#it has an extra elevated area as well

[schnuffel-danny]

me: Thank god at least .TIFF is a normal guinea pig, since .Jpeg turned out to be such a little weirdo (affectionate) .TIFF: I need to sleep in the wettest spot of the entire cage, right under the dripping water bottle, because if I am not suspiciously moist the whole day I'll get grumpy me: Ah. Right.

[secret-sturniolo]

trouble in paradise - matt sturniolo

-one bed/enemies to lovers trope. CONTAINS SMUT! (1.9k words)

warnings - lowkey asshole!matt, arguing, unprotected p in v (pull out method not recommended), pussy eating, fingering

a/n - will this be my writing comeback?

tillies33ssss

"Y/n, please! We're gonna have so much fun, I promise!"

I was laying in Nick's bed as he desperately tried to convince me to come on this trip. The boys go to Hawaii every year, and this year he wanted me to tag along. Of course I was skeptical. Being stuck on a tropical island for a week with my best friend didn't seem so bad, but when one of his brothers hated me? I wasn't so sure. After a few days of convincing though, I made up my mind. How bad could it be, right?

(time skip - 10pm @ the hotel)

"You're fucking kidding, right?"

While in a particularly good mood, I agreed to room with Matt. At least we would each have our own bed, we didn't even have to talk to each other. Until we scanned the card to unlock our room, revealing the single king bed against the wall.

My heart dropped. "This has to be a sick joke." I say, my eyes wide.

After calling both Nick and Chris and the front desk, it was revealed that there had been a mix up with the reservations. The cherry on top, though? The hotel was fully booked. Not a single extra room was available we could switch to, leaving reality to sink in.

I try to keep a level head, knowing Matt was on edge. I move around the room silently so as not to give him any reason to be angry. I watch as he flops onto the bed.

"Have fun sleeping on the floor." He says, expressionless.

I scoff. "You're not serious, right? There's no way you're making me sleep on the dirty hotel floor."

He relaxes his arms behind his head, closing his eyes. He was clearly ignoring me. I let out a small laugh in disbelief.

"Matt, come on. Now you're just being childish."

He opens his eyes, not moving. "Oh, I'm being childish? You're the one who throws a fit every time something doesn't go your way!" He shoots back at me.

"I didn't come to Hawaii to sleep on the floor!" I say, my frustration growing.

Matt sits up harshly, his eyes boring into mine. "You shouldn't even be here at all!" He yells, his words sharp as a knife.

My jaw drops as I take a step back, surprised by his sudden outburst.

"Why were you even invited on this trip?" he continues. "Seriously, I'd like to know. Because it sure as hell wasn't by me!"

I feel my chest tighten, tears welling in my eyes as he yells. I begin to speak, but he cuts me off.

"Oh, are you gonna cry now?" he taunts. "Grow up."

I clench my jaw, grabbing a room key and my phone as I walk toward the door.

"Let me know when you're done being an asshole." I say before slamming the door behind me.

I wander down the hotel hallways like a labyrinth before finding the elevator. I ride down the the first floor, the lobby was empty as most people were sleeping already. I sign on the wall points to an exit. I follow the path, leading me to a small outdoor spa area. Underwater lights lit up the hot tub, curls of steam rising into the cool night air. I slip off my shoes, sitting on the edge of the tub as my feet dangle into the water.

"What is wrong with me?" I whisper to myself, letting a tear slip from my eye. Was he right, should I really not have come? I think about texting Nick, but I figured he was asleep, tired from the jet-lag. I sit in silence as time slips by, letting my thoughts and doubts spiral.

I open my phone, typing a search into google. The screen displays a list of flights, my eyes scanning down the page. There was one flight tomorrow morning, showing 3 seats left. My finger lowers to tap the purchase button before my phone is swiped out of my hand.

"What?!" I jump, looking up. "Matt? What the fuck are you doing?" I say harshly.

He frowns at my screen. "You're leaving." He says, more of a statement than a question.

I reach for my phone back. "Yeah, I was trying to!" I shoot back, clearly annoyed.

Matt's eyes widen slightly at my serious tone. "You're actually serious?" He still holds my phone away from me.

I stare at him, not trying to hide the hurt on my face. "I thought that's what you wanted."

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Look y/n, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

"Then why did you say it if you didn't mean it?"

He pauses, choosing his words carefully. "Because I was overwhelmed and tired, and I took it out on whoever happened to be near me."

I sit quietly, not buying his excuse. I hear him sigh as he slips his own shoes off, sitting down next to me.

"Why do you hate me so much?" I blurt out.

I hear him take a deep breath as he tries to collect himself.

"I never hated you, y/n." he pauses. "It's actually kinda the opposite."

I look over at him, confused. "What?"

He kicks the water, sending ripples of small waves into the hot tub.

"You make me feel things I'm scared to feel."

I freeze, wondering if I heard him correctly. "Like what...?" I ask cautiously.

He hesitates for a moment, fidgeting with his fingers. "Like... attraction."

My heart beats faster as I nod slowly, acknowledging his words. My thoughts race, as everything I thought I knew was suddenly changing. He speaks again, nervously.

"It's stupid, I know. I'm just scared that if I let myself feel those things, I'll lose you." He looks down into the water.

I let out a small laugh, grabbing his hand softly as I intertwine our fingers. "I've stuck around this long. I don't think that would change anything."

I watch as he looks down at our hands that rest on his thigh, smiling softly with a small breath of relief.

"I don't want us to hate each other anymore, y/n." He says honestly.

I squeeze his hand. "I don't think we ever did."

A warm blush spreads to his cheeks as he meets my gaze. He leans in closer, pausing briefly to gauge my reaction. I close the gap, our lips meeting in a soft, tentative kiss. Our lips seem to fit together like a mold. Matt brings hi hands up to cup my cheek, my own hands resting on his shoulders as we get lost in each other. Desire surges through us before I pull away, my lips slightly parted.

Matt smiles softly, still blushing. " We should probably get out of here, right?" He stands, offering me his hand.

I nod, giggling softly as I take his hand. I let him lead me back through the hotel, up to our room on the third floor. He pulls me into the room, kicking the door shut with his foot. He smiles softly at me before pulling me back in, his lips meeting mine once again, passionate and needy.

His hands wander from my cheeks to my waist, down to my ass, and back up. I sense his desire as I pull away slightly to slide my t-shirt over my head, revealing my simple, black lace bra. His head immediately ducks down, planting wet kisses on my exposed skin. I sigh at the feeling, before urgently tugging at the hem of his own shirt, which was quickly discarded. He tugs down his sweats before walking me backwards to the bed, laying me down gently.

He makes quick work of slipping my shorts down, tossing them away. His eyes rake over my body hungrily.

"God, you're beautiful." He mumbles loud enough for me to hear, causing my cheeks to redden.

He leans over me, his fingers hooked into my underwear. "Can I take these off?" He asks gently.

I nod quickly, desperate for his touch. He pulls them down my legs teasingly slow. I lean up, simultaneously unclasping my bra, leaving me bare before him. His thumb reaches down to rub slow, tentative circles over my clit.

"Matt, please!" I beg, causing him to smirk.

He grabs my legs, sliding my body to the edge of the bed as he brings his mouth down to my core. I feel his hot breath against me as he teasingly kisses my sensitive nub. Using the tip of his tongue, he flicks back and forth, eliciting a soft moan from my lips.

He takes this as a signal to continue, thrusting his tongue into me. He groans as he finally tastes me, sending pleasant vibrations into me. I throw my head back, tangling my fingers in his hair, giving it a tug when it feels especially good.

"Oh, fuck!" I let out a gasp as he suddenly enters a finger into me, thrusting it while he continues to lick my clit.

My legs shake, squeezing against him as my orgasm bubbles in my stomach. I let out a loud moan, a string of curses leaving my mouth as I come undone. Matt continues for a few moments, letting me ride out my high before pulling away, licking his lips with a sly smile. I open my mouth to speak, but his lips are back on mine before I get the chance.

Without breaking the kiss, I feel him reach down to pull his boxers up. I hear a faint slapping sound as his erection hits his stomach. I pull away, looking between us at his dick, dripping pre-cum.

"Do you want this...?" He asks me, seriously.

"More than anything." I reply honestly.

He smiles, sitting back as me pulls my legs once again, letting them rest on his shoulders. I places his hand under my chin.

"Spit."

I give him a confused look, but I quickly oblige as his eyes pierce mine. He uses my spit as a lubricant, slowly stroking his dick as he looks into my eyes.

"Matt..." I urge him.

He nods knowingly, lining himself up with my entrance. He doesn't take his eyes off of mine as he pushes into me, giving me a chance to get used to the stretch. After a few seconds, I give him the okay to move.

His pace starts off slow and sensual, attaching his lips to my neck. Upon my request, he picks up the pace, finding a comfortable rhythm. His forehead rests against mine as he thrusts into me, our lips meeting every once in a while in a quick kiss.

The only sounds leaving our mouths are soft, breathy moans. We didn't need to use words, it was like we could reach each other like a book. Matt changes the angle slightly, causing his tip to hit me in just the right spot.

"Yes, Matt. Right there!" I feel myself getting close once again, my walls squeezing around him.

"Come for me, baby." Matt breathes against my neck.

After a couple more thrusts, my second orgasm comes crashing over me like a wave. Matt isn't far behind me, quickly pulling out and cumming on my stomach with a grunt.

He collapses on top of me, both of us sweaty and tired. After a few minutes, he props himself up on either side of me, smiling down at me in adoration.

"You're incredible." He tells me, causing me to giggle slightly.

"Yeah, we're definitely doing that again."

He kisses me, and in that moment I knew I was right. This was only the beginning.

[graveyardlifeguard]

Survivors Part 1

Summary: Occurs during the events of Season 4x13 and Season 4x14.

*This is my first attempt at writing after many, many years so please go easy on me*

Warnings: Shooting, Injury, Blood

Strictly Angst with a teeny tiny bit of Fluff

Eddie Diaz x Paramedic! Reader

The shift started out as normal as it usually did. I mean, as normal as it could for the 118. I had picked up an extra night shift to try and help C Shift with a staffing issue they were currently having. Eddie, my fiancée, had already gone home for the night after our regular shift. As much as I would have loved to go home with him, I knew the extra money would be nice to have for the costs of planning a wedding.

I had only been at work for 3 hours, but I was already exhausted after having a cardiac arrest and a car flip over on the highway. Back-to-back. Shutting the back doors of the ambulance after restocking, I made my way upstairs to the kitchen area to grab a snack. It was currently 10pm and everyone else was in bed for the night. Right after grabbing a left-over slice of pizza out of the fridge, the bell and pager went off once again for a sick call at a nearby apartment complex.

My partner for the night, Alicia, quickly made her way out of the dorm rooms before shuffling towards the truck.

"Is there no such thing as a break?!" She yells from the passenger side of the truck.

I laugh as I move down the stairs towards the driver's side.

"What does the nice, bustiling city have for us this time?" I ask as Alicia looks over the computer, that is still updating with notes from the caller.

I start the truck up and we exit the station driving down the still busy city roads. Alicia lets me know that were going to The Regal Point Apartments for a 13-year-old male complaining of not feeling well. His mom called, concerned that her son's condition was deteriorating.

Pulling up to the apartment complex, Alicia grabs the medical bag while I grab the LifePak monitor. Luckily, this apartment complex has an elevator, so we don't have to trudge our way up four flights of stairs. Once at the correct apartment, the patient's mother, who introduces herself as Sheila. Alicia and I introduce ourselves with Sheila pointing us towards her son's bedroom. While walking towards his bedroom she begins to talk to us about his medical history.

"His name is Charlie, he's 13-years-old. He has an Auto-Immune disorder that forces him to stay inside all the time. The only times he gets to leave the house are to go to one of his many doctors' appointments."

Entering Charlie's room, Alicia once again introduces us and asks if she can check his vital signs. He agrees with Alicia beginning to check his blood pressure. Even in the small glow from his bedside lamp, I can see that Charlie looks sick. He appears pale with dark bags sitting underneath his eyes. Overall, he looks exhausted.

After checking all of his vital signs and talking to Sheila and Charlie more, I had a weird feeling start to form in my stomach. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but something just did not feel right. The way that his mom seemed evasive with his full diagnosis and couldn't remember his medications, something just seemed...wrong. When Alicia asked the mom about us taking him to the hospital, she quickly stated that she does not believe that he needs to go to the hospital due to him having a weak immune system.

"Ma'am we understand your concerns, but we always recommend people go to the hospital to get checked out. Especially when they are as sick as Charlie is." I try once again.

Alicia was packing up the bag as Sheila repeats that she does not want Charlie to go. "I'll call his primary care doctor in the morning and see if they will see him." She states with a kind smile on her face.

The odd feeling again returns before we exit the house. Getting back in the truck, I keep the uneasy feeling to myself as Alicia writes the refusal report. I wait for her to finish typing before asking her.

"Did that seem odd to you?"

"What do you mean?" she asks, still looking over the report.

"Just the story of his diagnosis and things like that. She just seemed to have a lot of empty answers." I reply back.

"I didn't really get a weird feeling, but I also was talking more to Charlie than I was to the mom." She answers again.

"Something just seems off to me. Maybe I am just thinking too far into it." I state. I mean, it is late, the mom is probably tired after spending the day taking care of her son. That's what we will have to go with for now as Dispatch alerts us to another call we're needed on. 

————

"How come you don't make this kind of breakfast for me when we're at home?" Eddie states as he comes bouncing into the kitchen. He's in full uniform which makes it hard for me to not turn around and admire him. I had always loved a man in uniform but there was just something about him in one that made it twenty times better.

"I only cook when I am here because if I start cooking at home, that means you'll expect it, and we can't have that." I reply to him.

He laughs before sneaking a quick kiss on my lips before lifting up my left hand and kissing my ring finger. Even though my engagement ring wasn't there, the little rubber one that replaced it on shift was still just as meaningful. Butterflies erupt in my heart at the small interaction.

Eddie coming to the 118 was the absolute best thing to ever happen to me. Before he arrived, I was a shy little Paramedic who just came to work to run calls and go home. My best friend Buck had been whining forever that I never went out and never spent any time living my life. Whatever that meant. Eddie being here brought out a whole new side of me that Buck says he had always been waiting to see. It was not just Eddie though; Christopher had been another missing piece in my life that I never knew I needed. It had been so easy to turn into a motherly figure for him. When he proposed, Eddie had made sure to include Christopher in it. Mostly because Christopher wouldn't allow him to not include him.

The station bell went off sharply, alerting everyone to a call. "I guess breakfast will just have to wait until later." I yell out downstairs to the crew as I shut off the stove and run downstairs. Hen and Chimney jump into the ambulance while I make my way to the Critical Care SUV. Right after getting engaged to Eddie, I had been promoted to a Critical Care Responder, aka Lieutenant. Which was a fancy way of saying that I had more responsibilities while riding by myself. I hop into the truck and make my way to the call behind the Fire truck and the Ambulance.

Arriving at the call, I let Captain Nash and his crew manage the situation. The best part about my new role, I had Chim and Hen underneath me, which meant they were more than capable of handling anything. I was more along the lines of helping hands when needed with these two. After realizing that I was not needed for this call and hearing another more critical call come out, I let everyone know I was leaving before hurrying on to the next call.

————

"Where did you disappear off to earlier?" I hear Eddie say from behind me.

I had just returned to the station after being gone for most of the day. I turn in my seat so I can fully see him. He's leaning against the door frame of my office with a small smile sitting on his face. As nice as it was to work together, it seemed almost impossible most of the time to actually see him. I smile up at him as he walks over and sits on the corner of my desk.

"I couldn't seem to find my way back here today. Everyone needed something at some point." I state as I lean forward to make some sort of physical contact with him, granted it was just my elbow touching his knee, but hey, it was something.

"I'm tired of everyone needing my girl today. I know you're great and all but damn." I laugh and shake my head at his compliment. He knew that calling me "his girl" was a sure-fire way to my heart. 

"Listen, if you need me while you're out there, all you have to do is call me. That's what everyone else likes to do!" I remind him with a smile on my face.

He smiles back at me, and it is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. We're stuck like that for a moment, just smiling at each other alone in my office.

Eddie glances between me and the still open office door before pulling me to stand in front of him. Before I can ask him what he's doing, his lips are on mine like he hasn't kissed me in months. I quickly return the kiss and allow myself to enjoy the mental break. Before it can get too heavy, Eddie pulls away but just far enough away that our foreheads are still touching. We are both smiling like cheshire cats, and I don't think anything could be better than this. I pull back further and smile up at him.

"Not that I didn't enjoy that, what was that for?" I ask, still smiling. He just stares down at me before giving me a quick kiss on the cheek.

"I just missed my girl. That's all." Before I can respond to him, the station bell goes off once more alerting Eddie to another call. His head falls backwards with a groan escaping his mouth. I snort at his dramatics and place a kiss on his lips before pulling him out of the office. "Where are you going? You didn't get added to this." He asks as we walk towards the bay.

"I might as well grab a drink before I dive back into my paperwork." I tell him.

As we enter the bay and begin to separate, I feel a light smack on butt. The surprise of it caught me off guard causing me to lightly jump and yell out. I can hear Eddie laughing as he runs off towards the truck to leave. "I love you!" He yells out before hopping in the back. Eddie Diaz was going to be the death of me.

[teastainedprose]

Play With Fire, Chapter 3 (Homelander x Reader)

Homelander finds your apartment empty and Homelander is going to be a creep about it. This chapter is a fluff break and an extra one from what I'd originally planned. 1.7k words, No sexual content. Female, plus-sized reader. Slight warning for hints of animal abuse. [AO3 Link, Chapter 1, Chapter 2]

You’re not home. This is new. Homelander frowns as he drops to his usual perch a building away as he surveys the area before scanning through your apartment building. It’s past lunchtime and normally you’d be settled at your desk working away on your PC, but the chair is empty. The laptop is closed and shut down. Where has his little bug scurried off to?

His frown further sours as Homelander scans your usual haunts around your apartment, but he doesn’t catch sight of your plump little figure anywhere. He blinks, reorienting his x-ray vision back to your apartment for another glance before his eyes snag on the whiteboard above your desk. It’s a weekly planner where he’s often seen notes of chores, appointments, or what meals you plan to have quickly scribbled on it. It’s Monday and on the planner is scribbled ‘FIRST DAY’. 

He puzzles over that before it hits him. A new job, that must be it! He’s so clever. Homelander has certainly seen you scroll job postings and even caught you coming home from an interview in the cutest little businesswoman get-up. So fetching, he could have eaten you right up.

Now what sort of new job did a worker bee like you get? Something to research later, Homelander mentally notes as he glides quietly down to your balcony. There’s a better use of his time right now. You’ll be out for a few more hours yet, of this he’s certain. First day and all. Better make a good impression, little bug. Homelander chuckles to himself at the thought as he peeks into your apartment.

Today is the perfect opportunity to indulge, and Homelander has never been one to hold back.

The balcony door isn’t locked and opens quietly under his hand as Homelander smiles to himself, stepping inside. He already knows the layout, walking briskly across the wooden floor as he takes everything in from this new perspective. Being inside, instead of a silent observer of your apartment from above is a new experience for him. Now he gets to experience your world in truth. Homelander takes everything in with a new eye as he walks about, pausing to straighten a photograph or trace his fingers across the spines of your books. You’ve built a cozy little den here. It’s nothing compared to his opulent penthouse, but it reflects a creature such as yourself well enough. None of it is to Homelander’s taste, but he won’t hold that against you. The trinkets and baubles you’ve decorated your nest suit you and he approves of that fact.

Homelander pauses at the couch, plucking up the throw blanket discarded there. He’s seen you snuggled up in this very blanket many a night, tucked in with a book or watching your little shows. He brings the plush fabric to his nose, inhaling deeply. Homelander closes his eyes, savoring the scent there. Your scent. He hasn’t smelled you before, not really. The elevator encounter had been so brief and surprising that Homelander never registered what you’d smelled like at that moment. It had been all anger and stress radiating off you at the time.

He inhales again, breathing deeply with the blanket still held against his face. There’s the citrus scent of fabric softener, but also something undeniably human and undeniably you. Homelander finds that he likes it very much. A moan escapes him as Homelander presses the blanket harder to his nose as if he could imprint the smell of you in his senses. Idly, he wonders if you’d smell the same when he buries his nose in the space between your neck and rounded shoulder. Soft and warm and sweet like the hint of you on this blanket? Homelander sighs at the thought, the longing making his cock jump as he straightens. 

Reluctantly, he drops the blanket back onto the couch as his boots take him deeper into your home towards the bedroom. The door is shut, which Homelander finds curious. Normally, it stands open as he’s watched you wander from bedroom to living room to kitchen and back again while your mind keeps you elsewhere as you putter about doing whatever little bugs like you do. He doesn’t pause as Homelander opens the door, confidently stepping into your bedroom with the eagerness of a child given free rein in a toy store. Homelander expects to paw through your dresser and give the toys he’s seen you use on yourself a thorough inspection.

What he doesn’t expect is the sudden attack from a black blur pouncing onto his foot with a delighted chirrup. Homelander drops his gaze, watching in a detached way as the kitten tries to dig its claws into his boot while kicking back feet furiously. He feels none of it, of course. He doubts even a mere mud person would feel anything from such a pathetic assault, yet the kitten is determined. The little creature squirms about, bottom over front briefly before it twists and promptly scampers off in a confusion of fur.

Homelander frowns. When the fuck did you get a cat? He should have noticed such a creature despite its diminutive size. The little thing is barely a mote of soot as it scrambles under the bed, green eyes wild and wide. The creature pauses, making a sound Homelander would call an undignified squeak ill-suited for a predator before it rushes forward again. His lip twitches, annoyance settling over Homelander at this animal disturbing his tour of your apartment. 

Still, he makes no move toward the kitten as it stalks around behind him to inspect his cape. Homelander turns and the cape goes with him, fabric fluttering in such a tantalizing way that no kitten can resist. The little beast pounces or attempts to.

The frown on Homelander’s lips tugs further down now that he’s eye to eye with the green-eyed imp as in an instant he snatched it up to keep it off his cape. Homelander has never been one to interact with animals often, let alone young ones. The most would have been with such animals sulking away from him in the bad room, hissing and spitting while a doctor looked on behind bulletproof heat vision-resistant glass. Back then he’d been instructed to take care of the creatures to show how much he’d learned of control with his powers, but he can’t do that to this fluffy shadow.

A small purr emanating from the kitten draws Homelander from his memory as he blinks. His eyes refocus on the animal who now is trying to gnaw at one of his fingers through his glove eagerly as it thrums away. Poor thing has no idea who it’s facing. “Charming,” He mumbles before shutting the bedroom door behind him as Homelands steps into the room proper. He gingerly places the squirming animal onto the bed. 

Homelander casts about the bedroom with fresher eyes, taking in a plastic mat with food and a water dish atop it. He doesn’t even need to sniff the air to discern the faint aroma of ammonia and cat litter coming from the open bathroom door. The little beast has been properly set up in your bedroom. A new acquisition. The creature is yours and confined here with purpose, so he can’t risk it suspiciously going missing. At least not yet. A cracked window later down the line will fix this little problem. There’s no need for you to house this extra distraction. Not when he’s so close to getting his claws into you. Homelander smiles to himself.

“Your days are numbered.” He points out, even going so far as to waggle a finger at the black kitten as it rolls about atop the bed. 

In reply, the kitten promptly drops onto its rump atop the comforter and sticks a leg out. This it began washing intently. There’s a slight charm to such a fragile thing being oblivious to the danger present. Homelander cocks his head, watching the animal a beat longer before a sound catches his interest.

There’s the unmistakable rattle of keys too close that takes Homelander by surprise, too lost in his thoughts to notice the approach of footsteps down the apartment hallway. Your footsteps. He’s instantly on high alert, quietly opening the bedroom door and closing it behind him to not let the little beast escape and alert you of something amiss. He waits a beat, eyes on the door as he watches you on the other side while you fumble with the keys. The lock sticks as he’s observed and you never seem to remember to bring it up to the landlord. Forgetful little bug.

Homelander’s form is a patriotic blur as he rushes right across the room, to the balcony, to yank the door open, and dart out to the open sky in a woosh of air. It all happens in a blink as you click the key into place and the lock slides free of the deadbolt.

You pause as you open your apartment door, a slight frown on your face. Something like a breeze seems to have disrupted your apartment as a tapestry on the wall flutters back to rest. You shake your head as a glance about shows nothing amiss. All is well and now you’re smiling to yourself. Your first day at your new job has been a success! 

Dropping your purse on the kitchen counter, your feet are quick as you move to your bedroom door to yank it open. There sits your stray kitten you’d taken in only the other day. He’s mid-lick while grooming his leg. You grin wide, quick to cross the room to scoop the bundle of fur up into your arms. 

“Adrien, did you miss me?” You coo to him, burying your face into his fur as Adrien purrs up a storm. Indeed, he did. You laugh at his enthusiasm as Adrien promptly starts to lick your cheek as if you’re the one in need of a bath. Your smile doesn’t falter as you drop onto the bed before gently laying down to let him settle beside you. 

“It’s nice to be back doing something, you know?” You confide in him. “This charity work is doing wonders to soothe my soul.” Being a kitten, Adrien’s only response is to purr as he curls himself up as close as he can get to your neck.

High above your apartment, Homelander lets himself linger a moment longer. Charity work? Interesting. He watches still, taking in your smile as you cuddle that obnoxious ball of soot. He rolls his eyes, a huff escaping him before moving on.

[robfinancialtip]

🐾 Welcome back, everyone! Join Robert on his 60-day journey with the incredible Halo Collar 3 in this must-watch review. As a proud dog owner, Robert shares how this futuristic Halo Collar has become a game-changer for the safety and training of his furry friend, Jameson.

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🎮 The Halo Collar 3 is more than just a collar—it's an essential tool for any dog owner who prioritizes their pet's safety and training. Robert showcases how the precision GPS, active GPS antenna, and innovative technology have elevated their adventures, allowing Jameson to roam freely with remarkable precision.

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🔋 The collar's durability, sleek design, and long-lasting battery life impress Robert. He emphasizes the simplicity of charging the collar overnight, ensuring it's ready for another day of exciting activities.

📈 The activity charts feature adds an extra layer of care, helping Robert monitor Jameson's daily activity levels and ensure he gets the exercise he needs. The collar goes beyond being a pet gadget, fostering a stronger connection between owner and pet.

