he is working worth?  

You, though?  You’re something biblical.  Old Testament shit, the way you kill without remorse.  He’d think you are a psychopath, but you have a warm heart for the people you care for, it seems.

You don’t scare Ray.  He’s seen plenty of death, plenty of carnage.  What scares him more and more, as each day passes, as each night seems to end with you in his arms, is the outsized love he has for you.  It terrifies him.  At first it had just been a little twinge in his chest, a spark of protectiveness that made him want to shield you from the world.  

Now it’s worse.  It’s too much.  If Ray thinks about it too much—what it means to love someone, what it means to contemplate losing them—he feels his chest get tight, his throat closing around the sudden emotion.

-----

Mack, Bosco, Lavoux…they notice that Ray is slipping.  They notice he’s distracted, and they know why he’s distracted.

Ray tries to course-correct.

“We gotta figure out a way to take out those cameras,” Lavoux says at the chop shop while they are deep in planning.  

“They all run on wi-fi,” Ray says.

“Can we get a scrambler in there?” Mack asks.

Ray points to the blueprints of the club where the rave is set to occur.  He taps one blunt fingertip against the second floor section, the nerve center where the owner’s office is and the security hub with all the cameras.

“If we could get someone in there, that night, beforehand…” he starts, but Lavoux picks up the thread immediately.

“The owner is always pulling women up there.  If we had a girl with a purse, we could tuck the scrambler in there.”

“They’d find the scrambler when they wand her at the door,” Bosco interjects.

Lavoux waves him off.  “Nah, my wife has a purse with a fake bottom.  Uses it to sneak food into Lakers games.  They hardly ever wand purses.  They just poke around in there.  If we put makeup and tampons and girly shit in there, they’ll barely look at all.”

“What about your girl?” Mack asks Ray, and it’s funny how little time it took for you to be the girl next door to Ray’s girl.

Ray knows that the guys notice his increasing sloppiness, so he course-corrects.  Or tries to.  Which is the problem with that sort of thing:  sometimes if you are drifting left, you can jerk too hard and end up too far on the right.  Which is exactly what Ray does now.

“She’s not my girl,” he snaps, irritated that they’d even think to bring you into this.  “I know someone else who can help.”

-----

The reason Ray and Holly were always so on-again, off-again is because Holly is easy.  Which isn’t a knock on her, though it sounds like one.  Holly is just easy to handle.  She believes in that love-at-first-sight, first-love, puppy-love bullshit.  Because Ray and Holly were together all the way back in high school, it’s easy for Ray to hook her back into his orbit.

The fact that he even feels a little guilty?  He credits you for that, the sharp sting of conscience when Holly eagerly agrees to help the guys.

-----

It seems that Ray can only keep complete control over one area of his life at a time.

The moment he regains control of his crew and his operation, things with you fall apart.  

It’s his own fault, really.  He hasn’t slept with Holly again yet, has kept her at a careful distance…but he can’t keep her completely away.  Holly thinks she’s back with Ray, has no idea she’s being used, but Ray has to play along a little.

He tries to keep the two of you separate.  Even if you haven’t forced him to define the thing the two of you have, Ray still knows you’ll be hurt if you knew.  Even if he explained it to you, laid out how it’s all part of the plan, you’d still be hurt.  You’d still want to be the one that helps them; you’d want to be the one who has him completely and doesn’t have to share, not even for pretend.

He tries to keep Holly away from Mack’s house.  He really, truly does.  But now that he’s back with her, he’s reminded of how close she likes to stick to him, like Velcro.  And maybe it’s worse now because he went back to her.

He and the guys are lifting in the garage, the usual metal and rap blaring from the speakers, when Holly strolls up like it’s nothing.  Like it’s no big deal.  Like she belongs there, with her man, and in her mind, that’s the fact of it.

Ray doesn’t have enough time to usher her inside when he sees your car pull up.  You park in your driveway, and you climb out of your car.  It happens like a slow-motion car wreck, and Ray—meticulous, thinks-of-every-angle Ray—can’t stop it.

You start to walk across the thin strip of grass that separates your house from Mack’s.  You approach with that same smile on your face, but it falls so fast when you see Holly.  Her arms are hooked around Ray’s neck, she’s perched in his lap where he sits on the weight bench.

Ray sees how your smile falls.  He sees the hurt that flashes across your face, quick as lightning.  But it’s there, and he sees it, and it haunts him for a long time afterwards.

-----

At first, he promises that he’ll fix it.  After the heist at the rave, after he disentangles from Holly, he’ll fix it with you.  He’ll explain it all:  how it was just a ruse, how he didn’t want to put you in harm’s way.  The club owner, after all, has groping, grasping hands.  Ray would never ask you to deal with that, and doesn’t that prove, really, how much he cares?

But as the days pass, the quiet little voice in the back of his head whispers, maybe it’s better this way.

What can he offer you, really?  He’s an ex-con, technically a current con too.  He’s got PTSD.  He’s antisocial.  His emotions have been flattened, battered down into dust.  Is he really the best you can do?

He knows he’s not.  He knows you can do a million times better.  Maybe it’s better this way.  Leave it as a clean break, let you find someone you can have a future with.

-----

It shouldn’t hurt as much as it does.  The fact that it hurts at all tells Ray that he’s fucked up terribly.

The heist of the rave goes off without a single flaw.  Another perfect robbery:  in, out, no one hurt.  No suspicions on them.  They check all the cash, find the lone dye pack, and they divvy up the rest.  It’s an outstanding haul, better than they expected:  the club hadn’t done a cash drop in several weekends, for fuck’s sake.

Ray and his crew take it all.

He cuts Holly loose again, and it’s a relief.  Pretending takes a lot out of him, and Ray finds himself alone again.

He could march next door and set you straight.  He could push his cut of the heist onto you, payment for treating you terribly.  The two of you haven’t exchanged a single word since you saw Holly sitting in his lap, though sometimes the two of you make eye contact when one is coming and the other going.  

You never look furious when you see him.  You only look sad.

He won’t march next door, though, because you’re seeing someone.  Mack has mentioned it in passing, how you met a friend of his cousin at one of their parties, how the two of you are testing the waters.

Ray pretends it doesn’t hurt, but the truth is, it feels like his heart is being pulled out of his chest.

-----

Ray Merrimen always has his temper under control.  Some of his buddies from the Marines, they fly off the handle at the slightest provocation.  Not Ray:  he’s cool as a fucking cucumber.  He’s his own zen center of his own zen universe.  Completely under control.

Until you.  Something about you has set him off-kilter, even now when you don’t speak to each other.

There’s a party at Mack’s, a joint birthday party for Mack and one of his cousins, and there’s so many people that Ray doesn’t see you right away.  He only notices you later in the afternoon, as the sun is starting to sink in the west, casting the entire scene in a deep gold light.

You’re in a cute sundress, sexy as hell, but you’re with your new guy.  Mack’s cousin’s buddy.  A big hulking dude, thick with muscle and covered in tattoos.

Ray instantly hates him.  He hates the way the guy seems to have a tight grip on you, his meaty paw wrapped around your waist or your wrist, never letting you out of his sight.  He hates the way the guy’s eyes go narrow and suspicious when you try to talk to other people.

Ray never for a second would think you can’t take care of yourself.  He knows the truth of who you are, and he knows that if you’re dealt any pain, you’ll deal it back threefold.  Still, there’s always been something about you that tugs at him.  That makes that dormant, protective side of him flare up.

Once the sun sets, the party turns, as parties often do after dark.  It goes from being fun and festive to….more.  People are drunk and stoned and sated after a day in the sun, and couples drift away to their cars or to shadowy corners to do what couples do.

You and your new guy drift into the house, and Ray can’t help but follow at a distance.  He’s not a pervert or a voyeur—something is pinging against his internal radar about the scene, and that protectiveness flares up hotter and brighter.

He hears the argument before he sees it:  your dude’s low voice, steadily getting louder.  Your own voice, pleading.

“I saw you flirting with that guy,” your dude says in a low growl.

“I absolutely wasn’t,” you protest.

Ray rounds the corner just in time to see the asshole raise his hand to you, sees him slap you, hard.  Your face snaps back, and Ray catches the hurt and surprise in your eyes.

Ray Merrimen, who is always as cool as a fucking cucumber:  he fucking snaps.

Your dude is big, but Ray is bigger.  Three quick strides and he’s on top of him, has the element of surprise.  Ray grabs him around the throat, slams him to the floor with a neat leg sweep, and then he’s on him:  kicking him in the ribs, in the kidneys so that he’ll piss blood for a month.  Then kneeling on his chest, his fists making hamburger out of his face.

You don’t try to stop him.  You only stand against the wall, your hand cupping the bruise blooming on your cheekbone.  

Mack is the one who hears the commotion.  Mack is the one to pull Ray off of the dude before he kills him, but it takes another cousin and Bosco to actually hold Ray back.  He’s insane with rage, wants to see the dude’s brains splattered against the carpet for daring to hurt you.

Ray makes sure the dude knows.  Waits for the fucker to look him in the eye.

“You touch her again, I’ll kill you,” Ray snarls.  “But I’ll make you suffer first.”

Then it’s commotion, as the dude’s buddy comes and leads him away in a stagger.  As Bosco and Mack hold Ray back.  

As you slip out in the middle of the chaos, disappearing from Mack’s house and returning to your own home.

*****

You wanted to move on from Ray Merrimen.  You really, really did.

It should have been an easy thing.  He had a new girl, didn’t he?  A gorgeous blonde girl perched in his lap, his arm around her waist, comfortable as could be.  You’d been stunned, hurt, but you had hid it.  Had turned on your heel and marched away, then stayed away from Mack’s place for months.

When Mack’s cousin’s friend sauntered up to you, it seemed an easy out.  What was the saying?  The easiest way to get over one man was to get under a different man.  So you did.

But maybe you couldn’t get over Ray Merrimen as easily as that.  Even if you turned off the lights, made the new guy go silent when you fucked…even if you tried to pretend it was the guy you really wanted in your bed, it didn’t quite work.

