#I AM TRYING SO HARD TO HOLD BACK SPAMMING I NEED SOMEWHERE TO TALK SO BAD looks at my sideblog i dont use: Idgaf

[cephalonheadquarters]

[machifuwa]

- Sunshine - Sunny Side Episode 1

Izumi: "ーHmm... Alright, I'll go home."

Tsukasa: Eeh, really?

Izumi: "Yeah, you're still frustrated about the newcomers being treated that way on the [Tanabata Festival] backstage the other day, weren't you?"

"It was Kasa-kun who collected those people after all, meaning; they're valuable. I don't really care about it, since it's the job of the "King", not mine."

"But I can't really just ignore you, who's crying for help."

Tsukasa: Mu... I'm not crying though.

Izumi: "Sorry but I gotta go."

Tsukasa: Aah, please wait! I want to apologise for the gaffe.

Izumi: "You're not being sincere, are you? Well whatever."

"Since I was really planning on coming home in the first place, I'm going to come home more early just for you, alright?"

Tsukasa: Thank you very much. That'd be very helpful.

By the way, how about Leo-san? Are you coming home together?

Izumi: "What are you talking about? He's already there, isn't he?"

Tsukasa: ...Eh? ...Eh?

A Few Hours Later

Tsukasa: "ーAlthough we'd love to stay, it's time to say our goodbyes."

"The rest of the story will follow in due course. Delivered to you by Tsukasa Suou from "Knights" and..."

Tsumugi: "Tsumugi Aoba from "Switch"...♪"

Tsukasa: Thanks for your hard work today, Aoba-senpai.

Tsumugi: You too, Suou-kun. By the way, you were fidgeting during the recording, are you alright?

If you need to use the restroom, it's just over there.

Tsukasa: Please don't worry, I'm fine. It seems like I was showing a very concerned face that you ended up noticing.

Anyway, what I am concerned about is Leo-san. I have no idea where he is... I have been trying to contact him on "Hold Hands" but he has not responded.

I'm already used to being ignored by him, but I can't just ignore this one and move on. It's troubling me.

Tsumugi: I see, Tsukinaga-kun is still troubling you even after graduation huh~

I heard that he's been working overseas a whole lot now and that he doesn't come home very often. It must be hard to contact him, no?

Tsukasa: Yes, it is. I heard that he is back home now though, so I think he's just around here somewhere but...

Tsumugi: Why don't you try calling him again? If you keep calling, I'm sure he'll pick up.

Tsukasa: You're right. There are no other options left anyways, it's better to try than do nothing.

And with that, I'm ready to spam Leo-san's Smartphone with my callsー

...Ah, he picked up. Hello?

Hello? ...Hellooooo?

Tsumugi: What's wrong?

Tsukasa: He's not responding. I'm calling from my Address Book, so I'm sure the number is correct...

Tsumugi: Hmm... Can I borrow your phone for a sec?

Helloooo? Tsukinaga-kun? This is Aoba, can you hear me?

Leo: "Grandma...?"

Tsumugi: Yes, it's me. I'm giving the phone back to Suou-kun here, alright? Here.

Tsukasa: Yes, thank you.

ーLeo-san, it's Tsukasa. Why weren't you replying to me earlier?

Well, it's fine, it's not like this is the first time this happened.

I heard from Sena-senpai that you have returned to Japan. Where are you?

Leo: "....."

Tsukasa: ...Hm? Leo-san, o~i?

Leo: "...Suo~ I... I can't do it anymore...!"

Tsukasa: Eh, what do you mean by that!?

Leo: "....."

Tsukasa: How will I know if you're going to keep silent! Say something!

Leo-san? ...Leo-san!?

He hung up... Ugh, selfish as always. At least tell us where you are!

Tsumugi: ...Splaaash, splash.

Tsukasa: Wha-what happened to you? Did you finally lose it?

Tsumugi: Ahaha, I'm completely normal. Didn't you hear a "Splash~" on the phone just now?

Tsukasa: It's like a sound of the waves...?

Waves... Hah! He must be on the seaside!

Thank you for your help, Aoba-senpai! I'll be there as soon as I can!

Thank you for your hard work, everyone! Please have a good day.

Tsumugi: We're not completely sure if he's really... Ah, he's already gone.

We saw each other off like this in the library last summer too, didn't we?

Fufu, I kind of miss it. I hope Tsukinaga-kun can be found safely.

< EPISODE 1 END >

Story: "Summer Breeze!" [Sunshine Shimmering in a Foreign Land]

Story by: ゆーます

Collaborator: 日日日

Season: Summer

Characters in this Episode: Tsukasa, Izumi, Tsumugi, Leo

Reminder: I did not create this story, but I translated it, so please refrain from reposting my translation on other social media platforms.

I apologize if there are any mistakes as well.

(Prev - All - Next) Thank you for reading!

[k3rm1e]

cuddling headcanons! ★~(◡﹏◕✿)

this is more of a test thing to see if i like writing this way and if this blog does well

other imagines and headcanons won't include everyone i write unless it is specifically requested and is a prompt i really like

includes: wilbur nihachu karljacobs quackity dream georgenotfound sapnap p!tommyinnnit p!badboyhalo p!skeppy p!eret p!philza p!tubbo p!ranboo

cw: cursing

wilbur:

wilbur is a very cuddle-y guy

to me he seems very soft

i always see people saying he would like spooning, but i disagree

i feel like he would do more of a half-spooning thing with his head on your chest or the other way around

mans would DEFINITELY make you run your fingers through his hair

i feel like he would lay on your chest and just *nuzzle* into the space between your shoulder and neck

anytime you tried to leave him, whether it was because he had to do something or you had to, he would whine. so. fucking. much.

It would probably always go something like:

you - i need to piss

wilbur - no <3

but the moment he decides its time to stop cuddling its fine

and if you complain that you’re gonna miss him he’ll just call you clingy and tease you

like??? sir???

all in good fun though, no bad intentions :)

nihachu:

i feel like you and niki would face each other

with your head like under her chin and in her chest (this is a bad description but look at the “honeymoon hug” on the list for better explanation ;-;)

she would always want to protect you

so she does that by like almost guarding you and keeping you close

niki would definitely do the arm thing where she just lightly moves her hand up and down you arm

i’m so sorry if you don't understand that, it just feels like something she would do

if you haven't experienced that it kinda sorta feels like spiders??? but in a good way???

but generally she is very protective

she just holds you so close the whole time

even if she doesn’t want to let you go, she’s more understanding about it

she would be upset but wouldn’t show it because she doesn’t want to make you feel guilty

niki is generally just an amazing cuddle-r (is that a word?) and has a super comforting presence

karljacobs:

karl would definitely keep your head on his chest

the whole time he would just absolutely squeeze the life out of you

he would constantly bend his neck down to kiss your head

and instead of just like leaving his head down so he could kiss you it would just be:

*inner monologue karl* hmmm i wanna kiss them on their head

and he would lean down to do so which, cute

but then five seconds later he would do it again

and again another five seconds later

and again

very cute karl but please sir, your neck is gonna be so messed up after this

when you had to leave he would be upset, but like niki, would try not to show it

except karl is very bad at that and his pouting would be so obvious

so you would feel guilty and layback down with him

immediately he just becomes (●´ω｀●)

like a happy little puppy

karl is just too adorable for you to deny

quackity:

now we all know this, quackity is a huge dork

which is why i believe he would DEFINITELY use your butt as a pillow

not even in a weird way

i just feel like quackity isn’t too comfortable with touch so this is sorta his way of being close to you without it being a whole serious thing

like he still is able to be goofy and comfortable without it being a whole big thing

him doing this would almost always come with a flatty patty joke from you

which always causes him to threaten divorce, even though you aren’t married

while it isn’t a very good position for things like physical touch, it is good for talking and having conversations

for some reason i feel like he’s the type of person to text someone when they’re right next to each other

so while he’s laying down he’ll just send you random photos of himself

very annoying when your phone is spammed, but also good blackmail material >:)

i don’t think he’d be too clingy

obviously, he enjoys spending time with you

but if you told him you need to go do work or something he wouldn’t throw a fit or pout

big q just seems like he’d be more rational about stuff like that

overall a 420/69 cuddle partner

dream:

one word: spooning

mans just envelops you and has no shame

very big: “no you are mine! >:(“ energy

while he’s sleeping he’ll unconsciously nuzzle his head into your hair/the back of your neck

when you guys got to bed patches usually climbs in and you hold her

i love patches so much i could write headcanons just about her

dream always wants to be cuddling you

if you try to leave he won’t pout, there simply isn't a discussion on whether you’re moving or not

incase you haven’t caught on yet, the answer is no

you need to do work? just bring the laptop to bed

he needs to edit? just sit in his lap at his desk, duh

obviously, he knows at some point you guys need to stop cuddling

he just isn’t too stoked about it

when it comes time where he absolutely can’t cuddle with you, i feel like he’d be more chill

mainly just annoyed

georgenotfound:

i feel like george, like quackity, also wouldn’t be too touchy

i’m pretty sure he has a hard time expressing emotions (please correct me if i’m wrong!!) and i think that would crossover to his sleeping habits

i think he would prefer a sort of back-to-back cuddling position

it seems cold, i know

but also he would most definitely kick at you

so every night while trying to go to sleep suddenly you would just feel *kick*

and then instead of sleep you’re suddenly playing footsie

lots of laughter and warm feelings involved

george would probably pretend that you kicked his leg hard or something and act like you hurt him

the first few times you were actually worried

but then after a few months your only response was a sarcastic “cry about it”

which just led to more laughter

sapnap:

sapnap and you would do a sort of leg hug thing

you both you try to go to sleep in a cute spooning-type position

but the moment one of you fell asleep it all unraveled

you would wake up apart but you’re legs would still be touching

sapnap would joking blame it on you

“wow can’t believe you don't wanna be close with me even when we’re asleep”

“it’s not my fault! i can’t control where i end up when i sleep!”

“no, no. you don’t have to lie. i see how it is.”