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🌈 With various colors available, including new orchid and sunburst options, the Halo Collar 3 is technologically advanced and customizable to match your pup's personality.

💡 In summary, Robert expresses his satisfaction with the reasonably priced Halo Collar 3, highlighting its sophisticated features, ease of use, and the endorsement of training routines by the renowned Cesar Millan. This collar has proven to be a blessing, providing for Jameson's well-being and security in ways that exceed expectations. Don't miss out on this revolutionary pet tech—watch the video to see it in action! 🐶✨

[yaut-jaknowit]

False Freedom

Pairing: We'ar-ow (Female Yautja) x GN!Reader

Word Count: 3659

Summary: You're let to roam around the ship at your free will. Not like you could escape easily. Only to run into trouble.

Author Note: Any errors, let me know!

P.S. Happy Thanksgiving! As a gift to you guys, I'm gonna post two things today. Stay tuned!

Masterlist

Ao3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17

The plain metal door slid behind you and clicked with a lock. Most of the tightness in your chest that made it hard to breath washed away. It freed you to relax and slump against the forementioned door. You still couldn’t believe that We’ar-ow had allowed you to leave her quarters… by yourself. She had said it would be good for you or something like that. Go explore, be curious.

Yeah, you’ll surely be curious as you map out an escape route from her room and towards the ships. That was your plan A for escape. It might take time to figure out how to operate one of them. Thankfully, the tablet should help you that. Give you the basics on learning on how to fly an alien spaceship. You sighed heavily through your nose and pushed off of the door.

Without We’ar-ow marching in front of you, leading you to wherever she wanted, this new found freedom was nice. The unfortunate new mark carved into the top of your back would further ensure a single Yautja wouldn’t dare hurt you. Nervously, you glanced down at the tablet and silently reminded yourself. If trouble was to rise, We’ar-ow could be called with a single button. Nothing bad should happen though… right?

You rapidly shook your held before standing tall, shoulder squared and chin level. Who cares? If you didn’t start now, you’ll be stuck here for longer. An extra day, an extra hour, minute, it did not matter. Extra time you didn’t want to be for. Then, you finally started a path towards the elevator door.

One of the things We’ar-ow has given you is a code. A code to enter most places on the ship. Most, but not all. You hadn’t encouraged yourself to ask if that meant the bay for the ships.

In all honesty, We’ar-ow expects you to try and escape, as close to impossible that is. Nothing is impossible though. Aliens were thought to not exist at all but look where you were currently, in space, so far from home, from earth.

The number pad clicked at every touch before chiming a high-pitch beep. The elevator doors finally opened at your command. You entered it swiftly and pressed the needed button to go the floor destined. Afterwards, you mess about on the table to pull up the map system that showed the entire layout of the ship.

Once it came to stop and opened to reveal a mostly empty hall, you stepped out and gaze both ways. Only a few bodies filled the area, none that paid attention to you. Thankfully. From there you used the map to start an unsteady path to your right.

The mothership was exactly the same on either side. What differentiated between them was the placements of the sparring rooms and the cafeterias by the looks of it. There were probably smaller, less noticeable changes that didn’t matter. You did your best to remember where the emergency escape pods were for one of the halls that connected with this one. The pods were on the outer edge of the ship.

As for one of the hangars, those were closer to the belly of the ship. There seemed to be a huge cargo bay down there as well for supplies and whatnot. Just the extra stuff needed to survive in case of an emergency or such. These aliens surely know what they’re doing when it comes to this kind of thing. Space, beautiful but extremely dangerous.

Through the lowly trickle of people, you stayed off to the side, out of their way, and head bowed to follow the map. Thankfully, no one gave you trouble, either warded off by We’ar-ow’s scent on you or the sight at of her mark scaring your skin. Whatever it was, worked. They stayed away as you went on your marry way down this hall and onto the next.

The hairs at the base of your neck rose sharply. Every instinct that controlled your body reverted to a prey mindset as you paused mid-step. Only a few feet into this new hallway. The sounds of your heartbeat thundered in your ears as the only thing you could do was freeze. Freeze like a deer in headlights, watching their doom approach them.

Unlike that, you didn’t know what was following you. Who or what was watching you so closely, so deadly. It caused your skin to crawl and prickle.

Every instinct screamed at you to move or even press the button. To know that there was hope that someone on this alien ship was willing to protect you. Even if it was someone you would happily slash her throat and promptly run for your life.

Your bottom lip found its way to be worried on between dull teeth. Then, your hovering foot came down to complete a hesitant step. Despite your ancient instincts trying to drive you away from this place, you ignored it and kept going. If you turned tail to run away from whoever this was, you could only be seen more of the coward the Yautjas saw your kind as. You pushed through and continued this pathing down the infinite hallway.

All you wanted to do was map out the area for an escape.

From the weight of the unknown stare, you knew it wasn’t We’ar-ow. There couldn’t be a possible way for her to reach this level moments after you and get to that hall before you. Plus, that heat… Your skin crawled, knowing whoever it was wanted you dead.

Dwainet came to mind but it’s not only him that felt threatened by your presence. Other Yautjas have shown and expressed their dislike for you since you’ve arrived so long ago. You don’t think Dwainet would show himself near you after the beat down with We’ar-ow either. Not when she played with him like a skilled warrior and a child sparring. It was all a game to her.

.

Off to the side, you stopped to study the map a little more closely. A few shoot offs of other halls connected to this main hallway. A few shops lined this side, vendors selling various things from weapons to jewelry of sorts.

As the human you were, curiosity gripped your heart and tugged on it. Timidly in the near empty hall, you approached the lonely vendor that had a few weapons and armor in his section. Despite wishing he wouldn’t take notice of your form, his eyes darted as you grew closer. You cursed mentally and turned to leave. Death wasn’t on your list of plans today.

The male Yautja chirped, the translator staying silent behind your ear. With his head, he motioned for you to come back towards him. Instead, you stayed put, unsure if fleeing was an option, if he would give chase to hunt you down.

“Come hereth. I see the interest in your alien eyes, ooman,” he commanded, voice high, airy. Well shit. You held the tablet to your chest while your eyes scanned the objects set up on the tables. “You’re the Monarch’s pet, aren’t you?” Your knuckles turned a shade of white but you nodded.

This new Yautja placed a hand on the table and leaned over the weapons. The inside of your cheek started to bleed from how hard you were biting it to distract yourself, some. His warm breath fanned over your face, spilt tongue darting out to taste the air. “Pick something,” he stated and stood straight once more.

It took some willpower not to let shock morph over your features. Was this a trick of sorts to lie and say you stole something? No one would believe you, a pet, would have currency to buy things. You turned your head to look at him from the corner of your eye with suspicion.

He chuckled and put his hands on his hips, thumbs slipping into the waistband of his pants. “Ah, you are smarter than the average ooman. I give credit where it is due.” His alien smirk fell though as he peered straight at you. “Seriously though, pick something. Anything of the sort.”

His words are what caught your attention and the way he spoke carefully. This Yautja was offering for you to pick something but hadn’t said you could have it. Play this smart, don’t cause trouble.

On the table between the two of you, your eyes swiftly darted from item to item before landing on a small dagger. The smallest of them all and closest to fit more comfortably in your own hand.

Carefully, you pointed out the dagger. “That one.” You didn’t touch it or anything on the table, not playing into his hands. You hoped.

A grin spread across his face, upper mandibles both flaring. An action you could almost was a challenge or threat of sorts. Yet, you stayed where you stood without moving, a white-knuckle grip still held onto the tablet in your hands.

He once more rested a palm against the table and leaned in closer then before. “Ahhh, you are harder to trick than the average ooman. Glad to see it.” Then, strangely enough, he held out his hand towards you, a human gesture. “I am called Wourk. You may take the weapon as a prize. I give you the blade, free of charge.”

Once more, you looked at the newly named Wourk closely. His hand still hovered in the air, you decided to play it safe and not take it. “Why?” you questioned in all honesty. It would a loss to him. Why give up product for nothing in return? You did not trust this Yautja, not one bit.

Wourk snorted and leaned away from you. “Some secrets are meant to stay hidden. Take the blade. It is yours to weld,” he answered. You narrowed your eyes on him once more before finally forcefully uncurling one of your hands. Your knuckles painfully ached at how hard you had been squeezing the tablet, creaking from the movement.

Your eyes darted between your limb and himself, to ensure he wasn’t going to double cross you. The lukewarm metal touched against your fingertips. Wourk hadn’t moved and just watched with amusement.

Swiftly, you snatched back your hand with the dagger. Now further from him, you respectfully bowed your head. “Thank you,” you said politely before inspecting the craftmanship of it. With the limited knowledge, the metal reflected light off of it. “It’s beautiful.” The Yautja hummed, an upper mandible jerking upwards.

This entire time, he was just entertaining himself during the slow periods. You gazed back up at him with just a hint of a smile. Oh, you poor ooman.

“Run along, ooman.” Wourk leaned back on another tablet behind him and used a hand in a shooing motion. Your face turned sour but you did stalk away without giving him another word. Despite rarely being around other Yautjas besides Dwainet and now We’ar-ow, there was no kindness in their biology. Just straight to the point.

When you reentered the barely filled hallway, a shiver ran its course through your body. Goosebumps raised the hairs along your arms. Watchful, observant eyes pinned you down where you stood. You did your best to shake it off and slip the blade into your pocket, hoping it wouldn’t cut the fabric or yourself somehow.

With the tablet once more leading you through the halls, you meander your way. Just a helpless ooman, figuring their way on a ship alien to you.

A ooman that’s so weak, pathetic, just one flex of his muscles could snap their fragile neck. A ooman he stalked, watched, carefully in the halls of the mothership. The ooman could not sense him in any way, that he knew of. He was safe, using his cloak to keep from their sight. One day, he’ll extinguish the damned creature’s heart. Like the way it deserved to be as the weak link.

His prowess aided him as he stalked after it. Every step calculated to ensure there wasn’t a chance he could be seen. He watched as a vendor gave you a small, useless blade and sent you on your way. If he were to attack, like that could do anything damaging to him. No, he’ll have your head pulled from your body before the thought to use it could cross your mind.

There was nothing and no one that could stop him. A Yautja on the hunt with his prey before him… only he had to play this smart. He couldn’t have the murder coming back to him. The Monarch would deprive him of life he guessed from the way she defended it. A game this Yautja was willing to play. The hunt, always, always fun.

Taking turns to more populated areas of the ship, you fast-walked without drawing attention to yourself away from here. Anywhere safer than those eyes. The eyes that had yet to leave no matter what you did. No matter what turn, where you headed, they stalked your every move.

In all honestly, you had hit every section on this level just to escape. But it followed. Your heart pounded violently in your ears at each twist and turn. Without realizing it, you had begun running and now heading towards the elevator. The area wasn’t heavily populated, probably desolate at this point but you needed to get to the safety of We’ar-ow’s room. At least, hopefully, no one could reach you there. That you knew off, possibly.

Your hand slammed against the number pad to open the door in frantic feeling. Whatever was chasing kept pace, easily and calmly. The device screeched at the incorrect code, snapping you for a moment out of your thoughts. The code was shakily inputted. After the three time, it finally took it and opened up.

All it took was three seconds to react, get in, and smash a fist against the button to close. Your back was to the furthest wall as you waited for the doors to seal shut. The only thing you could do was watch and pray it doesn’t get in here before they shut.

Either it was toying with you or wasn’t as quick as you believed it to be, the doors were able to close fully. The tightness in your chest fell away as you  took a shaky step forward and pressed the needed button to We’ar-ow’s room.

With the eyes off of you, relief briefly flooded your system and allowed a moment to think and truly breathe. Air filled your lung completely for the first time within the hour. You settled against the wall next to the buttons for a moment. Long enough for the elevator to stop on the desired floor and open up to reveal the short, blank walkway to her door.

Hesitancy kept you stuck in the elevator as you just stared at the door. From one monster to another…

Something small, minute, in the belly of your stomach didn’t sit well with that thought. We’ar-ow hasn’t been outright cruel or abusive… besides the branding marring your skin. Everything else, it was all gifts or kind gestures. The tablet, the cushion, the clothing. Yeah, everything someone would do for their pet, but she hasn’t been cruel to you.

The doors in front of you started to close. In a panic, you rushed forward and slipped through before they shut. So close to the entrance of the lion’s den. You swallowed thickly, unsure how much more stress in one day you could handle.

Behind you, the elevator made a thud noise, terrifying you out of your mind. In an instant, you sprinted forward, abandoning the tablet on the ground. Your shoulder roughly met the door as you tried to run it over but it held steady. Frantic and terrified, you banged on the door, voice caught in your throat.

You fell forward but caught yourself barely for a massive hand to push you further into the room. Everything was a blur until your mind could finally catch up to see the scene before you.

We’ar-ow, in all of her mighty, snarling glory, stood defensively before you. Her long, lethal claws glinting in her quarter’s light as her fingers flexed, ready to tear into flesh and bone. A threatening, dangerous snarl ripped through her throat, daring, challenging anyone to take step forward. Nothing, no one did.

Her door closed, sealing the two of you safely in her place. From the overwhelming, mind breaking terror running through your veins, you fell to your knees and wrapped your arms around yourself. That didn’t help an ounce to calm yourself down.

Your breaths were ragged, tearing at your throat. Hot tears poured down your face as you stayed kneeled on the ground and stared blankly. In your mind, you were far too caught in the whirlwind to notice anything in the real world. Had you just escaped death from whatever stalked you? A broken whine came from your dry throat.

Something warm, rough engulfed your jaw and forced your head to tilt up. A few second passed. Your eyes finally focused on We’ar-ow kneeling down, completely on her knees and checking over you. Clicks sounded from her mandibles and throat but the buzzing in your head drowned out the translator. You had no clue what was being spoken, nor did you care. The droning noise consumed everything. Nothing made sense right now.

One second you were on the floor. The next, you were being carried swiftly somewhere. We’ar-ow set you down on a cool ledge in what looked to be the bathroom. All you did was make the smallest noise of confusion while staring blankly at the light floors of the bathroom.

Freezing water splashed against your face, tearing you from your thoughts. You gasped harshly and squirmed to get off of the counter, but strong, sturdy arms held you in place. They were pinned on either side of you and kept you trapped.

“Look at me.”

Harsh words were snapped with trickles of what could believed as worry. Your head jerked up, eyes darting to find orange blazing orbs staring into your soul. There was something about that just almost soothed your soul instantly. Instead, you just stopped moving.

“Good, good pet,” she cooed and raised a hand to pet the top your head only to grab the strands. Her hand pulled slightly back to expose the column of your throat to her. “What happened?” Her voice was still softer, even gentler than before as she questioned you.

At the moment, all you could do was give a pathetic, broken cry that barely passed the lump in your throat. We’ar-ow leaned in closer to rest her close mandibles against where your neck and shoulder meet. At first, you tensed up and relaxed, her hand the only thing keeping you sitting up. “Who hurt you?” she tried again, staying soft and inviting. “Tell me who hurt you, my pet.”

A purr began to rumble deep in her chest. It was a sound you hadn’t heard before from the pink Yautja. Dwainet… he’s done it before, so many times before for you. This was different, somehow, someway.

You cleared your throat the best to get rid of the majority of the lump to speak. “I-I-“ your voice cracked, dry from all the running. “Don’t kn-ow.” We’ar-ow continued her purring as she pulled back enough to fill a hand with water. She brought it up to your lips. Too desperate to wash away the scratches in your throat, you gulped it down. The Yautja did this two more times for you.

“What happened?” Now, We’ar-ow was look straight into your eyes, no longer purring. Nervous from the eye contact, your gaze darts around the bathroom. She wasn’t going to let that go. Instead, she grasped your chin once more and forced you to look at me. In her eyes, she wanted to know the truth of how you ended up as a terrified, trembling mess at her door.

Both of your hands played mindlessly with the helm of the shirt she gave you. Then, you explained from the moment you stepped out into the hall and all the way back to her room. The entire time, she didn’t let her or your eyes leave as much as that made you anxious.

Once the last word left your lips, We’ar-ow stood in silence. The cog wheels in her head spun.

Out of nowhere, We’ar-ow scooped you from the counter and held you bridal style. The strength of her body easily taking you from the bathroom to… her bed? The low, half above ground mattress of sorts was neatly put together with furs and blankets. Four pillows lined the head of the bed. The Yautja knelt down to pull at the covers before slipping you underneath them.

The terror and complete puzzlement that controlled your body at that moment held you in place. What was she doing?! We’ar-ow pulled the covers over you, up to your chest and stood back up. “Stay. I will investigate,” she said before turning to take her leave.

Deep down, from the pits of your mind, you wanted nothing more to reach out and stop her. The words ‘wait’ on your tongue. But she was out the door before you could gather the courage to do so.

Her bedroom door closed and made a clicking noise. A lock? But… why? Why did she not take you to your room? Why her room? You gulped and ran a hand through the strands of your messed up hair. All of that running and freaking out did nothing for your hair.

A shaky breath filled the air as you look over the room. Back on her wall of trophies, those human skulls stared at you with their empty eye sockets. One day, will she turn you into that?

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17

[spookyspecterino]

Back to You Again

Tangerine x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Injury, mention of blood, mention of death/fear of death, arguing/bickering, swearing. Serious idiots in love who have a little trouble expressing their feelings and choose the wrong time to do it.

You've been gone a little while. A few months to be specific. Why? Tangerine can only guess, but he's not happy about it.

Requested by @nocturnest. I'm so sorry this took so long. I started it thinking it was going to be short and then 7K words flew out. 😬Anyway, thanks for your request. It's been a long time since I wrote anything seriously and this was really good for me. Hope you enjoy!

“Laser cutter. Three auto-rifles. Two handguns. Three boxes of ammo each.”

Check.

The binoculars are heavy duty, and the metal texture grates your fingers as you pull them up to peer through the lenses into the next building over. A high-rise that had at least 30 floors. All windowed at least, which made this a little easier on you.

“In through the fifth-floor service area. Through the employee hallway to the service elevator.”

A map of the building laid next to you on the gravel roof. It hadn’t been easy to get your hands on it, but it was worth it for a building as secure as this. No security measure had been overlooked by this man and as paranoid as he seemed it went a long way to his credibility.

“In and out through the service elevator. 20 mins tops. Oh, the jammer.”

A handheld device that you’d paid top dollar for. Yes, it has duct tape holding pieces of it together, and the screen was a repurposed old Gameboy front, but it is the best your back-channel dealer could provide.

How did anyone do anything without a handler these days?

The jammer would save you the trouble (if things turned sideways) of dealing with reinforcements. It flickers to life by flipping a switch smoldered to its side. The thing really does look like a piece of garbage.

Several frequencies and networks flashed across the screen, all of them belonging to the building you were surveying. Scrolling through, only a few needed to be shut down, too many and it would raise alarms.

Wifi was the last to be turned off and then you would really need to book it inside.

Everything planned out to a T. Entrance and exits mapped. Back-up plans (and back-up plans to those back-up plans) in place. Extra weapons and ammo in case you had to go out guns blazing. This should be no problem.

“Office-penthouse on the top floor. Computer terminal on the desk, west side.”

Get to the computer, get the files, destroy everything. If you happened to kill the son of a bitch, well, that was a bonus.

You sigh and rub your face, trying to work out the stress lines that seemed to make a permanent home between your brows. “Now I just need to stop talking to myself.”

It was an unfortunate habit you’d picked up in the last few months of working alone. Usually, you had… no. This was no time to think of them, or of him. You have to focus. After this is done, you can go back and apologize, even grovel if you have to.

But now is the time for focus.

In the middle of repeating this mantra, one you’ve been repeating for the last month, you happen to look up at the street. Not for any real reason, nothing had drawn your attention. Nothing was amiss in your perfect plan.

Except two very familiar faces walking down the sidewalk.

Lemon and Tangerine.

Clad in their typical attire. Snazzy suits, dress shoes, and ties.

Your stomach does several things. First it flips at the sight of Tangerine as he saunters with his hands in his pockets, then it sinks and twists into painful knots.

“No, no, no!”

They can’t be here! Anywhere but here!

The two walked casually down the sidewalk, as if they were taking a nice midday stroll. No rifles, no car, nothing. Either they were ballsy as hell…or wildly misinformed about this building and the man inside.

Something in you hoped, prayed, they would pass the building. That they were going somewhere else.

They took a sharp turn to cross the street—toward the building entrance—and your breath turned ragged, your blood chilled. At the same time, your mind was churning with practicality, cold and calculated ideas. Some nasty part of you that had gotten you this far in such a dangerous career, that had nestled in you a long time ago and only now resurfaced in the months of being alone.

You could just walk away; they have their job, and they’re professionals. They can handle themselves.

You could go in after and clean up without ever being seen. Easy. The plan you made could still work, Tangerine and Lemon would be a perfect distraction.

But you were already moving. Lega working on their own and putting you into motion. Fingers tapping off the Wi-Fi signal on the jammer while you slung your duffle bag over your shoulder.

This was not the plan, you argued with yourself as you flew down the back stairs. You’ll get yourself killed being this reckless and impulsive. What happened to in and out in 20 mins?

With every point you made the other side of your mind made a counterpoint.

They’re underprepared. They’re misinformed. They don’t have the firepower to walk in the front door, hell, they don’t have enough bullets to make it to the second floor.

“God damn it!” You yelled, taking the stairs down two at a time. Your voice echoed off the walls in the cramped stairwell. The rifles in your duffle bag clattered and banged together.

They’d be killed. Tangerine and Lemon would be killed. You couldn’t let that happen.

. . .

“I say we take a hostage and negotiate our way up.”

“Yeah, sure, Lemon.”

“This guy’s what, a tech billionaire, or something?”

“Probably.”

“Ok, so he’s a nerd. Easy job.”

“Uh-huh.”

Lemon shoots his brother a less than happy look. Tangerine is staring off into space with a slight frown, hands shoved deep in his pockets as he hunches over a little. Which wasn’t new, he’d been doing that a lot lately. A reflection of his dour mood.

Lemon rolls his eyes. “Oh, mate. Come on. We’re on a job.”

Tangerine shrugs, frowning harder. “I’m fuckin’ aware of that, Lemon.”

“Then stop with your sulking! What have I told you?”

“No—” Tangerine waves a hand, “—you don’t need to say it again—”

“Just send her a letter or something. She’d love it.”

Tangerine groans, he’s starting to get a headache now as they near the target building. “As I’ve said before, I attached letters on the flowers I sent.”

Lemon opens his mouth, but Tangerine cuts him off. “And I sent more than one bouquet. For fuck’s sake, her house probably looks like a tropical rainforest by now.”

“What about—”

“I’ve sent her presents. Jewelry. Perfume. A new phone in case hers was broken. Fuckin’ hell I even had her porch repainted.”

“And she didn’t say anything?”

“Nothing.”

Lemon hesitates. “Did you say you’re sorry?”

Now Tangerine was about to lose it. His eye twitched, not that his brother could see it. “Sorry for what? She’s the one that up and disappeared without a word.”

“I still think you should say it. Just to cover your bases.”

“I’m not apologizing. We were all perfect and you know that. She was happy as a clam and if something was wrong, she would have told me.”

“Then why’d she—”

“You’re really getting on my fucking nerves, Lemon.”

They were across the street from the main entrance now. Two glass doors with golden handles reflected the brothers. In sync they both took a sharp turn toward them. Through the glass they didn’t see anyone else in the lobby and there was a long, chest high counter with a clerk along the far back wall.

Neither of them blinked at how empty the lobby was. Their client had said this target was some kind of informant, but that was about it. They’d paid half up front and sent them on their merry way.

Tangerine yanked open the glass door, holding it for Lemon. He was beyond pissed and just wanted this to be over with. Despite his complaints he was still mulling over what his brother said. Should he apologize, even though he had done nothing wrong? He didn’t think he’d done anything wrong, and he had thought back on all the times you’d been with them, working a job or not.

He’d been happy, he thought you were happy too.

The white floor tiles of the lobby were so shiny they could check their reflections in them. The whole place was upstanding and flaunted wealth. On both sides of the spacious lobby were two silver elevators. The clerk, a lady in her mid-thirties, looked up at them as they walked in. She picked up a phone and turned away as she spoke.

It took them 10 seconds to reach the desk, and, in that time, Lemon had pulled out his gun.

He pointed it at her now. “Hang up the phone.”

She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. Not the usual response someone has when a gun is pointed at them, but she slowly hangs up.

“Come out from behind the desk, slowly.”

There’s a moment when she does nothing. Then, “No.”

Tangerine blinks, then pulls out his own gun. “Did you really just say no? Listen lady—”

She leans forward over the desk, leering. “Turn around and get the fuck out.”

Lemon shoots into the wall slightly to her left. She doesn’t even flinch at the sound. “I will fucking shoot you. Get out. From behind. The desk.”

She leans back. “Cute gun.”

Tangerine starts to get a sinking feeling. He turns to Lemon, about to say they should take a walk (maybe find a back entrance to this place instead) when the woman pulls out .22 Uzi from somewhere in the desk. They only catch a glimpse of the muzzle before they start shooting wildly and ducking.

Lemon takes a shot to the chest with a grunt. Tangerine hears the bullets whizzing past him and shattering glass.

The desk clerk turns disappearing behind an employee door seamlessly built into the wall.

They crouch down next to the desk. Tangerine’s head pounds, as it usually does when a job gets out of control.

“You alright?” He reloads his gun, watching his brother carefully.

Lemon checks himself over, patting his chest and stomach. “Yeah, all good, the vest caught it. This is fucked what do we do—”

He doesn’t get a chance to finish as both elevators open and squads of heavily armored men pour out. They all have automatic rifles and black Kevlar vests.

“Behind the desk!” Tangerine shouts, pulling Lemon up.

They jump over just as the bullets start flying. Glass shatters, wood splinters, tiles crack. It’s utter chaos and Tangerine and Lemon can only sit behind cover.

“I think we might be fucked!” Lemon shouts, checking his gun.

Tangerine grits his teeth, mind racing. “The client didn’t mention this level of security! I’m going to wring their fucking neck!”

“We’re outmatched!”

“No question, Lemon! Thanks for pointing that out!” Tangerine can feel his brother’s rising anxiety as he shifts his weight from foot to foot.

 “What do we do?!”

“We hope to God this is all of them and try our best to make it out of here!”