Besides, the new guy was pushy in a way you didn’t like.  Jealous, and not in a passive way.

Mack’s party sealed it for you.  A man only ever gets one chance to put his hands on you, and the moment the dude slaps you, you’re already planning your revenge.  If he hits you, guaranteed that he’s hit others.  He’ll hit others after you.  Hit them and maybe worse, and the gears are turning in your head before you realize what the sudden flurry of activity in front of you is.

It’s Ray fucking Merrimen, beating the shit out of the dude.  Kicking him, punching him.  Blood splattering until it looks like a Pollack painting.  Ray snarling and growling, feral in a way you didn’t think he had in him.

It’s chaos.  It’s madness.  Your face is hot, throbs in pain from where the dude hit you, and in the midst of the pandemonium, you flee.

-----

You aren’t surprised when Ray turns up later.  The fight must have broke up Mack’s party for good; it’s gone quiet next door, and all of the cars in the street are gone.  You are slouched on your sofa, a bag of frozen peas held against your cheek, when you hear the knock at the door.

You know it’s him before you even answer.

At least he looks ashamed of himself.  At least he ducks his head when you turn on the porch light and glare out at him.

“Can I come in?” he asks.

“Why?”

He hesitates, then says, “I want to apologize.”

You cross your arms and narrow your eyes.  “Don’t.  You did that guy a favor, in the end.  Now I don’t have to sort him out.”

The corner of his mouth twitches into a ghost of a smile.  “I knew you’d handle it.”

“So why’d you beat the shit out of him?”

The ghost of a smile falls.  He scuffs his shoe against your porch in an ‘aw, shucks’ sort of way, making him seem like a boy.  

“Didn’t like seeing you get hurt,” Ray says.  “Saw red.”

“Okay.  Well, thank you.”

Another moment of hesitation, his eyes studying your face.  You notice how they zero in on the bruise, the bit of swelling, and you notice how his eyes narrow at it.

“I wanted to apologize—”

“I said not to.”

“—for everything else,” he continues.  “For…for not including you in the heist.  For using another girl for it.”

You shake your head, push down the hurt that blossomed at the mention of it.  “Don’t apologize for that either.  We never defined our thing.”

“I know.”

“So let’s just chalk it up to a fling and move on.”

Ray puts his hand on the door jamb, leans into it a bit.  He’s usually got a stoic’s face with minimal expression beyond the odd smirk or smile, but right now he looks sad.

“Can’t we talk about it?” he asks.

You sigh.  “I’d rather not.  I’m exhausted, Ray.  Let’s just move on.”

He nods at you, knocks lightly against the door jamb.  Then he leaves, and you pretend not to notice the way his shoulders seem slumped in defeat.

-----

Time passes.  If Ray moves on, you can’t tell:  the blonde girl isn’t around anymore, and the only women you ever notice next door are Mack’s sisters and cousins.

You don’t date either.  The incident at the party left you shaken up.  It dredged up some old shit that leaves you with far too many sleepless nights.  Your work suffers a little, and your real work suffers too.  You ease off the gas a little, take things at a slower pace.  Resituate yourself.  You ask Mack to keep an eye on your place and you go north for a week, to the quiet country where you can think and breathe in clean air.

When you come back, things go as much back to normal as they can.  It still hurts to look at Ray, to remember how much you had opened up to him, just to have him toss you away.  It still hurts to feel like you’ve been played, but something tugs at the back of your mind—the man looks sad every time you see him.  

You get the same sad little smile, the same half wave, and you’re curious what he would say to you if you let him talk.  

-----

You get the chance sooner than you think.  You pull into your driveway after a day spent running down a particularly wily deadbeat father who was dodging your attempts to serve him with court papers.  Your feet hurt, you have a blistering headache…

Ray catches you in the middle ground between your and Mack’s house, the grassy strip that serves as a sort of DMZ.

“Hey,” he says, taking a few strides over to greet you.

“Hey.”  You squint against the sunlight, wince at the clamor in your head.

“Wanted to tell you, your front tires are getting bald.  Wanted to offer to put new ones on for you, if you wanted.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I’m offering,” he interrupts.  “Because they aren’t safe.  You could lose control, have a blow-out.”

You stare at him a long moment, and he just stares back.  That same sort of sad expression, but he doesn’t try to take advantage and start talking about the stuff between you.

Finally you sigh.  “I’m tired, Ray.  It was a long day—”

“Tomorrow then,” he offers.  “Or…or I could take it and swap them out for you now.  You don’t even have to be there.”

It shouldn’t affect you.  It shouldn’t make your heart hammer the way it does, just this simple offer to help with your car.  Hell, Mack does that all the time.  But it means something:  it means that Ray still notices you, and Ray still wants you to be safe, and you scold your treacherous heart before you finally nod.

“Okay,” you tell him.  “Tomorrow then.”  Then, as an afterthought, and softer than your other words, you add, “thanks for looking out, Ray.”

“Always,” he replies, just as soft.

-----

You take your car to Mack’s chop shop the next day, but Ray is the only one there.  You realize that it’s probably intentional—the man doesn’t half-ass anything, and if he wants time alone with you, he will have planned it.

And with your car up on the lift, you’re kind of a captive audience.  Sure, you could order a car and leave, but that traitorous, treacherous heart of yours still beats with a hopefulness that you thought was long dead.

Both tires are off before he even says a word.  He bounces the worn tires on the floor, rolls them over to you to show how bad they are.  They are thin, the rubber cracked and worn down.  He pulls a penny out of his pocket and shows you how to test your treads:  if you can see Lincoln’s head when the penny is between the treads and upside down, it’s time for new tires.

“Thank you,” you tell him.

He nods, tucks the penny away.  He fixes you with that penetrating stare of his, then says, “I never slept with her, you know.  Never let it get that far.”

You snort.  “Not my business, Ray.”

“It is.  It should have been.”

“Well…”  You don’t have a witty retort, and you squirm a little under the force of his gaze.

“I know we never defined it, but I thought of you as my girl,” he continues.  “Thought of myself as yours, you know?  The whole thing with Hol…the other girl, that was just for the heist.”

Another snort.  “You could have asked me to help.”

Ray bounces the tire a little, breaks the gaze with you.  “Yeah, I could have.  Could have done a lot of things different, but I didn’t want to pull you into that.”

“I pulled you into my shit.”

“Yeah, but the heist…might have put you in the path of a bad dude.  Didn’t want to even imagine him looking at you, let alone touching you.”

You huff out an angry breath, can feel your temper ticking up a degree or two.  “So instead you ice me out, get back with your ex, and let me twist on the line for a while until I get the hint and move on?  Stellar fucking planning, Ray.  Great work.”

His jaw flexes as he bites back his own temper.  “I never said I was any good at the relationship shit,” he grits out.  “You think guys like me have healthy fucking communication skills with their girls?”

The way he says it makes you smile in spite of yourself.  Of course he’s never done the relationship stuff in a healthy way.  You haven’t either, really.  And wasn’t that the attraction to him, that you were both sort of fucked up in a way that somehow worked when you were together?

“They don’t teach you to talk about your feelings in the Marines, Peckerwood?” you ask, laying in a teasing lilt.  Just a little, just an opening salvo, maybe.

“Not in prison either.”

“My taxpayer dollars hard at work.”

He snorts, an approximation of a laugh.  He looks at you again in a long moment of quiet, then nods to himself.  Gets back to work on your car, and doesn’t venture any other comments that touch on the hurt between you…but it’s an opening salvo, just as you thought.

-----

Thing is, Ray seems to try.  Behind the cold gaze, behind the steady and precise way he is, he tries to tap into some romantic side.

It can’t come naturally to him.  You can picture him doing an internet search on romantic things, planning out a list, working through the list with the same military precision he uses for any other mission.

You’re the mission now.

You get flowers delivered to your house.  Food, mostly candy and sweets.  You wake up one morning after winds carried ash and smoke from the north to find your car washed and sparkling.  He must have gotten up before dawn to do it.

More flowers.  Expensive candy from a gourmet chocolatier.  A case of expensive wines.  A tennis bracelet once, the diamonds sparkling obscenely on your wrist when you try it on.  Diamond earrings, then emerald earrings, then rubies.  

Ray Merrimen is running through the entire catalogue of precious stones, and when he starts in on topazes, you gather up all of his gifts and march next door to return them.

“It’s too much,” you tell him.  He’s there alone, and you set the box—now overflowing—on the kitchen table.

He shakes his head.  “You deserve it.”

You look at the box, all the velvet boxes with all the jewelry.  All of them guesses, because he doesn’t know you well enough to know your tastes.  “It’s all too much.”

“So pick what you like best and sell the rest,” he tells you with a shrug.

“You can’t buy me off with jewelry.”

His mouth twists into a smirk as he studies the contents of the box closer.  “What about chocolate?”

He’s got you there.  “I ate the chocolate, asshole.  And you know it.”

-----

If you fell into bed with him the first time, it takes longer to fall the second time around.

Ray dials down the gifts, but they never stop.  He just is more cunning now.  He orders dinner from your favorite restaurant—he knows how crazy you are about the local Thai place’s curry puffs—but he orders for two.  Shows up at your door with a big bag from the Lemongrass Café, with a smile on his face.

“Hungry?” he asks, and you roll your eyes.  Invite him in because it’s a dumb question:  you’re always hungry for curry puffs and drunken noodles.

It becomes a habit, the two of you sharing dinner.  You actually, finally get a little sick of the curry puffs, so you sometimes make dinner.  Nothing elaborate, but Ray always eats with relish and thanks you when he’s done.

Dinner turns into dinner and sitting on the couch.  Which turns into the sharing of secrets, like before.  You tell him about the latest guy in your sights, a guy who is rumored to drug and rape aspiring actresses.  He tells you about his new idea to rob the fed.

“It’s just an idea right now,” he tells you.  “But I think I can pull it off.”

You ignore the warning bells chiming in your head.  Regional banks, clubs….those are one thing.  The fed?  That’s another beast altogether.  That could get Ray killed.