“>:(“

but it's okay!

your legs are the first thing to react in a flight-or-fight situation, so they usually react in an honest way

which is like your legs are both reaching to hold each other!

p!tommyinnit:

i don’t get a very touchy vibe from tommy

i feel like the most he would do is put his arm over your shoulder

not in a flirty way, just in a “hey, there isn’t a lot of space, this will make sitting down more comfortable” way

he will let you sorta fidget with his hand/arm

i don't know if that makes sense but what i mean is that he’ll pretty much let his arm go *flop* so you can control it (by like moving it around or playing with his fingers)

in the beginning he would get annoyed

but eventually he would get used to it and wouldn’t really care

it sounds a bit strange but i personally find it very comforting to just have something to fidget with while watching youtube or netflix in bed with my friends

and it’s entertaining (sometimes i do this to me sister to annoy her :>)

he would act like he didn’t mind if you left him

but holy shit he is so clingy

If you try to leave it’ll just be “no, why??? stay here dumbass”

you would be slightly annoyed when he had to leave  but knew he had to film and stream and all that so you would be okay

p!badboyhalo:

you would kinda sit within bad’s lap

like not on his lap, but more of in between his legs

he would have his arms around you

and his phone would be in front of you so you two could scroll through twt or instagram together

or you guys could watch skeppy’s youtube ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

rat would sit in your lap

she’s just;;;;;;;; so adorable

rat is just so soft and fuzzy in your lap and everytime you move to pet her she just melts

rat is the the superior cuddle buddy to any of these block people

p!skeppy:

skeppy, similar to quackity, is a total dork

he would make sure you guys were in a position where he could effectively troll you

so if your head was near his lap he would just flick you or some

“dude can you please stop hitting me in the head”

“it turns out i am not actually hitting you in your head because based on the perpendicularity of the bisector multiplied by the photosynthesis of the dividend, it is impossible for me to do so”

“wtf”

lya is so goddamn sick of you guys

she's trying to get him to actually do something but instead he’s just sitting there throwing paper airplanes at you while you sleep

he’s an annoying asshole but it's okay because he gives you money for absurd reasons

p!eret:

eret has such a comfortable presence

i feel like she wouldn’t be up for cuddling too much

more of like putting your head on a friends shoulder so you can see the tweet their showing you

but they do like to hold hands

holding hands isn’t very intimate but it's also just such a sweet comforting thing

she even holds your hand when you guys are out walking around

like if you guys were getting food somewhere (post-covid of course)

you most likely would get addressed as a couple

and he would just be like”...wut?”

it’s happened so many times at this point you just go along with it

“you guys look like such a cute couple!”

“oh we aren't-” “thank you!”

can you tell that i love eret?

p!philza:

phil always has such dad vibes

i feel like the closest he would get to cuddling is hugs and hand holding

even though cuddling isn’t inherently romantic, he is married to kristen

so i fell he would get most of his touch in with her

but with you he’s just so fatherly

hello dadza

whether you have a good or bad relationship with your father, everyone can admit that philza minecraft is dadza

this is such a dad thing, but tries to hold you hand when you cross the street

no matter the age, he just feels the need to protect you

hugs are similar

uses hugs as a way to comfort you and protect you

just so amazing all around

p!tubbo:

tubbo would love cuddling in any way, shape, or form

if you guys are hanging out at like the park or something and lying down

get ready to become this mans pillow

this is really fun to do with your friends but imagine you guys are hanging out in a field type area (with my friends we hand out in the field next to the cemetery but it can be any open grass area)

tubbo would just use your lap as a pillow the whole time

and when you guys were walking back to his house he would sorta drape his arms over your shoulders (assuming he’s taller than you)

he would do the same thing when you guys were sitting in chairs or at a desk

just drapes his arms over your shoulder with his chin on your head

if it's really late and he's tired he’ll just hug you

p!ranboo:

if you thought tubbo is bad, ranboo is even worse

not even really cuddling, he just likes having a sort of skin-to-skin contact

so handholding and laying on top of eachother

if he’s streaming he will legitimately message ou to just sit next to him

so sometimes if he’s just chilling by himself on the smp you’ll end up on his streams

he’ll have you next to him just because he likes be near someone

and so randomly it’ll just be like “chat, a real human is here, behave”

chat does not behave

(they heavily bully him)

he’s pretty clingy but when you HAVE to leave he’ll understand and just be a bit bummed out

holy shit this took me so long-

if you read this whole thing thank you!

[five-rivers]

Cloak/Plague

Zombies!

.

.

.

The night was dark beyond the fire, pitch and clinging, as if someone had dipped the world in black paint.  Jacob stood at the edge of the light, on watch, one hand resting on his gun, the thumb of the other hooked around its shoulder strap. Behind him, either Sharktooth or Jade—He wasn’t sure which woman was which—tossed another log on the fire.  

He was nervous.  This was the largest group he’d been in for a while.  Over fifty people.  Little groups squished together by circumstance and the fact that scavenging only got harder as time went on.  There was talk of finding a town somewhere, one that hadn’t been damaged too badly, and making a settlement.  Something permanent.  Something secure.  

Jacob’s stomach turned over.  He’d tried that before.  The Coliseum.  It hadn’t worked out well, even if that was where he had met Mack.

Some of them were talking about trying for Sacramento or Rock City or the Valley.  There was civilization there, just a touch of it, according to radio waves one of the techies picked up on good days.

Jacob had tried that, too.  Sacramento, at least.  That hadn’t turned out well, either.  

Of all the things to fear during a zombie apocalypse, other humans were definitely at the top of Jacob’s list.  Heck, he was only here in the first place because of Mack and how much they needed information.  

“So,” said one of the women, Jacob thought it was Sharktooth, languidly.  “Who’s bored?”

Bored was probably the wrong word to describe anyone living through this mess.  At the same time…

Well, Sharktooth got quite a response.

“We’re from all over, right?  So, we’ve probably all got stories.  Tales.  Places we’ve seen or hear of.  Might as well share while we’re here, right?  Who knows when we’ll be around this many people again?”

“You’re not staying?” asked Jade, clearly taken aback.

“Haven’t decided yet,” said Sharktooth, shooting a glance at leader of the largest of the gathering’s constituent groups. “Maybe if there was a plan…”  She shrugged.  “But, hey.  All of us are here, now, right?  We might as well make the best of it.”

“Why don’t you start, then?” asked Mack, a little belligerently.  So, yeah, that was definitely Sharktooth.  She and Mack had been having a thing since Jacob and Mack joined the group. Not a romantic thing, Sharktooth had to be a decade older than Mack, but still a thing.  

“Sure,” said Sharktooth.  “Why not?”  Jacob watched her crouch down next to the fire out of the corner of his eye.  “Ever hear of the phantom city?”

There was muttering.  “Everywhere’s a ghost town, now,” said someone, a little louder than the rest.  “You don’t need to rub it in.”

“And we don’t need more nightmares,” added another.

“Nah, this isn’t a ghost story.  Just a weird story.  Well, the town was supposed to be haunted before, but I’m pretty sure that was just a tourist thing.  Anyway, they’re a broadcaster.  You know, radio spam.  All that ‘Hey, here we are’ stuff.  Like Sacremento.”

“Yeah?” prompted someone.  “What’s the city called?”

“Amity Park.  And if you’re in Illinois, you can probably catch their broadcast.  But good luck finding it.  There’s a reason it’s called the phantom city.  When I was going up through Ohio, I met people who’d tried to find it.  Never could.”

“Why were they in Ohio if they were looking for a city in Illinois?” asked Mack.  “Seems kind of dumb.”

“Well, they’d given up,” said Sharktooth.  “Couldn’t justify searching anymore.  They were mad about it, too.  They had maps, they had coordinates, radios to pick up the broadcast, everything. Heck, they said they had road signs. Exits off the highway marked with the name.  But as soon as they got close…”  She waved her hands dramatically.  “Nothing. Even the broadcast went silent.”

“Hey, hold up, I think I’ve heard of that!” interjected a member of Sharktooth’s audience.  “There was just a hole in the ground or something.”

“Yep.  But when they got farther away, the broadcast started up again.”

“I thought you said it wasn’t a ghost story.”

Sharktooth shrugged.  “Might not be ghosts,” she said.  “Might be people trying to lure people in.  A trap, or something.  Or maybe they had some kind of automated broadcast set up, and it kept going after the town got wrecked.  I don’t know.”  

Jacob looked over his shoulder just in time to see a corner of Jade’s lip twitch up.  “If you want to talk about ghost stories, why not the Phantom?”

Jacob groaned.  He wasn’t the only one.  

“Oh, come on!” said Mack, protesting.  “Don’t be like that, he’s real!”

“Have you ever met anyone who actually said they met him?” asked Sharktooth, practically.  “It’s all friend of a friend stuff.”

“So’s Amity Park,” muttered Jade.

“I’ve met him!” protested Mack.  

“Wait, what, really?” asked Jade, sounding like she’d just been slapped.  

“Yeah!  It was before I met Jacob.  I was traveling with…”  He trailed off.  “Some… People.  We got jumped by a pack, and I thought I was going to die, but Phantom showed up and he fought them off with just a machete!  It was super cool.  And, like, I got bitten, but he injected me with that green stuff, just like in the stories, and I was fine!  Well, not completely fine.  I was kind of sick, after, but I didn’t turn, obviously.  And then he brought me to Mastersoft Coliseum, because it was, you know, before it got wrecked.  That’s where I met Jacob!”

“What did he look like?” asked one of the younger members of the group.  

“Well, I never really got a good look at him, to be honest?  He was sort of wearing, uh, layers.  Not quite one of those, um, hazmat suit type deals, I don’t think, but he had a mask. And his eyes were super green!  It was wild.”  He shrugged.  “Also, I was kind of out of it…  Like I said, I was pretty sick.  Barely remember what he said to me…”

“Cool story, bro.”

“Yeah, maybe if you told it better, we’d believe it!”

“Hey!  I’ve got the scars to prove it!”

“Whoa, hey,” said Sharktooth, mercifully stopping Mack from stripping.  “You don’t have to—"

“Hello the camp!”

Jacob cursed and brought up his gun, his action mirrored by the others on watch.  That voice was far too close for comfort.  Even in the dark, someone should have noticed something.  

Why was this guy wandering around in the dark?

“I come in peace!  I bring medical supplies and zucchini!”

“Show yourself!” barked Jacob.  

“I’m just—Ah.  I’m just right here.”  

Finally, movement.  Jacob thumbed on his flashlight (and tried very hard not to think about how soon he’d have to replace the batteries).  

“Ow.  Bright,” complained the teenager in front of him.  Jacob stared.  The kid was even younger than Mack.  

Was Mack even a teenager anymore…?  It had been years.  They’d missed some birthdays.  

Point being, there was no way this kid was out here on his own.  

“Where are the rest of you?” demanded Jacob.  

“Uh,” said the kid.  “Nowhere?  I’m out here on my own.”  He waved his hands back and forth expressively but was careful to keep them in Jacob’s line of sight.  His poncho flapped back and forth in the night breeze, concealing his figure.  

The kid could be wearing anything under there. Guns, bombs, swords... anything.

“Poncho,” snapped Jacob.  “Take it off.”  He was aware that the whole camp was tense and awake behind him, searching for other enemies, bracing themselves to run at a moment’s notice.

“Okay,” said the kid.  “I really am alone, you know.  Sorry to startle you all.”  He pulled the poncho off, revealing that, despite it being the least likely thing on Jacob’s very short list of possibilities, the kid was wearing a sword.  No, he was wearing two of them.  

“What are the swords for?”

“Uh,” said the kid, giving him a look like he was an idiot.  “Killing zombies?  I mean, what’s the gun for?  Who walks around without a weapon, these days, right?”

Closer to the fire, the group’s illustrious de facto leader was giving orders to search for whoever the kid was with.  

The kid rolled his eyes.  “Do whatever you want to make yourselves feel better, but I am alone.  I’m not bait, or whatever you’re thinking.”