“You’re saying—”

Tangerine fires blindly from behind the desk. “Yes, we bail on this job and break our client’s fucking legs!”

The onslaught never seems to end. These assholes are top security and they’re trained well. Their shots chip away at the desk piece by piece, Tangerine and Lemon can feel the bullets violently embed themselves in the wood against their backs.

Tangerine glances at the employee door, there’s no handle and no way to pry it open. He figures there’s a remote control that opens it somewhere from behind. He tries to remain calm, think of a way out that isn’t behind at least 10 guys with rifles.

What would you do in this situation? His heart feels like it’s been pierced with a lance as he thinks of you. Obviously, you would never be caught in a situation like this. You were careful, practical, methodical in the way you planned out jobs.

He wished you were here with him.

Instinctually, his hand reaches into his pocket, grabbing his phone. Lemon watches him with something close to sympathy on his face.

Your number is on speed dial. Tangerine presses a button and holds it up to his ear.

It goes straight to voicemail.

The automated answering machine has become very familiar to him these last few months. Were you checking his voicemails? He’d left you enough to fill up your mailbox, he was sure of it.

“Please leave a message after the tone.”

He hopes you can hear him over the sound of gunshots.

“Yeah, look. Lemon and I, we’re in a bit of a pickle. I was really hoping you would answer this time ‘cause we need help. Since you didn’t, I just wanted to say that you’re a real prick for leaving us the way you did. And you haven’t said a single thank you or anything for all the gifts I’ve sent. Poor Lemon has been wondering where you went off to.” He pauses. This wasn’t the way he wanted to start this message, but every other attempt at getting your attention has failed.

“You know how I feel, I’ve made that pretty clear. But right now, I’m just pissed. Nothing has worked, so I’m going to break into your house and wait for you to come home.”

Lemon gives him a startled look, shakes his head from side to side.

Tangerine frowns. “Don’t take that the wrong—Alright, I won’t break into your house, but I will wait on your doorstep. Every day, I’ll be there until I see you.”

Lemon is still frowning, but Tangerine ignores him.

“This is all because…Well, I…” He struggles, throat turning dry and closing around the words he wants to say. Instead of continuing, he hangs up.

Sitting back against the desk he exhales. The gunfire has stopped to an occasional patter here and there.

Lemon runs a hand through his hair. “Bruv, what the fuck was that?”

“A last-ditch effort at getting some backup.”

They fell into silence; the lobby was eerily quiet. They knew the security team was just waiting for them to come out from behind the desk. The air crackled with energy.

Lemon checked his pockets. “I’ve got two clips left, you?”

“One and a half.”

The look they share conveys their doubts, their dread. An unspoken conversation passes between them.

Tangerine puts it in the back of his mind. “I’ll run out first, then you go a few seconds later.”

“No way, we go at the same time.”

He shakes his head but arguing only puts off the inevitable.

“Go to the opposite side of the desk.”

They split, crouching behind opposite corners. There was no way either of them would be able to make it two steps without taking 10 rounds to the chest. The image of you stays in Tangerine’s mind. He just wished he could see you again. Whatever comes next, afterlife or not, he hoped you—or some form of you—would be in it.

Tangerine gives Lemon one last look, finds that his brother is watching him, and gives him a somber nod. He holds his gun up, takes a deep breath, gets ready to run…

He’s out from behind the desk, gritting his teeth and firing in a flash.

He hits one, another to his left falls from Lemon’s bullets. His legs are shaky, he can feel them trembling.

Rifles take aim.

Tangerine opens his mouth to urge Lemon on.

And a grenade goes off.

The loud bang startles him, his ears ring and a second later he’s shrouded in white, smokey fog. Tangerine stops, confused, looking around to try and find Lemon. But a strong hand yanks him and drags him back. He stumbles, scattering empty bullet shells along the ground, and falls onto the tile.

He’s back behind the desk. Lemon falls next to him.

A pair of legs stands between the brothers. Next to them lies a green duffle bag. Empty rifle shells fall to the ground. Tangerine didn’t even realize guns were firing. He followed the legs up in one long sweep of his eyes.

. . .

A million and one things were going through your mind as you fired an automatic rifle at the security team in the lobby. The biggest thing was holding back every fiber of your damn being from screaming at Tangerine and Lemon for being so foolish.

If you had been a breath later, a second too late, these idiots would be laying in a pile of their own blood on the floor. That thought definitely won’t haunt you for a few months.

The other thing you were concentrating on was ignoring the way Tangerine was staring at you right now. He’s not hurt—you kept repeating, over and over again. He’s ok.

The security team was scattering for cover, but finding little, making your job easy as the last of the smoke cleared. They hadn’t been expecting someone to come in from behind and you’d shot a few in the back before throwing the smoke grenade. Only a few were left now.

They seemed to get over their surprise and began firing back, opening the elevators, and using the inside cabins for cover. Keeping the doors open would stop them from being sent back up for more goons to come through. That was good.

You duck down behind the desk. They were still staring at you.

“Yes! Hello!” You stubbornly gritted out while staring into the wood.

Tangerine’s mouth opened and closed many times, but no words came out. That didn’t mean Lemon wasn’t able to say anything.

“Did you get his message?” He was grinning like some kind of fool.

“Message? Which one?”

Was he talking about the hundreds of messages—texts, voicemails, and letters—Tangerine had been sending on a weekly basis? Yes, you’d gotten them. Read every single one. It had been hard enough sleeping normally, after all that you hadn’t been able to sleep at all. The guilt was overwhelming.

Lemon’s eyes dart to his brother. You did the same and regretted it immediately.

Tangerine’s eyes were practically bulging from his head. His mustache twitched.

Oh, he’s pissed.

You quickly look away and clear your throat. “Are you on a job?”

“Yeah, a shit one. We were just trying to bail.”

“Can’t blame you. What happened, bad intel?”

Tangerine’s voice resembled a growl, it grated against your ear, but it wasn’t entirely unwelcome. “Understatement of the century, love.”

Love. Love. Love.

Lemon wipes his forehead. “What’re you doing here?”

“I have my own problems with your target.” You turn to Lemon but feel Tangerine’s eyes burning a hole in your back. “I was about to sneak in when I saw you two walking down the street.” You check your gun, then rummage through the duffle bag for another clip.

“A massive coincidence then?” Lemon was holding back a smile, eyes darting to Tangerine occasionally. It was as if they weren’t just about to die only five minutes ago.

“If you two still want to bail, that’s fine with me. I’ll give you a window after taking the rest out. I’m going to push on.”

Tangerine spins you around by the shoulder to face him. “Are you fucking mental?”

You’re very close together. The determination it takes not to just lean in and…

Speaking slow, you’re focusing your words and hoping it gets through to him. “Your target has info on me that could get people hurt and ruin my reputation. I need to wipe his computer.”

For all his credit, Tangerine takes you seriously in that moment, even as he looks like he might commit murder. He looks to Lemon—they do that ‘sibling conversation’ without words that they’re so good at.

“We’ll stick around to help.”

“You sure?”

Something in him ignites. There’s a fire behind his eyes. “Fuck yes, we’re sure.”

He’s giving mixed signals now. Is he angry? Probably. But apparently not angry enough to leave you on a job alone.

“Alright…” You say, slowly backing away.

You search through the duffle bag, cold objects graze your fingers, you can identify them each by touch. The laser cutter has a rubber handle. “Lemon—" You toss it to him. “—Cut a hole in the employee door. Tangerine—” You grab another rifle, placing it into his hands. “—Help me take out the last of the guys.”

He takes the rifle and for a moment your hands touch. You expect him to flinch away, or recoil, but he lingers there for a moment. His golden rings gleam—of course he wore them, he never leaves them behind—and catch your eyes until he takes the gun from you.

Fucking confusing.

It had been months, but the three of you worked together like no time had passed at all. Tangerine falling in sync with you, watching your back. Working in tandem, the few remaining riflemen dropped like flies.

“Doors open!” Lemon shouted tapping you and Tangerine’s shoulder.

The three of you waste no time dashing into the small service hallway. Tangerine grabbed the duffle bag and slung it over his shoulder. You were just about to pick it up, but he gave you a look.

There wasn’t as much polish to this part of the building, the lighting was dimmer, and it lacked the white tiles, replaced by a steely gray metal flooring instead. The hallway was long and narrow, its walls matched the floor in color.

“This should lead to an employee elevator. That will take us to the top office.” You panted, oddly exhilarated.

Lemon was looking down the hallway as he crouched. “Watch out for the desk clerk, she went this way.”

“Still can’t believe you both just walked in the front door…”

“We don’t all have your sense of planning, darling.” Tangerine huffed, hiking the bag higher on his shoulder.

“Did you have any sense of planning?”

“Lemon had a plan.”

You turn halfway back to face him. “You—Tangerine!”

He fixes you with an odd look. “What?”

“Lemon doesn’t even read the briefs! And you let him make the plan?” You shoot an apologetic look to Lemon. “No offense, you’re really great in every other area.”

He gives you a half smile. “I appreciate that.”

Tangerine grinds his teeth. “In my defense, the intel in the brief was already bad.” He steps closer, into your personal space. “And you always come up with the plans.”

You don’t shy away from him, in fact, you inch closer. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to make them, but you should know better—”

Lemon sighs, long and loud. “Can you two please focus? We’re in the middle of a dangerous situation here.”

It took a moment for you and Tangerine to resume, the closeness was intimate. Electricity crackles in the air between you.

You both say ‘Fine’ at the same time, like stubborn teenagers. The tension hadn’t settled one bit.

If Tangerine needed to be ignored for the remainder of this mission, then ok. That’s fine. No problem. That doesn’t bother you one bit. Nope.

The three of you empty the duffle bag of its contents, splitting the ammo and giving Lemon the pump action shotgun. That shotgun was your Hail Mary in case shit hit the fan—which, by your definition, it had.

You three were your own personal attack squad now, armed to the teeth.

The employee lift was at the end of the twisting hallway, metallic doors shining like a beacon. The panel to call it only had the arrow pointing up, a one-way lift. You’d poured over the maps late into the night leading up to your personal mission, often with a glass of wine, and it had struck you as odd that it only offered a one way up.

You jab at the button, and the little golden light is stark against the greys around it. Tangerine stands just behind you; you can hear his breath over your shoulder.

“Why’s it only one way?” he asks, hushed and tense.

“I asked the same question.” You responded turning a little to look at him. “I thought it might be security measures.”

“Doesn’t really make sense though, does it? It lets people like us up.” Tangerine zeroes in on your frown. “What is it?”

“There might be internal controls from the top office. This guy doesn’t fuck around with security.”

“Who is this guy anyway?” Lemon sniffs, casting a look back down the hallway.

“An asshole that likes snooping into people’s personal business.”

The brothers trade looks.

“He also works in satellite tech, undercover ops, information gathering.”

There’s a gentle bump into your shoulder. “He’s been snooping into your business, has he?”

How long is this elevator going to take?

“He has.”

“Did he try to blackmail you?”

“Yes.”

“What did he find?”

The elevator dings and the sleek metal doors slide open. The inside is full of ominous red and gold hues. The luxuriousness of it gives you the impression that the boss of the building takes it regularly.

Instead of answering, you step inside and forcefully hit the button for the top floor. Tangerine watches you carefully, studying you. Somehow, he looks like a kicked puppy, yet holding the rifle he takes on a much more sinister tone. He still looks dashing as hell in his suit though. You can see the little gold chain of his necklace around his broad neck.

Focus, focus, focus!

His mustache twitches a bit as he catches you staring. And to top that off, he stands in front of you, very closely in front. Either trying to shield you or irritate you. Possibly both.

He’s wearing the cologne you got him as a present almost a year ago.

“If there’s in house security for this lift, we should be prepared.” You shift a little to see Lemon over Tangerine’s shoulder.

“What do you suggest?”

“They know we’re coming, so we have to be fast. Their access to elevators has been blocked. All remaining security teams will need to take the stairs. This elevator opens to another employee hallway that we’ll have to exit in order to reach the office. That’s assuming—”

The elevator stutters, something above you screeches in the elevator shaft, and the panel lights flicker. All three of you stumble as it comes to an abrupt stop and the dim emergency lights switch on. They coat the interior in a faint red light, turning it into a nightmare scenario.

 You groan. “That’s assuming they don’t just turn the elevator off. Fuck.”

Lemon places the shotgun on the floor and motions to Tangerine. Together they pry the paneling off to reveal the switchboard underneath. Lemon fusses with the wiring, using a knife to cut through some and connect it to others.

Sparks fly, flashing in the dim light. Your anxiety ramps. Trapped in an elevator was not on your list of things you wanted to deal with today.

While Lemon fussed with wires, Tangerine turned back to you. “Relax.”

“Excuse me?”

“Try to stay calm, we’ll be out in a second or two.”

Your blood boiled hot. “Don’t tell me to be calm.”

Tangerine smiles at you. “I know you hate elevators.”

“They’re fine, I just particularly hate being trapped in them.”

“Just relax, I’ve got you.”

“That doesn’t help at all!”

More sparks and flickering lights and the elevator doors open an inch. Tangerine has the audacity to smirk in that moment and he touches your chin briefly. His eyes gleam in the dim light.

If you all lived, you were going to kill him.

The twins work wordlessly to pry the elevator doors open. It takes a tremendous effort and both of them are sweaty and breathing hard at the end, but there’s enough space for a person to climb through. Except, you’re going to have to jump down into the office below. Half the elevator is blocked.

“Well, good news is…” Lemon says, scratching his head, “we can get out. And if the elevator can only fall downward.”

“The elevator only goes up, Lemon.” You choke out.

“Oh. Right…well, best get a move on then.”

“I’ll go first.” Tangerine volunteers.

On instinct you reach for him. He sees the slight movement before you hold yourself back.

As if it was easy, he’s crouching down, squeezing through the doors, and jumping into the office below. All with his gun in his hand. Meanwhile, your heart is doing summersaults in your throat.

He holds his hands up, beckoning you. “Come on. You’ve done harder things than this.”

You force yourself to move, crouching down and inching toward the opening. You toss him your rifle. “Like when?”

“Like when you jumped between rooftops in Venezuela.”

“I wasn’t thinking when I did that! And in hindsight, it was fucking stupid of me.”

He laughs. “I’ve got you. Come on.”

You squeeze through the doors, imagining the elevator crashing down, the doors snapping shut, something—anything drastic, and then throw yourself at Tangerine. He catches you with practiced ease and holds you close to him.

He says something you don’t catch over the sound of your trembling breaths. There’s a pat on your shoulder, Lemon is out.

Regaining yourself, you move away from Tangerine and straighten your clothes. His brow furrows, mustache tilts down. Maybe it was your imagination, but did his fingers grip your clothes? A silent plea for you to stay?

You do your best to ignore it. “Let’s go. Did anyone catch what floor we stopped on?”

“37th.” Lemon says, handing over your gun.

“Two floors short.”

“You think they’re waiting for us?”

“I’d bet money on it. Be careful, both of you. I don’t want to see any heroics.”

Tangerine’s eyes follow you as you move to the front and lead them through the hallway at a jogging pace. The single door at the end is much like the one you entered on the first-floor lobby. There’s a control panel for it to the side. As you run up to it, you press your ear to the other side.

No noise.

Your hand hovers over the button. With one last look behind you at the twins you give them a nod, then press it. The door clicks open a fraction, and everything goes to shit.

They were waiting for you on the other side of the door and the gunfire started up immediately. Your vision was blocked immediately, and you were pushed and tugged out by a strong hand—the world was a blur of loud shots, ringing ears, and scrambling. Grey cubicles shoulder-height tall were set up along the floor, which made spotting the enemy incredibly hard. All the fighting was done in the tight walkways between the office spaces.

Your shirt had blood on it, but you had no bullet wounds. Tangerine sat beside you, holding an arm. He’d been shot in his right arm.

“I said no heroics!” You practically shrieked.

Lemon was firing between cubicles, and from the sound of it, he was holding his own.

“What was I supposed to do, love?” Tangerine pants through the pain.

“You’re supposed to let me handle it!” You’re shouting as you pull out some gauze. The bullet went straight through his upper arm. He’d need stitches but, overall, he would be ok. You poke and prod gently as he hisses with each touch.

His teeth are gritted as he grunts out, “You wanted to get shot?”

“I’d take a bullet for you, happily. You know that.”

“I feel the same way, which is what I was doing.”

“I still don’t want you to!”

“I don’t want you to, either!”

Something bounces off your back. It’s a stapler. Both you and Tangerine stare at it for a moment, confused.

“Oi! You two! Get over yourselves and actually talk about your feelings for once!”

You whip around to stare daggers at Lemon. “Did you just throw a stapler at me?!”

He’s taking cover behind a grey cubicle not too far away. “Yeah, I did! I’m sick of you two avoiding an actual conversation. Talk—it—out!”

Tangerine sits up, pushing against your hands on his chest in your weak attempt to keep him down. “You’ve lost your mind, mate!”

“Thomas would say to express your feelings, that bottling them up is bad for you! So, express them!”

“Is it really necessary—” You pick up your rifle and fire blindly down the walkway, “—to do this now? We’re a little busy!”

“It’s now or never, I know you two! Once all this stops, you’ll avoid it!”

Tangerine looks perplexed, like he’s really considering it, and you try not to look at him again. “Fuck this job!” You shout, before rolling into the walkway and opening fire.

The two or three men that hadn’t been behind cover are caught by surprise and the bullets chew through the walls of the cubicles. A deadly silence permeates the office floor, only the ringing in your ears remains.

Another shot rings out and you feel like your shoulder’s been ripped from the socket.

You’re thrown back onto the ground. It must have been a heavy round, your left arm is completely numb, do you even have an arm left?

There’s shouting and more gunshots, the grey office walls and floor merge into one as the room spins. You’re getting pulled off the ground, someone is prodding your arm. Absentmindedly, you swat at whoever is doing it.

“Listen, hey, open your eyes!”

Tangerine…

You obey. He’s inches in front of your face, brows furrowed, a vein in his forehead sticks out.

“I’m fine.” You cough out. “Just fell down, is all.”

“You’ve been shot!”

“Oh.”

He struggles, he looks like he has more to say, but stays silent. You swat at Lemon who’s wrapping your arm—or shoulder, more accurately. “I’m fine, let’s keep going.”

“You’re not fine.” Lemon grunts, pushing your hand away. “It was a .308 round. You’ll be lucky if you have any bones left in your shoulder.”

“Why’d you do that?!” Tangerine is shouting, running his hand through his hair. You both match now, he’s bandaged up on his left arm too.

“Do what?” You ask through gritted teeth as Lemon tightens the bandage.

“Run out like an absolute lunatic?”

“I told you I’d take a bullet for you.”

His eyes bug out. “You threw yourself into the line of fire!”

“All in a day’s work. Now, can we get back to it?” You don’t wait for a response, instead pushing yourself to your feet. Your left arm hangs to the side, limp and numb. A dull throb pulses through your side.

Tangerine watches you. “We need to have a serious discussion when this is over, love.”

You huff out a breath, swaying slightly. “Noted.”

The three of you push on in tense silence. Tangerine makes sure you’re behind him while the rest of the floors leading to the main penthouse office are cleared. He’s acting so stubborn, blocking you at every turn, holding you back with a gentle, yet unyielding hand. The vein in his forehead never goes away.

Finally, the double doors leading to the office are before you. Platinum gold, of course, with carved handles. This guy’s style was beginning to get obnoxious.

Lemon kicks open the doors with as much anger and prejudice as you feel (yet can’t muster at the moment). Instead of what you were expecting, the target stands alone behind his desk. He smirks, giving off a Wall Street investor impression with his pressed suit and perfectly cut hair.

He spreads his arms wide. “I really should have known you three would be together for this.”

“Shut up, wanker.” Tangerine shouts, pointing his gun.

The target opens his mouth to say more, but Tangerine doesn’t let him. He empties the clip into the man’s chest.

The target dies with a startled look on his face, falling back over his desk.

You move past Tangerine, fighting his hands that grip at your clothing. “Thank God for that.”

The computer is easily hacked, the files you’re after are on the desktop. Maybe the dead man was looking to bargain—or gloat. You glance at his dead, glazed over eyes.

Bastard.

Tangerine paces, looking at you often. His job is done, the confirmation is sent to the client through Lemon’s phone.

Your files are downloaded onto an encrypted flash drive, and you rip the wiring out of the computer’s back, smashing the server tower. Mission accomplished.

“I guess now that you have what you need, you’ll disappear again.” Tangerine is glaring at you, chewing his lip. His bandage is bloody.

The flood gates open.

“I needed these files!” You shout, worsening the headache you already have.

Tangerine shouts back, taking a step closer. “I would have understood if you had just told me!”

“I couldn’t have told you!”

“Why not?”

“Because—well—I didn’t—It doesn’t matter now!”

“So, you disappear for months, without a word, for something you won’t even tell me about?!”

“I didn’t want to involve you! I wanted to get this done myself!”

“I’m involved now!”

“It was a shitty coincidence you showed up here today, and I’m sorry you got hurt because of this job!”

“I’m not concerned about me!”

“Well, you should be! I care about your safety!”

“And I care about yours!”

In the corner, Lemon shakes his head.

You hold your arm, trying to work some feeling back into it. It throbs and you wish you hadn’t. “I would have come back after this was done.”

“Oh, really?” Tangerine laughs dryly. “How was I to know?”

You groan, throat turning dry. “You’re so impatient! I just needed a little time!”

“You know how often I tried to reach you—?”

“Yes! I heard every message, got every bouquet of flowers—and thank you for my porch, that was really nice.”

Tangerine flounders a little, he still wants to argue, but some of the steam has been let out. “A thank you would have been nice.”

“I’m thanking you now!”

“A whole good that did when I thought you were done with me—” He shoots a look at his brother, “—and Lemon!”

“I’ll say I’m sorry a thousand more times, Tangerine! Is that what you want?”

He turns his back to you, grumbling something.

“I don’t understand why it was such a big deal to you, we’re contractors! We kill people for a living, and you’re freaking out—”

He spins back around. “It’s a big deal because I thought you were hurt.” He stalks closer, you notice his hair has come undone from the neat gel, curls flair out around his neck. “I thought something happened to you!” He’s within arm’s distance now. “It’s a big deal because I love you!”

And then he stops. His eyes go wide, as if he’s just spilled a secret.

Fuck, he did just spill a secret. Maybe you had known, but he’s never said anything. It was always just little guesses here and there, a thought—a feeling—and inclination. Late nights, especially recently, that you spent thinking about it, wondering.

Your mouth falls open in the silence. “I—I…love…” but damned if your mouth just wasn’t getting it out.

Arguing and bickering was so much easier.

But he knows, he can see it in the way your eyes soften, in the way you swallow with a dry throat. In the way your hand reaches to him, and your body leans forward.

“You know…” Lemon says, looking up from his phone, “Most people would kiss at this point. Just a suggestion.”

A quip, a very fitting one, comes to mind and you’re about to tell Lemon just how you’re not normal people, when Tangerine pulls you to him. Your chest presses to his and his lips are on yours in an instant.

Hungry, needy. It’s desperate, an urgent need be close, to be touching. Burning with desire and hot with passion. You give into it.

His mustache scratches at your lips and you pull him into you, threading your fingers through his curly hair, mussing it up even more. His hands grip at your back, pull at your clothes.

Closer. You need to be closer.

Fuck air, the feeling of his lips moving against yours is the only thing you’ll ever need again.

Your arm throbs and the dull pulse shoots up to your chest. You sigh, half in pain and half in pleasure. Unfortunately, Tangerine pulls back. There’s blood on his lips and he looks concerned.

“Wait…” You mumble, trying to pull him back to you. He’s your lifeline now.

“You need a doctor, love.”

“Just a little longer.”

Tangerine chuckles, wrapping an arm around your back. “After you’re patched up. I promise.”

…Bonus…

“You’re going to ‘break into my house and wait for me to come home’?”

Tangerine groans, throwing his head back as you walk into the small office. Private clinics with ‘respectable’ doctors. Gotta love ‘em.

“Love, I didn’t mean it, I was in a life-or-death situation—I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking—”

You give a good-natured laugh, sitting next to him. You’d been patched up first, Tangerine was just waiting for some blood work to come back.

Tangling your fingers in his you give his hand a gentle squeeze. “I’m just teasing, Tan. I know.”

“Ok.” He sighs, giving your hand a squeeze back. “Good.”

You ruffle through your pockets to pull out your phone, your arm stings, but the pain medication the doc gave you does wonders. “I thought about it, I think you deserve to know why I was after your target.”

He looks at you with new interest now.

You tilt your screen to show him.

It had pictures of you and Tangerine. Pictures of you sitting together at lunch, laughing. Pictures of you walking down the street together, arm in arm. Pictures of you looking like a couple.

“Oh,” he breathes out, “I see.”

“I was worried you’d be put in danger if these…well, if they got into the wrong hands.”

“Didn’t want our clients to think we were softies either, huh?”

“That too.”

He presses his face into your hair. He hasn’t expressed his feelings for you again, but you’re starting to realize he always had—just through actions instead. A gentle hand on the small of your back. Wrapping an arm around your waist. Leaning down to speak softly into your ear.

These were just as much of an expression as words.

“Will we have to do this every time?” he asks, voice muffled slightly.

“Every time what?”

“It’s only a matter of time before more pictures of us make it into someone’s hands.”

“Oh. That’s a good point.”

He pulls you a little closer. “I’ll be dammed if I have to stop taking you out over that.”

“Then I guess we’ll just have to kill whoever tries something like that again.”

“We’ll do it together next time, yeah?”

“Absolutely.”

[octuscle]

Hey Chronivac, on my way home today I drove past a fancy hotel and saw a super hot and hunky valet outside it. Is there a way that I could use this to become his equally hunky boyfriend or husband?

You are almost 70 years old… You have three failed marriages behind you, each of which has cost you a fortune. And now you come up with the idea of starting something with a valet? Don't take offense, but I do find it a bit strange. But anyway, I've seen worse.

You steer your Bentley convertible into the hotel driveway. Carlos is already walking towards you, eager to be of service. "Welcome, it's nice to have you back with us. May I ask you for the keys to this wonderful car?" You've never been here before… But what a sexy Spanish accent! You give him the key and a 10-dollar bill. And you have to swallow. You have a very dry throat.