The sharing of secrets leads to incidental touches on the couch:  him brushing hair out of your face, you curling under his arm as he holds you lightly.  

It goes from there.  Kisses, and this time they are more tentative, more questioning.  Ray peers into your eyes, seems to look for something there.  You gaze back at him, looking for any future betrayal, and he senses it.

“I’m sorry,” he tells you, over and over and over again, and you know talk is cheap and men lie, but Ray is a man who knows the weight of words.  He rarely speaks, so his words seem more precious than more talkative men.

Eventually you forgive him.  Eventually you realize that he’s being honest when he tells you about his ex, Holly, and even if he isn’t honest, you realize that you have to take that leap of faith and trust anyway.

When you finally let him back into your bed, it’s so different than before.  There’s a desperation there, but it’s not feral.  He doesn’t let you get onto all fours; he makes you turn around and face him.  Makes you lay underneath him and look at him, and even if you feel like a raw, exposed nerve under the force of his gaze, you realize how much better this is:  his broad body fucking you into the mattress in slow, steady thrusts. His hand reaching down to hike your thigh higher on his hip.  It changes the angle just enough to make the thick drag of him hit that spot inside you, the one that makes your vision wash out in a haze of sparks.

Afterwards, as you’re falling asleep, you can feel how he pulls you to him, feel the solid bulk of him curve around you.  Lying like that, so close together, you can’t tell if he’s trying to protect you in his sleep or if you’re his life preserver keeping him afloat.

Maybe both.

-----

Now it’s different than before.  Before, Ray seemed reluctant to admit that the two of you had a thing.  Now, he sticks close to you at Mack’s parties, hooks an arm around your shoulders.  Maybe it’s a little proprietary, marking you as his, but he’s gentle about it.  Doesn’t turn mean like the other dude.

He invites you around for when they start to plan the fed heist in earnest.  You meet the new guy, Donnie.  The driver.  He seems nice enough, but the entire heist feels dangerous.  When Ray is bent over the blueprints, you feel like there’s a ticking clock over his head, counting down the scant time he has left with you.

This is going to get him killed, you think.  You’re acquainted enough with death the recognize the chill as it draws closer.

You ask him one night why he needs to do it.  Ray shifts a little underneath you, turns his head to look at you.

“Well, I don’t need to, sweetheart,” he answers honestly.  “Maybe before I did.  Needed to prove it to myself, that I was better than the other assholes who tried to rob the place.”

“So….”

“So now it’s just the money.  Thirty million clean.”  He presses a kiss to the top of your head.  “Think of the life we could live.”

“So it’s just about the money then?”

“Yup.”

You twist in his arms, lift your head until you are gazing down at him.  “So don’t do it.  I have money.”

“Sweetheart—”

“What if I told you I already had money?  More than your cut of the fed heist would be?  A cool ten million sitting offshore, and a house in Panama just waiting for me.  For us, if you want.”

Ray’s expression goes from startled to incredulous.  “Bullshit,” he says.

“No bullshit.  I’ve been at this a long while, and I’ve never been caught.  And it’s all stolen from monsters, so there’s no guilt.  At least not for me there isn’t.”

Ray sits up too.  “You’re serious.”

You nod.  “I am.”  You reach out and take his hand in yours:  his hands are huge compared to your own, and your thread your fingers through his.  You can feel the tears rising in your eyes.  The panic starts to bubble in your chest, acidic and hot.  You can feel the chill of death nearby, hear the clock ticking down…

“Please don’t do this heist,” you plead.  “I’ve never asked you for anything.  I’m asking for this one thing.”

“You asked me for a gun once,” he points out with a smile.

“I asked Mack for a gun.  You just took over.”

He hums, and you continue.

“I have a bad feeling, Ray.  A gut feeling, and they are never wrong.  This heist….I think it’s going to end badly.”  He opens his mouth to protest, but you hold up a silencing hand.  “I mean, I think you’ll plan it perfectly, but there are too many variables.  Do you really know Donnie?  Can you be sure you’ll get an armored car without any trouble?”

He stares at you so long that you know he’s going to tell you to fuck off.  To shove your gut feeling, to get over yourself.

But you’ve always underestimated Ray Merrimen a little.  A lot of people do.  They see a silent man with a stern face and make assumptions, and even with your little glimpse into his inner life, you make assumptions too.  Wrong ones, it seems.

“Panama?” he asks.  “My Spanish is shitty.”

You smile, feel the first tear break free and course down your face.  “We can learn, Ray.  The house is gorgeous, though.  It’s in Bocas del Toro, overlooks the Caribbean.  The water is so blue, Ray, I swear—”

“Okay,” he says simply.

“Okay?”  You blink, freeing a few more tears, and he pulls his hand from yours to wipe them away.  

“I said okay.  Let’s do it.  Let’s go to Panama.”

“You’re serious?”

“I am if you are.”

You are.  You are serious, and it turns out Ray is too.  The heists were never about the money, really, and now that he has you, the need to prove himself to himself is gone.  Just like that, the sick feeling in your stomach fades.  The chill of death in the air dissipates.  The ticking clock stops, resets.

Maybe in another life, Ray Merrimen ends up dead.  Maybe in a shoot-out with police, maybe dead in prison after he’s caught trying to rob the fed.  Maybe double-crossed by one of his compatriots.  Who can say?