“You’re, like, fourteen,” said Sharktooth.  “You would have been, what, eleven when the plague hit?  No way you’re on your own.”

“Excuse you, but I’m eighteen, thanks.  I blame my permanent baby face on my parents. Speaking of, you don’t happen to have a Jack or Maddie Fenton anywhere in there, do you?”

“There’s no one out here!” shouted one of the searchers, voice echoing slightly.  

The kid shrugged.  “I told you.  I mean, I get why you’re cautious and all, I’ve been jumped a couple times, but still.”

The group watched him uneasily.  

“You’re looking for your parents?” asked Sharktooth, finally.  

“Yep.  For a while, now.  They were away from home when, you know, everything went down.”

Alright.  Now this was just getting awkward.  And a little pathetic.  

“Do you know where they were, at least?” asked Mack.  Of course, Mack would sympathize.  He had his own parental issues.  

There was something odd about his tone, however. Something off.  

“Yeah.  Nevada. Specifically, Phoenix.  But it’s been years, so they could be anywhere.  Hence the searching.  I’ve actually been to Nevada.  It kind of sucks down there, to be honest, because, well, it’s a desert, but that also means there aren’t as many zombies, because apparently they get dehydrated, too, after a while.  So. That’s interesting.”

“You’ve been to Nevada?” asked their wise leader.

“Yeah.  A bunch of other places, too, like I said, I’ve been searching.  I can do a story swap if you’d like.  Also, I have zucchinis.  Yesterday, I stayed at this one house and there were just.  So many zucchinis.  Like, the entire yard was overrun with zucchinis.  Zucchinis are edible, and you can’t turn your nose up at fresh produce in this economy, but I have no idea how to prepare zucchinis, and they’re honestly a little, uh, bland?  Let’s call it bland.  To just eat raw.  So, I’m willing to trade for, you know, not being shot.”

“You said you had medical supplies?” asked Jade.

“Yeah, a bit!  Not, like, a huge amount, but it seemed like the thing to say.  Is anyone hurt?”

Their heroic leader took a moment to consider this. “Not right now.  But, alright.  We can swap stories.  What’s your name?”

“Danny.  Danny Fenton.”  The kid made a motion that might have been intended as a salute.  

“Right.  Jacob, you can stop it with your tough-guy act.”

Very reluctantly, Jacob lowered the gun.  The kid, Danny or whatever, was way too cheerful for an eighteen-year-old walking through a zombie apocalypse on his own. Something was up.  

Of course, that something might just be godawful coping mechanisms.  

“Anyway, here are the zucchinis.”  The boy held out a bag, a hopeful smile on his face. “So, uh, stories?  Preferably about places where there’s a bunch of people, because that’s the kind of place they’d go.”

“Right, sure,” said the man who claimed leadership. “What are your parents, anyway?”

“Ah, they’re doctors!” said the boy.  “I want to bring them home, so they can figure out a cure.”

Okay.  So, the kid was delusional.  Right. Well, it happened.  

“I mean, we’ve had some success, but they’re specialists, you know?  When I say ‘we’ I mean Amity Park as a whole, by the way.  I’m the one who had the basic idea, I guess, but I didn’t have any way to follow through on my own.  Observing a fact doesn’t mean you can take advantage of it, after all!”

“Amity Park?”

“Yep!  That’s where I’m from.”  Danny shot finger guns at Sharktooth.  “We’ve got an environmental deterrent for zombies.  Chemical in the air screws with the virus.  Some get in every once in a while, but they usually die in a week, even if you leave them alone, which we don’t.  It’s pretty safe, there.  I can give you a map.”

“Is this a joke?” demanded the ‘leader.’

“Um, no?  Why would it be a joke?”

“I met some people who tried to find your town, but it was a crater,” said Sharktooth.  

“That’s still going on, huh?”  Danny shook his head.  “Yeah, we don’t really know why it does that, either.  Or was that a couple years ago?  We were trying to fix it…”  He trailed off.  “What?”

“You said you had medical supplies?” prompted the man trying very hard to stay in charge.  

“Ah, right.”  The kid reached into his bulkier bag and pulled out a large box. “Speaking of, I don’t suppose you’ve heard of anyone else trying to make a cure?  Mom and Dad could be working with them, and if not,” he shrugged, then flipped up the lid of the box, “collaboration is always good.”

Half the box was full of various bottles, packets, and smaller boxes.  Normal enough. The other half, though…

“Is that radioactive?” asked Jacob, unable to stop himself as he stared at the…  God, were those epi-pens?

“Not in the sense you’re thinking of, but yes.”

“Oh my gosh,” said Mack.  “I knew it!  You’re Phantom!”

Danny looked up.  “Um.  I guess we’ve met?”

“Yeah, you took me to the Mastersoft Coliseum! That’s the stuff you injected me with!”

“Oh, you were the kid the Boom Box Raiders were dragging around!”

“Oh.  Yeah,” said Mack, weakly.  “That’s me.”

“Nice to see you’re still around.  Anyway, to answer your next question, this is the prophylactic.”  He picked up one of the glowing green injection pens.  “At least, that’s what some of the doctors back home call it? If you get it within a minute of being bitten or scratched or whatever, preferably in the area near the wound, you have an eighty percent survival rate.  Sometime more can help fighting off the disease, but if you’re not acclimated, you can go into shock with too much, and there’s really no way to get acclimated out here.”

“You’re willing to trade something like that?” asked Jade, dubiously.  

“Why not?  Like I said, it’s environmental where we live.”

“But you’re not there, now.  You’re out here.  Same as the rest of us.”

“That’s true.  But I’ve got enough of this in my bloodstream to straight-up kill any zombie that wants to bite me.  Really. I can show you the scars if you want.” He raised an eyebrow.  Then he turned to their ever so brilliant leader with a sharp smile.  “By the way, you should rethink robbing me.  I am very willing to trade, but if you attack me, I have dozens of ways to kill you.  Most of them don’t even involve my swords.”

“It’s true,” said Mack.  

“You know what?” said Jacob, stepping a little closer to Danny, or Phantom, or whoever this kid was trying to be.  “Why don’t you show us those scars.  Then we can decide if we even want to trade with you.”

Phantom shrugged.  “Fair enough.”

[currywaifu]

𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞: mutuals 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩: miyoshi kazunari/reader 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: sfw 𝐰𝐜: 1.9k words, 2 images

𝐚𝐧: me? back w/ fluff? it’s expected at this point! his speech is hard for me to replicate, but I rly do love Kazunari so I hope I did this scenario justice! I, uh, got too excited at the prospect of “insta mutuals” oops~ hope you don’t mind the additional media TT

The Insta notification that popped up on the top of your screen distracted you from the game you were playing. Normally you’d flick the notif away, but as soon as you realised what it was about, you rushed to finish the rest of the stage.

You and Kazunari have been Insta Mutuals for nearly a year now, ever since he hit you with a follow and you proceeded to stalk his readily-available socials. 

The two of you had been liking and commenting on each others’ posts for weeks on end, starting off with you praising his most recent graphic design work to him sending a paragraph of heart emojis on the most recent fan art you drew.

Somewhere in between following each others’ spam accounts to tagging each other on Insta story games, he finally slid into your DMs and the rest was history. Sort of.

You knew what people said about online dating, or even just long distance relationships in general, but try as you might it was hard not to fall for Kazunari.

The more you talked to him, the less he stayed as your “funny artist mutual” and soon enough he progressed into the “still funny but also really sweet and cute artist online friend, 10/10 would date if asked” category.

You didn’t bother stifling your laugh as you looked at the message he sent you, immediately liking his selfie before saving it on your phone.

Okay, no. He can’t just hit you with an “I do wanna meet u already” and then take it back but not fully commit to it!

You waited for him to respond through text, but instead got hit by your ringtone blaring loudly at such an ungodly hour. At the sight of your contact nickname for him, you eagerly answered his call. You rushed to get the first word in, him doing the same unbeknownst to you.

“Kazu-“

“Babe, I-“

The both of you paused, his eventual laughter easing up your tension as you let out a giggle of your own. You mentally told yourself not to be so nervous— Kazunari and you would have this conversation eventually anyway; besides, it wasn’t as if you didn’t want to see him in person. It was quite the opposite, actually. You just figured that conversations like this needed to happen in call, at least.

“Shoot, should probs shut up so Mukkun doesn’t wake up,” Kazunari commented, his voice volume already lowered, “do you wanna go first?” He asked.

“Yeah,” you replied with resolve. You gathered up your thoughts, formulating the next set of sentences that would leave your mouth, before ultimately deciding on one question. “I just need to know first… how serious were you about meeting up irl?”

“I mean, that wasn’t what I meant when I sent the message? But like, it’s still valid, you know?” he paused, but when you didn’t say anything he decided to continue, “it’s not the first time I’ve thought about meeting you. I think about it a lot, actually.”

It was a bit of a shame the two of you chose to voice call instead of video call. You would’ve loved to see your boyfriend’s face just about now, though you supposed it wouldn’t be a good idea to have a heart attack a quarter to 4 in the morning.

Plus, you weren’t sure you could handle him teasing and throwing compliments at you due to your clearly visible elation, if the upwards stretch of your lips was anything to go by.

“Babe? You still there? Did you pass out, or…” In reality it had only been a few seconds, but still you didn’t want to leave him hanging. Not when the two of you were talking about something that meant taking the next step in your relationship.

“I’m still here, Kazu,” you reassured him. Your voice shook slightly, a sliver of your excitement slipping through the cracks. “I’m the same. Like, no lie I was shocked we brought it up like this, but, um… I’m ready, and if you’re ready, too, I want to meet up with you.”

“Wait, wait, wait— hol’ up! So we’re finally going—“ he laughed for the second time tonight, a fuzzy-wuzzy warmth escaping as its sound equivalent. “Wahh! Of course I’m ready! Can’t wait to finally see what a cutie you are irl♪ Hngg, how am I supposed to sleep now? I’m too hyped up!”

You rolled your eyes, despite understanding exactly how he felt. His infectious cheerfulness amplified the blossoming commotion occurring inside your brain. Despite not making any official plans yet, the prospect of finally meeting up had you frenzied.

Still, one of you had to be at least slightly responsible. While you wouldn’t claim to know his daily schedule, if Veludo Arts was anything like your university, he should be as swamped with workload as you were. Actually, maybe that was the reason he was up so late? That’s how it was for you, anyway excluding the fact that you took a break to stamina clear.

“It’s nearly 4 am… do you wanna continue planning this tomorrow? Err, rather, in a couple hours? After our lectures end, maybe?” You asked, though by the tiny whine Kazunari let out you had a feeling he wasn’t going to agree so quickly.

“Ehh? Why don’t we do it now? I have so many ideas about where we could go, and what we could do… oh! I could introduce you to everyone in Mankai! I’m sure they’d love-“

“I’d love to meet them too,” you cut him off, tone as firm as you could manage at this time, “and I want to hear your ideas, really, but I just know if I let you keep talking the sun will rise before we’ve even decided on a date.”