With some difficulty and the help of your walking stick, you enter the lobby. You go to the concierge and ask to speak to the personnel manager. When asked who he might report, you reply "James Miller, it's about something private". While you wait in the lobby for an answer, you look in the mirror. Yes, there are already a few gray strands and a few wrinkles around your eyes. But for someone in their mid-50s, you don't look bad at all. Lots of exercise and a healthy diet, you think contentedly. The concierge asks you to take the elevator to the fourth floor.

You're already a little nervous. You haven't had a job interview for a long time. And at your early 40s, you're probably a bit too old to be a parking attendant. You clutch your application folder with white knuckles. But the secretary in the HR department smiles kindly at you, asks you to take a seat and offers you a drink of water. Out of sheer nervousness, you reply with "Gracias". She laughs and says that the conversation will be conducted in English. You laugh back. With your gleaming white teeth, you can iron out any embarrassment.

The door to the meeting room opens. The last applicant is a spotty beanpole. At least visually you have the best chance. The secretary invites you in. The personnel manager smiles at you, you shake his hand and smile back. "Well, Mr. Molinero, the first lesson today is that you don't shake my hand, I shake yours. You never shake hands with a guest unless they do it first. Do we understand each other? You swallow. Carlos wasn't exaggerating. This is a strict place. But it's also the best hotel in town. "Mr. Molinero, is Carlos your brother? You have the same surname." You reply that you are often mistaken for brothers. But you are actually married. "Delightful!" replies the personnel manager. And then you go through your CV.

The interview felt like it took three hours. In fact, it was just 20 minutes. The HR manager stands up and shakes your hand. He laughs as you shake his hand. "Good strong handshake. I like that. Welcome to the team. Rebecca will sort out all the formalities with you, Diego. And for the rest, I'll just rely on Carlos to introduce them well.

You never get a second chance to make a first impression. And Carlos and you are often the first to give an impression of "your" hotel. You are professionals. You know your way around cars, are excellent drivers and know the local area like the back of your hand. Yes, the pay is really bad, but the tips are royal. Carlos actually once inherited the Bentley convertible of a guest he'd never seen before or since. Of course you didn't keep it. But you were able to use the proceeds from the sale to buy a beach house in your Mexican homeland.

And if things aren't going well enough, you can always work extra shifts as a waiter by the pool. Your suntan lotion massages are famous!

[portraitoftheoddity]

Beginner Hiking Guide Part Two: Preparations - Knowledge is Power

1. Know what trail you’re taking

You may have decided “I’m going to climb Mount Moosilauke!” -- but there are several different trails up Mount Moosilauke, of varying length and steepness. Are you planning on doing the Beaver Brook Trail or the Gorge Brook Trail? Will you be doing an out-and-back up and down the same trail, or doing a loop where you descend down a different trail to the same trailhead departure point? 

Make a plan using the resources from Part One, know the names of the trails if there are interconnecting ones you plan to take, and keep track of blaze colors if you are in an area that uses colored trail blazes. (Blazes are rectangles of paint or other markers on trees and rocks put up by trail maintainers to indicate where the trail is, and which trail you are on)

2. Trailhead location and access

Once you know what trail you’re taking, you’ll want to figure out the location of the trailhead. Some trailheads can be very crowded, so you may want to show up early for parking, or be aware you may need to park a distance away. Also, some backcountry trailheads are on seasonal roads that may be closed during certain times or day or times of year, meaning you may wind up hiking an extra mile or two along a dirt road just to get to the trail. 

3. Trail length & elevation gain

How long is the route you’re taking? And what is the elevation gain? (Note: listed elevation for the hike typically refers to the highest point on the hike’s distance from sea level. Elevation gain specifically refers to the gain in elevation from the beginning of the hike to its highest point, since you often aren’t starting at sea level.) Keep in mind that the greater the elevation gain relative to the length of the hike, the steeper the trail will be and the more challenging the hike.

4. How difficult is the trail?

Trail difficulty is hard to gauge precisely, since what is difficult is always going to be relative. Something that might be an easy trail by one person’s judgment may be extremely challenging to another. But there are some factors we can look at for what’s likely to make a trail more or less difficult to hike:

Steepness - determined by elevation gain / length. TrailsNH has a useful “hiking difficulty calculator" to help you get an idea of the overall grade of the trail based on these criteria: https://trailsnh.com/tools/hiking-difficulty.php 

Terrain - is the ground flat gravel or full of rocks and tree roots? Does the trail description reference ‘scrambles’, ie, rocky areas where you will need to use your hands as well as your feet to climb up?

Trail Conditions - did it rain heavily yesterday, leaving the trail a slippery, muddy mess? Have there been landslides in the area? Did it snow at elevation?

Looking at the elevation gain and distance can help you determine steepness. Pictures of the trail and reviews may help you get an idea of the terrain. And there may be online hiking communities in your area that report on local trail conditions. (If you hike in the New England area, I recommend https://www.newenglandtrailconditions.com/ ). AllTrails also has a comment section where people sometimes leave useful trail reports with the date, so you can check to see if someone hiked it recently.

5. What is your expected hike duration?

Average human walking pace is about 3 miles an hour. But walking pace and hiking pace can be very different, depending on the trail difficulty -- you may find yourself hiking between 3mph and 1mph. A challenging trail will force you to move slower and more carefully, and you’ll probably want to take breaks -- both to catch your breath, and to enjoy the view! 

There are a few different formulae out there for predicting hiking time. “Naismith's Rule” is 19.5 minutes per mile, plus 30 minutes for every 1000 feet of elevation gain, but this really only makes sense if you’re on a trail that has very smooth terrain. “Book time”, which is a bit better suited to rocky terrain like you’ll get on more backcountry trails, states “30 minutes per mile + 30 minutes per 1000 feet of elevation gain.” (Personally, in the White Mountains, I make it 45 minutes per 1000 feet of elevation). TrailsNH has a slightly more involved calculator that factors in overall pace, terrain, and the weight of your pack: https://trailsnh.com/tools/hiking-time-calculator.php . (Note that none of these factor in "snacking time", which is an egregious oversight in my opinion.)

If you’re new to hiking, always err on the side of giving yourself more time than you expect to need, until you get to know your own pace! And be sure to give yourself extra time to enjoy the wilderness without stress.

6. What’s the forecast?

Always look up the weather before you hike! Hikers are far more likely to die of exposure than of bear attacks or whatever else you may think is a threat in backcountry. Pay attention to temperature (extreme heat and extreme cold are both dangerous), humidity (humid days will have you sweating more, so you will need more water), wind speed + wind chill (especially if you’re hiking in exposed areas -- wind is a killer above treeline), and precipitation (you’re at greater risk of hypothermia, even in mild temperatures, if you’re wet). The weather conditions will impact the trail conditions, impact your own physical tolerance, and dictate what you need to bring if you do go hiking, or whether you should even be hiking at all. 

There may be different weather concerns depending on where you’re hiking. If you’re hiking in the mountains, you’ll want to make sure you know what the weather is at summit, not just at the base of a trail. It may be 80ºF down in the valley, but below freezing at the top of the mountain. On the other hand, if you’re hiking at low elevation, especially if you’re hiking in a canyon, you’ll want to pay close attention to flash flood warnings. 

Useful forecasting tools:

https://forecast.weather.gov/  - NOAA weather forecast, offers detailed hourly weather forecasts

https://www.mountain-forecast.com/ - provides forecasts for mountain summits (including windchill, wind speed, and wind direction)

Knowledge + SAFETY

Before you leave for your hike:

Plan your departure time. Know when sunset is, how long you project your hike to take, and how long it will take to get to the trailhead. Give yourself an ample buffer in case you underestimated your hike duration, and working backwards, plan to leave early enough that you will be done with your hike and back to your car well before the sun goes down so you aren’t stuck blundering through treacherous terrain in the dark (more on this in the next part where we talk about gear!). 

Check the weather forecast once again the night before, AND the morning of! Weather can be volatile. If conditions change and become unfavorable, don’t be afraid to reschedule your hike. You cannot outrun mother nature. Numerous people -- including seasoned hikers -- have died in the White Mountains (where I hike) from failing to adequately check the forecasts and getting trapped in deadly weather. There’s no shame in bailing out at the last minute if conditions are just plain bad.

Notify someone reliable in your life of:

Where you are hiking

What trail(s)/route you are taking

How long you expect to take

When to worry and call for help if they haven’t heard from you or can’t get hold of you

Stick to the plan you’ve communicated once you start your hike! If you are injured or lost and don’t have the ability to call for help (dead phone battery, no service, etc.), you will want someone who will recognize that you’re overdue and can call for the authorities to tell them where to look. The sooner someone knows you’re missing, the sooner Search & Rescue teams can be deployed to help you.

<< Previous part: Find Where You Want to Hike Next part: What to Wear Hiking >>

[monalovesstarsz]

Maybe we could

Genre: Non idol au, Hospital au

Pairings: Shy sick sunghoonxchronic illness shy y/n (I clearly don't know how to do this)

Summary: Y/n starts to spend a lot of time in a hospital due to her health and its super lonely until she meets sunghoon and they agree to try their best to live as regular teens.

Warnings: uhh I'm not totally sure but illnesses, thoughts of death, hospitals, depression, mentions of death (probably) Kys joke, sick joke, death joke.

Not proof read 🙈

"WAIT EXCUSE ME?!?!?" you said horrified that he had known this whole time. Before the elevator door closes Gisellse sticks her foot in it to get more answers

"it's okay I know, you've been following me for the past couple of days I should be the one asking questions don't you think?" Sunghoon giggled slightly from seeing your reaction

"I-um I uh don't know what you're talking about sunghoon y-you sound crazy!" No he was right but you tried your best to make it seem like he was lying even though your stutter did not help your case at all.

"Now that I think about it we're were pretty obvious y/n."

"Giselle!!!" You smacked her arm and groaned in response

"It's okay it made my day most of the time! Although I thought you would approach me sooner and it was pretty creepy of you." You could tell he was trying to contain his laugh and once again you groaned in response.

"How long have you known?"

"Uhh I had my suspicion the first two or three days but then the day when I felt like you had been following me extra I turned and you were reading a magazine very intently." You waited for him to finish his sentence but you noticed he thought that was enough of an answer.

"So? That's normal."

"It was upside down y/n"

"Oh!"

"So you know where I'll be tomorrow right?" Asked sunghoon as Giselle finally moved her foot from the elevator.

"Yeah yeah you'll be in the lounge area reading a book" you said while you sarcastically rolled your eyes and let out a sigh. You couldn't believe it he had known for more than half of the time.

"Okay see you tomorrow y/n!" And with that the elevator door closed.

"Great." You muttered you knew you were gonna loose sleep over this for sure it was just to humiliating for it not to.

Gisellse finally broke the awkward embarrassing silence."Well time for you to go back to your room and eat dinner. I can't believe he knew I mean it was obvious and you gotta admit he's a pretty good actor for pretending he didn't know!" And you groaned hiding your face in your hands as your elbows rested on your knees hunched over as Gisellse wheeled you into your room.

"So he has known this entire time?!" Asked Hanni through the phone.

"That's what he said. I mean it was so embarrassing Nini like he has known this whole time ughhhh!" You as answered.

Danielle tried to make you feel better "Well maybe he didn't think much about it he still talked to you and you said you talked for awhile so that must be a good thing right?"

"Nah she totally bombed that he totally thinks she's in love with him and that you're a total creep."

"Go kill yourself Jake." You joked annoyed at his totally realistic scenario (sadly).

"Y/n you're fine he probably thinks that's cute so he probably likes you back." Jay said in the way you knew he had shrugged when he said that.

"Jay I do Nawt like him like that and I hope to goodness he does once again thinks that I like him."

"Nah man she totally likes him no scratch that she loooooves him she practically has hearts in her eyes when she talks about Mr. 'Ice prince'." He said love in a higher pitched voice and ice prince in quotation marks because Jake doesn't know his actual name.

"Jake didn't I already tell you to go kill yourself? Go jump of a very steep rocky cliff or something." You said sarcastically rolling your eyes.

"Yeah yeah you'd probably cry yourself to sleep every night if I ever did that"

"Yeah right." You mumbled

"Okayy but y/n didn't you tell me he's very good looking?" Danielle asked causing you to blush but thankfully your phone camera didn't pick it up.

"Uh yeah I did but that doesn't mean I like him let alone that I'm in love with him" you answered quickly but maybe too quickly. You saying that he was good looking was an understatement because wow. He could easily get a model or idol contract. He was incredibly good looking and still you were not giving him enough credit.

"Yeah she's in love but he probably doesn't like you back cuz your a creep" you had enough of Jake's playful banter so you had to say something besides go kys.

"Will I remind you I was only a creep cuz I'm lonely in this hospital and you guys don't visit me enough? Oh I'm sick and there's a chance I might possibly die." You said jokingly while you faked cough to really sell it.

"I will visit you y/n, but maybe when you're six feet under." Ooh next time you see him in person you would for sure not let him get away with it. You started to fake cry that turned into a sob.

"You're so *sniffle cruel *sniffle jake *fake sob." You said while wiping away fake tears.

"I'm sowy y/niee pwease forgive me I'm saur saur sowwyy." Jake said while giving the camera puppy dogs and doing the uwu pose.

And in return he got multiple Ewws from Danielle and Hanni.

"What the fuck was that." Jay said

"No way!! I got a vid of you doing that Jake!!!!" You said laughing hysterically.

"What do you mean y/n?."

"I started screen recording cuz I had a feeling you would do something hilarious!!" You were still laughing hysterically.

"What oh my gosh y/n you have to send that to me like right now!" Danielle had also started laughing

"Wait send it to me please I need that video y/n!" Hanni said.

"Yeah I'll need it too for blackmailing and stuff."

"what?! You don't need to blackmail me jay we are the bestest of friends my very dear jay!"

You had checked the time when Giselle began to speak "Sorry to interrupt the fun guys but Y/n has to do her routine for bed now." That reminded you about the fact that you were where you were. In the hospital because you're not okay. Some days were so bad you barely could get out of bed but you did (to follow sunghoon). You had found out that something was wrong with your stomach organs (idk if this is very accurate so ignore if it is). It kinda made you down because your friends could go to school, hangout in public places. It's okay you'll get better though right?

"kayy then bye guys call you soon and if you guys don't visit soon I'll murder you all... Im just joking guys but please visit hate to sound like an annoying ex so visit now!." You said giggling.

"Okay bye bye guys- oh wait y/n next time tell us what the guys name is you haven't told me!"you kept forgetting.

"Oops kay remind me then!" You were followed by an okay and multiple byes.

You were in your bed trying to sleep but you couldn't stop thinking about being in here. It wasn't right to be like this when you're supposed to be a normal teen. I mean people your age went out to movies and malls. They disobeyed their parents and snuck out. The idea has always scared you so sneak out you did not, but you missed going to the mall with Hanni and Danielle while you dragged Jake and Jay along with you. You missed when Jake and Jay would in return drag you to watch the latest horror movie even though you don't particularly enjoy them. You missed going to watch jay and Jake play at the basketball games which you hadn't enjoyed but ever since they played you actually realized they were fun. Especially when you guys won wait- 'Oh my gosh' you though. Sunghoon had been here for years! Had he gone to school? Had he been to the mall recently? Watched the latest horror movie? Gone to a high school basketball game? It made you so so sad. He had missed so much of his life he he hadn't gone out. Then you made up your mind. You weren't gonna let this being sick thing control your and sunghoons life. Sunghoon probably hasn't lived as a teenager since ever, seeing from what Giselle had told you about him. So tomorrow you would ask him about what he thinks about this living life to the fullest. Hopefully you wouldn't back out of asking him.

"Heyy Y/n how was your morning?" Sunghoon asked with a very pretty smile. He was just wearing grey sweatpants and a black hoodie. While you wore a white tank top with grey baggy sweats and a light pink zip up hoodie. He sat where you had first seen him. He always sits in the lounge/Food area. You liked this area it's either quiet and the sun shines in through the windows beautifully or it was filled with people interacting with each other. Well it wasn't filled filled but it was enjoyable to see people laughing around. It reminded you of school but without the studying part.

"Hi Sunghoon! My morning was fine I just watched some t.v shows.. How was your morning?"

"Same I slept longer than usual so I didn't do much."

An awkward silence took over. You and Sunghoon were both very very awkward people so you didn't know what to talk to him about. It was a miracle you two talked about whatever yesterday and for a while too, but you realized you two only talked about random things you actually never really got to know him.

"So what got you into ice skating?" You broke the silence but it wasn't the best conversation starter since it would probably be a normal quick answer.

"Oh well when I was a kid I was less social I guess so my parents put me into hockey so I wouldn't be friendless." He lets out a small giggle with made you happy that he was smiling "But I tried figure skating once and I loved it a lot. It felt better because I didn't have like hockey gear, so I asked my parents and they signed me up right away."

"Oh so you had trouble talking to kids too? "

"Yeah don't tell me you did also?"

"I did I was friends with these kids throughout elementary but they just bullied me so I didn't make a lot of friends."

"What about your friends that you told me about?"

"I met them through my Orchestra class. I met my friend Jake and Danielle through my orchestra class, and I met jay and Hanni through them and we've been friends since middle school."

"So does that mean you know how to play an instrument?"

"Yeah I know the violin. So does Jake but Danielle plays Viola."

"That's cool I wished I was in a music class but figure skating took up most of my time at so I didn't really get to go to school. That brings me back to what I was wondering. Why do you want to learn to ice skate?".

"Uhm I don't know? Why wouldn't you want to learn how to skate on ice?" You giggled.

"It seems very fun and like when I see people do it they look so airy if that makes sense which it might not."

"Ohhh I get you. I guess I'm just cool like that knowing how to ice skate and like a pro too. You'll have a great teacher."

"Sure sure" you said rolling your eyes sarcastically.

"Y'know that makes me wonder why do you want to learn how to draw?" You had actually been wondering this for since he asked you about it but you figured he just wanted a hobby to do.

"I just want a hobby to keep me busy during these times. Plus we'll get to know each other better since you'll be the one teaching me right?" You were right about the hobby part, but the part he said after made your heart flutter a little bit. You couldn't believe he actually wanted to be your friend. Which made you wonder another question.

"Also, why didn't you get weirded out? I mean like when I followed you? Like that was pretty creepy dude like that was so so weird."

"Well when you put it like that, that was really really weird. I'm joking but not really. I just figured you were curious about me. I guess I also thought that you wanted to be friends."

"In my defense I was curious about you and I also wanted to be your friend. I just didn't come up with a normal solution to my problem so I thought i'd follow you." You said shrugging

"See I was right! You also need to figure out how to make friends because following people and stalking them is a little crazy" he said laughing as you groaned in embarrassment. Although you were happy he smiled at you. Gosh he was really pretty. Wait you shouldn't think that or your friends will be right.

"Yeah I do need to figure that out" you said sighing.

"So when did you start to draw?"

"Oh I think I've always drawn. Like Ive done it my whole life but I'm not that good to be honest."

"Nah you're just being shy! I saw your drawings last night and they were really good!Like the ones on your wall were so colorful!"

"Thank you!!" You were getting very flustered "I mean I'm okay but Im not very creative... Well actually lately I have been because I've been having weird dreams but i'm very creative."

"You're a very good artist y/n and you are very creative those dreams prove it!!"

"Thank you Sunghoon you're very kind" you were a giggly mess but you tried to hide it.

"Ohh sunghoon I brought my sketchbook and some pencils so if you want to draw?" You had totally forgotten that you did bring your art supplies but sunghoons compliments reminded you.

"I was hoping you did! I'm not good so you're gonna have to give me some pointers cuz I kinda suck"

"I don't believe you I bet you're great at drawing!!"

You gave sunghoon a piece of paper and a pencil. He told you that he was gonna draw a picture he found on Pinterest of a butterfly. 15 minutes later you were proven wrong, he kinda did suck at drawing.

"I told ya y/n.."

"Well yeah I guess you were right .. But Everyone has their skill level and you just need to practice!! Simple as that"

"I suck but with you're help I won't!"

"Okay I'm not sure how I can help you but I'll try my best ?" You were asking yourself that more than anything but it's fine you were going to be able to spend more time with him.

" I bet you're a great teacher!!Anyway whatcha drawing y/n??"

"Hmm?" You looked up at sunghoon once again. You had been so focused on drawing and listening to sunghoon that you drew him AND a penguin. Why a penguin? Maybe it was because they reminded you oddly of sunghoon.

"Oh uhm nothing important just uh..." you shouldn't have drawn him that's too creepy (but following him around the hospital wasn't).

"Just what?"

Maybe the penguin was more acceptable but the drawing of him was a no go, but before you could possibly scribble out his face he took your sketchbook from you.

"Woah."

"I'm sorry I just was to focused on what to draw and I was listening to you talk and I guess I just stared drawing and I kno-"

"Y/n this is really good!! I don't think I've ever had anyone draw me ever before!!! I'm actually really flattered and happy!! You really captured my good looks" Sunghoon said the last part with a cocky smirk.

"You actually like it? That's a relief cuz I thought you were think I'm a total creep once again"

"I could still think that you're a good artist and a creep"

"Whatever sunghoon" rolling your eyes as you said that.

"Wait what's this? A penguin? it's really cute!"

"Oh yeah penguins remind me of you I guess so I drew that subconsciously while I listened to you talk. Its adorable huh?"

"what? No."

"hey what? What do you mean no? "

"I'm not cute or adorable! I'm handsome and manly"

"Sunghoon I hate to break it to you but you're low-key a cutie"

"Nuh uh I'm hot and sexy"

"Yuh huh your cute!" Wait a second you just called him cute, but you didn't mean it like he was cute cute. Well he is but you meant it in like a cute penguin kind of way.

"Nuh uh once again. I'm very very hot."

"Sure bud whatever you say cutie"

"Whatever y/n. You should teach me how to draw a penguin though!!"

You started to teach him about drawing circles to map out your drawing and then continuing to go into detail and stuff. It took him about an hour to get something he liked and something that was acceptable to show you. As he drew he was focused so you guys stopped talking. Letting you start to think about what you were gonna ask him. You were nervous but you didn't know why. It was just a simple question. Okay it was now or never. At least that's what you thought.

"Uhm Sunghoon?"

"hmm?" He was so focused he didn't even look up.

"I was wondering if you miss being a teenager?"

"What do you mean y/n?" He didn't sound annoyed or mad so you continued.

"Well what I mean is do you miss living your life? You don't have to answer me but I haven't been here for very long and I miss it. Well I know I'm gonna be here awhile so I guess it's just fomo."

"oh I get it, I do miss it y/n you don't have to be afraid to ask. Ive been here longer so you can always ask me about stuff like this y/n. " Whew that was a relief.

"But it's not just me being curious. I don't want to just live my so called best years of my life in the hospital." You were worried if it sounded rude to say but it was good to get this off your chest. Ever since you started feeling sick you had missed out on lots of stuff. Ever since you got into the hospital you started to think a lot more about death. Sure it was kinda sad but that's what your brain had always wondered, and now especially since there's a bigger chance of you dying now. You wondered what happened after. Where would you go? Is there anything after? What would happen to your famiily and friends. Would they miss you? Or would they be glad that you weren't a burden anymore. Very sad and morbid thoughts but you couldn't help it. Before you could get lost in thought sunghoon started to talk

"Yeah it makes me gloomy sometimes too but it's okay but not okay if that makes sense"

"Well sunghoon I was thinking that you and me could try our best to live like regular teens? Like I dunno maybe we could go to basketball games, movies, maybe mall trips stuff like that?" You braced yourself for the worst. You were so scared of the rejection even if it was just between friends.

"That's a really great idea y/n! I've always wanted to do all that stuff but I didn't really have friends my age around here but now I do!!"

"I'm really glad you agreed sunghoon! My schools having a home game next week would you wanna go?"

"Yes I do really want to go! Will I be able to meet your friends?"

"Yeah I'll let them know that we're going!"

That was not as bad as you thought. You thought that he was gonna reject you and never speak to you ever again, but once again you over reacted and he wants to be your friend still!!

"Y/n I'm gonna be honest though I'm a little nervous. Ive never gone to a high school game before and ice skating didn't really help my socialness like my parents though it would.."

"It's okay sunghoon, they're super fun and people at my school are going to be nice to you. Especially the girls they'll think you're a model or something. They'll be obsessed."

"Hm? Do you think I'm attractive?"

Uhm no? Yes? What was the right response??

₍⁠₍⁠ ⁠◝⁠(⁠　ﾟ⁠∀⁠ ﾟ⁠ ⁠)⁠◟⁠ ⁠⁾⁠⁾

[tokidokitokyo]

茨城県

Japanese Prefectures: Kantō - Ibaraki

都道府県 (とどうふけん) - Prefectures of Japan

Learning the kanji and a little bit about each of Japan’s 47 prefectures!

Kanji・漢字

茨　いばら、かや、くさぶき、シ、ジ　briar, thorn

城　しろ、き、ジョウ　castle

県　ケン　prefecture

関東　かんとう　Kanto, region consisting of Tokyo and surrounding prefectures

Prefectural Capital (県庁所在地) : Mito (水戸市)

Amidst sprawling fields of beautiful flowers, Ibaraki also hosts Tsukuba Science City, Japan's premier research center and the home of Japan's space agency and numerous museums. Ibaraki is known historically for being the home of the Mito branch of the Tokugawa clan during the Edo Period and has long been associated with notable events in Japanese history. The first Nuclear Energy Research Institute was founded here in 1956. You can see space exhibits, actual space craft, and simulations at Tsukuba Space Center.

Outside of the major cities there are many natural areas to explore in the Suigo-Tsukuba Quasi-national Park. Hitachi Seaside Park is famous in the spring for its carpets of blooming blue nemophila. Kairaku-en is one of the Three Great Gardens of Japan. Mt. Tsukuba is a famous night view spot with a view of the Kanto Plain, including Tokyo Tower and the Tokyo Sky Tree, with a ropeway for convenient access. Ibaraki is also a major producer of natto.

Recommended Tourist Spot・おすすめ観光スポット

Fukuroda Falls (Fukuroda no Taki) - 袋田の滝

Photo by Own work, CC BY 3.0, Link

One of the three most beautiful waterfalls in Japan, Fukuroda Falls is a 120-meter tall cascading waterfall in northwestern Ibaraki Prefecture in the remote hills of the town of Daigo. It is also on the registered list of the Top 100 Waterfalls of Japan (determined by the Ministry of Environment). These falls are also called the Yodo Falls (Yodo no Taki) because the water stream falls on four large rock faces. It is also said that the renowned monk Saigyo Hoshi greatly praised the falls by saying that you should view the different beauty of the falls in all four (yo) seasons.