But in this life, no such thing happens:  he meets you before that path can be set in stone.  His killer angel, his goddess of vengeance who turns out to be his salvation in the end, who takes him to a paradise overlooking the Caribbean where the two of you find your peace, put your demons to bed, with each other.

~~~Tag List~~~ @bananas-pajamas  @massivecolorspygiant​   @imspillingcoffee​   @amneris21​   @paintballkid711​   @mad-girl-without-a-box​   @bestattempt   @rosiefridayrogersunday​   @strawberrydragon​   @hoeforthefictional​   @greeneyedblondie44​  @leannawithacapitala​   @stardust-galaxies​  @buckybarneshairpullingkink​   

[mildkleptomaniac]

shape of you   — jj maybank x reader

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭:  “ where they go shopping one day and the reader is trying on clothes and gets really insecure and starts crying in the dressing room so when she gets out jj can see her eyes are puffy and red and ask her what’s wrong and she tells him and then after he gets her ice cream and they go to the chateau and cuddle and watch movies for the rest of the day🥺 I love soft jj! ”

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: body image issues

𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆: another day, another request! thank you tons! i hope y’all know you’re beautiful. read with caution since it can be triggering. hope you enjoy. it does get fluffy and sweet at the end though

By accident, Y/N’s mother confused the piles of what she wanted to donate to the thrift store or the clothes she was going to keep. Suddenly, all the clothes that once made her feel confident and beautiful disappeared, leaving her with nothing much to wear. Y/N saved several paychecks and so she decided that today she’ll shop for some new clothes.

She originally had plans with JJ to go out surfing, but with her wetsuit gone and no flattering bathing suits, she rain-checked. However, JJ still wanted to spend time with his girlfriend. Shopping wasn’t necessarily fascinating to JJ by any means, (unless it was for a new skateboard or some sneakers). So, it was a surprised when he offered a different plan to his girlfriend, which she willingly accepted.

The two browsed through the clearance racks of clothes, trying to find cute replacements. JJ picked out a few risqué tops, begging for her to try them on. She knew she would never purchase these—she wouldn’t be allowed to leave the house looking like this. Y/N would never see the light of day if she stepped out of her bedroom wearing those tops.

But for his amusement, she took the tops he picked out and some of her options into the dressing room. JJ waited outside the curtain, fiddling with his fingers, and humming along to the radio.

At first, she wanted to try on her shirts. They fit her nicely, complimenting her figure and her skin tone. She faced herself in the mirror, wondering if she always looked like this. Maybe it’s the lighting, she mumbled to herself.

JJ would agree that she looked stunning, but she felt different. The only flaw JJ would ever admit Y/N having would be that she snores and drools on the pillows.

To her, she looked like a different person.

By the end of trying on all of her selections, she was dreading the tops JJ picked out. Reluctantly, she pulled on of the tops off the hanger before dressing herself. She wasn’t quite sure how long she was staring at herself, pointing out minuscule flaws that she wished she could change. She observed every angle, not enjoying the sight of herself. She pulled and tugged at the fabric, questioning if she was supposed to be wearing it a different way.

She didn’t realize she had been crying in the dressing room by the end of it all. None of the colors looked good on her, she thought. She started feeling frustrated, as she continued to try on the different selections.

Y/N wiped her eyes before putting all the clothes back on the hanger. Y/N never got around to showing JJ the tops he picked and it slipped her mind. She just wanted to be beautiful for her boyfriend, there were much prettier girls and it felt that this shopping trip created a competition. She compared herself to Kie and Sarah, absolutely jealous of their beauty.

She pulled the curtain aside and JJ’s eyes snapped up to Y/N. His eyes full of love towards his girlfriend. JJ’s smile quickly faltered once he noticed how red and puffy her eyes were. JJ stood up from the chair and furrowed his brows, “Babe, what’s wrong?”

She shrugged her shoulders, avoiding eye contact with her boyfriend. “I—I’m sorry,” her voice cracked. “I’m sorry I’m not pretty enough to wear these tops you picked out. I stared at myself in the mirror and I didn’t even recognize myself. I didn’t like what I saw.” She whispered, voice cracking as she continued to speak.

JJ took the hangers out of her hands and placed them on the chair. He wrapped his girl in his arm, hugging her tightly. She sobbed into the fabric of his shirt and he rubbed his hands on her shoulders. Kissing the top of her forehead, “I think you’re one of the most beautiful people in the world.” He tried to console her. “How about,” he pulled her away slightly to look at her face. He wiped a stray tear off her cheek, “we go back to the Chateau—but first, we get ice cream. We can get your favorite flavor and you can wear one of my shirts that you like. We can just relax and watch some movies?”

Y/N nodded her head and JJ guided her out of the store. They stopped at her favorite ice cream place, ordering her usual order—but this time, with an extra scoop. JJ tried cracking jokes to make her feel better, but it wasn’t until she cracked a smile once JJ laid out an assortment of blankets on the couch and handed her one of the shirts he kept just in case of emergencies (his girlfriend being upset counted as an emergency).

She laid on his chest, eating her ice cream and watching a movie they’ve watched thousands of times, quoting the lines as each scene played.

“Hey, Y/N?” JJ spoke up as the credits rolled. She glanced upwards at her boyfriend. “I love you,” he mumbled against her lips, before kissing her. “And I could list everything I find beautiful and amazing about you—but I don’t think we have the time for that. It would take forever and by the time we watch the next movie, you’ll be asleep. You’ll be snoring and drooling, and I’ll still find you perfect. If you could see your smile or the way the sun makes your skin glow—you’d be in awe. It’s crazy, really.” JJ rambled, rubbing small circles on the exposed skin of her back.

Y/N kissed him once more, “Thank you for making me feel better JJ. But really…I think those mirrors were broken.” She whispered.

Jj laughed, nodding his head. “For sure—I might even sue the store for making you cry. I’ll leave a bad review or something—I don’t know.”

“That’s not necessary, babe.” She laughed,

“I know, but it’d be for you and you’re important to me.” And for the rest of the night, the two remained bundled up on the couch.

[cxptain-carol]

𝐛𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝐨𝐮, 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐢, & 𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐲𝐚 | 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦 (+ 𝐜𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠!)

✰  summary: the main three bnha boys react to you knocking on their door in the middle of the night :)

✰  warnings: cursing, and i use ellipses too much but other than that this is pure fluff, my dudes

✰  a/n: this is my first time writing something like this, but i thought it would be really cute, so here ya go! i think it turned out pretty well so hope you enjoy~ 

A symphony of crickets and wind whistling played outside as you stared up at the ceiling of your dorm room, wide awake. The crack between your curtains exposed a sliver of the moon and it shone distractingly bright on the floor that was littered with books that you had dropped almost as soon as you stepped into your room.

The two of you had stayed up pretty late in his room, going over material and quizzing each other for the next day’s test. It was the first time you two had done something like that; something so simple yet so sweet. The both of you definitely deserved a break together after everything your class had been through.

It had been a rather cold night in the dorms, so you saw the opportunity and ran with it. After visibly shivering didn’t work, you resorted to making cute faces as you asked to wear his sweatshirt.

That’s how you ended up here, happily inhaling the comforting scent of him as you lay in your bed. But despite that, something didn’t feel right. And you wouldn’t fall asleep until you figured it out. Your mind just kept drifting back to him… 

Of course, you were probably just missing your precious boyfriend.

Without a moment’s contemplation, you whisked your sheets to the side and swung your legs over the edge of your bed, soft feet gently meeting with the floor. You looked out of the gap between your curtains, watching the trees’ leaves rustle for a moment before you made your way to the door and slid into a pair of beat-up sneakers, not even bothering to put them on fully before you turned the knob and stepped outside.

It was scarily quiet in the hallway as you listened to the sound of your footsteps padding against the ground. Not to mention, unbearably cold. You weren’t very far from his room and in just a matter of minutes you would hopefully be much warmer.

You excitedly reached your destination but before knocking, you paused.

Was he even awake? Maybe it was a little too bold to try and sneak into his room on a school night. Especially after you kept him up to study. But you really, really wanted to see him again.

Before you could think it over again, you raised your fist and tapped your knuckles against his door.

𝐛𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐢

✰  ✰  ✰  ✰  ✰  ✰

You only knocked twice and tried to keep it as quiet as possible but the sound easily cut through the silence that surrounded you. There was a moment of rustling from inside Bakugou’s room before his voice disrupted whatever quietness was left.

“What the fu-”

“Sorry, Katsuki! It’s me, it’s me—can you let me in?” You hurriedly whisper-yelled all of this.

“Dumbass! It’s one in the fucking morning; go to sleep!” The exclamation seemed angry at surface-level but you could hear his considerate side showing a bit.

“I can’t sleep! Can I, um… could I try sleeping with you?”

No response.

You opened your mouth to try and find the words to convince him, but before they could leave your lips, the door was wrenched open and you were met with Bakugou looking down at you, dressed head-to-toe in all black.

“I’m sorry to bug you, but I just can’t sleep,” you said, tugging on the bottom of your (actually, his) sweatshirt and feeling oddly shy. Somehow, you managed to meet his crimson red eyes, which quite literally softened at the sight of you.

“Ergh, fine. Don’t wake me up again though, dumbass.”

You grinned as you slid off your shoes and followed him over to his bed, taking your spot under the covers after him. Even though your rooms were on the same floor, Bakugou’s felt warmer. 

You contently snuggled up near the edge of his mattress, still quite satisfied with just breathing in his scent that lingered in the sheets even though you really wanted the real thing. But that was probably asking too much. Maybe if you asked nice enough… 

“Can we cud-”

“Fine.” He didn’t bother waiting for you to finish your request as he had already begun reaching for you, gently pulling you in so that your back was pressed against him.

You sighed, closing your eyes and drowning in the warmth of his body loosely curled around yours. Bakugou draped an arm over your side and you gladly reached for his hand, lightly playing with his fingers before he swatted yours away. That last attempt to maintain his dignity (despite the fact he was still cuddling you) brought a smile onto your face.

It was a shame that you were too tired to appreciate the moment fully, but as you started drifting off to the feeling of Bakugou’s rhythmic breathing against your neck, you made a mental note to start sneaking out of your room a lot more.

𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨

✰  ✰  ✰  ✰  ✰  ✰

(someone tell me if he even has a bed in his dorm room but whatever bear with me okay)

“Shoto? Hello?”

You knocked a few more times, but ultimately could not hear anything.

“Are you ignoring me? Are you asleep? Shoto!” It was getting harder to keep your voice at a whisper level.

After a long pause, he responded, “Y/N?”

“Yes, it’s me, Shoto. Can I come in?”

He let out a soft hum and you listened closely to hear the sound of his steps approaching you from behind the door. He opened it swiftly, looking down at you with a semi-confused expression.

“I can’t sleep,” you said. He nodded. 

You two just stood there for a few moments before you sighed and stood up straighter, pulling down on the sleeves of his sweatshirt that you wore, which finally drew his attention to it. Only after pausing on the sight of you in his clothes did he look into your eyes again, cheeks slightly pink.

“Can I sleep in here?” Shoto looked so disoriented by the fact that he was woken up at such a time that he blinked a few times before visibly understanding your question.

“Yeah, sure,” he said, stepping back to let you in. You took your shoes off immediately but before you could even give him a hug by the door or perhaps a kiss, he had already returned to his bed and was lying face-down in the center of it.

Damn, he must be really tired.

You rushed over, quickly hopping in beside him and pulling the covers up to your neck. You nudged Shoto gently and he rolled over so the two of you were facing each other. 

While the situation was nice, and you were already feeling a lot more at ease, you knew you wanted to be even closer.

“Shoto… have you ever cuddled someone?” You asked in a voice barely above a whisper.

“Huh?”

“Have you ever cuddled someone?” This time you asked a bit louder.

“Oh… no, I don’t think so.”

You pouted a little bit; that was pretty sad.

“Well, do you want to?”

“Don’t really know how,” he admitted, his voice trailing off slightly—he probably wanted you to shut up. So you decided to take matters into your own hands.

You snuggled closer to Todoroki, wriggling into his arms as he lay on his side. Your head was placed right under his chin and you happily squished your cheek against the bit of skin exposed by his shirt there. You stopped moving when you felt him physically respond: by wrapping his arms tighter around you and moving one of his hands up to cup your face.

You looked into his eyes, fighting the urge to let yours fall shut, but almost laughed as you noticed he had the same problem.

“I was kinda hoping for a conversation, but I’d say we’re both too tired,” you muttered, kissing Shoto’s neck gently. He tensed up slightly but relaxed soon after, bringing his head lower to kiss you on the cheek.

“It’s okay, Y/N, we can talk tomorrow. Go to sleep now, okay?”

Without needing to hear another word, you smiled and let yourself drift off in his arms, briefly amused by (but completely adoring) the fact that they were jarringly different temperatures.

𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐲𝐚 𝐢𝐳𝐮𝐤𝐮

✰  ✰  ✰  ✰  ✰  ✰

You lightly knocked four times, listening hard for a sound from inside. You could hear his bed creaking a bit and what sounded like footsteps.

“Izuku? You still awake? I can’t-”

The door swung open slowly and a head of messy green hair peeked out from behind it. You watched as a look of relief washed over Midoriya’s face at your arrival.

“Can’t sleep? Me too,” he said, rubbing his eyes. His voice was more gravelly than usual but it was utterly adorable.

“Did you want to- ?”

You nodded, already squeezing through the door, kicking off your shoes, and making your way over to his bed, desensitized to the shit ton of All Might faces watching your every move. After reaching your destination, you looked back at Midoriya, then down at his bed, then back again.

“What side d’ya want?” 

He shrugged, and you happily took that as your cue to sink under the covers, half-curled up and leaving space for Izuku. Your eyelids fell shut and you grinned at the warm presence of him that followed after you.

“Um, Y/N, can you… I-I want to…” You pieced together his half-muttered sentence fragments and moved closer to him, which he thankfully accepted by lightly grasping you with his scarred hands.

“I thought you couldn’t sleep, now you’re barely awake,” you whispered, half to yourself as Izuku had started drifting off, still holding you by the waist.

You cautiously moved up the bed before taking him into your arms and resting his head against your chest so you could easily rake your fingers through his fluffy green curls. He breathed softly against your neck and pulled you closer, making your heart race under the worn material of his sweatshirt.

“Thanks… for comin’ over. I… I was thinking about it,” Izuku murmured in his sleepy voice, the movement of his lips tickling you.

“I thought you’d be shyer doing something like this, but I’m not complaining, Zuku.” Your voice was starting to sound more tired as well, and you finally closed your eyes, focusing on the sound of your boyfriend breathing and curling his hair between your fingers.

“I love you.”

You barely heard it but that didn’t stop your cheeks from heating up at Midoriya’s adorable, half-asleep confession. Your fingers stopped their combing and you simply cradled his head in your hands before placing tender kisses on his freckled cheeks, the tip of his nose, his closed eyelids, and his forehead (where you lingered a bit longer). He hardly shifted, but you were sure he felt them. You resumed stroking his hair but couldn’t stop yourself from leaning in to kiss his forehead again.

“Love you too, baby.”

[duuhrayliegh]

Fuck Misogyny

request: Bucky uses his newly gained knowledge of feminism to squash misogynistic interview questions. @ptrs-prkrs

warnings: language, creepy men, feminist!bucky

a/n: hey babes!! i hope this lived up to what you wanted! i couldn’t find the exact video you were referencing but i know what you’re talking about, so i drew inspiration from a few others.

p.s.: my requests and tag lists are open!!

xoxo ray

full m.list

The set up was simple. A long row of fold out tables covered in black fabric, microphones in front of each seat. Black papers were taped to the backs of the microphones with each team member's name. Bucky had told Evie that he wasn’t going to be able to work out with her today because of this so it better be worth it. The PR manager for the team, Amanda, had set everything up. Hired the mediator, notified the press, everything. Ever since they announced that they were going to be hosting an Avenger’s Q&A Panel, the internet quite literally broke.

Of course Bucky had been doing lives on TikTok with the group of five for the past couple of weeks now, so he was becoming quite comfortable in this format. He’s become increasingly active on his social media accounts, gaining more and more followers everyday. Granted, there were still haters, as Freddie called them, but Bucky ignored them for the most part.

Bucky was actually excited for this press meeting. He was finally gaining traction in the media and he knew how to correctly answer their questions. As Amanda had explained, there was going to be several questions from the mediator, tons from the press that they had invited, and then some fan questions as well. They apparently were going to be live streaming the conference on YouTube allowing them to read the comments and questions as it went on.

“Okay, everyone. You have two minutes until we start.” The team was in an empty board room in the Hilton hotel. Tony didn’t want everyone on the compound’s grass because he just had it fixed. Bucky scanned his fellow teammates. It was impossible for everyone to dress for the same event. Steve was wearing a shirt that was almost bursting at the seams with a pair of jeans and sneakers.

Tony was wearing a lovely Tom Ford, three piece, two-button, of course. Natasha and Wanda were wearing ripped jeans and casual tops. Vision was wearing a sweater vest and slacks, Bruce was clad in slacks as well a jacket covering his shoulders. Sam was wearing a button-up shirt and pressed jeans and he couldn’t find Clint anywhere, probably hiding in the rafters again.

Bucky had his iconic leather jacket donning his shoulders, a pair of slightly ripped jeans. His outfit was picked out by Cassie and Penny. “You need to look like you care but like you don’t at the same time.” Is what they said, the phrase made Bucky shake his head. His hair had finally started growing back and he wasn’t quite sure how he felt about it.

He had gotten help from Evie before he left Cassie’s apartment. She had pulled back the top half, braiding back two sections into the bun at the back of his head. There were pieces dangling in front of his eyes, “to accentuate the facial features, trust me they’ll love it.” Was Evie’s explanation as they pushed him out of the apartment, so he wouldn’t be late.

“Alright guys! They’re calling your names!” The team filed out of the board room and into a large ballroom. Bottles of water were placed beside each placemat. Tony went out first, followed by Steve, then Bruce, Natasha, Clint, Wanda, Vision, Sam and ending with Bucky. They all settled into their seats, Bucky peeled his jacket off himself, placing it on the back of his chair. His black short sleeved shirt highlighted the gold inlays of his vibranium arm.

“Oh, I see we’re showing some muscle today huh, Buck?” Sam teased as Bucky took his seat next to him. Bucky groaned in realization, covering his microphone so it didn’t pick up what he planned to say.

“Good God, is this what it’s going to be like the entire panel? You just bugging the shit outta me?” They shared a laugh making the rest of the members look at the pair. The audience clapped as they were introduced and continued clapping as they assembled before them.

“Thank you. We would like to welcome everyone to the first, of hopefully many, Avenger’s Q&A Panel.” The female mediator, Stacey, read the assigned lines off the sheet on her podium. “We are going to start with questions we curated for the team and then open it up to the members of the press. After that we will turn to our live stream and answer some viewer questions.” The press rustled in their seats, pulling out pens and journals as well as their phones to record. “Okay, starting off with a question directed at the Avengers in general. How are you feeling about coming before the media in this type of format?” Glances were exchanged between the members, not sure on who was going to start.

“I feel that this is a great way for the general public to learn a little bit more about each individual team member.” Vision was the first to respond and Steve added on.

“Yeah, I definitely think that there’s a common misconception that we don’t want to engage with the media or the general public. We do, unfortunately due to the amount of research and training that we are doing behind the scenes, it just goes to the back of our minds.”

“Right. So Tony and Bruce, we all know that you two are geniuses. What are your feelings on expanding the teachings of STEM courses to not only high school, but as far back as elementary school or even kindergarten?” The pair thought about the question before answering.

“Well, I definitely think that offering STEM-based classes at a younger age would be beneficial, especially if we were to allow the kids to continue to switch what they want to focus on.” Bruce started. “It’s incredibly anxiety-inducing for teenagers to have to decide what they’re going to do with their life right before they are thrust into an unforgiving world.”

“Yeah, I’ll never understand why we do that to our future leaders, it’s honestly baffling. Why do American schools wait until high school to require our children to learn foriegn languages, they aren’t going to retain that information. The same applies for such comprehensive courses like STEM-based ones. If you wait until their brains are already developed so far, then they’ve already decided what they think is interesting and if they don’t find those courses interesting then they aren’t going to pay attention.” Tony finished Bruce's thought before nodding to each other smugly, obviously proud of themselves for answering the question so well.