You chuckled as Kazunari let out a sound of protest, though you had a feeling he knew you weren’t wrong about your assessment. “Zuzu~ Let’s go to sleep now, okay?”

His phone microphone picked up on an audible gasp. “Ehh, how come you rarely call me Zuzu? It’s cute when you say it!”

“Because it sounds like a nickname you’d give to a Pokemon!”

“Uwu, maybe I’ll get Itarun to lend me a copy? Then I’ll catch the cutest Pokemon and name it after you~” you nearly groaned at how fluffy he was being. Seriously, he was distracting you from your agenda of going to sleep!

“Kazu! Stop flirting with me at 4 am or we might not fall asleep!”

Though you couldn’t see him, you were 200% sure he had a wide grin plastered on his face right now. “Me? Using tactics to get you to keep talking with me? Never,” he claimed, professing his false innocence.

“Well, I’m not falling for it! I may not be able to physically tuck you in bed right now, but I can in spirit!”

“Oh!? Then can you give me a goodnight kiss in spirit, too?”

At this point, you were sure that even with just a poke on the cheek you’d be able to feel the heat beginning to envelop your face.

As Kazunari finished laughing, you let the quiet lull of the night seep in the conversation for a few moments before gently breaking it.

“I’d rather give you a kiss irl, though.”

And just like that, you claimed victory over the game he started. With how Kazunari sputtered, a part of you worried that he’d disturb his roommate’s slumber. Still, an even bigger part of you was smug to have him speechless for that much of a duration.

“Babeeeee,” he drawled, “you’re so, so, so unfair… I, like, really want to hold you tight right now…” he murmured, the rustle of his bedsheets discernible through the call. You found yourself nestling onto your bed, too, snuggling up to a soft pillow.

“Soon,” you suddenly yawned, your tiredness seeming to have settled in the comfier you got on the bed. “We’ll have a lot of time to plan tomorrow and the days after, yeah?”

Kazunari let out a hum in agreement, a comfortable silence following suit.

“Kazu?” You muttered quietly, careful not to disturb your peaceful atmosphere.

“Yeah?”

“I love you. Good night,” you said, heart aflutter as you heard his response.

“I love you, too, cutie~ sweet dreams♪” he said in an unbelievably soft tone, before ending the call.

After quickly connecting your phone to a charger, you fell back atop your bed and hugged your pillow tight, already anticipating the day you’d be able to hold Kazunari in your arms, and you in his.

…

Morning come, you hastily prepared for class as you always did. You fell into your usual routine— as soon as you were out of the bathroom, you selected an outfit and went over the things you needed to bring to uni today.

You stopped for a minute; taking a quick selfie to post on your story and emphasise your exhaustion to your close friends, before making yourself some breakfast. Within less than 5 minutes, your phone pinged— a recorded message from one of your favourite people this early in the morning.

"Mornin' piko☆ You're looking cute as always today♪”

There was no way you would admit to how many times you replayed it to Kazunari, but even so it was a good way to keep you positive for the rest of the day.

You don’t remember Veludo Way being this rowdy, though it was hard to trust your memory when it’s probably been years since you’ve last visited. Somehow, it was not tough to imagine Kazunari walking around and performing here— the liveliness of the streets difficult to not associate with one of the liveliest people you knew.

While the original plan was to meet up at a cute and trendy cafe you saw all over people’s SNS, the two of you agreed to meet up somewhere less crowded and more meaningful to him— the theatre which he’d performed at multiple times in the past.

As you saw the building from a distance, you wondered when you’d be able to see him on stage, too.

A shout of your name pulled you out of your thoughts, and you couldn’t help yourself from running over to meet up faster with the figure that was jumping and waving around in your direction.

Had you any sense left, you probably would have told him that you didn’t want him embarrassing himself in public, but in reality it was quite apparent that you were just as excited to finally see him in person.

“Kazunari!” you can’t help the little shriek you let out as you finally embrace him, only joyous laughter and each others’ names escaping the both of your lips. When you finally got a good look at Kazunari, you nearly wanted to bury yourself into his shirt again.

Everything still seemed so unbelievable. That this was real. That it was finally happening. It almost felt like the dreams you’ve had of this moment many times before.

“How are you so beautiful in person, too?! It’s totes like I’m falling in love with you again♪” Kazunari exclaimed, squeezing you one more time before finally settling on holding hands with you. “Ahh! I super, duper love you!”

Except it wasn’t. There was nothing imaginary about his warmth, and the way his words made you feel, and the beaming sunshine of a smile he aimed at you.

“I love you, too!”

want to order again?

[taehyungiejiminie95]

BTS Reactions – They try to win you back

He clutches at his chest, trying to slow his racing heart down. This isn’t right. He knows it. It’s not been the same since he left you, and he doesn’t know how to cope. In all of his life, he has never made a mistake this big, and he has never wanted to turn back time more. He’s not a time traveller, so the only fix is to do his best to win you back. It has to work. He has no other choice.

Jin

It’s been… some amount of time since you last saw Jin. It hasn’t actually been that long, but at the same time it feels like an eternity. You’ve got this Jin-shaped hole carved into you, and there’s nothing that can fill it. No amount of time, distraction or food could ever come close. You’d know. You’ve tried. You’ve been trying since he left you, but nothing’s changed. It still hurts, but you’re not using it as an excuse. With all the effort it takes, you’ve been going out everyday to the bakery you run with your soon-to-be-retiring parents and acting like you’re okay. For the most part, you very nearly believe it.

You normally get in before your parents do, so you can fire up the ovens and set up for the day ahead, so you’re not surprised to find the bakery in complete darkness. It smells like home here, somewhere you can truly forget your worries. Today’s special pastry is going to be churros, and you know it’s going to smell even better. A nostalgic scent, you always felt. You flip on the main lights as you go, heading straight for the back room. Stopping short, you realise that something feels odd. You have that feeling you get when someone’s stood too close, but you know there’s nobody around. You’re probably just being weird. That’s quite normal for you at the moment, really, so you do your best to shrug it off and you push your way through to the office to put your coat and bag down,

“What on earth…” You mutter under your breath, seeing the state of the office. Flour. Literal bags of flour covering every inch of the desk where you do the accounts. Your brow furrows as you step forward to where a sole red rose rests atop the bed of flour bags, next to a small note, “I’m outside,” You read aloud, a sense of dread filling you from the toes up. If you couldn’t recognise Jin’s handwriting after how long you spent together, who even are you?

The question of whether or not to respond to this gesture makes you wonder. Is it worth seeing what he wants? Or should you just ignore it, clear the bags into the pantry, and pretend this never even happened?

Your feet move of their own accord, propelling you back through the shop and out of the front door to where Jin is waiting, looking as handsome and as serious as the day you met him, when he was running late for his friend’s birthday and needed something – anything – sweet to take in means of a gift,

“You always said you had no use for flowers. Flour on the other hand… that you need an abundance of,” He half-heartedly teases, looking at you with poorly concealed fear, “Please, will you let me explain myself to you? I know I don’t deserve it but…” He trails off, eyes wide and fearful. Your words fail you. What are you meant to do here?

Yoongi

Your alarm goes off with a harsh buzz, making you wince as you’re rudely woken. It’s cold this morning, you realise with a huff as you get up. You flick the kettle on for your coffee and turn on the radio. Ever since Yoongi left you, you’ve hated the silence. It only amplifies how alone you are, how empty the apartment has been since he left. You rub the sleep out of your eyes as you reach for a mug, the kettle screaming to you that it’s ready. That’s when you hear it,

“In a surprise move from BTS member Suga, a new song has been realised under his own name. This is unusual for him, as the rapper uses many aliases for his different work, but never his birth name…” A cold sweat breaks out over your body as you fumble to get to the radio. You don’t want to hear the new song. The feeling of dread in your stomach tells you what it is, and the soft sounds of piano confirm that for you when you’re not quick enough to the power switch.

Time stands still. Nothing moves as the song plays. You know it’s for you. The melody is something he wrote for you in the early days of your relationship. He always joked that he’d release it under his birth name, because it was so personal. He never did. But now, as you listen to the song which is so clearly dedicated to you, your heart aches for him. His art. This is far more than a melody, than a simple piece of piano he wrote for you. This is pain mixed with poetry and poured into a track. This is true beauty, and you can’t deny it. You can’t move as the words wash over you, and your emotions quickly follow. Tears threaten to break rank as your lip trembles and you’re forced to see how much you miss him.

The last notes of the track wrap themselves up in melancholy, the final one dragging out as if it doesn’t want to end. You don’t want it to. It feels even emptier now, without that song. The radio DJs begin to discuss the unusually heartfelt track, comparing it to First Love, only more pained. You’re still stuck in the kitchen, holding a mug so tight it’s groaning and threatening to break.

Minutes pass as you try to process what you’re feeling, and what this means. Does he want to talk to you? Does he regret what he did? Or is he only using pain as inspiration, with no real intent?

Your phone rings. “Min Yoongi is calling…” You lurch to pick it up before it goes to voicemail.

Hoseok

It’s just gone 11. You pull the covers up over your head in an attempt to try and pretend like you’re any closer to sleep than you were 2 hours ago when you got into bed. It’s been… hard lately. Without him. You can’t even bring yourself to think his name anymore. You’re not someone who lets their life halt for some man, and you’re not letting that happen now. You refuse to huddle down and let this ruin you, which is why you confine your sadness and dysfunction to night times only. During the day, you’re fine. You don’t even let yourself entertain the thought that you want him to come home, to climb into bed and sing you to sleep like he always did. It’s too painful to think about wanting-

Your thoughts are rudely interrupted by a sharp knock at the door. With a groan, you slide out of bed and head towards the door. You fumble around for a moment with the lock before you’re finally able to swing the door open, your very best glare ready for whenever this visitor comes into view. You’re surprised to see… nobody. It takes a huff and an eye roll before you cast your vision down to the floor, where you see a small box. The words “From your Hoseok~” are born on a gift tag, and the tidy scribble of the handwriting you recognise so well. It’s hard to resist scooping down to pick it up.

The box sits in your hands for the rest of the night. You don’t sleep. You barely even blink as you try to work out whether you should open it – just so you don’t have to live with the painful curiosity – or put it in the bin – just in case whatever it is hurts you.

As night turns into dawn, you sigh and put your head down on the back of the couch. Your first movement for hours. It’s taking everything in you to not just throw this damn box back onto the doorstep, or post it straight through Hoseok’s letterbox and be done with it, but you know you need to open it. You lift the flaps carefully and look inside, somehow terrified about what you’ll find. It’s a small note, written in the same tidy scrawl.

‘Meet me by the river tonight. The one we met at, outside your apartment. Let me show you how sorry I am’.

You’re out the door before you can stop yourself,

“You’ve been here all night?” You shriek, seeing Hoseok sat under a willow tree, one of many that line the bank of the river. He nods slowly, gazing unseeingly into the flowing water. You tear off your dressing gown and drape it around his shoulders as best you can, “You’re still an idiot, then. It’s the middle of winter, and you’re hardly dressed appropriately,”

“You didn’t come, but I couldn’t accept it. I needed to be sure you really didn’t want me anymore,” He whispers, finally turning to look up into your eyes, trying to find his answer. The truth is that you’re not even wholly sure on one yourself.