They are particularly attractive in early November with the peak autumn foliage as well as peak water flow. There are several different views of the waterfall, and you cannot view it in its entirety all at the same time. Within the Fukuroda Waterfall complex there are neon tunnels and elevators to take you to different levels and viewing platforms. It is said that you will be successful in love if you find a heart in the waterfall. There are also numerous hot springs nearby.

Regional Cuisine - 郷土料理

Monkfish Hot Pot - あんこう鍋

Photo by yosshi / CC BY-SA 2.0

The monkfish (also referred to as angler fish, goosefish, depending on the source I found) is a prized delicacy of Ibaraki and is best eaten fresh. Because these fish are too soft and slimy to cut up on a chopping board, they are prepared using the traditional tsurushi-giri technique, which involves cutting up the fish while suspended from a hook. In Japan, almost all parts of the monkfish are eaten, including fins, skin, gills, liver, stomach, ovaries and flesh—referred to as the “seven tools of the monkfish” in Japanese. The steamed liver is called ankimo and is considered a delicacy that may be eaten alone, or added to the hotpot soup for extra flavor. Anko nabe (monkfish hot pot) is a seasonal favorite consisting of monkfish, vegetables, and flavored broth.

Ibaraki Dialect・Ibaraki-ben・茨城弁

りんごあっけ？　ringo akke?

Standard Japanese: りんごありますか？ (ringo arimasu ka?) English: Do you have any apples?

あしにあおなじみできちった　ashi ni aonajimi dekichitta

Standard Japanese: 足に青あざができちゃった (ashi ni aoaza ga dekichatta) English: I have a bruise on my leg

ごじゃっぺなやつだ　(gojyappe na yatsu da)

Standard Japanese: いい加減な人; やくにっ立たない人 (iikagen na hito; yaku ni tatanai hito) English: He's a good-for-nothing person

「行ってもいがっぺ？」　(itte mo igappe?) 「来たらいがっぺ」　(kitara igappe)

Standard Japanese: 「行ってもいいですか？」 「来てもいいですよ」 ("itte mo ii desu ka?" "kite mo ii desu yo") English: "Is it alright if I come?" "Yes please come"

あれは犬だっぺ　(are wa inu dappe)

Standard Japanese: あれは犬です (are wa inu desu) English: That is a dog

いがい車だな　(igai kuruma da na)

Standard Japanese: 大きい車ですね (ookii kuruma desu ne) English: That's a big car, isn't it

杖がおっちょれる　(tsue ga occhoreru)

Standard Japanese: 杖が折れた (tsue ga oreta) English: The cane broke in half

カラスををおっとばす　(hato o ottobasu)

Standard Japanese: カラスを追い払う (hato o oiharau) English: Drive away the crows

その日、大事？　(sono hi, daiji?)

Standard Japanese: その日、大丈夫？ (sono hi, daijyoubu?) English: Is that day ok for you?

[flyingcakeee]

As we get closer to the race week, let's analyze just a little bit more in depth.

First, our track!

Listed under this category is about every turn and what to expect.

This is the track with the F1 trackmap laid over an aerial photo. (Cut off purple dot is the speed trap, or, the area where top speeds are hit on the track).

Let's analyze some of the more fun parts now instead of the big picture first.

This is the first set of turns, T1-3. Right off the bat, you're drawn to the fact it curves in on itself, right? Did you notice the elevation? This below is the elevation changes of the entire track. Notice how this is relatively the only major spike? Yas Marina in Abu Dhabi has more elevation change than Shanghai, fun fact! This part of the track is slow speed, especially while under a safety car, virtual safety car, or if there's a long train of cars causing traffic. Also take notice of the pit exit line and there it ends! If you are overtaking on the inside (towards the pit wall) and there's a car leaving the pits, you need to make the move before you reach that car or you may have to back out. T4 also joins in at the exit of T3.

Now, it's extremely hard to find really any footage of this track, but since its layout has not been altered for F1 racing, I'll be using screenshots from this old F1 YouTube video. They are using much older cars so I can warn that braking points, speeds, and gears may be different, but I'm not exactly sure.

T5 is a flat out kink, so it's rather irrelevant. While maybe there could be something, we won't focus on it too much, instead talking about our once again tight turn, T6! Ignore the extra bit of track joining on at the exit of the turn, that is the layout for endurance or super car racing. This turn could be more daring to attempt an overtake at than our previous T1-3.

Turn 7 is an extremely long left hand turn which can see a lot of overtaking opportunities in my opinion and it's nearly flat out.

Now we flick over to the right for T8 before immediately going left again for T9.

While these aren't exactly slow speed turns, they aren't exactly high speed either in retrospect to the rest of the circuit.

T10 here may look sharp, but it's a very easy flowing turn, fitting in perfectly at the end of T9's left over curvature and there's no need to change speed as far as I'm aware.

T11 is a slow corner, but when the car reaches T12, it's almost flat out with maybe some lifting (neither applying acceleration or brakes) needed as tyres warm up or degrade and the traffic. Understeering or locking up for T11 will result in a gravel trap and possible beaching of cars if they aren't lucky.

Directly connected to T12 is T13, a fast right hander that will be entirely flat out as well. The angle the tyres turn to the right will be higher than T12 and we're going much faster. This is a good overtaking spot to put a car in between you and a threatening car if you can still secure DRS or slipstream. Why?

The end of T13 is the entrance of our extremely long straight. If you have a bad exit out of this turn, you could compromise yourself going onto the straight.

Finally we reach the very tight hairpin, T14. This is the slowest turn on the circuit which is coincidentally directly after the speed trap where drivers will be maxing out the speed in their cars, paired with possible DRS, energy/battery usage, and risky and late divebombs, we can hopefully expect a lot of action here as T14 is wide enough to provide a great overtaking zone. An absolutely large run off and gravel trap stands ready for any possible incidents.

T16 is our final turn before we reach our pit straight. We have a small straight here and a bit of runoff, combined with the pit entry. That's right, that weird hook at the end is our pit entry. Shanghai has a pretty long entry until you reach the pit marker, as well.

Our turns boxed in orange are where we can see the most tyre degradation. T13 is especially brutal thanks to the speed carried through the fast turn.

In 2019, the tyre compounds listen in green were chosen for the weekend. We can expect either similar or the same tyres chosen.

We also have the chance to see the intermediate compound (green tyre) used in the weekend as of 4/11.

Speaking of which, let's move to the weather forecast.

Listed in this category will be weather forecasts and what they could mean.

First, The Weather Channel approximates a 64% chance of rain Friday, a 40% chance of rain on Saturday, and a 52% chance of rain on Sunday. On top of this, an estimate of 16-32 km/h wind on Friday and 16-24 km/h winds on Saturday and Sunday.

Secondly, the standard Apple weather app. A prediction of 40% rain on Friday with 11-27 km/h winds with 51 km/h gusts, no rain Saturday but 12-22 km/h winds and 44 km/h gusts. Sunday is the same with no rain predicted but 10-19km/h winds and 31 km/h gusts.

Lastly, AccuWeather gives us a 25% rain chance Friday with 14 km/h winds, 55% rain chance Saturday paired with a 19 km/h wind speed, and 25% chance Sunday with 11km/h winds.

Does this matter? At the moment, not really. The weather is still too far out to accurately predict, especially the wind speed. However, we have two apps predicting a dry full race and a chance for rain in the sprint or qualifying. Apple raises an eyebrow here with a prediction only forcasting rain Friday where it's our only practice session, paired with The Weather Channel. However, don't expect a wet session at all, conditions are still free to change. I recommend waiting for teams to post their weather forecast predictions (Aston Martin, Williams, etc.).

Final notes?

Well, keep your eyes out? The last time we were at this track, we didn't have ground effect cars, our current era cars since 2022.

Keep an eye on Sauber as well as while they are improving in pitstops, their minor fix isn't supposed to come till Miami last time I heard. (Yes, they said it wasn't a complete fix they had, more acting as a temporary improvement for the time being). Especially with their driver Zhou Guanyu racing his first ever home grand prix (his special helmet is pretty cool and unique as well for the race).

Also, did you know that the circuit is modelled after the the Mandarin character 上 [shàng]. It's the first character of the word, 上海, which is how you spell Shanghai? 上 also means "above" or "ascend" which pairs well with the elevations rise into our first turns and our fast speed turns throughout the track.

Always here to answer questions if this was at all confusing 🩵

Also, if any has one a racing games (F123, Assetto Corsa, etc.), I recommend taking the track out for a spin if you have access to the track.

Apologies for the really long post, see y'all later!!

[yuyu-writes]

152.4 Centimeters Across, Spring Forms in the Form of You

⟡ wind breaker - togame jo x reader

⟡ wc: 17,861

⟡ strangers to friends to lovers au, neighbors au, sfw

⟡ summary:

a marble rolling, the sound of his laughter, spring blooms.

strangers to friends to lovers AU, where you share new beginnings with your new neighbor, Togame Jo.

Archive of Our Own

Messy hair, dark eyes, a pair of shades perched on top of his nose. You see him in the morning, as soon as you lock the door to your apartment, heading to the elevator that he is currently stepping out of. He’s your new neighbor, replacing the grumpy old man who used to live to the right of you and always gave you the stink eye whenever you sat outside on your little balcony on warmer nights.

You greet him with a small nod and a smile as you pass him, slipping into the elevator and punching the ground floor. He glances at you, and you return it until the elevator doors close, the curtains closing on your first, and what you assume is your last encounter with him. 

Well, at least now you’ll be able to enjoy your balcony without hearing endless complaints and wheezing.

The elevators ding, the doors sliding open, and you step outside, heading out to the busy streets of Tokyo. The same sights as yesterday pass by as you head to work, a fifteen minute walk to a tall office building that towers over you just as its siblings do. The remnants of the winter cold linger in the air, and you wrap your scarf tighter around your neck, hints of incense tickling your nose as you soak it all in.

You look forward to spring, to blooming colors and new beginnings. But to get there, you have to face the day, the same old same old.

Work comes and goes in a blur – countless emails reviewed and sent, editing your coworker’s mistakes from their documents, and one too many meetings that you believed were unnecessary to begin with. It’s all so much, yet so little at the same time. As soon as the evening hits, your coworkers begin to file out, sharing little greetings as they grab their things and hurry to leave to avoid any last minute work to grip them by the collar and force them into overtime. You quickly follow suit, and you let out a sigh as you finally leave the office, letting your shoulders sag as exhaustion washes over you in a cold wave. 

The sun is already setting by the time you greet the evening air, a harsher chill that bites at your cheeks. You’re quickly swept up by the after work foot traffic of the city and seamlessly, you join the crowds, heading to your favorite takeout joint a few streets down to grab dinner for the night. Cooking is out of the question– you’re too tired for any of that at this point in time, much different from when you first moved in, eager to start your life anew as a fresh college graduate.

It’s been a couple of years since then, and you find solace in the convenience store bentos and styrofoam takeout boxes that fill up a terrible amount of space in your trashcan. Dreams and imaginations and the like are all stored away in boxes, sealed tightly as to not even let out a glimmer of hope. You know what it’s like to face reality, you know it’s not all sunshine and rainbows. The drone of chatter and dull footsteps follow you, words lost among all the conversations, the monotone colors of asphalt black and gray silk suits filling your vision.

Soon, you find yourself at your destination, one you’ve discovered on a whim years ago and has become a place you frequent much too often. The warm lights welcome you in, greeting you with its chatter and evening bustling as you head to the front counter.

The granny greets you fondly amongst the chaos of dinner hour— the old ma and pa restaurant being a fan favorite to the surrounding residential area. You order your favorite, plus a little extra to pack for tomorrow’s lunch, and she ushers you to wait on the little cushion near the cash register, promising you it would be out soon. Your eyes skim across the people seated at each table.

A kid babbles happily over a bite of omurice, a group of young girls giggle and smile over their phones, an elderly man smiles tenderly to his wife.

You turn your head, staring at a chipped spot of paint on the wall instead. A wave of loneliness washes over you, all of a sudden, but you push it all down, just like always. Not long after, the granny comes out with your order, handing you the plastic bag and waving you off as you take your leave, back into the dreary streets, back into the waves of monotony. That is, until the crowds thin, the evening foot-traffic dwindled to those who walk under the night skies. You stare straight ahead, but you know that they haven’t lost their interest in you.

You grimace. 

Gripping the plastic bag tighter, you continue down the street, past your apartment building because you sure as hell won’t be leading the group of guys who have been following you since the restaurant. You gave them the benefit of doubt, something you really need to stop doing, because you find yourself in situations like this . Four men who you got a quick peek at earlier as they exited the convenience store right in front of you– sleazy and drunk. They eyed you as you passed, hungry gazes that you ignored, refusing to entertain them.

“Hey!”

You steel your nerves, continuing your pace before footsteps thump faster behind you and you’re forced to quickly turn at the next street–

Shit. A long alley greets you, lined with dumpsters and trash, and the cherry on top is the concrete wall at the end. You hear them laugh mockingly, approaching you step by step.

“Oh? Guess you took a wrong turn,” one guy sneers. “Do you need help getting home?”

The others elbow each other, their eyes running along your frame–you suppress a shiver of disgust. It makes your skin crawl to watch them look up and down at you like you’re some eye candy. With a heavy sigh, you set down your bag at the cleanest spot on the floor, before settling your takeout on top of it.

You undo the top few buttons of your button-up, before rolling up your sleeves as the guys whistle.

“Ha! How cute, look,” one of them says, eyes glued to your chest. “Getting ready for us here? So eager, aren’t we?”

Keep your body loose, let it flow, don’t lock up. The words echo in your head. How long has it been?

The leader of their little group walks up to you, slowly lifting his hand to reach out to your wrist. 

“C’mon, let’s head back and—“

His fingers wrap around your wrist, and in an instant, you twist your arm, slipping out of his grasp as you pivot and spin your body, your other arm raised to elbow him with all the momentum you have. He cries out in pain as your elbow digs in his cheek, stumbling back a few steps as the rest of his group gathers behind him.

“Bitch!” he curses, a hand immediately coming up to cup his swelling cheek. “The hell you doing? Teach her a goddamn lesson!”

It shocks the other three to turn towards you, and you crack your neck.

It’s been awhile since you’ve fought.

They come at you as if numbers will win, like children who only know how to run and punch and kick. It’s easy to toy with them, so you do. With a smooth kick, you trip the one in front by sweeping him off legs, grabbing him by the collar before throwing him towards the second closest man, who falls down with his weight. The third looks intimidated, but raises a fist and yells, swinging at air as you sidestep and raise a leg to kick him to the floor. You fight with them, almost like a dance, letting them charge and scream as you weave around them, landing hits here and there and barking a laugh at how pathetic they are.

It reminds you of the schoolyard, it reminds you of the bruises and the sneers. It reminds you of how alive you felt. But it’s not like that anymore, constrained in your button-up and slacks, dwindled down by adulthood and everything it has. Your limbs burn and sweat beads your forehead much sooner than you expected. Darkness creeps up your vision, and a dizzy spell hits with each swing and punch.

The leader looks at you with growing anger, steam coming out of his ears and the sight makes you almost laugh, if it weren’t for the gleaming pocketknife in his hand. 

Your exhaustion-addled brain takes a moment too long to focus on it— now noticing one of the lackeys get up and grab you from behind, looping his arms under yours as he snickers. You’re about to swing your legs and send a kick to his shins, until one of the guys on the floor crawls over, grabbing them and holding you down. 

“Who knew this bitch had fangs?” The guy grunts from underneath you, struggling to hold onto your legs. 

Never close your eyes in a fight.

You don’t, and you brace yourself as he pulls his arm back with the knife. Just before he reaches you, you’ll twist your body with as much momentum you can muster– a last ditch attempt to fight back really.

The sharp metal glistens. You don’t blink, waiting, waiting…

You hear loud clacks rush from behind him, and you hold your breath. Something rushes behind him, and all of a sudden–

“Ack!!”

A wooden sandal cracks on top of the leader’s skull, sending his head to the floor in an instant. The grip on you loosens, so you quickly kick your legs out from their grip, maneuvering so you can slam your heel against the man’s arms, while you twist your upper body to elbow the man behind you. They both grunt and yell in pain, tripping over the one on the floor and falling into a heap with pained groans.

“Well, there’s one more left,” your savior, who you recognize as your new neighbor, nods to the last guy standing, who’s backed up to the alley wall, legs quivering and an ugly bruise already forming above his eye.

“Alright! I give!” he pathetically yells, raising both arms as he glances at the rest of his group. 

And in moments, police sirens ring out, and you’re met with a soft grin of your neighbor. Perhaps your story with him isn’t as short as you thought at first.

-

Togame Jo. 

Your mind ponders on the name as you vaguely listen to the police officer as he goes through a spiel he’s given one too many times, jotting down some last notes before promising justice and maybe a follow-up phone call regarding the case. You’re off the hook with reasoning for self-defense, Togame easily coming in to share his piece, as well as the requests for CCTV footage from the streets to further prove as evidence of the four following you and physically  harassing you.

He waits for you with hands stuffed into his jacket pockets, and it’s only then you realize he’s dressed like he just left home, in a loose navy samue that makes you wonder what kind of person he is. An enigma, perhaps, because on second glance, you wouldn’t assume someone appearing so laidback like him to resort to violence.

But you know one thing for certain: he knows how to fight, and he’s strong.

You have no doubt your takeout is cold, and that you’ll probably be sore tomorrow. It’s been awhile since you’ve fought like that, moving your body in ways you did years ago. And with some disappointment, you realize your body isn’t like what it used to be, withered down by shitty office chairs and a less than ideal diet of takeout and 300-yen bentos. 

“You alright?” 

You look up. Despite the loud clack-clack-clack of his wooden sandals, you didn’t notice him walking up to you, too lost in your thoughts until he was standing right in front of you.

“Ah, yes. Thank you for your help,” you say softly. “Sorry for getting you dragged into all this.”

“Not at all,” he responds. “I couldn’t sit around when they were ganging up on a lady like you.”

“I appreciate it,” you offer him a small smile that he returns. “You’re my new neighbor… right?”

“Yup,” he says simply, holding out a hand. “Think you already heard, but the name’s Togame Jo.”

You introduce yourself, shaking his hand and ignoring the way his grip is tight, mapping out the callouses that litter his palm. An enigma, your mind supplies. His hands remind you of your own.

“Well, were you headed home? I’ll walk back with you.”

“Yes… thank you.”

He lets you take the lead, a step behind yours as you head back to your apartment together. You feel a bit awkward, wondering if you should say anything to fill in the silence, but when you glance at Togame from the corner of your eye, he doesn’t seem to face the same situation you’re in, hooded eyes scanning his surroundings, hands tucked casually into his pockets. You wonder what’s on his mind, but by the looks of it, maybe he’s just taking in the surrounding area. It makes you briefly ponder why he moved  here, but you shake it off. 

Your apartment complex comes into view, and you let out a sigh of relief, finally home after the long day. 

“Thank you, again,” you say, bowing your head. “Things could’ve gotten ugly if you weren’t passing by.”

“No problem,” he says casually. “Well, I’ll see you around. Get some rest.”

“You too. Good night,” you say, closing the door softly.

Immediately, you lean your forehead against it, letting out a tired sigh. An empty apartment greets you from behind, a silent, dark “welcome home” that makes you crumble to the ground and you hug your knees close to your chest.

You’re so tired, and tonight is just one of your final straws. Not that you thought much of your neighbor, but you wondered just how badly he thinks of you now, hidden by easygoing smiles and lazy eyes. You never wanted anyone to see this side of you, especially not as their first impression of you.

You imagine the sneers, the glares, the disappointment, the disgust.

Whatever. It’s not like you really cared about him, anyways. No one stays around, and you don’t feel like driving a stake into anyone’s lives when you barely have a handle on your own. 

(But maybe part of you wondered if you could’ve been friends– he seemed to be around your age, after all, a stark difference from the older residents living around you).

On the bright side, things won’t change. That’s probably the actual last time you’ll see Togame. Part of you wonders if you need to pay him back at all, but with how laidback he was, you don’t think he’ll mind too badly, and if anything, you'll get him one of those cheap snack gift sets to leave in front of his door as a little thank-you.

It’s a fleeting thought that disappears as you get ready for the night.

The next few days pass by quietly, and the weekend comes around uneventfully, and your nights are back to being peaceful when you walk home. It’s as things should be, after all.

As always, you grab dinner at the convenience store on the corner of the street, and once you return home, you switch things up and head out onto your patio to eat, moving away all the crap you’ve piled in front of the door before sliding it open with a loud screech.

The buzz of the city keeps your head occupied, thoughts weaving along the honking cars and bright LED lights. Your eyes follow the small figures of passersby, cars that blaze past, and eventually they linger on the stylized kanji painted across the billboards, advertising a new vacation hotspot in Hokkaido with the best hot springs.

You could’ve been the girl in the ad— smiling with her friends, her family, or maybe even a loving boyfriend on an amazing trip. You could’ve been her, if you had simply lowered your head, if you lowered your fists and stashed away your pride.

You lean against the railing of your patio, letting yourself lean farther and farther until your head hangs down, letting the wind flow through your hair, letting your feelings swirl down the drain— just as you’ve always done. 

You breathe.

“No one wants a girl so violent like you.”

Your mother glares down at you with disappointment, your father turns away in shame. Your little sister tugs at their shirts and smiles brightly, talking about how she’s the top of the class and is a perfect student that everyone loves. Meanwhile, the girls in your class shun you, eyeing the bandages on your face, pointing out the way you wear slacks instead of the mandatory skirt. The boys laugh and jeer, and sometimes they pull at your hair and bump into you much too rough for it to be an accident.

And at the back of the schoolyard, away from the teacher’s eyes, you fight. You fight for thrill, you fight for revenge, you fight for whatever twisted sense of justice you had in your heart, you fight to get through the day. Your knuckles have been bloodied and you’ve tasted copper smeared across your lip more times than you can count on one hand. Bruises littered your skin, hidden behind concealer and tights you wore, and there hasn’t been a day you haven’t been sore.

The nurse’s office becomes your lunch spot, you find solace sitting at bed at the end of the room, a first aid kit left on the bedside by the old lady who always gives you pitying looks. It doesn’t stop you, though, from wrapping your hands and cleaning off the blood, ready to keep going.

And it’s all you know, even once you barely manage to graduate high school and you’re thrown into one of the lowest ranking colleges that were willing to accept you. You keep your head low, passing your classes without so much as a peep. Your skin has long since healed, faint scars remaining as a reminder of what you’ve done, and what you don’t have anymore.

What do you have now? You wonder to yourself everyday. There’s more to it, surely. There’s more to life than this, right?

You breathe. 

Sometimes, you feel phantom pains of the bruises on your skin, the deep aches that thrum in your bones. Sometimes, you remember feeling drunk off adrenaline, letting it take over and giving in to its instincts. 

You breathe.

“Miss, can you hear me?”

Your eyes snap open and you look to your right.

Togame Jo is leaning over his patio— an arm extended out, so painfully far, but in some attempt to reach you . His eyebrows are furrowed a miniscule amount, and for a moment, you have no idea why he looks so concerned.

Something terribly cold washes over you— shame, guilt, embarrassment?

“Do you hear me now?”

Was he talking to you before? You didn’t hear anything, not even the sound of the door opening. A car honks in the distance, a rowdy group laughs from below, a bird caws overhead. You nod. He gazes at you and continues, slowly, “Can you back away from the railing? It’s dangerous to do something like that.”

Oh, that’s why.

First he sees the worst in you, and now this? You can’t help but chuckle as you lift your head. “Want to be my savior again?”

“Like I said, you had that situation all handled,” he says simply. “Just thought I’d make it a bit easier for you.”

It’s the same thing he said before. You stand up straighter, meeting his gaze with a hard stare of your own. “Glad to know I didn’t seem like a damsel in distress.”

“Not with moves like yours,” he shrugs. It seems like he relaxes when his gaze flickers to the way you grab onto the railing. Leaning over, he rests against his own, peering out onto the streets, watching them move and breathe. “Seems like it wasn’t your first rodeo.”

You bite your lip and nod. He doesn’t need to know, and he only hums in acknowledgement. He doesn’t seem surprised, but neither are you— it was clear that he knew of your nature and can easily assume your past as well. You narrow your eyes at him. This is the part of the song where they ask, why? Where they realize how undesirable you are, how you’re not good business to be involved with. Will he start prying, just as everyone else does?

Yet he doesn’t continue asking, merely watching the cityscape with uninterested eyes. You stare at him, waiting, putting up your guard for what he’ll surely ask next.

When he meets your gaze once more, he merely chuckles. Before you can ask him what he’s laughing about, he crouches down, shuffling inside a plastic bag and bringing out a peace offering to you, reaching across your balcony.

“Ramune?”

“What, you don’t like it?”

It’s a strange offering, one that has you off-balance. No questions, no criticisms, just a simple 100 yen drink that drips of condensation. You haven’t had one in years.

“Never said that,” you mumble, thanking him quietly as you take the cold bottle in your hand. He has one in his own hand, easily popping out the marble and letting it fizz. You open yours.

“To new beginnings.” He holds out his half-drank bottle, and you tap yours against his. The marble rattles, and something inside you does too. The walls you’ve built up, strong and unwavering, tremble just a tiny bit. You don’t know what to expect from him.

Perhaps he doesn’t know, or he doesn’t care to know. Perhaps he already knows what you’ve gone through, and he doesn’t need to hear it from your own voice.

Perhaps, he’s giving you a chance to start anew, because he’s the same as you.

“To new beginnings.”

-

As the winter frost begins to melt, you find yourself going out onto the patio more evenings than not. 

It’s strange, that you find yourself using your voice, not to just spin the cogs at work and get things done, but to share something with a man you just met. In all three years of you moving to your little apartment in Tokyo, you haven’t shared a single word with your neighbors, apart from little greetings and nods shared in the halls or the elevator. 

But with Togame, he worms his way into your life, leaning over his balcony to greet you every evening with a small smile, offering you leftovers from the restaurant he works at on late nights, or an extra Ramune he claims he accidentally bought from the convenience store on the way home. His easygoing manner makes it hard to deny him, and you have no choice but to accept his offerings. In return, you begin picking up extra things for him during your convenience store runs (to repay him, you tell yourself, but part of you doesn’t know why you’re relieved when he enjoys the snacks you pick out for him).