“Interesting that you see it that way. This last one goes out to everyone and then we’ll open it up to the reporters. How do you deal with the stress and anxiety that comes with being an Avenger? Do you feel a certain amount of pressure to always do the right thing?” Stacey shuffled her papers, tapping them twice on the podium.

“We all have our own routines and ways that we decompress after missions so that really just depends on the person. Like I think that Bruce listens to opera music, and Wanda mediatates, Tony tinkers. It depends on the person.” Natasha answered concisely, making Bucky nod his head. He could recall all of those things to be true.

“Oh definitely, and it doesn’t hurt that we have a former VA Trauma Counselor on board to help us work through the harder stuff.” Steve added a gesture of his head to Sam.

“Speaking of that Sam, just a quick question before we open it up. How difficult was it for you to transition from regular Air Force missions to Avenger level missions?” Sam made a face at Stacey before answering.

“Um, I mean, it’s not that different. You’re always fighting one of the Big Three-- aliens, androids, or wizards, no matter what department you’re working with. The only transition I had to deal with was the Tony Stark-erized suits. Now that I think of it, Tony, can we make it tighter?” Sam quipped making the room laugh with ease.

“Alright, well now we’re going to open it up to the reporters. Starting with this gentleman in the front and then if we could also give a microphone to someone on that side of the room. Okay, thank you.” The first reporter stood up, holding the microphone in one hand and his phone in the other.

“Hello. John from Huffington Post. The Avengers inspire almost everyone around the world, so we would like to know who inspires you? Who do you look up to in terms of your idols?” He sat back down as the team contemplated their answers.

“Gandhi.” Bruce said, Tony snapped his fingers and pointed at him then added. “Pepper, she’s so amazing.” Steve looked down to Bucky, who shrugged.

“I would probably have to say that my sister, Sarah, inspires me. She raised her two sons, Cas and AJ, by herself after the Blip and was able to keep the family business going.” Sam’s answer made Bucky smile. Sam had brought him to their house in Delacroix, he remembered waking up to Cas and AJ playing in the kitchen, happy giggles filtering through reminding him of his time in Wakanda. By the time that Bucky had refocused on the conversation they had moved on without his answer. Several different questions went by, all directed to the team at large, until Chad.

“Hi, I’m Chad for the Daily Mail. My question is for Wanda and Natasha.” The pair of women perked up, excited to have a specific question. “Do you find that your equipment hinders you in doing your job as well as your male counterparts?” Stunned expressions settled over the womens faces, then annoyance. Bucky’s brows shot up to his hairline, appalled that someone had the balls to ask that. Wanda and Natasha handled the question with grace and much more restraint than Bucky would have.

“Well for me, I am able to move things with my mind so I can throw things randomly at people even if I’m not in the room. I’ve been very fortunate to work with Natasha who has Widow training, so my hand to hand combat is improving immensely. And being able to work with Princess Shuri in Wakanda to learn how to fully control my powers. It’s an ever evolving process that I’m always excited to take on.” Bucky nodded and turned his attention to Natasha.

“My favorite thing is training with either Steve or Bucky because they push me to do my best. We all have our specialties here and it’s nice to learn new skills or improve old ones with people who support you.” Natasha sat back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest, throwing daggers with her eyes at Chad in the audience, waiting for him to say something else. Chad stood again, yelling so he could be heard over the crowd’s commotion.

“That’s great, ladies, but forgive me, you didn’t answer the question I asked.” Bucky pushed forward in his seat, leaning into his microphone.

“I’m sorry, I think I misunderstood what you asked them then. I would like for you to clarify what you mean by equipment.” Chad balked, not expecting a male’s voice to respond.

“You know what’s implied by equipment, sir.” Bucky’s jaw clenched at the man.

“Did you just ask two of the most capable women that I’ve ever known, if their equipment, which I’m assuming you’re referring their breasts, made it to where they couldn’t do their job as good as the rest of their male counterparts. Just to be clear, that’s what you’re asking?” Chad stuttered as he answered yes.

“Right, well first off that’s disgusting. Just a bit of background for you, Wanda is the strongest Avenger here, plain and simple. As for Natasha, she’s the smartest woman I’ve ever met and she can take down every single male here.” Bucky took a breath before continuing. “So, what I think you really want to know is how they encourage their teammates to keep up with them.” He dropped his head to look at the two women down the line.

“Don’t worry Chad, I’ll ask them the right question, since you can’t quite seem to understand how to respect women.” The team was holding back snickers at Chad’s reaction. “Wanda, Natasha. Chad wants to know how the hell you push your male teammates to be just as good as you are. What are your strategies to keep us on our toes while training?” Claps sounded from the women press members and Bucky awaited the pair's response. The next press member stood and asked a question.

“Hi, I’m Chloe from Vanity Fair. This question goes to everyone on the panel.” Bucky settled in for another question that didn’t matter. “How do you continue to be aware of things happening in our society today? Do you keep up-to-date through new channels, or social media?” The answers were rather generic from the team, all of them rather uncomfortable from the tension that Bucky and Chad had created. Stacey interrupted after Chloe’s question.

“Okay, we’re going to open it up to viewer questions from our live stream.” An iPad was placed on the podium in front of Stacey and her eyebrows rose. “Okay, there’s quite a variety here. Here’s one for Steve and Bucky.” Bucky perked up, nervous to answer because his adrenaline had worn off.

“One viewer asks, ‘Steve and Bucky, being from the 40’s, women were treated like second thoughts and were talked about like objects. Now, you’re in the 21st century, not much has changed. What have you been doing to support feminist causes?’”

“I just want to say that everyone should be answering this. It’s true that during the 40’s women were not treated the right way, and they still aren’t today. An 18 year old can’t walk down the street at nine o’clock at night without being catcalled. I am a proud feminist, as everyone should be. I think that as a team we are doing pretty well in that department. As far as what I’m doing to support feminist causes, I’m doing as much as I can. I actually recently enrolled in online classes to expand my knowledge on many subjects, seeing as how I am from the 40’s and all.” The crowd laughed along with Bucky.

“Almost all of my classes have to do with either psychology or gender studies, it’s a fascinatingly haunting subject. One book that I’m reading right now was suggested to me by my friend Cassie, it’s called Hood Feminism: Notes from the Women that a Movement Forgot. The author doesn’t let up and I’m only halfway through it. Look, I’m still educating myself, but I’m a strong believer in doing what is right for everyone, so I’m trying. Thankfully I have a few people keeping me in check as far as my actions.” Bucky thought his response was well thought out for being an on the fly question. He was new to the concept of feminism but that didn’t change the fact that it made total sense.

“I’m with Bucky on this. The 40’s were a rough time. I remember the first time I met Peggy Carter, I was astonished that a woman could be in such a powerful position. One of the first things she did after I met her was punch out someone who made a sexual comment to her. I’ve been supporting feminist causes ever since working with Peggy.” Steve added, a sad smile spreading on his face reminiscing Peggy.

“This one says, ‘As a total fan of all of you, I love seeing what you post on your social media accounts. When are the rest of the Avengers going to follow Bucky’s lead and download TikTok?’” Bucky’s head flew back into a full body laugh. Tony shifted forward in his seat, pointing his finger at the laughing man down the table.

“I would just like to say he didn’t get that approved before doing it. However, it did go over really well, so we’ll consider it.” Wanda’s mouth rolled inwards, stifling her laughter.

“We’ll consider it, you’re such an old man. Most of us have TikTok already, we just don’t make content on it like Barnes over here.” Sam said, tossing his head in Bucky’s direction.

“I’ve got like three videos on there!” Bucky and Sam began bantering back and forth.

“Yeah and one of them is dancing to a Cardi B song! Who even showed you that? I thought you only like 40’s music?” Bucky made a face at the man.

“Uh, just because I didn’t like your suggestions for music doesn’t mean I don’t have taste. My Spotify playlist is filling out quite nicely, Wilson.” Bucky and Sam didn’t quit fighting from then on, just little jabs at each other under the table.

“Here’s a good one,” Stacey had a smile on her face, “Are you allies of the LGBTQ+ community?” Bucky responded quickly with no hesitation.

“Yes, many of my friends are members of the Alphabet Mafia. Why wouldn’t we be?” Wanda nodded at his question, laughing at his use of the phrase Alphabet Mafia.

“Yeah, absolutely. I mean, I’m dating a fucking android, I’d be pretty hypocrictal if I wasn’t an ally. Nat, Clint what about you?” Clint bobbed his head in response.

“Oh yeah. We all are, even the Star Spangled Man with a Plan.” Steve’s shoulders shook with laughter at Clint’s nickname for him. The team broke out into laughter, joining Steve. Stacey cleared her throat, commanding the attention of the room again.

“Alright, everybody! That’s it for today.” She glanced down at her papers. “We would like to thank everyone for coming out today and joining the Avengers Q&A Panel. At this time we are unaware, if we will be conducting another one of these, but the odds look good based on the response.” The team filed out of the ballroom and into the empty boardroom. Bucky was the last to get into the room and he was approached by Natasha and Wanda immediately. Wanda wrapped her arms around him in a bear hug.

“That was so sick, Bucky!” She stepped back and Natasha offered him a side hug as well. “Where’d you learn all that? And since when are you taking online classes?”

“That guy was being an asshole, he needed to be put in his place. I hope you guys didn’t feel like I overstepped or anything.” Bucky hung his arm over Wanda’s shoulder, leaning his weight on her. “And I started about two months ago. They’re going really well, I’m learning a lot and enjoying it surprisingly. It’s a good thing to do in my free time since I’m not always on missions.”

“I’m proud of you James, that was impressive.” Natasha complimented him, she wasn’t usually a woman of many words so that was a lot. Bucky smiled at her, nodding his head. His phone began buzzing in his back pocket, so he excused himself from their conversation. His screen displayed one of Evie’s senior pictures, signalling that she was calling him. He pushed the green button and brought the phone to his ear to answer her call.

“Hello?” She ignored his greeting with a squeal.

“Check your Twitter! Bucky, you’re trending! Here I’m putting you on speaker, we’re all here Buck!” Shuffling noises were heard through the speaker as Evie began reading the tweets to Bucky. Laughs from Cassie, Freddie and Penny could be heard behind Evie’s voice.

“Oh my gosh Eve! Just let the man get back to what he was doing!” Freddie yelled at an excited Evie, who retaliated with a scoff.