Namjoon

The pigeon hole with your apartment number on it never has anything interesting in it, other than bills and spam, but you still make a habit of checking it every day. Just in case, you suppose. You’re on your way in from work when you check it, today. You barely even glance in, about to walk away when a small package catches your eye. You take it into you hands curiously, not recalling having ordered anything, You take it up to your apartment anyway, seeing as it isn’t a case of someone else’s mail in your pigeon hole. It’s clearly addressed to you. Maybe one of your friends has sent you a care package to get through your low period.

An hour or so later, you curl up on your couch with a hot cup of tea. You’ve showered off and had a snack, and your mid had wandered back around to the mysterious package tantalisingly awaiting you on the coffee table where you left it. It feels quite dense, you realise as you carefully tear back the brown wrapping paper. It’s a book, you find out. You’ve opened it from the wrong side – you’re looking at the back, where the blurb should be. Instead, it’s just a plain matte black. Turning it over, you see the title embossed in silver against the black – “My Last Love by Kim Namjoon”.

Your heart drops to your stomach, but you can’t stop yourself from carefully opening the cover, flicking to the acknowledgments in the front.

“To my greatest loss, and my greatest achievement. We always spoke about me publishing this book, but I never had the courage. Now, I have nothing lose. I hope you’ll read this, although by now you’ll know the story better than I do. It may be selfish, but I also hope you’ll reach out in the way I’m too afraid to do”

You fingers trace over the words, not written in the traditional font but printed in the front of every book in his own handwriting, smudges and all. Tears shine in your eyes without you realising as you see what this is. For years, Namjoon was writing a book. It was based on the story of your love, although he was always unsure of his skill, whether it would be good enough to ever publish. He kept it in his archives for a while, forgetting about it until he broke things off with you. He was right, you do know the story better than anyone, but you can’t resist flicking to the first page and allowing yourself to get lost in his world. A world you sheared, it used to be.

You’re only a chapter in when your phone lights up with a text. It’s your friend. They want to know if you’re going to reach out to Namjoon, the way he clearly wants you to. The thought makes your throat close up. Do you want to?

Jimin

Turning your phone over, you sigh. You miss the days when you would be able to pick up your phone at any given time and see a few notifications waiting patiently for you. Jimin was someone who liked to keep you updated always, even if it was just with the occasional picture or a few seconds of video. It’s almost painful now to turn on your phone and see ‘No New Notifications’ waiting for you. At times like this, it’s too painful to look at. At least if you’ve turned the screen away from yourself, you can’t jump up every time the flashes across it, making it look as if it’s lit up again.

You try your best to go about your day as normal, running errands around the house in time for work tomorrow. It’s boring, but well overdue. You scrub the inside of the oven, do your laundry, sweep the floors, bleach the toilet and you’re just about to re-organise your wardrobe when your phone rings,

“Hello?” You answer, only to immediately be spoken over by your very excited friend,

“Look out of your window right now! Just go, do it! You will not believe what it is!” They all but scream, causing you to panic slightly as you rush to tear your curtains open, fully expecting to see an alien spaceship threaten to destroy the earth if you don’t comply. But it’s not anything like that. Somehow, it’s worse. It’s a large white blimp, with Jimin’s face plastered onto each side. In his own enlarged handwriting, a message is shown clear for the world to see – ‘you will always be my safe place’, “Oh my God, I need to go for a second and call my boyfriend. He needs to up his game. I’ll call you back!” Your friend promises, but you barely even hear. Your phone is loose in your grip, and your breath is scarce in your lungs as you’re forced to see what the whole of the country is currently photographing and talking about. They’re literally sending Jimin’s over-the-top attempt to win you back viral. You don’t know how long passes before your friend calls again. You pick up instantly,

“I honestly can’t believe this. He broke up with me, why would he-“ An all-too-familiar voice cuts you off,

“Because I made a huge mistake,” Jimin’s broken voice whispers, marred with tears.

Taehyung

You smile politely at the security on the door as you breeze past them. They don’t bother to stop you, knowing well who you are. The event looks as grand as you were hoping, and a sense of satisfaction bubbles up to the surface as you cast your eyes around the gallery. This was probably your most ambitious project yet – you’ve combined the art collections of 25 of the greatest connoisseurs in the world, having to rent out 10 different venues to hold everything that encompasses your art show. Your colleagues shake your hand as you sautés further into the venue, knowing you’ll be bored of all this by the time the final one opens. But for now, you’re enjoying it on night 3 of 10.

Something grabs your attention from the corner of your eyes – a tallish man, wearing a beret and an unusual combination of clothes but… no. You refuse to let false memories of Taehyung plague your night. You plaster a smile back onto your face as you take a glass of champagne.

As your exit time comes near, you decide to simply observe as much of this wonderful art as you can. The pensive look on your face wards off conversation partners as you wander through the work you’ve compiled. You recognise some of the work here, but not all of it. Some of it is to your taste, and some isn’t. That’s what you love most about this. Seeing things from the perspective of others, and not always agreeing with what you find.

But one painting stands out more than anything else in the room. It’s… unique. It’s a clash of colours that shouldn’t work, but do. It’s confusing and loud, but you can’t tear your eyes away. It gives you a sense of nostalgia that you can’t shake, and it speaks to you in an odd way. It feels like pain and longing,

“You haven’t stared at a single painting as long as this one,” A familiar voice remarks from behind you. Your eyes dart to the corner, and you see the artist who created this. It’s called “Desire” by Vante. With a deep breath, you turn around to face Vante. Your Taehyung, “Do you like it?” He asks, eyes as wide and as curious as when you first met him,

“It’s different to your normal work. What prompted the change?” You reply civilly, feeling your hand start to shake around your champagne glass. Funnily enough, you already know the answer to your question,

“Losing you,” Taehyung whimpers, taking a step forward, “Look, I know that I’m the one who left you, but I made a mistake. Please, let me talk to you. I can’t lose you like this,” he pleads, voice cracking as he tries to reach for your hand. You don’t know whether or not to let him.

Jungkook

Your Jungkook, your love, the one you cherished above all else, was never that into big romantic gestures. He was small things that made you smile. He was doing the dishes when he got in past midnight so you didn’t have to. He was buying you a bouquet of flowers every now and then because of how you love fresh flowers. He was leaving you a home cooked meal on the side when you were getting home late. He was carrying you to bed when you fell asleep. Your Jungkook was not a big gesture. He was the little things that kept you smiling.

Maybe that’s why everything going on right now has been such a shock to you. This isn’t like your Jungkook at all, but somehow it’s just as real and genuine. The video on your phone plays again, stuck on a loop, just as your mind is. It hardly makes sense at all, that he would do this. He’s the one who left you, and yet he’s gone to such a length to get your attention again. You cast your eyes back down to your phone, needing to watch it one more time to try and grasp that it really did happen,

“ARMY!” Jungkook calls, waving his hand up. The crowd screams loudly before finally falling quiet again, “ARMY, you do so much for me, and for BTS. You know our love for you never ends,” He confesses, sending the crowd wild again. He waits patiently for their focus to come back to him, “That’s how I know that I can ask this favour of you. Will you all do something special for me?” Jungkook calls, spinning to cast his eyes around the arena. It’s the end of the concert, and everyone is tired, but he can’t let this go. He knows it will work, “Everyone, get your phones out! Put your camera on, turn the video on, film this! I want you to record something for me, and then I want you to post it to every platform you have. Twitter, Instagram, Snapchat, Facebook, everywhere! You, my Kinds and Queens of trending, I need you to make this go viral,”

Jungkook’s eyes somehow meet the lens of every camera in the arena at once as he speaks your name solemnly. The crowd hushes each other so Jungkook can speak. His eyes are red, and he’s not sure for how long he’ll remain composed, “Forgive me. I’ve done something stupid, I know that now. I see that I’ve hurt you, and I’m ready to grow and mature and become the best version of myself. Baby, I need you. Will you please call me? I know you’ll see this. Please, all I want is to talk. Even if you decide I don’t deserve a second chance. Please,” Jungkook closes his eyes, blinking back tears, “ARMY, please make sure they see this. Post it everywhere. I want them to know that I love them more than myself,” His voice cracks on his last word as he starts to break down, “Please,”

[jinmukangwrites]

Whumptober Day 26

Concussions

Ao3

Summary: Damian wakes up to find he's being buried alive. Of course, the first thing he does is call Dick.

For the lovely and talented @preciousthingsareprecious <3

-o-o-o-o-

Damian wakes up to pounding. A pounding head. A pounding body. A pounding thudding of something heavy at an inconsistent rate above him.

He groans and tries to shift, but he doesn't get anywhere for a number of reasons. For one, his pounding head. For two… wherever he is, it is very cramped. 

He cracks open his eyes to pure darkness. With a groan, he moves his arm around the tight space around him to reach for his head. When his fingers touch the back of his skull, they come away wet. He winces. He rubs the tips of his fingers together and carefully begins to stretch his body to try and figure out… just what kind of situation he's landed himself in. One thing becomes crystal clear rather quickly, even with his massive headache. 

He's in some sort of box: a wooden box at that, laying on his side next to something lumpy. Above him, the pounding sounds which closely resemble the ricochet of marbles bouncing on tile becomes more and more muffled with every beat.

With a flash of panic, Damian remembers what’s led him to this situation. 

In a fit of adrenalin, he turns to his back and forces himself to ignore the body beside him, slamming his hands against the lid of the coffin as two murderers bury him alive. 

His brain spins with the action, and it's all he can do to press on the coffin lid with his bare hands and knees. There's not enough room to use his feet. 

The lid opens a little, and immediately dirt tries to enter the coffin; some of it lands in his face. He splutters, moves his face, then presses again. 

"LET ME OUT!" He shouts. 

The pounding of dirt slamming down on top of him stops for just a moment. Just a moment long enough for one of his abductors to swear. "He's still alive?!"

"Just keep going, he'll die soon whether he struggles or not-"

The pounding of shovels dropping dirt down on top of him continues, and Damian's forced to stop pressing on the lid as more and more dirt lands in the small space. 

It's already cramped enough in here, with the dead body wrapped in a moving tarp after all. 

Damian forces himself to keep a steady breath as his vision spins. His head really hurts, especially laying on his back like this. That one guy really got him good. Damian will be feeling that for a long time. 

A long time, that is, if he manages to get out of this alive.

He reaches into his pockets with one hand and uses the other to cradle his aching skull. With every passing second, the stress of being buried alive is just making the pain more and more intense. Thankfully though, his hands grasp onto his phone. It seems like these murderers really did think they killed him and just plopped him into the same coffin as their previous victim without even bothering to go through his pockets, civilian clothes and all. 