The evening sunset replaces the background of your conversations with Togame, as the days grow longer and the night grows shorter. During this time, you learn more about Togame, about why he moved to the city from a small town near Tokyo. As the sun falls gently, he tells you about his stories with Choji Togiyama and Shishitoren, about the times he helped out the festival food stalls, and how one of the owners had offered him an opportunity to work full-time at a restaurant they were opening in the big city. 

“Why’d you take it?” you asked him. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” He shrugs. “It’s something new.”

“To new beginnings.”

You listen. You read the pages of Togame Jo’s story that he lays out for you, and you hear it all from his low voice, filled with nostalgia and fondness. It makes you feel everything— happiness, pity, longing, friendship. The way he tells you of his journey makes you want one for yourself: A team to consider family, a place to consider home. 

You learn how he’s not a stranger to fights, and he has no shame in sharing his scars with you. It makes sense with how strong he was with that single kick you witnessed. But you envy him for having teammates, brothers to depend on as he fought by their side.

To your surprise, he doesn’t ask about you, but you have no doubt he has his own questions, because it’s human nature to be curious after all. It’s not like you particularly want to talk about yourself— no one has ever wanted to hear your side of the story. And despite how relaxed he seems to you at first glance, you’re not quite sure if that’ll stay the same once he learns the truth about you. 

Bouts of silences have you guarded and ready, shields raised in case he finally gives in and prods you for answers. Yet he never takes those chances, simply simmering in the quiet, letting his words float away in the wind, admiring the late sunset as he closes his tale.

You’re grateful, and despite not voicing it, you think he knows, by the way he smiles at you from across the balcony in the silence. 

At least for now, he takes the wheel of the conversation, and you gladly let him. Part of you wonders why he’s so open to sharing, why he’s telling you so much. You ask him, one night, as you drink the ramune he hands you, like clockwork.

Why is he so willing to share his all with you?

“Why? We’re friends, are we not?”

“Friends,” you repeat with uncertainty, and Togame lets out an amused huff that makes you frown. 

“Yes, friends,” he chuckles, as if it’s obvious. “You remind me of someone I know. It’s cute.”

“Cute?” you exclaim, slamming your hands on the railing, without a doubt your cheeks flushed a brightening red. “The hell are you talking about?!”

He laughs even harder, and he has to lean away from the patio edge, avoiding the glass bottle you swing at him in your hand, closing the 152.4 centimeters of distance separating you two. The marble rattles sharply inside it, but all you can focus is on his laughter, a comforting sound that you wouldn’t mind hearing more of.

Change, and new beginnings. It’s a strange thing to you, that you just so happened to find it unexpectedly as spring begins to bloom much brighter.

-

“Would you want to get dinner with me this Friday?” Togame asks you nonchalantly, and you blink. He’s got some novel in his hand, leaning back in his chair, a rickety thing that squeaks with any movement. You’re filing your nails, about to apply a new polish of black that you pulled out from your bathroom cabinet.

“Sure? I mean, why are you asking out of the blue?” you ask, more confused than anything. For being friends, your schedules haven’t lined up too much except in the late evenings, where you throw words back and forth on warm nights. Togame’s shifts vary from week to week, usually working morning to afternoons, but also occasionally working evenings during the dinner rush.

Togame lifts his novel for you to see. You don’t recognize the title. “Just thought it’d be nice to share a proper meal. At a proper setting.”

“Like this isn’t to your fancy,” you shoot back, and he his lips tug up in a lazy smile.

“Never said it wasn’t, but I wouldn’t mind eating a nice meal with nice company in front of me, not across,” he pauses, gesturing to the gap between you. “Think it’d be safer without a thirty-foot drop separating us, but that’s just me.”

“Nice company, huh?” you echo, wondering exactly what he sees in you when he’s the one who’s always led the conversations and has shown his heart on his sleeve. Is this what friendship is? It’s strange, since you can’t pinpoint it so easily, but what do you know?

If only it were that easy to label whatever this is as friendship. You still don’t know if you can do it, if you’re capable of it. It’s so easy for others, as natural as breathing, in some cases. But it’s all unknown territory that you don’t think is worth stepping into.

“Don’t think too hard about it,” he tells you, bringing you out of your stupor. “Choose a place, anything’s fine, I’m not picky.”

That’s not very helpful, you think to yourself, but you know he won’t take no for an answer. So the next few days you lament over your options, pitifully realizing, there aren’t that many. As Friday rolls around, you ultimately end up in front of your favorite restaurant, for the first time, not ordering takeout, but telling the old granny that you’d like a table for two. She blinks in surprise. 

“How wonderful! There’s a table near the back that should be getting cleaned off. She smiles brightly at Togame with curious, twinkling eyes. “Who’s this, dear?”

“Her neighbor, nice to meet you, ma’am,” he introduces himself with a small bow, and she chuckles.

“Oh, no need for any of that,” she waves off. “I’ll have someone bring over menus for you two!”

You and Togame head to the table, slipping into the booth across from him. One of the servers brings you menus and water, and you take one to look through. You already know what you want, having a craving for it earlier in the day, but it’s not like you want Togame to know how often you frequent here, especially if it’s not to his liking.

“Anything you recommend?” he asks, and you peer over the menu to watch him skim through it. “It all looks good.”

“A lot of their rice dishes are good,” you answer. “I’ll probably get their tonkatsu plate.”

He hums, and when the granny comes around, you wait for Togame to answer, before he gestures for you to order first. You order one of your go-to’s, simple tonkatsu and rice, while Togame lists off a lot of things that make you raise an eyebrow. He doesn’t seem to mind, chatting with the old granny about how he looks forward to trying their food, and offering a polite thank you as she heads to the kitchen.

You idly chat with Togame as you wait for the food to be served, and once it comes out, your stomach growls, yet the sight of all the plates of food Togame had ordered makes you deadpan. 

“How are you going to eat all this?”

“Metabolism,” he answers simply, picking up his chopsticks. “And it’s my treat.”

“Wait, I’m the one who brought you here and—“

“And I suggested we go out together,” Togame quickly interrupts, with a sly smile that makes you realize he’s been planning for it this entire time. “Next time it’s on you— and I won’t order too much, promise.”

The promise of next time, so confidently said, has you speechless, and you barely manage a nod. “Okay.”

“Good,” Togame huffs. “C’mon, before it gets cold.”

He begins to eat, and you follow suit, listening to the chatter of the people next to you, the calls from the cooks in the back and servers rushing back and forth with orders and drink refills. 

“Is it good?” you ask, watching Togame take bites of his meal. He nods. 

“Really good,” he answers. “Homemade stuff hits the best.”

He offers you to take some pieces of his many plates, and you try out new dishes you haven’t ordered before, expanding your list of go-to meals now. 

“I’ve always loved food,” Togame says in between bites. “Told you, I used to work part-time at those festival stalls, and I was unbeaten in food eating contests.”

“What’s your favorite?”

“Dunno. Can’t pick one,” he shrugs. “But you remember that group I mentioned to you before? Bofurin?”

Black jackets, lined with green and gold. Wind chimes sing gently with the wind, a town so peaceful next to Shishitoren’s territory. Long gone are the days where they were enemies, now becoming close allies, protecting the peace of their town and its surrounding areas. It’s another story he shared with you, one that had your attention that entire evening from start to finish.

You don’t remember any of their names except for a “Sakura,” who Togame seemed quite fond of, waking him up from his delusions during their fight (a conversation , he reminds you).

“Yeah, what about them?”

“Their leader back then, Umemiya, told us how he fought so he could enjoy moments like this,” Togame gestures to the spread of food. “Eating together to have fun, laugh like idiots, and forget about all the bad things, just for a little bit.”

He reaches over to snag a piece of tonkatsu off your plate, brightening up as he chews. “And it tastes better with company. I’m serious.”

You watch as he continues to eat, and he looks up, meeting your hesitant gaze before you give in, taking another bite of your meal. You chew, and chew, and realize that it’s so warm and rich, much different than the bland flavors you’ve gotten used to in the darkness of your lonely apartment.

“Good, isn’t it?”

All you can do is nod, holding back the quiver in your lips as you take another bite. It’s delicious, and you didn’t realize food could taste so warm and nice.

It’s not the last time you eat out with him.

The invitations for dinner, and occasionally breakfast or lunch on the weekends, continue on, whether it’s you showing him around the few places you know, or exploring new ones together. At one point, you find yourself at the restaurant Togame works at – a yakisoba joint that boasts its famous family recipe, having gained popularity once the doors have opened and business has been booming.

He introduces you to the owner, a kind man with graying hairs, his wife by his side and their little son tucked behind the front counter, drawing with crayons. It’s one of the best meals you’ve had, and Togame grins as you eat up one of his favorites. 

The world continues to turn, and spring soon fizzles away, its warmth growing to the hot glaze of summer. Tokyo summers are hot and humid, a terrible mix that makes you grimace at the stuffy air and the way you feel the moment you step outside. At the very least, your workplace has decent air conditioning, and the AC unit in your apartment does wonders to cool you down. Still, it's much too hot to spend your time outside.

Sitting at the balcony becomes troublesome— the evening sun still warm and burning even as the hours grow late, but before you can take the first step, Togame offers first, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder to point at the balcony door separating him from his AC.

“Want to come inside and eat with me here?”

Sweat drenches your forehead and you wipe it with your forearm, grimacing at just how terribly gross you feel.

“Sure. Give me a moment.” You hurry to freshen up before you find yourself outside Togame’s door, and he welcomes you into his home, the same layout as your apartment but painted with his colors instead.

Despite the familiarity, you’re still hesitant to step foot into his apartment, nervous to overstep any boundary, both his and yours. Yet somehow, Togame seems to sense that, merely smiling at you as he goes behind you, hands on your shoulders, and pushing you to his dining table.

“Make yourself at home, it’s not too different from your place, anyways.”

It doesn’t take long to make you realize just how much more intimate it feels, sitting across from Togame, able to see the way he picks up his food and chews, the small smile on his lips before he swallows.

When he looks up curiously to meet your gaze, you stuff a piece of your food into your mouth, chewing too fast and swallowing—

“Urk!” You cough into your fist, grabbing at your water and downing it all in one go. 

Togame laughs, and despite the intense heat that creeps up your neck and pools in your cheeks, you can’t help but laugh with him, watching as he gets sauce on his cheek in the midst of his chuckling.

And so dinners are shared together, most nights than not. 

You alternate between your place and his as the days go by, finding solace in the AC that blasts in your little home, eating dinner at his dining table or yours. Some days you cook simple meals with him, in your kitchen or his, and sometimes they end up a bit burnt or bland, but it’s delicious to you nonetheless. Other nights when you’re both a bit more tired than usual, takeout becomes your best friend.

Afterwards, you snack on ice cream or popsicles or cold ramune, sitting at the couch and watching old action flicks and TV shows to pass the time. Sometimes you talk over their dialogue, conversing about menial things that are highlighted with great importance. Sometimes you reenact the moves that the main characters do, ignoring the fact that their stunt doubles most definitely had harnesses and safety equipment, while you only had a small old couch for cushioning. Togame indulged you in your antics, more often shit-talking the terrible acting, or easily becoming your spar buddy for a move that makes your eyes sparkle. 

It all falls into place, slotting together like two puzzle pieces next to one another. It’s easy to laugh, it’s easy to breathe by his side, no matter how heavy the summer air lingers around you.

As July comes around, Togame asks you if you’d like to go to Tanabata with him. You’ve only gone to the star festival once when you were younger, but never gone afterwards, as your parents shunned you from meeting with the locals, and no one ever invited you to go with.

“I don’t have a yutaka, though,” you ponder. “I guess I’ll have to go shopping for one before then.”

“I know a place,” he offers. “Not too far from here. One of Mrs.Yamato’s friends owns it.”

Togame had the day shift for the weekend, so you’re left alone to navigate the shopping district, a hastily written note that has the name and address of the little boutique. A kind woman welcomes you inside, and as soon as you tell her you’ve come from a recommendation from Dodon-Yaki, she brightens up, ushering you deeper into the store. Letting her know of your search for a yukata, she immediately bombards you with questions, and the assistant at her side merely sweat drops by her side, calming her down. 

“Let’s take it one at a time, Ms. Mochizuki,” she says, before turning to you. “Would you like some tea before we start finding what you’re looking for?”

You nod, and as the boutique owner apologizes, the kind assistant brings out a cup of warm tea for the three of you. They ask you some basic questions, about what colors you prefer, what aesthetics you like, and even what patterns you enjoy to wear. While the assistant writes it down on a small notepad, Ms. Mochizuki begins to flit around the store, picking yukatas left and right and carrying the growing bundle in her arms before she lays them out in front of you.

“We can decide on an obi once you choose a yukata you like,” Ms. Mochizuki winks. “Oh, and you don’t have to worry about the price. I already heard from Yamato that this is a little birdie’s gift for you.”

Your mouth falls open. Huh? The assistant giggles, “Maybe you should’ve told her afterwards, Ms. Mochizuki.”

“Oh, you’re right, sweetie,” she gasps in surprise, but quickly recovers as she shakes her head. “Well, we can talk about that later, but for now! Let’s have you take a look at these…”

They breeze over the fact that Togame basically paid for your yukata, and before you can say anything about it, the two girls are putting yukatas to your frame, eyeing the way it compliments you. Most of them get hung up on the return rack while a few that you finally voice your preference to are placed to the side as your top contenders.

You try them on, one by one, letting the two stylists appraise the way it looks on you, until you find the one that makes your heart jump at your own reflection. It’s not often you dress up, apart from the occasional work party or outing, but even you can’t help the surprise that bubbles in your chest.

“This is the one,” Ms. Mochizuki beams, handing you a matching obi to press against your waist. “And this will be perfect. Don’t you think?”

You nod quietly, and the two women beam happily from beside you.

“Let’s get these packed up for you then.”

-

The moment you return home, you drop off the yukata at your place before retracing your steps, finding yourself in front of Togame’s apartment and rapping your knuckles against the door. He opens it soon after, the scent of food filling your nose and you assume he’s making dinner, but you have more important matters to attend to, which is–

“Why did you pay for my yukata?” you immediately question him, ignoring the way he blinks.

“Hello to you too,” he merely greets, opening the door a bit wider. “Almost done with curry. Want some?”

“Togame,” you stress his name, following him inside as he returns to the kitchen, standing in front of the stove. “Don’t play dumb with me.”

He huffs, amused. “I’m just inviting you in for dinner because it’s perfect timing. Did you get one you liked?”

“Yes, but let me pay you back because—“

“Good!” he interrupts you. “It’s a gift. Just accept it.”

“But—“

“A gift,” he repeats firmly. “Consider it a thanks for going to tanabata with me in the first place.”

“That doesn’t seem like a fair trade,” you mumble bitterly. You need to think of a way to pay him back, you need to–

“Because it’s not one,” Togame presses back, turning his back to you as he tends to the stove. “It’s a present. You don’t owe me anything in return, and it’d make me happy if you’d accept it.”

You bite your lip. You’re so used to one-sided arguments, stolen secrets, even unfair compromises that you had no say in. Yet for Togame to so easily give you something so precious, without expecting anything in return…

“Thank you,” you say quietly. “It… It means a lot. I really appreciate it.”

Togame smiles. “You’re welcome. Now, want to help set the table?”

-

Tanabata comes around soon within a few weeks.

As soon as work ends, you hurry back home, mentally planning out the hour or so you have to get ready before the time you agreed to meet Togame. You take a quick shower, and as you’re drying your hair, you take out the yukata from your closet, spreading it out onto your bed, with the obi.

The doorbell rings as you’re checking your small purse, and you quickly head to the door once you take one last peek at your camera to make sure your hair is to your liking. You open it, a greeting on your tongue that dissolves as soon as your eyes drink in Togame dressed in a sleek black yukata. A deep black traces smooth curls of smoky, ink strokes that taper at the ends. 

“You…” he starts first, voice trailing off as his eyes trail down your frame. You feel yourself warm at the realization, seeing pink dust his cheeks as he finally meets your gaze before he turns away, a hand rubbing the back of his neck. “You look great.”

“You too,” you mutter sheepishly, willing your cheeks to cool down. Your heart beats rapidly in your chest, and you follow in his step after you lock your door. The festival is about ten minutes away in the neighboring district, and you and Togame catch the bus right on time to head over.

Despite the humid air, you don’t dwell on the heat as you take in the new atmosphere. Food stalls and games line the pathway of the shrine, the smells of grilled meat skewers and freshly cooked takoyaki enticing you to try out everything. You watch as kids run past, weaving through the crowds of people with their boundless energy and clacking geta shoes, and you curiously eye the little trinkets that vendors sell, from the cute masks to the traditional omamori and accessories laid out.

It’s all so new to you, and you can’t help but soak it all in.

“We can do whatever you want,” Togame says softly, a hand resting on your shoulder as he pulls you close to him. “Just stay close, it’s super busy, and I don’t want to get separated from you.”

You’re rendered speechless, brain short-circuiting when you realize just how close Togame is. His cologne fills your nose, blocking out every other scent from the food stalls around you, and you can’t help but eye the way his yukata folds over his chest just centimeters away from your face. Something strange burns inside you, an inexplicable emotion that takes a hold of everything in you.

Togame says your name curiously, peering down at your face, and you swallow nervously, desperately stopping yourself from staring at his lips that hover over your face.

“O-Okay,” you manage to say, taking a small step out of his grasp, and after a beat of hesitance, reaching for his hand. He flinches as you slip your hand into his, before he laces his fingers around yours in response. “You should lead… so we don’t get separated, too.”

You avert your eyes, and Togame squeezes your hand after a moment. “Alright. Let’s get some food, then.”

You don’t see the way he smiles, the way his eyes crinkle as he feels the warmth of your hand in his. 

Weaving through the waves of people, he points out all the street food that makes your stomach growl hungrily. You settle for some takoyaki to share, while he grabs yakitori from the stand over. It’s hot and fresh, and you nearly burn your tongue as you reach for another.

Togame mentions how many of the games are rigged, and you’re quick to agree as you watch the little kids miss their shots with the toy gun, or they toss their rings that merely hit the bottlenecks. But one game makes Togame brighten up— goldfish scooping. You’ve read about it before, using the little paper nets to scoop up the fish. As Togame pays for the both of you, you can’t help but eye the flimsy thing suspiciously.

“How does anyone catch a fish with this?”

“You’d be surprised at how good some kids are at this,” Togame says, crouching to the little plastic pool. “You don’t want to go too fast or else it’ll rip. Too slow, and the fish will swim away.”

You crouch beside him, watching as he eyes the fish swimming around in the water, before he easily scoops a small fish into his bowl.

In the midst of your awe, you watch as he scoops up a handful more before his net tears. He ushers you to try, handing off the bowl for the attendant to put his catch in a plastic bag. You try to follow his movements, but miss one, two, three fish, before the net begins to tear.

Togame pays for another net that you try,  and you nearly succeed– that is, until the fish violently flops on the surface before he tears through the paper and zips across the water.

“Well,” you huff, watching it zoom around. Togame laughs, and nudges you to move on to the next booths. He tries the shooting game, winning you a cute little cat keychain, and you get lucky on the ring toss, gifting him a similar keychain of a lion.

The night grows older, as the sun sets and lanterns illuminate the street, bathing the people in warm lights. You stop by the bamboo displays, already covered with tanzaku, and both you and Togame write your wishes on the strips of paper.

I wish… your pen taps against the little table, watching as Togame scribbles something down. I wish that this friendship lasts for as long as possible.

You won’t deny that you considered writing “forever,” but that would be hoping for too much. Already, the box of hopes and dreams threatens to tear open as you continue to taste a normalcy you’ve always wanted. Greed will get you nowhere, and you’ll lose the things you have now. 

After hanging up your wishes, you find yourself dragging Togame towards some of the stands boasting sweet treats— deciding on some mochi ice cream and taiyaki. After a few more moments of wandering, you finally find an open seat on one of the benches along the street, sitting with him to eat your desserts and people watch.

“Oh, hold on,” Togame says suddenly, and you watch as he lifts his free hand to your face, wiping at your cheek with his thumb. “It’s that good it ended up on your face, huh?”

Your cheeks warm as you turn away. You’re not quite sure why your heart beats faster.

While the parade was scheduled on Sunday, you and Togame decided to miss it, with how hot it was forecasted to be, preferring to explore the festival during the cooler evening and catching the fireworks show instead. 

The main path begins to clear out, with many of the people heading towards the grassy riverbank to find their spots and prepare for the show. Togame tosses out the trash as you save your spot, and he returns just as the murmuring of the crowd reaches its peak, many settling down across the grass and the sidewalks.

The sound of whistling catches your attention, and as you whip your head to the source, you're met with a bursting bloom of light overhead. Kids “ooh” and “aah” as they point out the shapes, and you’re mesmerized by the colorful display above, watching as they paint across the night sky, illuminating it along the stars.

At one point, you take a look at the rest of the crowd, as they take in the view in awe. But something in particular catches your eye— a young couple, seated a few feet in front of you, focused on one another rather than the spectacle above, and you watch as they share a kiss, suddenly feeling guilty for having watched such an intimate moment for them.

“What’s wrong?” Togame leans in to ask you, breath ghosting over your ear. You jump in surprise and face him, meeting his curious look.

“Nothing!” you quickly spit out. “Just thought I saw someone I know.”

It’s a flat-out lie, but you finally force yourself to avoid looking at the couple. It’s not nothing, because you know exactly how you feel. Jealous, because maybe, you also want that with Togame, but it’s asking for too much. Every touch, every glance from tonight and the past few weeks, it’s been something you couldn’t quite put your finger on, but you’re more certain about it than ever.

You feel his eyes linger on you for a moment longer before he returns to watching the fireworks. The show reaches its finale, bursts of flowers in an array of colors overlapping each other before it fizzles out, smoke melting away in the cool air.

After the show ends, the scent of sulfur wafting through the air in its aftermath, you sit with Togame watching as everyone begins to filter out, heading home for the night. Waiting for the crowds to clear out, you listen to him talk about how festivals were back at Makochi, where it felt more like a family gathering of locals than a huge event. He tells you stories of manning the booths, of meeting with Choji and Shishitoren to goof around and play with sparklers, of watching kids enjoy the snacks he prepares and gives them, ranging from steaming hot takoyaki to chewy, sweet mochi.

Eventually, once you spot even the stand owners and the festival organizers begin to clean up, you and Togame take your leave.

You won’t deny that it’s on your mind as you walk home with him. There’s a clear conclusion you come to, and it makes you grow quiet as the thoughts stew in your head.

The fact of the matter is, you like Togame, more than a friend, or maybe as your first friend. It was bound to happen, you realize, when he’s the only one in your life to have wanted to stay by your side, never once thought of you as anything but an equal. 

But you’re still confused by the lingering feelings from before— of wanting to be the couple sitting in front of you, leaning in to kiss Togame. Your mouth goes dry. You’ve never dated, let alone kissed anyone before— so how true are your feelings when you aren’t even familiar with it?

You’re so lost in your thoughts that you continue walking, and it’s only when Togame grabs your hand and tugs you gently that you freeze.

“This way,” he chides, gesturing to the turn you were supposed to take. “If you were tired, you should’ve said so earlier. We could’ve gone back home right after the fireworks.”

You expect him to let go of your hand after a step or two.

He doesn’t.

He says nothing as he leads you, and you know he’s slowed his pace to match yours. 

It’s enough, it’s more than enough to give you something so warm. Anymore, and you might overheat, truth be told. 

Around the corner, your apartment comes into view, and Togame stops in front of your apartment door, waiting dutifully as you fish out your keys and unlock the door.

“Thank you for today,” you tell him. “I had a lot of fun.”

“Same here,” Togame responds. “Sleep well.” He says your name like it’s a cherished secret.

“Goodnight, Togame.”

-

The next day, you wake up in the late morning, lazing around in bed for a bit before you go run some errands that have been desperately yelling at you on your to-do list. It takes some time, but you make a little day out of it, grabbing necessities, but also some things to treat yourself, too.

In the afternoon, as you’re finishing putting away all your groceries, you hear the ping of a message on your phone– something you’re still not used to, and you brighten up seeing Togame’s name. 

Under a simple, “good afternoon,” message, Togame sends you pictures of a new fish tank, fit with a filter, gravel, and even fake plants and a little cave accessory placed in the center, with all three of the goldfish he scooped up from the night before. As a proud parent he needs to take care of his children properly, he texts you. You shake your head and laugh. 

That evening, you head over to his place with ingredients to cook up some cold soba to beat the heat, and he welcomes you in, like clockwork, with the addition of his new children who have yet to be named. 

It’s more change, but it’s refreshing in the summer heat, floating gently along its currents.

-

Life goes on, but you’re not the type to forget about the little things. But maybe it’s not a little thing to begin with. More often than not, your mind wanders to Togame, feeling phantom touches of his hand on yours, his shoulders bumping against yours, his breath ghosting over your ear.

It’s not like you’ve given him an explicit boundary, and it’s not like you don’t want him to stop. Yet it scares you, not knowing what it will mean moving forwards as he continues with these gentle, little touches. All your body knows is to fight back, to take the punches and the kicks, to endure the pain and let it out at whoever caused it.

Your body doesn’t know how to receive such kind affection, it doesn’t know how to reciprocate it.

Your heart doesn’t know how to take these new feelings.

You haven’t forgotten about your realizations, you haven’t forgotten about the tempting urges to just grab him by the collar and pull him down to your level to slot your lips with his. They linger hauntingly at the back of your mind, and it takes you a surprisingly amount of restraint to not just blurt out your feelings for him.

It’s not something you’re familiar with by any means. Childhood crushes and fairytales full of love and happy endings were never something that you indulged in. You’ve vaguely listened to whispers of your classmates’ crushes and rumors of schoolyard confessions. None of that means anything to you, you have no idea what love feels like when all your classmates got white day and Valentine’s chocolates, and your desk was the only empty one all day.

It’s a strange, scary feeling that brews deep inside you.

You sigh, staring at the empty document in front of you, trying to come up with the words. Your coworker had already asked if you were alright, with the immense amount of sighing she heard from your desk, and you waved her off, telling her some excuse about being stressed.

She looks at you incredulously, and you stare back, wondering if you were that unfocused for her to be worried.

It’s hard not to count the minutes after, feeling like the rest of your work floor is staring at you confusedly, and all you want to do is leave and go home to simmer in your confusing feelings alone.