“Okay, okay! Just remember we have a movie night tomorrow! It’s Penny’s turn to pick so we don’t know what to expect.” Evie mumbled the last part into her phone speaker. Bucky heard the impact of a pillow hit Evie, causing her to grunt in pain. “Okay! We’ll talk to you later, Buck! See you soon!” She hung up the phone before he could get a word in edgewise. Bucky shook his head as he shoved his phone back into his pocket. Amanda approached Bucky asking to speak with him privately.

“So we’re getting a flood of interview requests from networks and papers. We would like to start running with this. We’ll have to go over everything with our PR guy, Ryan, but it should work out. As long as you’re comfortable with all of this.” Bucky smiled and nodded, following after Amanda as she continued explaining what would happen going forward.

He was nervous, of course, but he could tell these nerves were coming from a place of excitement instead of fear, which was a new sensation for the man. It wasn’t unwelcome, it was the same as when he first started hanging out with Cassie, Penny, Freddie and Evie. It was the same when he went on his first mission with the team. Bucky was ready to tackle this next adventure, whatever it would entail.

[liesoverthec]

May I ask you a details question from the show canon, as you are the most Details Person out here? What do we know about Chris’s school? Like any and all details on it? Age range, name, is it just for students who need some kind of extra accommodation, is it a private school or a hybrid state subsidised whatever, sorry this is all a lot of random details I’m sure they haven’t given us, I’m just curious if you’ve noted any of them?

Hayley OF COURSE you can ask me a details question!

So here’s what I got for you - Christopher goes to Durand School. And it’s definitely a private school, given that Shannon has to interview to get Christopher in, and well, she actually calls it a private school on screen in 2x15. 😂 Which means also that Eddie is paying for the schooling, if you ever want a plot point about money.

It’s never stated, but my guess would be it’s either a private elementary school, or elementary+middle, since on camera we never see any teenagers on school grounds. Given that Christopher should be turning 11 next year, if it is only an elementary school I’m hoping him moving schools will be a plot point in a near future season which will confirm it for us, but at the moment I don’t have enough information to confirm it either way. :/

They have a uniform/dress code, which we’ve actually seen Chris in! It’s a light blue button up or polo, (long sleeve or short, I’ve seen students in all combos), with khaki pants, and the girls can wear a black skirt or put a black dress over the blue shirt. Students seem to have the option of adding in a dark blazer or cardigan. And it seems like they have more freedom in shoe choice - they have to be black or white, but the type doesn’t matter (sneakers, dress shoes, etc). There is a school crest, but it’s not embroidered on any of the clothes.

Also not actually confirmed, but based on context, it seems to be a private school for anyone, but with a really good accommodations program - Eddie makes a big deal out of asking the tour guide at the school if Christopher will be treated “like he’s normal. Not some special needs charity case.” And then in turn the lady from the school tells him about their small classes and how they “learn from each other as much as they do from [the teachers].” So definitely not just for students who need accommodations. They do have behavioral and cognitive programs though, whatever that means!

They also have 2 playgrounds, a fancy gym, music programs, an art studio and a theater.

Christopher’s school is set up more like a high school than my elementary school was - rather than sticking to one main teacher all the time, he has different teachers for different subjects. And we know he is at least taking English, math, science, and some form of music (possibly specifically band, although for me at that age it was just one music class with anything my teacher wanted to go over, so go with whatever you want there!).

It’s not a real school, so placement wise within LA it could potentially go wherever you want with what we know in canon right now. I’d guess though that it was within a ~20 minute radius of Eddie’s house, given how many schools there are in Los Angeles - it wouldn’t make a ton of sense to me for Eddie to look beyond what he felt he could reasonably drive to unless the school was specifically tailored to kids w CP, which this isn’t. But like I said you can put it where you wish!

And here’s a picture of the crest!

I believe the writing on the crest is “MCMLVII”, which is 1957 in Roman Numerals. Which I’d personally guess is the school’s founding year!

I hope all of that is helpful and let me know if there’s anything else you want to know! I put everything I could think of based off the clips from Christopher at school I rewatched but I’m happy to at least give opinions based on canon for other things, if it’s something you want to know that I don’t specifically have an answer to!

🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝

[shinonometrash]

💕🍄The 12 Days of Ayumu 🍄💕

JULY 17TH!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY AYUMU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I LOVE YOU SO MUCH AYUMU 😭💕😭💕😭💕 Doing all this translating has done nothing except make me miss him even more 😭 But!!! Today is the big day!! And so we have the thing I’ve been saving for last!!!! The absolutely cutest Ayumu story I think I’ve ever read !!!! ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh I wanted to cry when I read it it was so sweet I love him so much sdfgnkjkjnfg

I was a lot more creative with translating this story to make it sound more fun and natural, since I’m finally getting comfortable enough to start doing that, I really hope you guys enjoy it !!

it’s pretty long, so I’m putting it under a readmore

Ayumu Shinonome: Happy Birthday ♡

technically this story is about Ayumu celebrating our birthday, rather than about celebrating his, but...

In the S ward is one of the most popular downtown areas in Tokyo.

2PM —

Middle schooler: Hey, look at that guy over there

Middle schooler 2: Oh my gosh, yeah!

Middle schooler: He’s a host, don’t you think?

Middle schooler 2: He’s definitely a host!

(…No, you’re wrong.)

(I’m just wearing a formal suit.)

Middle schooler: Eek…this is the first time I’ve seen a host in real life!

Middle schooler 2: I guess that’s the norm around here, we are in Tokyo after all!

Thanks to the middle school students who seem to be in the middle of a field trip, I now see the passersby struggling to contain their laughter.

(This couldn’t get any worse. Ugh, this sucks.)

(Really. I was already reluctant enough to do this as is…)

Speaking of which—

MC: Ayumuuuu~!

At last, the reason for all of this torture has arrived.

MC: Sorry! Did I keep you waitin-…

MC: !!!

(Uh…is she okay?)

MC: Ayumu, you…you look…so hot…

MC: Ahh, you look amazing!!

Ayumu: Dummy!! Keep your voice down!

(If she says something like that too loudly…)

Middle schooler: Oh no, look! He’s got a customer…

Middle schooler 2: She must be a huge regular…

Ayumu: …gah, come on, let’s go.

MC: Huh? Already?

MC: I haven’t changed into my pumps yet…

Ayumu: It’s fine, come on! Hurry up!

MC: Ahh, hold up! I came all this way so at least let me put my arm around yours…

MC: Gahh, slow down! You’re walking way too fast!

MC: Ayuumuuuuuu!

This all started about two weeks ago.

MC: Ayumu! Look! This is what I was talking about!

Ayumu: Eh…? Scary…

Fresh out of the bath, my girlfriend suddenly plops down on the ground.

Ayumu: …What

Ayumu: Don’t tell me you broke my limited edition Tyrannosaurus mug…

MC: No, no, that’s not it!

MC: It has to do with this year’s KappaMC Birthday Celebration!

Ayumu: Gross

Ayumu: You’re creating your own birthday celebration…?

MC: It’s a great idea, isn’t it!

MC: I see this kind of thing a lot on social media!

Ayumu: Even so, you’re not supposed to post that about yourself

Ayumu: That sort of tag is made by enthusiastic fans…

MC: Well then, I’ll ask you to do it, Ayumu! Since you should be my biggest fan!

MC: Pleaaase do it with me~?

MC: Take me on a date in a formal suit please!

Nonsense, I thought. At the time.

However, at a later date…

Toru: Ahh~ This seems to be real popular these days! Suit men

Ayumu: …what?

Toru: If you search anywhere on social media sites, you’ll get tons of hits~

Toru: Guys uploading selfies in suits

…I don’t get it.

What’s so fun about showing off a suit?

(Although, she did say something the other day about wanting to go on a date with me in a formal suit..)

Ayumu: Frivolous. Completely.

Toru: Noo, you just need to choose the right place to go!

Toru: Shall the Great Toru offer you some guidance~?

Ayumu: No thanks. There’s no way that’s ever happening…

Toru: Hm, well I don’t know what kind of person your partner is, but—

Toru: Sometimes it’s important to spice things up a bit so that you don’t fall into a rut!

Ayumu: …

Toru: Again, I really have noo idea who your partner is buuuut

Toru: I think women who like that sort of thing would be really happy~

Ayumu: …

(…bah. He’s probably right.)

(She does seem like she’d like that sort of thing…)

That’s why I decided to title it “The Extraordinary Production”

I end up regretting this as soon as we start stage one—meeting up downtown.

(Ah, well, at least I won’t feel as out of place at the next stage.)

Yes, and the next stage is—

MC: Look! Look! Ayumu! The view outside is sooooooo pretty!!

Ayumu: Ah, I see.

(Naturally. We are on the 38th floor.)

By the way, the seats here are filled almost full.

Of them, about half are reservations.

MC: Whoaaa, did you see?? This afternoon tea set!!

MC: The tea stand! It has five tiers! Five!!

Ayumu: Ah, I see.

MC: Hey, at least act more surprised!

MC: Fives tiers? This is the first time, for me at least, that I’ve ever seen anything like this!

(…yeah, I suppose it would be)

I say this because—

Toru: How’s this place look?

Toru: “Enjoy some luxury afternoon tea on the top floor of a high rise tower”

Toru: Whoa, the tea stand, it’s got five tiers!

Ayumu: Ah, I see.

Toru: Ugh, what kind of response was that!

Toru: Are you even listening?? The tea stand has five tears!!

Toru: Isn’t that alone pretty much a win right there?

Ayumu: I don’t get it.

Toru: In a date, it’s either a win or a loss…

Soma: But doesn’t it seem likely that it would make his date happy?

Ayumu: !

Soma: Women who are particular about food will also care about how many tiers of sweets there are, will they not?

Soma: Glutto-no, women who eat everything with enthusiasm,

Soma: I think they would be very pleased with a five tiered tea stand.

Ayumu: Haa…

MC: What should I do?? My heart is beating so fast, I’m so excited…

MC: I don’t think I’ll be able to eat all five tiers…

Ayumu: If it’s you, you’ll be fine.

Ayumu: …since you’re a glutton.

MC: Huh? What did you just say right now…?

Ayumu: Nothing, don’t worry about it.

Seeing the waiter passing by, I raise my hand to get their attention.

Waiter: Did you decide what you would like to order?

Ayumu: The afternoon tea set for two people, please.

Ayumu: The original black tea blend.

Waiter: Understood, thank you.

As soon as the waiter walks away, I purposely sigh dramatically.

Ayumu: So noisy

MC: Wha-…I didn’t even sa-

Ayumu: Your stare

Ayumu: It feels like you’re trying to stare into my soul or something since a while ago.

MC: …hey, b-but that….

MC: I mean! I can’t help it…

MC: You just look way too amazing today, it’s like my eyes are being sucked in…

Ayumu: …

(…what is she even saying, this girl)

Ayumu: This isn’t the first time you’ve seen me like this though, is it? In a suit?

MC: That’s true, but…today is special…

MC: You wore the suit for me, didn’t you?

MC: That automatically makes you look, like, 30% hotter!

MC: I’m just so happy, I can’t stop looking at you

Ayumu: ….I see.

There was a strange pause before I replied.

Probably because I was remembering the advice that Toru gave me.

Toru:  You definitely need to be sure to always compliment your date’s outfit~

Ayumu: …wha?

Toru: Well, if you’re wearing a formal suit

Toru: Then your date should also be in formal wear, right?

Ayumu: that…well…

Toru: And so, you need to be sure to give your date lots of compliments!