When he turns on his phone, he immediately winces and cringes away from the stabbing light. Squinting through involuntary tears, he reaches up and turns down the brightness… just to find it was already most of the way down. He rubs his eyes with one hand then uses mostly muscle memory to get to the phone app. He presses the number he's most recently talked to because everything is so blurry and he can't find it in himself to try and actually focus on the squiggling letters and numbers. He can't know for sure if the number he's calling isn't a spam number or not… and he wonders briefly if this is what Richard's dyslexia is like. 

He presses the phone to his ear and closes his eyes, trying to calm his breath and maybe calm the pounding in his skull in the process. The dial tone is so loud. He doesn't remember setting it this loud. 

Shockingly though, the phone picks up on the second ring, so he doesn't have to suffer it long. 

He just has to suffer a new kind of loudness when Richard's voice practically screeches through the speakers. 

"Damian?! Where the hell-"

Damian releases a small breath of relief as Richard continues to yell at him for… disappearing. That… that's right.. Damian was supposed to call the moment he got… somewhere...

The sound of dirt falling on top of him is gone. There's no voices. No shoves stabbing the earth. 

Just Richard's… oh yeah. Richard is yelling at him. 

"-amian anwer me-"

He sounds frantic. Damian bites his lip and then takes a deep breath, forcing himself to ignore the stabbing pressure still persistently digging into the back of his skull. 

"Richard," he says. Or slurs. Or something in-between. Either way, he doesn't sound as okay as he was hoping he would. Before Richard's shouting could rise an octave because of that, Damian continues. "I'm... in trouble. Please don't shout…"

And that does the trick. Richard immediately takes a calming breath on his end, and when he speaks his voice is firm, but gentle. 

It still aches in Damian's skull, but at least it's not as bad as before. 

"Dames, what's wrong? Where-"

"I don't know where… where I am… I'm…" Damian chokes down a grunt as the pain spikes. He clutches the phone so hard in his hands that his knuckle bones must surely be showing white. "C'n you track my phone?"

"We already are," Richard soothes, and Damian let's himself relax ever so slightly. "Can you give anything that can help us?" 

Damian almost shakes his head, but then that would make the pain worse. It would also be pointless because he's talking over the phone.

"No… I can't…"

"That's okay, you're doing great. What about the trouble? Are you safe?" 

"I'm..." and it suddenly crashes into Damian that he's just been buried alive. He's trapped multiple feet undergoing in a tight space next to a corpse with blood at the back of his head and the taste of dirt in his mouth. He almost wants to cry. He presses against the lid of the coffin and it doesn't budge. "I've…"

"Dames?"

Everything hurts so badly. He can barely whisper. "I'm in a coffin. They buried me alive."

Richard gasps. As does another voice, somewhere in the background. Damian realizes that Richard had said we. Damian might be on speakerphone right now. Who knows how many members of his family are listening in right now.

Listening in to Damian being weak. 

He takes a deep, pathetically shaking breath. "Richard?"

"I'm here, Dami," Richard replies immediately. "Jesus… I'm here. I just… how are you holding up- wait don't talk too much. You need to preserve your air and- just sit tight. We're zeroing in on your location as we speak..."

Damian closes his eyes and breathes in his nose and out his mouth. He thinks of all the training he's had, and how he does—in fact—know how to dig himself out of a grave. The only issue right now though is what's definitely a concussion attacking the back of his head and the body he's still pressed up against. It's a tight fit inside coffins even without added company. If he tries to dig himself out, there won't be anywhere he can shove the dirt, and he will surely suffocate. 

Drown in earth. 

Down here forever, like a seed that never grew. Stuck. Planted to die and be forgotten about. A shard of pain spikes in his chest.

"Richard-" he gasps without meaning to. It's so quiet, but so loud and painful all at the same time. 

"I'm here," Richard immediately replies. "We're narrowing down your phone signals, Tim and Cass are already heading towards-"

Damian bites his lip to stop himself from letting out what definitely feels like a coming sob.

"All you need to do is watch your breathing okay? We'll find you. Hey, why don't you try breathing with me? How-"

"No." Damian snaps before he can stop himself. Richard falls silent and Damian wants to scream. "Talk. Just... Just talk. I'm..."

Hurting? Aching? Suffering from a concussion? Slowly running out of air? Afraid?

"Please. Just talk."

"Okay. Okay, I can do that. No problem, Dami."

Damian can hear the strained, forced smile in his voice. 

But that's fine, because Richard immediately launches into one of his old stories about his lifelong friends, the original Teen Titans. Damian relaxes his hand pressing the phone against his ear and let's the speaker fall ever so slightly. His hand rests lightly against the corpse… he can feel the roundness of their shoulders and the bulge of a chest. But he forces himself to ignore it all in favor of just... listening to something that isn't cold, unforgiving death. 

However, just breathing and relaxing like this… it seems to do just as much harm as talking, but in a whole new way. 

He's tired. His head really hurts. He's horribly aware of how harder it is to breathe the more time passes. 

But mostly tired. So tired that he doesn't think he can open his eyes again even if he tried. He knows it's bad to fall asleep with a concussion… but right now it's just so tempting. He's sure if he fell asleep now, it will be dreamless. If he falls asleep now, then he'll wake up to the coffin being unburied and him being rescued.

He almost falls into temptation right then and there, but then he becomes aware of someone shouting his name.

"Hmm?" He asks, and Richard exhales sharply. 

"You need to stay up with me, Dames."

"I know…" Damian replies, but he doesn't bother to try and open his eyes. "M Just tired. Head hurts."

"Your head hurts?"

Damian nods, then immediately regrets it as the pain flairs. He gasps and tightens his grasp on the phone. Fighting back tears he tries to explain. "Got hit… shovel."

Richard curses. "I thought you were just going to a friends house… how did this happen?" 

It wasn't a friend's house. It was a classmate's, but it's pretty common for Richard to get excited whenever Damian spends time with children his own age, even if it's just for a English project. 

Damian was going to their house. They only lived a few blocks from the school. But then… something he can't quite recall had him walking towards one of the main roads nearby. There was a… bridge that went over some sort of abandoned parking garage. He went inside, saw… he saw someone… the woman! He saw the woman get killed, and before he could do anything about it the back of his head was smashed in hard enough for him to be barely conscious by the time he hit the ground. 

He wants to explain all of this to Richard. But it's all he can do to keep the phone pressed to his ear and force his eyes to open.

"M'sorry," he mumbles. Because it's the only thing he can work up the energy to say… especially with the air ever so slowly getting thicker and thicker, causing his head to throb with increasing intensity with every passing breath. He can feel the pulse of his heart in his temples. 

Will he die here? No… no he can't. Richard is looking for him and Timothy and Cassandra are searching the radius of his phone's signal. Surely, Barbara must be the one behind searching for his signal. Father must be as well. They're looking for Damian. He won't die here. 

He refuses to die here. 

”-ey, Damian!" 

Damian blinks, startling as Richard's almost panicked voice reaches his ears once again. "Wh-what?"

"Dames... I really need you to try and stay awake, okay? Listen to my voice."

There's a wobble in his tone. Damian’s put that there. 

He realizes he must have missed something said to him to cause Richard such panic. 

"We're so close to finding you, Dames. Just… just stay awake, okay?"

Damian doesn't have the energy to even accidentally nod. So instead, he hums, and listens as Richard slowly goes back into his Teen.Titams story, stopping and telling Damian to tap the phones mic every so often to prove he's still awake.

Damian does for as long as he can. He forces his eyes open, he shifts, he pinches his arms. He even imagines the voices of each character in Richard's stories. Yet, somehow, against his will, he keeps finding himself forcing his eyes open without even realizing that he's let them close in the first place. 

It's getting very difficult to breathe. So much so that through the haze of his muddled, barely able to focus mind, he notices that Richard pauses every time Damian accidentally lets out a traitorous gasp for air. 

It's beginning to smell badly down here too. It's not helping the headache or the slowly growing nausea. He doesn't know if it's the body besides him... or if it's his mind playing tricks on him. 

He's been trapped in coffins before. Yet none of them have actually been buried. 

Or well, the one time he was in a buried coffin he was actually dead. 

But, regardless of that, Damian can say that this is the most terrifying thing he's been through in a long time. Especially because he can feel his own consciousness fading. He can feel the strength in his fingers reducing. He can feel his chest beginning to rival the pain at the back of his head. 

How much longer before he's breathing in more carbon-monoxide than oxygen? How much longer until he's suffocating on his own recycled air?

His phone falls from his cheek and he stares blankly at the lid above him. For a second,.he imagines dying down here. He imagines being found too late. He imagines the grave being dug up to find two corpses. The lid being inspected to find not a single scratch from desperate fingernails. 

The children at his school told him about a famous ghost and how she died like this. Damian knows Bloody Mary is simply superstition and has no proof of reality, but in these dark, trapped moments he can definitely relate to her fear. Her panic. What she must have felt in her last moments. The anger and terror that kept her soul tethered to the earth. 

He can vaguely hear his name being shouted. But he can't breathe. His head hurts. His eyes really want to close. 

He gasps, and gasps, and doesn't bother to try and find his dropped phone as Richard's voice dips into a strange, disconnected kind of terror. If Timothy and Cassandra haven't arrived by now, then surely they must not be coming at all. 

"I'm- I'm sorry-" he wheezes.

He can see black spots in his vision, even in the darkness of the coffin. 

It soon becomes too hard to listen to Richard scream for him. Too difficult to keep his eyes open. Too taxing to keep his brain thinking. Too demanding to stay awake. 

He slips into unconsciousness, and the pain slips too. 

-o-o-o-o-

He awakens to numbness, trapped in heavy blankets and tied down with wires and sensors. There's something very heavy tied around his face like a muzzle. For a horrifying second, that's what he thinks it is. Panicked, he attempts to grab at what's on his face, but his hands stay weighed down—in both weakness and… and something wrapping around his wrists.

His eyes creek open, and he finds himself squinting and wincing away even in what's clearly dim, soft lighting. He blinks a few tears from his face and looks down at where his hands should be.

Both of them are trapped in a bigger hand. A familiar hand. One Damian could trace the calluses of. 

Richard is beside his bed… a 

hospital bed, his head laying on the mattress near Damian's chest and his arm over Damian's stomach to hold both of his hands. Richard snores softly, and Damian realizes that he must be asleep. 

Instead of waking Richard up right away, he takes stock of his current situation. Besides what he's already found, he can say confidently now that what's on his face isn't a muzzle, but a mask, working hard to resupply his organs with the pure oxygen they need. 

Richard isn't the only person in the room as well… father is here. As well as Timothy. However, Timothy is curled up by the room's window, breathing deeply. Father sits besides him, his head leaning back and his mouth open in silent snores. 

It's so… calm. Dare Damian think domestic?

He wonders where Cassandra and Duke are. He even wonders if Jason… but he doesn't linger on it. 

Perhaps not all of them cared to see him continue to live. 

Which is fine. Damian's never expected them to like him. 

It's fine...

And… and he's crying. He desperately wants to stop crying right this second and take the pressure of the oxygen mask away from his face. But all he can do is twitch and jerk, try to shift in the impossible weight these blankets hold over him. 