It’s dreadful, but somehow you manage to get through the day, thankful to see the others begin to pack up and leave as the clock hand reaches five o’clock.

As soon as you head outside, it’s drizzling. Gray clouds fluffed overhead, making the city look duller against the concrete and business formal that passes your vision. It wasn’t supposed to rain until later, but you had still grabbed an umbrella before leaving your apartment, just in case the weather would change its mind as it always seems to do. You’re thankful for your past self from this morning– you have to go pick up some groceries after all, and that would’ve been a pain if it was pouring on the way back.

You head to the small grocery store nearby to pick up some basics, some instant meals and snacks, and you also grab some alcohol, knowing the two of you drained both your and his supply of it with last week’s movie night.

Movie night… you could always let Togame know you’re not exactly feeling up to it, but you have no good excuse, and the last thing you want to do is worry him. So, you head to Togame’s apartment, and you’re greeted by his low voice from the kitchen, where you find him digging through his pantry, pulling out snacks and drinks of his own. You muster up as much energy to greet him as you normally do, and you’re relieved he responds as usual, too. He asks you about your day, and you respond as you do, which seems to be enough to not raise any suspicion about you feeling off, and you help him migrate everything to the living room. 

The television is already on, with blankets and pillows readied to your usual layout. You grab a beer, then two, before settling on the cushions, Togame searches for the remote before starting the movie, his own drink in hand and a bag of chips at his side.

It’s some action movie Togame had picked out, and you had paid attention to it for the most part, but as Togame joked about certain scenes and dialogue, you couldn’t offer him much except for nods and hums, mind too distracted by other things as you continue drinking. 

Hell, it’s bad enough that you barely tune yourself in to watch the last bit of the climax, where the heroine defeats the main bad guy and all the epic music has already toned down to something  more celebratory.

You watch the scene after— the main character reuniting with her family, and something ugly burns inside you as you watch her husband and daughter hug her tightly, reciprocating the embrace, despite the blood and bruises that litter her face. She’s surrounded by her team, her friends, her family.

And what about you?

You scoff. 

Togame doesn’t miss it, tilting his head to you as he blinks. “Something wrong?”

You watch as she gets praised and doted on, for saving the world, for saving her loved ones. She gets her happily ever after.

Why couldn’t you have one?

You go to take a drink of beer– lifting the can to your lips before you realize– Shit, you’re out. You place the empty can to the side, wondering briefly if you should stop, but you reach for a new can anyways, ignoring the way Togame stares.

“It’s just… she’s so lucky,” you confess, opening the can before taking a few gulps. “Fighting like that to save the world, and then having a happy ending.”

The scene shifts, slowly panning out from the heroine’s happily ever after, until the screen fades to black and the credits begin to roll. 

“I mean, that’s what people love,” Togame comments. “Fighting for justice, good, whatever it is. It’s all heroic, or whatever. Then they’re all happy in the end.”

The people around you have never been happy after your fights. Scornful gazes and disappointed frowns, unsaid threats and warnings, all of them filled your vision, not a single praise or smile cracked because of you. Perhaps it was the popular girl in your homeroom who would be the main character, or the class president with her hardwork. Even the disciplinary officers held more justice than you did. Perhaps it was your sister who brought smiles and cheer and praise and love, all things that were never directed towards you.  You weren’t even good enough to be some NPC or background actor, you were just the shitty villain in the end, her plans foiled and thwarted, no one cheering for her.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever have one,” you respond, without much thought. “A happy ending.”

Something sobers up in Togame’s expression, and he sits up. You don’t see it. “What makes you say that?”

“I mean, it’s what I deserve for being so… violent,” you shrug. “Everyone’s been disgusted by me. Even my family, I mean, they love my sister instead of me. Thought I was too ugly and rough around the edges. ”

Suddenly, you vaguely realize you had never mentioned your family, or even your sister to him before now. But that’s fine, it’s better if he knows, better if he realizes it too, right?

“Hey, maybe you should stop drinking for a moment,” Togame warns, concern laced in his voice. He leans over to you, and you pull away your arm.

“It’s fine,” you snap, downing the rest of it and ignoring the way Togame mumbles your name.

Your thoughts are muddied and tired, and it feels good to just talk about it to someone else because your apartment walls have heard it more than enough. The loneliness in your heart has had enough.

“No one wants to deal with someone so messed up like me. That’s why I never had friends, you know?” you chuckle, but it’s empty. “There’s gotta be something wrong with you to want to be my friend, because no one in their right mind would want me around. No one ever wanted me around.”

You take a moment to let it sink in what you just said, and you freeze, heart dropping to the pit of your stomach as you turn to look at Togame. 

You expect anger, annoyance, frustration, anything that’ll make you realize just how badly you fucked up. You just insulted him, and even if he didn't mind that, you’ve shown him exactly what he’s dealing with. Yet he’s staring at you with pity, empathy, something that makes your mouth go dry and a strange feeling flutter in your chest. 

You’re terrified. 

Togame seems to notice the way your shoulders tense, the way your eyes flit to the door and look at anywhere but him, and he sits up, leaning forwards to try and rest a hand on yours.

It’s warm. You want more—it’s poison.

You slap him away and quickly stand up, muttering out a frantic apology before you turn on your heel and head to the door.

Leave, leave, leave.

Togame says your name, and you ignore the way your chest burns with hope, how part of you prays to hear him say it again. You let it replay in your head, you drown yourself in the pain that you’ll never hear it again.

You’ve messed up again. You don’t deserve it— not when you’ve insulted and belittled your only friend. Now he knows just how much of a disappointment you are, how terrible of a person you are to be around.

What’s wrong with you?

He grabs your wrist and stops you in the genkan as you’re desperately trying to put on your slippers.

“Please, wait,” he says your name again, in a tone that almost makes you stop in your tracks and turn to him, the rest of your story at the tip of your tongue. His voice echoes, echoes, echoes, and it fades away. Yet your walls stand tall, weathered and trembling, but not broken down yet. 

It’s cracked beyond repair, probably. How does that saying go? Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, well, you’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.

You’ve had your fair share of shame already, drowned in it, even. So you yank your arm from his grasp, opening the door. 

“Sorry. None of that matters. Forget what I said,” you weakly mutter, glancing at him one last time before you quickly turn away, heading to your apartment and slipping in. As soon as the door clicks behind you, you lean back against it, sliding down until you’re sitting on the floor of your genkan , drawing your knees to your chest and burying your face into your hands.

It makes you human to feel emotions like this. It makes you human to want companionship. You know this, you’ve known this all your life.

But why does it feel so wrong to you? 

Guilt encases you in its cold, cold arms. It’s what you deserve, for making another stupid mistake as always. For being honest, for showing your true colors (that people have always said are ugly). His voice echoes, echoes, echoes, with your name deathly sweet on his tongue, blind to your true self, wanting a version of you that will never be real. 

A terrible person like you will never find redemption, a terrible person like you doesn’t get a pass or second chances. Guilt is a fine alternative, and that’s all you’ll ever find. 

The night turns old and dawn soon appears when you finally pick yourself up off the floor, dragging your feet to the couch just a few feet away. You flop onto it, barely pulling the plush throw over your body, before you fall asleep with tear stained cheeks.

The next morning, you wake up and come to a decision.

You lapse back into the cold, cold silence, closing your doors and sliding the curtains shut. Shame lingers, you’re much too humiliated knowing he knows how you feel, knowing that you would let him inside in a heartbeat. That’s terrifying to you, that you trust someone, that you wish they could stay by your side. You have no doubt that Togame holds more power than he’ll ever know, enough to move mountains for you, enough to tilt your entire world off its axis.

His messages go unread, the same way you pretend you don’t hear knocking on your door, or the way the balcony door stays shut, its loud squeaking no longer echoing in your apartment.

It becomes your silent garden, once more.

-

Togame Jo isn’t big on change.

He thrives in the quiet, same old same old, letting time push through him without scooping him up in the whirlwind of life. The tailwind at his back is all he needs to continue on, enjoying the little things and taking things at his pace.

That push comes in the form of Dodon-Yaki, family owned and operated by the Yamato’s. He’s always liked Mr.Yamato, helping him out during most, if not all festivals with his yakisoba stand. So when he’s offered the chance to help open up their first official location, he takes it without hesitation.

It’s hard to leave Shishitoren, but it’s not like he hasn’t thought about his future. College was never in the books for him, and the small town was becoming smaller to him as he grew older. Some of the other Shishitoren guys had begun to head out, too, leaving their nest to find new beginnings.

In particular, he worries about how to bring it up to Choji, but the boy grins when Togame tells him one night.

“We’ll be alright, Kame-chan!”

They throw a farewell party, and a few days later, Togame is on the subway to Tokyo, a suitcase packed with everything he needs to bring to his new apartment. The movers will meet him there to drop off some furniture he got from family, and he’ll start living a new life there. It’s a whirlwind of change, one that he has no idea what to expect.

And then, he meets you .

He doesn’t expect to meet anyone right away, with lots on his plate already with moving into his own new place for the first time. Dressed prim and proper, with a scarf bundled around your neck, a lanyard peeking out of it with some badge, and a polite smile as you nod right before the elevator doors close.

You don’t look much older than him, young and early in your career, wherever you work at. It’s been about a week since he had moved in, finally getting his feet on the floor and regaining his bearings. His apartment is still just a living space rather than a home, and he really needs to get some decorations or something to make it his.

As the elevator doors shut, he wonders if he’ll ever interact with you in the near future. 

What he doesn’t expect, that same evening, is to see you, fighting off four men in an alleyway near the convenience store. Togame has run into his fair share of unsavory men, so when he hears yelling and the sound of fists, he doesn’t hesitate to find where it’s coming from.

While his first instinct is to jump in and help, he stops and stares, noticing something he doesn’t expect. He watches you move your body, graceful like a dancer, yet your eyes are sharpened and your fists are hardened as you swing and kick and fight the four. 

It’s when he notices you stumble, a dark look crossing over your face as you get caught, he decides to step in. Not once does he think you’re hopeless or weak, nor does he think you’re violent or disgusting.  He just can’t stand by and watch. His leg swings up and crashes down on the man’s head, the clatter of his pocketknife on asphalt signaling the end of any ill intentions he had.

He thinks you’re beautiful, despite your crumpled up shirt and your messy hair, he thinks you’re beautiful despite the way you glare up at him warily, too.

You loosen up once the police arrive, your shoulders relaxing just a tiny bit as you speak with the officers and he waits the entire time, making sure that you’re alright. You seem surprised when he comes up to you to make sure you’re alright, and he wonders what has you so guarded, but waves it off.

He offers to walk back with you, because that’s just what’s right to do, especially after the whole fiasco, and he thinks that’s the end of your story together.

Until it’s not.

A few nights later, he decides to head out onto his balcony and get some fresh air and enjoy some convenience store snacks he picked up. What he doesn’t expect is to see you, half of your upper body dangling over the porch railing and his heart rate absolutely skyrockets, alarm bells ringing in his head because you were about to fall—

He stops himself from yelling, knowing it could scare you and cause you to maybe— he shakes his head and swallows before he thinks about it any more.

Togame says your name softly, and he waits. You don't seem to hear him, and he tries again. “Miss, can you hear me?”

You finally seem to register his voice, lifting your head ever so slightly to lock eyes with him. It relieves him that you easily lean back, bantering with him as he lays out the way he saw things. You were experienced, without a doubt, and he’s curious as to how a girl like you was able to fight like grace.

You don’t seem too keen on sharing, however, as you frown and avert your gaze, so Togame’s plan B is to give a peace offering— his extra Ramune. He digs through his bag and grabs the cool glass bottle, leaning against the balcony railing to hand it over to you. When you take it from him, he takes out the other one and pops the marble in with ease before offering it to you.

“To new beginnings.”

The bottles clink together as you hesitantly tap yours against his, and he takes a drink. He doesn’t mind if you’re not willing to share, everyone has something in the closet they want to keep hidden, after all.

You hesitantly pop it open, and take a drink too.

His friendship blossoms with you as spring rolls around, its warmth melting away the frigid Tokyo air.

He invites you to dinner, and you start eating out together, despite the toll it takes on his wallet, but it’s all worth it in the name of new friendship and learning the go-to places around his new home. He opens up, and he eagerly takes in whatever you have to offer, taking things at your pace.

Dinners evolve into something more, and he finds himself at your place just as often as you are at his, stocked with snacks and ramune and other late night treats. Most nights aren’t very eventful, but Togame enjoys it, letting the silence be filled with your words and the sounds of movies that fill his apartment.

During one of your movie nights early in the summer, as he listens to the movie dialogue against the drone of the AC, he watches you from the corner of his eye as you doze off, head bobbing as you try to stay awake.

Eventually, he slides an arm around your shoulders, planning to lean you on the opposite end of the couch so you can properly lie down, but your head falls to his shoulder instead, where he freezes instantly.

You don’t wake, breaths softly ghosting over his arm as he stands still. You’re warm, and your hair smells of sweet from your shampoo.

As much as he enjoys when you banter with him or when he lets you use him as an impromptu villain in your reenactment of superheroes, he feels another level of comfort as you lean against him, sleeping peacefully in his presence. It resonates with him deeply, more than he ever imagined, ever since realizing just how tall your walls have been built, unbreakable and impenetrable by anyone, even yourself. 

It doesn’t take a genius to see it, and all he knows is to never push or pry, unless he wants to ruin a friendship in record time. But he does want to help you, in any way he can, and if you just need more time, a distraction, or even just secrecy, he’ll let you do as you please.

So he leans back, making sure you’re comfortably lying against his chest, and inevitably, falls asleep to your soft snores.

More often than not, Togame has taken the world in stride, letting things happen naturally instead of forcing himself to change his fate. He lets you closer into his bubble, receiving and reciprocating the way you lean against him, when your hands brush up against each other, when you let him reach over to fix a loose strand of hair from your face.

It just happens naturally.

He doesn’t think too hard about it, and sometimes, you don’t seem to either. Something bubbles up in him when he catches your flustered expression, and he won’t deny the way he wouldn’t mind seeing your blush more often.

It’s during the night of tanabata he realizes that he might have fallen in love with you.

It's when he realizes your hand perfectly fits in his, he realizes he loves sharing delicious food with you and seeing your smile bright up, it’s when he stands there, thinking of a wish for the bamboo tree.

I wish I can continue to make her happy.

Maybe it’s love, maybe it’s affection, maybe it’s true, genuine friendship. 

But then he thinks of Choji, and he thinks of how he wants Choji to be happy, to be free. In his life, Choji is probably his most important friend, who he cherishes so deeply in his heart. Yet the truth is: he doesn’t want to hold Choji in his arms or kiss him breathless like he does with you.

That realization itself makes him a bit more certain that it’s love.

That’s uncharted territory for Togame, though. And it’s clearly something you’re not well versed in, either, keeping him at arm's length and never letting him get closer. Sure, you’ve loosened up and let your defenses fall, and while he’s relieved that you’re comfortable enough around him, he has no idea how to approach you with these newly recognized feelings of his. 

And he decides, he won’t. Not anytime soon, at least. He’s content with the way things are, and maybe things will change in the future. But for now, there’s no need to rush things.

Yet things don’t go according to plan, immediately so. It confuses him more, when you lie to him as you watch the fireworks. Something in your expression, so miniscule, but still noticeable, after he sees you stare at the couple kissing in front of them.

Do you not like displays of affection? Or is it that you know them? It doesn’t seem like you recognize them in particular, but whatever it is, something’s on your mind, even as you walk back home with him.

It’s when he grabs your hand, and your eyes light up, he realizes that maybe you were jealous of the couple. It clicks in his head that perhaps you wanted this sort of affection, and he’s on cloud nine knowing that you want it from him . So he doesn’t let go of your hand, letting his fingers lace with yours and slowing his gait to walk by your side. He squeezes once, softly, and he’s delighted when you reciprocate with a gentle, reassuring squeeze of your own.

When he glances at you from the corner of his eye, he has to hold back a grin from seeing your frown from earlier replaced by such a soft expression that is terrible for Togame’s heart.

Maybe you wanted him, just as he wanted you.

He finally lets go of your hand by the time you two arrive home, so you can pull out your keys from your little coin purse. 

Baby steps , he reminds himself, watching you fiddle with your door lock before you manage to get it open. One day, in the future, maybe he’ll kiss you at the end of a date, promises of more to come.

“Good night, Togame.”

But this will do for now.

Togame returns a soft “goodnight” of his own, and as soon as the door closes, he sighs and smiles. He likes hearing the way you say his name, thinking of it for too long as he slips into his own apartment and gets ready for bed. When sleep takes him, he dreams of you in his arms, calling him by his name in that nectar voice of yours.

The following week goes by as usual, and he continues to be his same old self, maybe a bit bolder than he’s used to. You don’t seem to push it away, in fact reciprocating it, which gives him a sliver of hope. Perhaps he can share his feelings sooner than expected. It makes him stupidly giddy— the idea of holding you in his arms, making you his.

And then movie night comes again, a Friday evening rolling around and bringing you to his door, with snacks and alcohol galore. He picked up a film rental of some action movie that’d piqued his interest, booze,  and set up everything, waiting for you to come around.

Yet the moment you arrive at his apartment, he notices there’s something off. You’re quieter, more withdrawn, and a handful of times you’re lost in thought and Togame doesn’t know what’s wrong. Perhaps it’s because of work, so he thinks it’ll get better when you relax and enjoy the movie.

As you both settle onto the couch, he continues to observe you quietly, realizing you don’t respond to most of his comments even as the movie begins. A few glances, and he wonders what has distracted you even until now. You’re not usually too silent, at least nowadays, having come out of your shell with him and easily conversing with him. The silence unnerves Togame, and he doesn’t know how to step around it.

But then, just as the credits start to roll, you go on to say something that makes him stop in his tracks.

“I don’t think I’ll ever have one. A happy ending.”

Something breaks in Togame, hearing how defeated you sound, registering just how hopeless you are to think such a thing. It clears his head in an instant as he sits up to face you.

“What do you mean?” He asks, and he calms himself down— he needs to be careful approaching you on something as sensitive as this. It’s a side of you that he has never seen, and he has no idea how to face it.

You tilt your head to the television, without much thought, telling him, “I mean, it’s what I deserve for being so… violent. Everyone’s been disgusted by me. Even my family, I mean, they love my sister instead of me. Thought I was too ugly and rough around the edges.”

He doesn’t know what to say– it’s the first time you’ve been so open, so raw and vulnerable. First things first, he tries to take away the alcohol in your hand, yet you pull away hastily. And then, he finally gets a glimpse of your true feelings.  

From how much you’ve hidden it, he had an idea of what to expect– but to hear it from your own voice, it all hurts him to see how you view yourself. When you finally raise your head to match his gaze, he sees the way you freeze and stop, color draining from your face as realization washes over you in a cold wave. He reaches for your hand, to help ground you, but it’s too late. All sense is thrown out the window as he sees the only thing on your mind is to run, getting up quickly and heading for the door.

When he reaches for your hand, his fingers wrap around your wrist and he doesn’t care if he sounds desperate when he pleads with you to wait, your name falling from his lips. The next words don’t form– he doesn’t know what to say, how to say it, to make you feel better or to change your mind. He wonders if he should hug you, bring you into his arms and reassure you that everything is okay, to get rid of that scared expression on your face.

Yet you pull away, frightened, and he’s worried for you— that you blame yourself, at the end of all this, that even when you’re hurting, you can’t help but think you deserve it all.

You don’t, you don’t deserve any of this, Togame thinks to himself, but he can’t bring himself to say it out loud, not when he sees you’re not entirely there. You’re running away, and perhaps you’ll run away even farther if he tries to push you right now.

“Sorry. None of that matters. Forget what I said.”

And like that, you disappear, slipping out his door and he hears your apartment door quickly swing open before closing shut. Silence covers him like a cold blanket, leaving him frigid and still, standing in front of his doorway, waiting desperately for you to crack open your door and come back.

You don’t.

Togame looks at the door sadly, wondering what you had gone through to be so scared of him. You’re not scared of Togame Jo, but you’re scared of letting him get closer.

Part of him knows it was a mistake to let you go, especially when he could’ve been there for you, so you don’t suffer in silence. But he doesn’t know how your headspace is— if his words would’ve been warped and twisted in your mind to become lies he never meant to feed you. So he resolves to wait— he knows how to handle stray cats, after all. The first rule being: not to chase them. The last thing he wants to do is break you even further by demanding answers, 

So, he cleans up for the night, trashing all the empty bags of chips, beer cans, and ramune bottles, turning off the TV, and getting ready to sleep.

As he lays in bed, he wonders what could have made you so scared of letting people in. It was the first time you’d mentioned your family, so he assumes they’re part of the reason, and the way you fought that one night makes him think you were forced to learn. Whether it was for your self-defense, or something else, he wants to know why. He falls asleep restlessly, dreaming of a you who smiles brighter than ever.

The next morning, he wakes up, strangely empty, as he begins the day. As he gets ready for work, he wonders if you’re doing ok, if you’re thinking about him, just as he’s thinking of you. 

His shift doesn’t start until noon, so he goes shopping for groceries, taking care of little errands and stopping home before he leaves for work. But as he picks up the things on his shopping list, he can’t help but search for the snacks you mentioned to him the nights before, the flavors of Ramune that you seemed to prefer over others. He quietly adds them all into his basket before checking out.

When he returns home, he quickly snags a scrap piece of paper and a pen, writing down a small note before stuffing it into the plastic bag filled with the snacks he got for you. Before he steps out onto the balcony, he grabs the broomstick from his closet. Using the end of the broomstick, he hooks a plastic bag over it and carefully lifts it over the gap, gently lowering it and letting the handles slide off onto your lawn chair with a rather loud clink. 

The days pass, and he finds himself thinking of you, and all the little things that make up what he’s learned about you. On days he returns him a little before he knows you’ll be back from work, he leaves gifts at your doorstep; small bouquets he picked up from the florist near the restaurant, snacks that you’ve mentioned you’ve wanted to try or you already love, a new ramune flavor that he has yet to try out himself.

About a week goes by, and just as he’s wondering if you’ll ever talk to him again, he finds a plastic bag of ramune, with all his favorite flavors, waiting for him on his balcony. It catches his eye as soon as he enters his apartment after work, the crinkled plastic sitting innocently on top of his little side table.

Something clears, and Togame lets his shoulders relax, sighing in relief. Little by little, you’re coming back around, even if you’re still skittish and scared. But that’s more than enough for Togame.

He’s willing to get scratched and bitten as long as that means you come back to him.

-

Your contacts list is small. 

You have Togame, your work supervisor, and a few other key contacts here and there, but it’s truly empty.

Yet once in a blue moon, you’ll get a message from a friend .

[ Suo Hayato ]

I’m back in Japan for a little bit. Would you like to meet up sometime next week?

You’ve known him since middle school, having met him after a scuffle with other kids that left you bruised with a bloodied nose at the park near your house. He helped you clean up, and instead of clicking his tongue and shaking his head at you, he asked why you fought.

“They asked for it,” is what you say, and Suo wonders how you’ve started to converse with your fists insteads. “It was the only way for them to listen.”

He merely smiles, and offers to buy you a drink, a simple 100 yen bottled tea from the vending machine that you swipe from his hands once it's in reach. 

“I can help you,” he says softly. “Teach you how to defend yourself.”

It's an offer you can’t turn down. It’s the first time someone has been on your side.

You meet with him at the park a few times a week, where he helps you learn to patch up your bruises and your wounds, only to gain more from sparring with him until the sun turns golden. His experience vastly overpowers yours, despite being the same age, but you take it all in and learn and grow, ignoring the way your peers walk further away from you, ignoring the way your parents make their disappointment in you more obvious. 

You’ve always asked him why he offered to help, and he merely chuckles and shakes his head. 

Years pass, and your meetings become even more rare once you reach high school. And then, once you graduate, you meet him for one last time, before he leaves. He had gone off to train, venturing to mentors in faraway places, where, most of the time, he did not have signal for long periods of time. 

You immediately type up a response, a quick “yes,” before you remind him that you’re in the Tokyo area as usual, with work on the weekdays. In a few prompt messages, you agree to meet up with him at a small tea house near your place at the end of the week.

It’ll be your first time meeting up with him since last year, and your first meeting with someone other than Togame in awhile. Which, speaking of him, you think of the little gifts he’s left for you, both on your balcony and against your front door. It makes something bubble up in you, from small bouquets to ramune. 

He still thinks of you.  

You’re reminded of the yukata, of how gifts are so easily exchanged between friends, and how you find yourself picking things up for him, despite not being able to muster up the courage to face him again. It’s ok, you tell yourself, you’ll face him soon.

Getting ready, you leave your apartment, heading to the little tea house to meet Suo. You had left earlier than needed, but as expected, Suo was already there, waiting at the entrance and waving to you as you got closer.

“It’s nice to see you,” he greets you with his usual, kind smile. “I hope you’ve been well.”

“Same to you, Suo. It’s been too long,” you return, stretching your arms out. He reciprocates in a friendly hug, before leading you inside. 

The place is nice and cozy, bathed in the scents of spices and herbs that calm your strung up nerves. You get seated at a small booth towards the corner, and you slip in, sinking into the soft cushion across from Suo. After ordering, you find yourself much more nervous, tongue jumbled as you try to untangle your thoughts and words. With your current circumstance, you don’t have anyone to go to, and perhaps Suo will be more than willing to hear you out, even if it’s a bit out of the blue.

To fill the silence, Suo starts off simple, asking you how you’ve been, telling you what he’s been doing, and he takes the lead of the conversation, which you’re fully aware he’s doing to help ease you into things. You’re grateful, opening up slowly as you wait for your order. It comes quickly, and as you busy yourself reaching for the teapot, he clears his throat to interrupt the bout of silence.

“You look like there’s something on your mind,” Suo begins, as soon as you begin pouring tea for him. It startles you, making you jolt– but you stop yourself quick enough to not spill any. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you. We can talk about it if you’d like.”

Suo meets your gaze, and it’s reassuring with his kind smile. You take a deep breath as you finish pouring the tea for the both of you.

“I think it’d be nice to ask you something,” you slowly start out. “I made… a new friend. This past spring.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful!”

You nod. “Yeah. He’s my new neighbor. He… he helped me out when I got attacked by some guys walking back home– it wasn’t anything serious, really! And from then on, we started hanging out together more. Like grabbing dinner or watching movies at his place or mine.”