Toru: Cause girls always put several times more effort into things like their makeup and hairstyle!

Ayumu: No, no, she doesn’t have me beat there

Ayumu: If we’re talking hairstyle, it’s definitely me…

Toru:  Bah, well, saying things like “that looks great on you” or “you look pretty” is always a safe bet

Toru: And then…

Ayumu: You don’t—

MC: “I don’t”?

—“you don’t look too bad yourself, either”

That’s it. All I have to do is use what she said as an opportunity to compliment her back.

(So, come on. Say it.)

(Just light and natural.)

(Sound genuine about it…)

Ayumu: You don’t—

MC: Ah!!

Suddenly, my girlfriend jumps out of her chair as if remembering something.

MC: Sorry, is it okay if I go to the restroom for real quick?

MC:  It’s…my shoes, I’m still wearing my sneakers

Ayumu: …

MC: No, I know already, you don’t have to tell me

MC: “You should’ve just worn your pumps from the beginning”

MC: That’s what you were about to say, right?

MC: But these shoes don’t quite fit right…

MC: “It’ll be fine if just change into them right before I meet up with Ayumu”…is what I had told myself

Ayumu: …

MC: I’ll just change into them real quick!!

Ayumu: …

(…This sucks.)

I just let a perfect chance that I’ll probably never see again slip by.

(No, it’s fine though.)

(It’s not like I absolutely HAVE to give her a compliment.)

That was just Toru’s opinion.

She didn’t specifically ask me to do it, or anything.

And so, from there, while I’m with my girl…

MC: Ahh, that was so delicious!

MC: The cake and the scones and the tea, they were all the best! Ayumu: …

MC: Oh, and the clotted cream too!

MC: It was the first time I’ve ever had it but it went surprisingly well with the scones~

MC: I wonder if they sell it at that other shop…

(…this is it.)

Her head is probably full of the afternoon tea we just had.

I want to make her happy…more than anything.

(But it’s impossible to compliment her when things are like this.)

I’ll just start by making a statement about what she’s wearing, but it’ll have a compliment at the end.

“I noticed your dress has lace on top of the turquoise fabric. It’s not bad.

“Those pumps must not be comfortable to wear. But they go nicely with the dress.”

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you wear this much makeup. It looks nice.”

(I’m psyching myself up too much, aren’t I?)

I guess it just goes to show how much I’ve been looking forward to this day, though.

MC: So where are we going next?

Ayumu: Anywhere is fine, as long as it only takes about an hour.

MC: Hm? What does that mean?

Ayumu: This.

I pull two tickets out of the breast pocket of my suit.

MC: Whaa…the opera??

Ayumu: It’s in about an hour from now. So we can’t go unless we go at that time.

(The idea wasn’t mine, though.)

Yes, this idea…

Toru: Hmm, what other places would be good to wear a formal suit to…

Toru: What about a luxury brand store?

Ayumu: Huh?

Toru: If you wear a businesswear vs a formal suit to a shop, the staff will treat you differently, right?

Toru: Because they’ll be acting even more polite to you

Toru: There’s no doubt that your date will feel like a celebrity!

Toru: Right, Goto?

Goto: Don’t touch me, I’m not responding to that.

Toru: And after you can take her to a fancy restaurant inside a hotel or a bar with a gorgeous night view!

Toru: Sure it might be a little cliche sounding, but it’ll certainly be something out of the ordinary that you won’t forget!

Toru: Hey, Gotooo!

Goto: Look, even if you touch me, I’m still not going to respo-

???: Aww, aren’t you guys sweet

Toru: …huh?

Tsugaru: Don’t you know this is the perfect time to go watch the opera?

Ayumu: ..……good afternoon. How long have you been there?

Tsugaru: Now that hardly matters, does it?

Tsugaru: More importantly, if you’re going to put all that effort into a date, you should go to the opera.

Tsugaru: It’s like a date specifically meant for formal wear, is it not~?

Tsugaru: Hmmm, but…

Tsugaru: It’s possible the person you’re planning to take on a date doesn’t understand the opera, though.

Ayumu: …I should first confirm whether that’s true or not, though

Ayumu: Hey, have you ever watched the opera?

MC: Uhhhh, that’s…

MC: Well, I’ve seen Phantom of the Opera…

Ayumu: That’s not the same thing

Ayumu: That’s just a musical.

MC: …well of course I know that much!

MC: So, this is a first

MC: It’ll be my “first time”!

Ayumu: Wait…do you hear that—

MC: I want my first time to be with you, Ayumu!

MC: So please, take my opera virginity—!

???: Ahhh!!

A sudden scream drowns out her playful chattering.

Woman: A purse snatcher…!!

Woman: Somebody, please! My bag!

(Seriously? A purse snatcher?)

Before I get a chance to confirm, she jumps into action.

She starts chasing the purse snatcher.

(Dummy! What is she doing??)

Purse snatcher: Damn it…!

The criminal escapes to the back alley at the end of the road. Of course, my girl isn’t the type to give up so easily.

MC: Stop right there!

While she chases after the purse snatcher, I enter the next alley. 

If the criminal turns the corner here, I’m pretty sure I can cut him off.

Sure enough—

(…he came.)

MC: Ayumu!

Purse snatcher: Shit…!

I’m in front of the criminal, blocking his path, while she’s at his back. He turns around and rushes at her.

Purse snatcher: Move it!

MC: Just who do you think you are!!

Her next move is quite something. As the criminal charges at her, she swiftly grabs his right hand, twisting it behind his back and shoving him to the ground, planting her body weight on his back.

Purse snatcher: Ouch! Ow ow ow!

From there, we hand over the criminal to the authorities and all live happily ever after—

Or not.

MC: The interrogation took longer than I expected…

Ayumu: Yeah, it did

MC: But if we leave now we should be able to just barely make it in time…

???: Oh my gosh, look at her

I hear a whisper from a woman passing by.

Woman: Yikes, look at her, did she get into a fight?

Woman 2: Maybe she fell? There’s a hole in her stockings

The innocent exchange seems to have reached her ears.

MC: Oh…

There’s no denying that she looks beat up right now.

Her dress is dirty and the knees of her stockings have holes in them. 

(Of course.)

(She had to straddle the criminal on the ground to secure him.)

However, her stockings aren’t the only thing that tore.

MC: I-I’m sorry, I’lll go change them right away…

Ayumu: The lace

MC: Huh?

Ayumu: The lace part on your dress, too

MC: !

Ayumu: Did it get caught on something? Like a nail?

Ayumu: When you were chasing after the purse snatcher

MC: …ah, yeah…

Seems I probably guessed right.

MC: I’m so sorry, I’ll go change into a new outfit…

MC: Ah…but, the time…

Ayumu: …

MC: Please just wait a second…I’ll figure it out someway or another…

MC: To change…I’ll just, I’ll go buy some new clothes…

Ayumu: It’s fine, the way it is now

Strangely, the words seem to just flow out of my mouth on their own accord

Ayumu: You don’t look bad

MC: Uhh…?

Ayumu: It doesn’t look bad, does it? How you look right now

It’s still the outfit she put so much effort into, just a bit worn out now.

Either way, it’s still very ‘KappaMC’-like.

(Really, it’s not bad.)

I run my hands through her messy hair to smooth it out.

She looks up at me, confused.

MC: Um…Ayumu…?

Ayumu: Let’s go

MC: Wait, I can’t go to the opera looking like this…

Ayumu: We’re not. Going to the opera, that is.

MC: What! No! Don’t say that!

MC: You already bought the tickets and everything…

Ayumu: Don’t worry about it, really, it’s okay.

Just a slight change in schedule.

Truthfully, I had planned on bringing her ‘here’ after the opera, anyway.

(Ah, but this timing actually isn’t bad at all, it works out well.)

Ayumu: Aren’t you coming?

MC: But…I look like a mess…

Ayumu: You look fine, don’t worry about it

Ayumu: I rented out the place

MC: Rented out??

MC: Here??

Startled, she looks around at the surroundings.

(Ah, well, it makes sense. Reacting that way.)

If I was in her position,  I’d probably react the same way,

Ayumu: Your hand.

MC: Sorry?

Ayumu: Your left hand. Give it to me.

MC: Oh, um, alright…

I grabbed her nervously outstretched hand and led her to middle of the stairs.

(Finally.)

Now we just need to stand here for five more seconds.

Honestly, this is the most nerve wracking part of the whole day.

(But, well, it’s her birthday.)

(And it’s special.)

Ayumu: 3…2…1…

At the exact moment I point, balloons float up into the sky.

MC: Balloons??!

She watches as the balloons float upwards, eyes wide in surprise.

I use her distraction as an opportunity to pick up the bouquet I had hidden.

Ayumu: Happy birthday

Her mouth falls open wide in shock.

Yeah. It really isn’t like me to do this sort of thing.

But, the one who thought of this surprise, make no mistake, was me. I came up with it.

(This is a once in a year occasion, after all.)

(And I thought she would like it, if I did this.)

Ayumu: So? What do you think?

MC: … Ayumu: MC?

No reply.

(Uhh, what’s the status here?)

(Maybe I messed up…)

MC: A-a…yu…

(Ah-yoo…?)

MC: A-yu-muuuuu…!!

(Whoa wait just a-)

Ayumu: Oof

Sniffling, she throws her arms around me.

MC: I-I…j-just…nnnf, I’m…I’m so, nnnnff, so happy…I, nnnf, love it…s..so much..!!

MC: T-th…! This…surprise, nnnf, it…it’s…!!!

Ayumu: …

MC: P-plea…zz…please sta…stay with, nnnf, with me…fore…forever, nnnf…!!

Ayumu: …dummy.

Ayumu: I can’t understand what you’re saying.

That’s a lie. 

Truthfully, I understand perfectly what she’s saying.

(“Stay with me.”)

I’ll stay with you, for the rest of our lives.

In return, don’t ever let go of me.

I did something today that I never would’ve even dreamed of doing before, all because you’ve changed me.

Ayumu: Happy birthday

MC: T-thank you…

Ayumu: So, what shall we do from here?

First, I have a room for us to stay at.

But after we check in, we can spend our time however we’d like until dinner time. 

(Ah, no, but before that we need to change.)

(As you’d imagine, going to the restaurant looking like this would be…)

MC: …iss…

Ayumu: Hm?

MC: Kiss…I want to kiss you…

MC: From here on…with you, forever…

Ayumu: …

Ayumu: …dummy

I was asking about later today, but…

Is she asking for a kiss with a runny nose and a tear soaked face?

There’s a lot of things I want to say to that, but—

(Ah, well, it’s her birthday…)

Her lips taste salty, as expected.

But…I don’t hate it. Maybe I’ve gone crazy too.

MC: Thank you…

As we pulled away from the kiss she sniffled loudly.

MC: I, um, I feel like I’m dreaming…

MC: My head feels all fuzzy…

Ah, I see.

MC: I’m gonna…just you wait…!

MC: Next time it’s your birthday, I’m gonna think of an amazing surprise…!

Ayumu: No need to.

I have nothing but a bad feeling about that.

Ayumu: Seriously, don’t. Hard pass.

MC: …hmph, meanie!

MC: If this is how you feel, now I’m DEFINITELY going to plan something!!!

MC: Like making dinosaur balloons, or dinosaur 3D pancakes, or…

MC: Maybe I’ll rent out a whole museum…

MC: Mmph, mmm…

It’s really not necessary. Coming up with some sort of surprise.

(If you’re here with me.)

As long as you stay here next to me—

If we can kiss like this, then that’s enough for me.

-The End-

Isn’t that CG gorgeous??? And wasn’t that story soooo frickin adorable??? sbkhgkjadbf I have so many feelings about this 😭💕😭💕

And thank you so so so so sooo much to @world-a-to-z​!! Like I’d mentioned at the start, I was never part of the Peach fanclub because I only started reading Ayumu’s stories almost exactly a year ago now. And so, I didn’t have access to this story. So what did this absolutely wonderful person do?? Transcribe this entire story in Japanese!!!! And then was kind enough to send it to me, along with the screenshots of the backgrounds (which were pretty necessary for all the scene changes, I think) and the CG, so that I could translate it. So please give her a HUGE HUGE thank you for making basically almost the entirety of this birthday celebration possible!!! 💕💕💕

Thank you guys so much for celebrating with me! I hope everyone had a lot of fun!!! I can’t wait to actually sleep again now...I spent sooo much time doing all these translations whoops ><

In case you missed a day, or want to reread anything, you’ll find links to all the posted content here!