Somehow though, in his struggling, he wakes Richard. Then, before he knows it, he's being tugged off from the too fluffy pillows of which he lays. His head spins from the movement, and he realizes there's tight bandages wrapped around the entirety of his skull. However, within a second he finds himself trapped in Richard's embrace. 

No… not trapped. Held. Protected. 

He clutches to Richard before he can even think to do anything else. He vaguely hears Timothy and father wake up and Timothy murmur something about letting the others know that Damian is now awake... saying something about a food court. 

They're all here. Father is here, standing off to the side with eyes so shockingly vulnerable that Damian knows he'll wonder if he’s really seen it later. The others are here, having waited for him to wake up. Richard is here, holding Damian so tightly that it causes a whole new tightness to his chest that's so much more comforting than when he couldn't breathe. 

Damian wads the back of Richard's shirt in his hands.

Just this once, Damian allows himself to be held. Be worried over. Be a child. 

Just this once, Damian let's himself cry openly and unashamed.

He's okay. He's safe now. 

A heavy hand belonging to his father finally lands on his shoulder and Damian melts into the touches. 

And he allows himself to be loved. 

[pascalls]

Huzzah! A romance prompt:

Hot Chocolate

I finally wrote something for this and it’s so dumb but I hope you all enjoy it. Featuring Charlie, Sam the Barfly, and Moe (and also Barney a little bit). 

--------------------------

With the taste of malt liquor stale on his tongue, Charlie found himself coming back to consciousness, a musky scent filling his nose and making him want to gag. The greasy floor he was laying on was hard and uncomfortable, having left his bones aching and his back feeling like he’d just been hit by a car. His eyes opened, despite his brain not wanting to, and for once, he was thankful that the lighting in Moe’s was subpar, at best. The dusty interior was not an aggravated assault on the senses, but still, he would have liked to have woken up in a bed instead of on the hard tile. 

“Ugh… What time is it,” he groaned, not yet sitting up, but at least trying to peer over to where Moe was hovering, lazily wiping down the bar top with an overused rag. There was no way it was morning yet. Or, at least, it wasn’t past sunrise. Otherwise Moe would be pouring vodka into his bowl of Froot Loops. It didn’t seem like he’d gone to bed yet. 

“Two-thirty,” the bartender responded. He didn’t seem very bothered by the fact that Charlie had passed out on the floor. Not like it was the first time. As of late, the hybrid had a bad habit of finding some kind of substance, chasing it with his body weight in whiskey, and then promptly falling asleep before he could make it back to the reverend’s. “You slept with Barney.”

“I what-?!” Charlie exclaimed, pushing himself up, only to whack his head on the underside of the table he’d holed up under. His ears rang and he groaned again, reaching up to rub at his scalp. Ow.

“Oh. Hah. Sorry. I meant you fell asleep under the table next to Barney.”

Charlie glanced over to see that Moe was correct. Barney had somehow rolled off the bar stool he’d been sitting on a few hours prior, passing out unceremoniously underneath the large circular table that was neighbor to Charlie’s. The hybrid muttered to himself before eventually crawling out from under his sleeping spot, making his way over to the bar to sit and glaring at Moe. 

“Don’t ever scare me like that ever again.”

They weren’t alone. While Barney had opted for a nap, Charlie recognized a few others still lingering in the wee hours of the morning. He assumed both Lenny and Carl had staggered home not too long ago, but both Larry and Sam remained, neither seeming to be very invested in their own consciousness. As was the usual. Charlie’s stare lingered for just a moment before Moe was pulling his attention back. 

“You wanna nightcap?” He asked, already in the process of grabbing a nearby bottle which Charlie quickly refused. His stomach was churning a bit from his previous binge. He didn’t need to lose everything he’d eaten during the day on top of his splitting headache and exhaustion. 

“No, m’fine. I should probably… go before somebody gets on my ass about not being where I need to be.” 

“Alright, but you better not be drivin’.” Moe pointed at the hybrid with a squint; one that Charlie returned in kind.

“I don’t have a car.” 

“I figured you’d steal one.”

“Why the hell would I do that?”

“Because that’s what I’d do.”

Rolling his eyes, Charlie scooted off the stool and made his way to the door, passing the other two men briefly and giving them a passing wave. He’d talked to the pair once or twice. They were wordier when they were drunk, but only just so. And somewhere in the back of his mind, Charlie reminded himself, that Sam knew a little more about Charlie by pure happenstance. Thankfully, he’d remained fairly quiet about that too. 

Swinging open the door, Charlie took a few steps outside before he realized - a little too late - that rain was coming down fairly heavily. There was no wind to carry it in one direction or another, the drops simply pouring onto the pavement and soaking Charlie entirely. The hybrid stared dully into the distance. This might as well happen. 

He didn’t move from where he was, just sort of standing there on the sidewalk and feeling his clothes get more and more soaked through. His brain didn’t seem to think that was much of an issue, but his feet refused to carry him in the direction of home. Instead, he continued to stare into nothingness, exhaustion - and a sudden heavy veil of listlessness - keeping him rooted to the spot. Somewhere along the line, he began to realize that his temperature was dropping. That was probably not good. He’d have to fix that before long.

“...You’re gettin’ all wet.”

The voice pulled him back to the present, turning and noticing that Sam and Larry had finally made their way out of Moe’s, presumably to retire for the night before they too passed out next to Barney. Larry was already walking away, his jacket collar pulled up in a fruitless effort to protect him from the rain. Sam, on the other hand, at least had an umbrella keeping him dry as he stared at Charlie with some manner of concern. 

“...Uh. Yeah. I guess I am,” Charlie replied, blinking once or twice and then glancing down at himself. Hm. Well. Yeah. He was wet. Wow.

Sam glanced around briefly before taking a few steps over and placing the umbrella over the both of them. As he spoke, his words slurred, but Charlie didn’t notice over his own foggy state of mind. “You’re not some kinda marine iguana or somethin’ right? I think they like water. Saw it on uh… Mm… That… science… channel once.”

“National Geographic?” Charlie asked, tilting his head slightly.

“Nah…” Sam replied. “ESPN 2.”

The hybrid snorted in amusement. “No. I’m not a marine iguana. I’m just… really drunk, I think.” Among other things. He’d taken some mixture of pills that he would not recommend to anyone else. But they would make their way out of his system eventually. “Uh… Thanks. For the…” He gestured to the umbrella. 

“Honestly, this weather ain’t great for walking. Y’think Moe’s got anything to eat in there?”

Charlie seemed to give that some thought. It was already the middle of the night. And if Lovejoy wasn’t blowing up his phone by now, the chances of him noticing any time before sunrise was slim. He hummed a little under his breath before shrugging. It was probably best he filled his stomach with something other than booze and pills. 

“Let’s ask.”

Sam didn’t need much convincing himself before he moved to keep them marginally dry as they wandered back into the bar. Moe had been in the process of trying to roll Barney over with a broom so he could sweep up underneath him, but glanced up when the door opened again. Charlie shook the water from himself as best as he could, but it was to little avail. He’d probably just need to wait until he was dry.

Closing the umbrella, Sam tossed it against the wall near the door and settled himself back on the stool where he’d been before, Charlie scooting up and onto the one next to him. As long as Barney was passed out, the hybrid took some time to pull off his mask and other effects which were fairly soaked through, placing them on the stool next to him and breathing out a little sigh. Moe had seen him a few times by now. It seemed like more and more people knew what he looked like as time went on. At that particular moment, he couldn’t find it in him to care.

“Tell me you’ve got something to eat,” Charlie asked as Moe drifted back over, looking over the rain-soaked man with some scrutiny. 

“I’ve got uh… Probably some Spam sitting around somewhere. Lemme look.”

“I’m having a hard time turning that down.” Charlie wasn’t going to be picky. And apparently, neither was Sam, as the man said nothing.

Moe disappeared in the back room for a time, clattering around among his shelves and god knew what else. Charlie watched as a roach slid out from the doorway and promptly disappeared into the nearest electrical socket. There was a little buzz, a hiss, and the roach did not re-emerge. The hybrid assumed that whatever it saw in the back room was heinous enough for the little bug to end it all.

“Well lookee here!” Moe proclaimed as he re-emerged, holding a half-empty jug of milk and a bottle of chocolate syrup that looked like it came from the 70’s. “It ain’t Spam, but it’s somethin’, huh? Check this out.”

“Chocolate milk?” Sam asked, staring at the bartender. 

“Nah. Even better.” Moe brought over the ingredients, pouring the milk into a few glasses and squirting the chocolate… syrup (it looked more like sauce at this point) into it soon after. He then held up each mug in turn, using a lighter to heat up the bottom of the glass before plopping a few stale marshmallow Peeps that were sad and dull from their time spent hidden somewhere in the cabinets beneath the bar. Presumably from Easter. ...This past Easter, hopefully.

Pleased with himself, Moe offered two of the glasses to Charlie and Sam who stared at the brown concoction that was making short work of dissolving those Peeps into rainbow mush that floated at the top of the layer of milk. “See? Hot cocoa! PERFECT for them rainy days like this one.” As if to sell the mixture, he took a long swig of his own, choking back the drink with a few hacked coughs and then offering his two patrons a grimacing smile. “Eh? EH?!”

Charlie squinted down at his own before coming to the conclusion that… he really didn’t even care what he put into his own body at this point. And the chocolate DID smell at least a little enticing. So with a little glance at Sam and a shrug, he upended his own into his mouth. It was not great. In fact, one might even say that it was terrible. The milk was absolutely close to spoiling, if not already spoiled, and the Peeps floated around in his mouth in chunky bits. But he downed the drink dutifully. It was warm, if nothing else. And it’d keep him from drifting off into a hypothermic coma. 

“...It’s great, Moe,” Charlie replied once he was able to say anything about it at all. A blatant lie, but the bartender was content with the review. The hybrid just hoped he wouldn’t put it on his ‘menu’ as a permanent addition. 

“Uh… yeah. Really… great.” Sam added, having had a bit of a harder time with his own, but he too didn’t find it very necessary to spoil Moe’s spirits. But the two shared a knowing glance, watching as Moe, triumphant that he’d created something worthwhile for once in his life, scurried off to write down his ‘recipe’. 

Charlie pushed his empty glass away, poking his tongue out a little in disgust. Egh. “We can never tell him.”

Sam did the same with his own, wishing that he’d just ordered another beer instead. “...Yeah, I’m on board with that.” 

“And so the pact is sealed,” Charlie joked, reaching up with a hand to offer his pinky claw to the other. “I would say we should seal it in blood, but I’m already suffering with this aftertaste.” 

Sam offered a little smirk before reaching up to hook his own pinky with Charle’s. “Takin’ it to the grave.” 

Their hands remained touching for a few seconds, a delayed reaction only bringing Charlie’s back to himself after a prolonged met gaze, his eyes flicking away in mild embarrassment. He was drunk. They were both drunk. Reaching up, Charlie absently ran a hand through his hair to try and make it a little more… presentable. He wasn’t sure why. 

Well. He wanted to pretend that he wasn’t sure why.