“There doesn’t seem to be a problem with that,” Suo comments. “But there’s more, right?”

You nod.

“I think… I like him,” you confess quietly. “We went to tanabata together, and just lately he’s been closer. It… It’s nice when he holds my hand or when he’s just next to me. I want to be with him more, I want to stay by his side.”

For some reason, you feel awfully embarrassed laying it out for Suo– it’s not like you’ve talked to him, or anyone, for that matter, about how you’ve felt before. You’re not sure what to expect from him, and when you look up to meet his gaze, you’re surprised to see him with a fond look of relief.

Suo has always been more of a distant friend, one who attended a school quite a bit away from yours, and it wasn’t often you saw him. Perhaps to some people, you were only acquaintances, yet he called you a friend with such ease and simpleness, that you couldn’t help but think the same. The occasional times you were able to see him, it was when you learned to fight and defend yourself, with bruised skin and bloodied knuckles. 

But to see you so shy and sweet, worried over love instead of fighting ruthlessly, Suo can’t help but smile brightly. It’s a good look for you, he thinks, the dark shadows in your eyes replaced with something much more bright and hopeful.

“I’m so glad,” Suo says. “You have no idea how happy I am for you, to have found someone so special.”

“But I can’t,” you whisper. “I can’t ask him that, not when he might not… return these feelings.”

His hand rests over yours, and he squeezes reassuringly. “It’s a leap of faith. There’s no harm in telling him.”

“If things go wrong…”

Suo says your name, softly, gently, with no ounce of judgment. His gaze softens.

“You deserve to be happy, too.”

What you deserve… it’s something you’ve wondered about before— if you deserve anything, having been shunned away from so much. To be happy with Togame is such a selfish thought, because, how does he even feel? You’re in such deep thought, that Suo’s chuckle brings you out of your stupor.

“Besides… it sounds like he likes being by your side.”

Suo smiles.

You feel lighter than you have in the last few weeks. 

You think he’s right.

-

Selfishness doesn’t come easily, a concept so foreign to you that it makes you hesitate. 

You’ve probably stood outside Togame’s apartment for ten minutes, mentally rehearsing your apology to him and failing each and every time. Part of you feels relieved that none of your other hall neighbors have come out to see you pathetically standing there, clutching onto a bag of takeout filled with all his favorites from granny’s restaurant, and you finally resolve yourself to go in before the food gets cold.

As soon as you knock, you realize in a cold sweat that you never figured out your apology in the end, desperately grabbing at the words in your head, that all disappear as the door opens. Scratch that, any of the words in your head are gone by the time you meet a familiar gaze.

Togame blinks in surprise, a towel draped across his shoulders, hair dripping wet. He murmurs your name, and you lift the takeout bag.

“I… Can I come in? I brought you some dinner… if you haven’t eaten yet.”

Togame nods, opening the door wider for you to slip in before closing it shut.

“And… can we talk?” You tack on, settling the bags on his dining table. “I’d like to tell you something if you’re willing to hear me out.”

“Of course,” Togame says gently. “Do you want to go outside?”

You nod, and he leads the way, opening the door for you once again before he steps out, sliding it closed behind him. Togame heads to the railing, leaning against it and waiting patiently for you to talk. You take a deep breath.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out first thing, before your worries get the better of you. Your hands grip the railing tighter. “For what I said that night, and for leaving you and avoiding you. I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok,” Togame says after a beat. “I accept your apology. But can I ask why you left?”

The truth lies on your tongue, yet you bite your lip. The times you’ve been honest, you’ve been shunned and reprimanded. Your words have always been better suited for white lies and plays on words— never the truth. But you trust Togame to accept what you have to offer, you trust him to look at you for who you are. When you look up, he nods at you, patiently, understandingly.

“I was scared,” you admit, for the first time in your life. You wring your hands together as you lean against the rail, staring out into the city, teeming with life and light as always. “I was scared of letting you get any closer when you’ve become someone special to me.”

You tell him about the way the girls whispered and pointed behind your backs, the way the boys yanked your hair and pulled pranks on you as a competition amongst one another. You tell him about how your parents, the teachers, any adult in your life looked down at you with shame, you tell him about the day you stopped pulling your punches when the insults stabbed deeper than before. The tall, tall walls have loomed high around you, built from your own calloused hands to protect yourself. Yet Togame has somehow gotten through, standing by your side, past all the defenses you’ve put up.

He’s been taking away the bricks you've built up, one by one, all the while resting a hand on your trembling shoulder. It scares you how close he has gotten, how much more you want of him.

Togame doesn’t say anything as you tell him your story. His silence unnerves you a bit, as you’re so used to people speaking over you, interrupting you when you’ve tried to say your piece.

You’ve learned to settle in silence.

You realized you’re not alone anymore.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize again, after everything. “And…I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for me. For being my friend.”

You wait, averting your gaze from Togame, having opened up your origin, your shame, your pride, everything pit on the table for him to see. You don’t know what he’ll say, and part of you fears you’ll hear those terrible words that have cut you for over and over again in his voice.

Suddenly, arms wrap around your frame and you’re pulled into Togame’s chest in a tight embrace. You yelp in surprise, saying his name, and he merely brings you closer to himself.

“Don’t say that,” he whispers. “You had to go through so much alone. I’m sorry I couldn't be there for you sooner.”

Something in you breaks. No one has apologized to you before, no one has ever wanted to stand by your side. 

Messy hair, dark eyes, and longing. You see it in his eyes, you feel it in the way his arms wrap around your frame, still holding you close.

You finally lift your head, meeting Togame’s gaze. Your name falls from his lips, in a curious tone, and you reach up to cup his cheeks. Leaning closer, you brush your thumb against the apple of his cheeks, and his hands find your waist.

Togame hesitates, biting his lip as if to stop himself from blurting out whatever is on his mind. You squish his cheeks softly.

“You look like you want to say something.”

“I do,” he admits weakly. “I just don’t think it’s the right time.”

It’s a leap of faith.

Your heart flutters, you embrace the hope and latch onto it selfishly.

“I think it might be,” you say softly. 

You deserve to be happy, too.

“After what you shared with me?” he says nervously. “I don’t want you thinking it’s because of pity, or anything like that.” His hands squeeze your waist, and you jolt slightly, staring into his eyes, filled with hesitance. You shake your head.

“I know. It’s ok.”

“Are you sure?” he whispers, his breath ghosting on your lips. You nod, and lean in.

You kiss him, letting your lips mold with his. You kiss him like he’ll disappear in your hands if you let go, as if he’ll melt away into nothingness. 

You kiss him like you love him.

It’s a leap of faith, across the gap between your balcony to his. It’s a leap of faith, taking his hand and soaring in air, no longer alone to face the unknown future. He’s by your side, as you are by his.

The night comes to an end as you step back inside, thoroughly exhausted by everything you’ve let go from the confines of your chest. A weight has been lifted from your shoulders, and the dread you felt coming over has been replaced by a bubbling feeling as you squeeze Togame’s hand. 

The feeling doubles when he squeezes back.

Dinner is cold by the time you open up the boxes, so you pop them in the microwave before settling down to eat. It's still delicious, even more so than usual, as your legs nudge against Togame’s under the table, and the sound of your laughter mixing with his. 

As you clean up with him, tossing the empty boxes and wiping the table, Togame bashfully scratches his cheek, avoiding your gaze as he holds your hand. “If you’re ok with it… you can stay the night here… with me.”

It makes your heart beat wildly in your chest as you go back to your apartment to clean up and grab everything you need for the night. It refuses to slow even as you change into your sleepwear, as you quickly head back into Togame’s apartment which you lock behind you as you navigate to his bedroom.

Togame is waiting by the time you enter, sitting on the side of his bed, pulling a loose shirt over his body. You shuffle inside, lingering by the door, hesitating to enter his room any deeper.

“Turn off the light?” he asks, reaching over to turn on the lamp on his nightstand. You flick the light off, letting your eyes adjust to the dark room, dimly lit by the moonlight, before making your way closer to his bed. Togame pats the space at his side, and you sit stiffly, unable to relax your nerves

He laughs, a deep chuckle that reverberates as he tightens his hold on your frame.

“Good night,” he says your name in a whisper, lips against your forehead. You say it back in a whisper that makes him grin.

Sleep comes easily as you finally relax, letting yourself melt in Togame’s arms. The morning after, you wake up alone, and while you’re confused about where Togame had gone, you find your answer as you step out of his bedroom. It’s the last thing you’d expected, but you’re greeted by a bouquet of daffodils that Togame presents to you in the kitchen.

“New beginnings,” he says, nearly out of breath as he greets you a wheezed “good morning” right after. “I wanted to get you these as soon as possible.”

Gently, you take the bouquet in your hands, staring at the petals, listening to the plastic crinkle against your fingertips.

New beginnings. The sound of a marble rolling in glass, the feeling of spring as it blooms anew. 

“Good morning, Jo”

He blinks, before he grins and laughs.

New beginnings, across 152.4 centimeters, from your balcony to his, spring blooms in the form of him.

“Good morning.”

[strqyr]

Here are some dots for you to connect: 1) Raven guards the Relic of Knowledge, but her Amity Arena bio puts emphasis on Choice 2) Ozpin says he took extra precautions when hiding the Relic of Choice (there is a fan theory that it is not at Beacon) 3) the Relics attract Grimm 4) when Yang went looking for Raven with Ruby, she found an abandoned house full of Grimm 5) in the Fairy Tale of the Indecisive King, the Relic of Choice drives the King insane with knowledge of the future

okay, so. i have many thoughts on this so apologizes beforehand if i start rambling a lot and this all goes all over the place.

anyway, starting with the vaults: i'm assuming the vaults were made by the god of light to keep the relics safe until ozma found them, and thus originally ozma was the key to all of them via the four blessings he has, and by giving one blessing to one maiden each (the wizard summoned as much of his magic as he could, and bestowed it upon four maidens), the maidens became the key to their respective blessing (winter for creation, summer for destruction, etc.)

if this is the case, then i doubt that ozpin managed to do anything to the beacon vault that would necessarily alter the vault itself, bc it's not in the realm of his magical abilities; that is to say, if it's currently not at beacon, i'm doubtful it has ever been there in the first place—unless this can be filed under "who knows what else ozpin has hid from us over the eyes" in which case, well. what i just said goes out the window lol. anyway, thanks to the haven vault, we also have some level of understanding of what "more challenging" might mean: the haven vault had a secret elevator revealed by a pocket watch inserted into a slot meant for it in a statue. so whatever ozpins means by "more challenging", it needs to go beyond additional object as a key to reveal the entrance to the area were the vault resides.

so, let's talk about choice for a moment. every chance they get, choice is, to an extent, categorized as change. humanity was given choice, the ability to use the knowledge they had gathered and to choose between the paths of light and darkness. the shallow sea is a story about humans having the choice to join the god of animals on their island, to jump into the waters below and turn into what would become faunus. ascension is about change, but the tree doesn't force anyone to ascend; afterans can ignore the call, or in some other cases they can be stopped from ascending by someone else, and whatever they become afterwards is their choice to make, by using information they gathered in their previous life.

(perhaps it's interesting then, that no matter how much knowledge the cat has, no matter how much they learn, they don't have the choice to ascend.)

ozpin gave the branwen twins a choice to accept the gift he offered in form of shapeshifting. they accepted, just like the maidens did before them. the maidens became keys to the vaults... if an object as an additional security to a vault is out of question, what's the step above that? is it another person? perhaps.... two?

it doesn't surprise me that choice pops up so much with raven; she is the maiden of knowledge, and choice is to knowledge as creation is to destruction: they're two sides of the same coin. you really can't have one without the other. but it's the weight behind it—and how the crown in the story gives a glimpse of future and how sure raven was the ozpin would fail and beacon would fall—that gives it the air of "maybe there's something more to this", and based on what we do know, the safest bet currently is that the shapeshifting came with something extra that raven and qrow probably didn't agree to (and that maybe, raven found out.)

(it would also be funny if by "more challenging" ozpin really meant "good luck getting raven to cooperate lol")

as for the location of the beacon vault... i've discussed this to much detail and i've gone between "ozpin said the tower couldn't fall and all those (now destroyed) gears could probably do something fancy if the long memory with its gears can store kinetic energy" and "tai is sus for being so vague about his reasons for not going after ruby—"i've got to... look after some things."—and staying solidly on patch no matter what" and at this... in universe it's been over a year since the fall of beacon and whoever coughsummercough is looking for the vault at beacon is not succeeding at it even after all this time, so that does maaaaaybe give more credence to the possibility that is has never been there in the first place? but if it's on patch, then it probably wasn't a secret all of team strq was aware of—and i think it's interesting how qrow says "summer secret" so... casually? like, the summer rose who never lies? which makes it sound like keeping oz-related secrets from each other was the norm for team strq and this was understood across the board and trying to fish for more information was a no-go from the start—so it being a secret tai had to keep would make sense. and if that's the case, then the old abandoned building that was probably tai and raven's old home since yang thought she could find raven there would be the prime suspect.

but really, i have no idea where the vault actually could be located at. i'm more certain that raven and qrow are extra keys to its exact location, but the vault itself could be anywhere: could be at beacon, could be on patch, or forever fall, or somewhere in the ruins of emerald forest where new students choose a relic that puts them onto teams... could be mountain glenn.

honestly, if change is central to choice, then who knows, maybe it moves around between few select locations. could be all of the above. let the vault be free to choose lmao

[hyggehooligan]

Last night my wife and I attended her highschool athletic association hall of fame banquet where she was being inducted as an honoree. A very big deal as she had a very serious career as a high school athlete which continued through college and after up even until today (she is actually out playing flag football this morning!) I am so proud of her and I know how much this means to her so I'm happy she is getting recognition.

But I am trying to process my own emotions surrounding this event and sporting culture in general, as a person who used to be athletic and active and now is disabled due to chronic physical and mental illness. It's a tough spot to be in but it's made much harder by the fact that our culture elevates sporting and being active and outdoorsy activities while either ignoring people with disabilities or outright blaming them for their mobility issues. My wife has always been very supportive of me but I don't think she always gets why I feel so vulnerable and out of place in "sports culture" events and groups. I think she thinks I can just come along for fun but it's wrapped up in so much garbage for me that even just spectating is really difficult.

Last night was tough enough because I don't particularly enjoy fancy affairs where you schmooze with strangers and especially was not looking forward to being likely the only queer people there but the sports thing just made things extra hard. That's all everyone talked about. And I get that it's so important! I remember those days too. It's just hard because I feel it was taken away from me. It makes me feel jealous, resentful, frustrated, and bored and all of those are ugly feelings and I don't like it.

I have met some of my wife's sportier friends in the past and they will shake my hand and look at me and my body and say things like "wow you should play hockey/football/basketball/handball." Should I play sports? Should I move my body for fun? Should I wake up every day and use my body in the way it was designed and not be crippled by pain? One time someone said to me "if I had your size I would dominate on the rugby pitch." If you had MY SIZE???? Let me tell you that as a person about 20 years into recovering from bulimia this is absolutely not the kind of shit I want to hear.

Last night someone saw my cane and asked (jokingly, I think?) if it was a sports injury. Nope, I'm disabled. Oh. Another person asked if I had attended this highschool, I said that no I had attended another highschool in the area; they asked if I did sports there, I said I did synchronized swimming until college. "Oh why didn't you continue?" Well jesus not that it's any of your business but that's when I became disabled, actually.

I have not figured out a way to gracefully navigate these situations while still respecting my own boundaries and privacy. They shouldn't be asking these questions but it wasn't too out of place considering the situation either. I just wish I knew what to say. It's hard because I'm still processing how I feel about my body and my limitations and I don't even really like talking about it with my doctors or my therapist, all of whom are awesome, or my friends, who are also awesome, so why would I want to talk about it with this random person? And I'm so mad that all of this got ripped open last night and I felt so vulnerable and upset and it's still getting to me today.

[raccoxn]

DEAD OF NIGHT • SOAP X CIVILIAN!READER PART 2

SCENARIO: you're a civilian who got caught up in a mission soap was on. he ends up in your care while the rest of the 141 is dealing with the mission at hand while looking for him. 

you live in a small cabin and it's quite literally in the middle of the woods. it's big enough for one or two people, so taking in soap wasn't an issue. the only issue on the table was the fact he was bleeding out...

**told in y/n pov**

+

By the time I got into town, the sun was just cresting over the mountains and illuminating the sky. I kept glancing to my phone to see if Moira send a text back on meeting me, but I didn't see anything yet.  So, I opted to go buy new clothes for Soap since he was filthy and covered in blood. He could probably use a shower too so i'll get him his own shampoo, conditioner, and body wash.

I parked at the front of the small store and got out of my car, eyeing the open sign and sighing in relief. I'm never in town often since I come once or twice a month to get things I need. I just don't like people, so living alone was great.

Until Soap came into your life, a small part of me grumbled. I couldn't agree more, but I couldn't let him die. I'm not that heartless.

I walked into the store and waved to the cashier. He waved back before going on his phone again, completely engulfed in whatever he was doing. I made my way to the men's section and grabbed anything that would suit Soap. I grabbed t-shirts, henley shirts, sweatpants, sweatshirts, wool socks, underwear—anything to keep him comfortable. I didn't know what size he was, but I took a guess with a large or extra large, then moved on to toiletries. I grabbed travel sized items then went to the medical area to get bandages, ointments, and more ibuprofen and melatonin. If he's going to be with me for awhile, might as well give him a supply of his own.

I noticed a woman staring at me as I grabbed a couple bottles of men's shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. She then eyed my cart full of clothes and other medical items.

"My brother's an idiot. Forgot all his clothes at home and then had the audacity to cut himself with a kitchen knife while cooking." I grumbled at her and she walked away. I wasn't in the mood for that.

Once I got what Soap needed, I pushed my cart to the snack aisle. I grabbed three boxes of poptarts, some chips, and a jar of Tostitos queso. 

My phone buzzed on my pocket and I pulled it out, seeing a text from my pharmacist friend, Moira. I had explained to her VERY vaguely that I needed stronger medication for Soap without mentioning him, but judging from her text message, she wasn't going to give me any. I tried to convince her again, but she just told me to buy Tylenol, ibuprofen, and make sure to keep him elevated enough. After that, she completely ignored my text messages and I was left in my problems yet again.

Shoving my phone back in my pocket, I started to head in the direction of the checkout. As I walked closer, I noticed a group of armed men enter the store and the few of us in here started to panic. I stayed where I was and ducked behind the cart as if it would protect me. 

"Stay calm, everyone!" One of the men shouted, his Spanish accent heavy as he looked at everyone around him. The cashier I waved to earlier glanced to me and tried to come over. Gun shots went off and everyone screamed. The cashier fell to the ground, bullet wounds littering his body and his eyes stared at mine. 

I stood up completely when the armed men glanced at everyone.

"We're from the Las Almas cartel, and we're looking for someone who has info about our leader, El Sin Nombre. He's Special Forces—goes by the call sign Soap."

I kept my face void of emotion but I was screaming inwardly. How the hell was I going to get out of this situation alive? More importantly, why are cartel members so far up here? Like I thought before, I knew it wasn't impossible, but it was weird to me. I always thought of them as staying by the border..... I don't know if that's stereotypical or not....

"My men last saw him around this area. This is a small town. Someone must have seen a tactical-armed hombre with a stupid little mohawk?"

I almost cracked a smile and laughed at his statement, but I stayed silent. One of the men walked amongst the other terrified customers, his eyes looking over the groceries and items they had. I stared back at him when he approached me, his eyes looking at the mens clothing and toiletries in my cart.

He shouted in Spanish at me before he aimed his gun at my head. I didn't even flinch or scream when he did that, but rather stared with a bored look at my face. How was I doing this shit emotionlessly?!

"I have a name, y'know."

"You've seen him. Where?"

"I haven't seen him, you idiot. I'm buying clothes for my brother because he's a dumbass and forgot to bring his entire duffel bag to visit me."

I kept my gaze steady on the cartel member in front of me, my heart pounding against my chest and my head getting light. I kept my hands on my pockets to keep them from shaking, but I also dialed 911 by triple-pressing my lock button. 

"You don't come clean, we'll kill you!"

"Even if I kept the guy you're hunting for under my watch, you don't have evidence to prove it!"

He grabbed the front of my shirt and hit the end of his gun to my temple. He got in my face, his hot breath hitting my skin and I resisted the urge to gag from how it smelled.

"We'll kill everyone here if you don't tell us."

"Just tell them!" A bystander shouted from her cart.

"Tell them! I can't die!"

"Save us!"

"Don't kill us, please! I have a baby at home!"

I looked at the innocents around me, strategizing a way to bargain and even get everyone out alive. I didn't care what happened to me. If I died, that would insure Soap's secrecy and safety. 

But who would take care of Nic?

I sighed and nodded my head, telling them I would concede....not that I'm actually going to tell them where I live....

"Before I tell you, I want to strike a deal: everyone here gets to leave unharmed and not threatened. They remain anonymous. Second, if I tell you, I get to go free as well. Whether I'm unharmed or not, I get to go."

I happened to see something flicker from the back of a truck, then I saw someone duck down behind my car. The realization of who they were hit me and I decided now would be a good time to get out of the way.

"Anything else?" 

"Yeah. How good are your reflexes?" I threw a box of poptarts at hm before diving behind a cash register. That's when all the bullets came through and the cartel members either dropped dead or scattered. 

I tried to crawl toward one of the aisles but I was grabbed my the ankles. A remaining cartel member yanked me back, clawing at my legs and getting on top of me.

"Everyone run to the emergency exits!" I shouted and they didn't hesitate to do just that. 

My fear overwhelmed me as I started to cry and scream for help. My "tough guy" facade was no more, and now I was a sobbing mess.

"GET OFF ME!" I screamed as I kicked him in the face and crawled. 

A gun shot went off again, but this time it was me who got shot. The bullet burned into my calf and a scream ripped from my throat. I couldn't move as he grabbed me by the back of my shirt and yanked me upwards.

"You kill me, you kill this one!" The cartel member shouted as I cried. I looked out the shattered windows, seeing that the cops and Soap's team was aiming their weapons at me.

"TAKE THE SHOT!" I shouted at the top of my lungs, fearful tears streaming down my face. "TAKE THE SHOT!"

I closed my eyes and moved my head away to clear a shot. When I heard the bullet tear through the man's skull and his grip loosened, the two of us fell, except he was dead and I was a sobbing mess.

I felt someone gently place their hand on my shoulder as I cried from everything I felt. Pain, fear, trauma, my worry for my dog—hell, even Soap crossed my mind.

"You're the one who helped Johnny. Where is he?!" That familiar British accent asked me as I started to drift off.

I managed to tell him my address before completely blacking out, my head resting on my arm and tears continuing to drench my face.

+

When I woke up, I was greeted by an annoyingly bright light and the smell of disinfectant and alcohol. I blinked rapidly as I looked to my left, seeing Soap in the hospital bed beside mine. He was asleep and had oxygen tubes at his nose.

"You're awake. Finally."

I looked over at the corner to see a hooded man with a skull mask on. Only his eyes were visible and there was black smudged around them. When he stood, I couldn't help but stare. He was a unit....like, his bicep was probably the size of my head.

"No shit, Sherlock." I sighed, keeping my awe under control as he walked up to me. I could tell he was untrusting of me, but after glancing over to Soap, he loosened up a bit.

"I hear you found him?"

"More like he broke into my cabin and temporarily passed out in the bath tub. I stitched him up as best as I could and helped him rest. I just didn't expect, well, this."

I gestured to my elevated leg that was bandages heavily.

"I'm guessing you're the one Soap calls Ghost. I'm sorry I was cryptic when I replied to your 'how copy'." I did an impression of his accent and he stared back with a blank look. "I didn't mean to sound like I was holding him hostage."

The two of us went silent for a moment before the room door opened. Another man walked in, but he wasn't masked. He seemed more welcoming than Ghost but he still intimidated me.

"Y/N L/N, the one who, to an extent, saved Soap's life. While you were extremely cryptic in that response, I thank you for keeping my comrade safe. I'm also impressed with how you handled the whole hostage situation."

"Oh, that was pure adrenaline, now that I think about it. I sobbed like a baby when I dove away."

The man laughed a little and walked up to me.

"I'm Captain John Price, but you can call me John. The masked one is Ghost, and Soap is John McTavish."

"Do I get to know Ghost's real name?"

"Negative." Ghost responded and I looked away.

"Fair enough. Wait! My dog, Nic! Is she—"

"One of my men, Gaz, and two of our allies, Alejandro and Rudy, are taking care of her. If the hospital allows, we can bring her in."

I relaxed when I heard she was okay, sighing in relief as I ran a hand through my hair. I glanced to Soap when I heard him grumble and stir in his sleep. Price and Ghost immediately joined his side when he woke up, his Scottish accent hoarse and scratchy from being asleep.

"Bloody hospital..."

"Agreed." I said from my side and he looked at me. I pressed my lips together, staring at him as he stared back.

"Can I speak to Y/N alone?" Soap asked as he looked at his two friends. They glanced at me before nodding, the two leaving and Soap and I stayed silent for a moment.

I picked at my nails as Soap started to speak.

"I want to thank you. Ghost told me what you did for me while we were in the ambulance."

"It was nothing. Figured I got morals, might as well use them."

Soap laughed at my statement before looking at his hands. 

"You remind me of Ghost in a way. He's the same as you: doesn't like people but he still has the honorable morals."

"Glad I could be of service." 

Soap nodded, but I noticed his expression became solemn.

"What?"

"Once I leave, it'll be like we never met one another. I'll go back to being in the field; you'll go back to whatever you do...."

"Do you want my phone number?"

I looked at him with my eyebrow raised, the man staring in shock over me being so straightforward. I almost laughed but I didn't to keep the unfazed facade up. Inwardly, I was screeching and kicking my feet. I mean, it's not everyday a man covered in blood and grime comes into your life to make it interesting.

"That'd be nice." He replied, smiling softly as he looked back at me. I felt my cheek heat up.

"Do you have a phone I can put it in?" I managed to get out and scratched the back of my head nervously.

"How about writing it down on paper?"

"Dude, that's so middle school..." 

I looked at him, Soap completely confused about what I said but I didn't elaborate. Instead, I grabbed a tissue from the Kleenex box on the bedside table and held out my hand.

"Do you have a pen?"

+   +   +

pt.3?