Moe’s return chased away the moment. He’d come back with more random ‘ingredients’ he’d found in the back storeroom.

Charlie and Sam gave a few little groans. Had Charlie known they’d be given the job as taste-testers, he might have just walked back to Lovejoy’s in the storm. 

But… he wasn’t alone here. Even if he’d never get the taste of stale Peeps off his tongue, he at least felt content with the knowledge that there was a warmth keeping him from drifting too far into the cold loneliness of the rain. 

Yeah. This was better.

[sunevial]

Moving Day

This is once again another case of ‘not exactly a commission, but someone chucking money at me to eventually write about space and magic gays’, except this time, it’s from @hewhowalksbehind. 

Continuation of this.

---

Of all the things Venny missed most about Ylxret at nine thirty in the goddamn morning, it was automated coffee makers. Blearily pouring water down the little spout and pushing entirely too many shiny buttons, she eventually got the machine to start blinking. With a grumble, she slotted a floral patterned mug under the funnel and slumped against the counter. 

Water was boiling, oatmeal was in the new saucepan, spoon was in the sink, bowls were…

She forgot to buy bowls. 

Fuck a duck. 

Groaning, she pressed her hands to her eyes and let out a long sigh. After a shopping trip that must’ve lasted an eternity, she had been running on fumes by the time she had a chance to pass out last night, but apparently even that wasn’t enough to calm her adrenaline addled brain. Her best guess was that she hadn’t fallen asleep until three, and even that was a generous estimate. To add insult to injury, her first night in her new apartment was plagued by restless dreams, fitful tossing and turning, and a blanket that was neither warm or cool enough.

At least the air mattress was comfortable. 

The air mattress was comfortable, and her new plush corgi was cuddly.

A steady drip of liquid gold splashed into the mug, the warm coffee revealing heat activated yellow and white circuitry lines weaving through the painted-on flowers. Not even bothering with milk or sugar, she downed the coffee fast enough to get away with only minor tongue burns and shoveled down instant oatmeal straight from the pot. Throwing both into the sink to wash up later, she scrambled into the shower just long enough to wash off yesterday’s sweat and rub away the smell of what felt like seven layers of deodorant. A fresh change of clothes later, a practical t-shirt and legging combo, and she felt half-way to being a functioning person again.

Which was really convenient considering that things would start arriving in approximately now.

Grabbing both wallet and keys, she quietly slipped out of her room and padded downstairs to the front lobby. Today was Internet access, a ‘do it yourself’ table and chair set, and the cushions for her couch. The couch itself was tomorrow, along with the bedframe and mattress, and the nightstand and dresser wouldn’t be for another week yet. Thankfully, unlike her very much not present bowls, she had remembered to buy a toolkit, so at the very least she would have somewhere else to sit by the end of today.

A quick peek outside confirmed that the Internet people hadn’t arrived yet, so Venny plopped down on one of the lobby couches and quickly scanned for any available wireless hotspots. It would’ve been laughably easy to tap into a password protected connection with a couple waves of her hand, but she knew better than to bum off someone. It was also probably very illegal. 

Eventually, she got ahold of a weak signal from the coffee shop next door, and her com link lit up with a happy beep. Her eyes flashed back and forth as she redirected the electrical signals within the device, ensuring that this much weaker and simpler form of wireless communication would end up being compatible. When she was fairly certain that it wouldn’t be running at a snail’s pace, she pulled and weaved the software code until the screen lit up and the holoprojector displayed a rotating band of images. Smiling triumphantly, she tapped on her email, she still had a hard time believing Toven still used email, and sifted through the various messages she had gotten over the past day or so.

Confirmation from her Internet provider, spam, start day and paperwork for work, coupon for shampoo, more spam…updated delivery day for her larger furniture?

“Due to upgrades in processing time, your order will instead be delivered today around ten AM, we hope to see you then,” she muttered under her breath, suppressing a loud groan and rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. On the one hand, she’d have an actual bed by the end of the day if everything went right. On the other hand, this was one more group of people to talk with and one more group of things to do, and she was not convinced that all of the coffee in the world would make either of those things easier. Not much she could reasonably do about that, though, because her damn couch was coming whether she was awake enough to realize it or not. 

Whatever happened next didn’t seem to follow the proper passage of time. Sometimes it moved breathtakingly fast, other times painstakingly slow. All Venny could register through her brain-addled eyes was a never ending blur of paper signing, hauling packages, and telling people she had never met to put things down wherever they could find open space. By the time the last person was out of her apartment, and she could actually gauge the passage of time, it was exactly eleven twenty-four in the morning. She collapsed onto one of the new cushions, a nice olive green that she definitely didn’t remember picking out, and got to thinking.

Assets: She had Internet access that wasn’t siphoned off the coffeeshop.

Consequences: Her apartment was no longer able to accommodate carpet angels. 

Priority one: Bed needed to be set up. She’d like an actual bed.

Priority two: Get the couch out of the center of the living room.

Priority three: Actually build the table so she could eat without standing up.

Problem: She had the energy to do maybe half of the bed set up. 

Slowly getting back onto her feet, she shuffled towards the bedroom, though not before noticing her front door still propped wide open from all of the deliveries. She went to close it, getting about halfway there before the door across the hall opened, revealing Sol’s relatively incredulous face. 

“Morning,” she said, leaning against the doorframe and stifling a yawn. “Lot of noise over there for a weekend morning.”

“That makes two of us,” Venny replied, trying to put on as apologetic an expression as she could muster. “I didn’t wake either of you up, did I?”

She shook her head, lavender curls bouncing a little. “Nah, I’ve been up for a bit, and Clarissa could sleep through a hurricane if you let her.”

“Still gonna apologize,” Venny said, breathing a sigh of relief and laughing a touch. “You know, I didn’t think most furniture places delivered on weekends.”

“Learn something new everyday.” Her eyes glanced towards Venny’s now incredibly messy apartment for a moment. “You settling in okay?”

Venny chuckled, tapping the ground absentmindedly with a foot. Well, she could answer truthfully, she could answer in the socially acceptable way, or she could split it down the middle and hope for the best. “I think so, just need to get used to...all of this.”

“It’s not easy moving somewhere new, even harder when you’re all alone,” Sol said with a sympathetic smile, nodding her head and crossing her arms over her chest. “If you need help getting set up, I’m not really doing anything today.”

Venny blinked a couple of times, shaking her head even as every fiber of her being was saying ‘take up the offer’. As much as she’d love another pair of hands helping out, she’d already taken up enough of Sol’s time between the reading interruption and the grocery care package. Best not to take advantage of her kindness this many times in such a short period of time. Or maybe Sol didn’t care, that she just actually wanted to help and didn’t resent her for it, and this was just a combination of sleep deprivation and anxiety talking. Maybe it was both. It was probably both. “I think I’ve got it handled,” she replied, twirling a twist between her fingers. “Thanks for the offer though.”

All she got in return was an incredulously raised eyebrow.

“Or maybe I’m saying that because I don’t want to take advantage of your kindness again and seem really needy in a time of upheaval and stress,” Venny said with a defeated sigh.

“I wouldn’t be offering it if I didn’t wanna help.” Sol smirked just a touch. “I know my boundaries better than that.”

Venny could physically feel the tension in her muscles drain away as she slumped against her own door frame. “I promise I’m not this pathetic all of the time.”

“You said it yourself, a lot of upheaval and stress, and from what it sounds like, absolutely no sleep either,” she replied with a shrug, popping back into her own apartment long enough to grab her keys and phone. “Alright, where are we starting?”

 “Bedroom, cause I need a bed.”

The two of them quickly made their way to the chaotic bedroom, surveying the bed frame in its various parts and the mattress propped up against the window. Cracking open the new tool box, Sol set to work screwing everything into place while Venny sorted through a veritable hoard of metal rods and support beams. While she had no reason to doubt that Sol could wield a hammer and screwdriver, watching her work was, in a word, beautiful. Sol took to the various tools with a clear familiarity, handling them with delicacy and certainty as she aligned the wooden frame. Venny knew nothing about art, but she knew an artist’s touch.

“You’re pretty good at this,” Venny said, holding a level against the wood to see if any holes needed a quick re-drill or if something had been screwed in the wrong place.

“I’d hope so, I make things for a living,” Sol replied, wiping a little sweat off her brow.

“What kind of things?”

Sol returned with a playful smile. “You get three guesses.”

She allowed thirty seconds to come up with her answers, no small feat with how slow her brain was chugging along. “Artisanal woodworking.”

“Nope.”

“Artisanal metalworking.”

“Nope.”

“Designing prototypes for this exact style of bed frame,” Venny said with a shit eating grin that was probably more of a result of her being half way to slap happy. 

Sol rolled her eyes, closing one as she carefully twisted the last screw into place. “Okay, I’ll admit, second one was closer.”

“So what is it?”

“You’re not gonna believe me,” Sol said flatly, tapping the frame twice for good measure.

Venny pouted, planting her elbows on the footboard and resting her chin on her fists. “Come on, it can’t be that out there.”

“I promise I’m not joking.”

“You could say you build rocket ships and I’m so tired I’d believe you.”

Sol paused for almost ten full seconds. “Funny you mention that…”

“Get out, you make spaceships?” Venny’s head poked over the frame with eyes wide and excitement clear as day on her lips. “You’re with the Wisteria Space Program?”

“Technically I’m in the rocketry department, not the spaceship program, but same idea,” Sol said with a shrug, jumping to her feet and whistling. Similar to yesterday, the wind kicked up, swirling around the room almost as if it was having fun. The mattress slowly but surely floated off the ground, providing just enough lift for the two of them to set it on the frame without straining muscles or having to worry about wingspans. 

“Still, that’s so cool,” Venny continued, grabbing the sheets off of her air mattress and throwing them onto the bed. “I don’t even think I know anyone back home who does that. What do you even do there?”

Sol laughed, grabbing the sheet and stretching it over a corner. “I’d tell you, but that’s classified.”

“Is that a joke or is that actually classified?”

“‘I might actually get arrested for treason’ classified,” Sol said in a completely serious deadpan.

“Anything you can tell me?” Venny asked, head tilted as her hands quickly smoothed out her blue and white comforter over the bed.

Sol thought for a full minute, arranging pillows and plushies absentmindedly as she paced around the small room. The wind followed her, catching her shirt and blowing it in every direction imaginable, almost as if it was thinking alongside her. “Physics. Lots of physics.”

“Dang.”

A knock sounded at the door, and for the second day in a row, Venny opened it to find Clarissa standing there with a large smile on her face. She had no gifts in hand this time around, but she was scrolling through her phone. “Sol texted me she was here helping out, you done stealing my roommate? I need her for something of vital importance.”

“I offered,” Sol called as she emerged from the bedroom.

“She still stole you!” Clarissa shouted back, though with a laugh and smile on her face. 

Venny returned with a grin of her own. “We should be done pretty soon. Though if it’s really that important, I can take care of the rest.”

“It’s not important, she’s just trying to get me to set up a dating app,” Sol said with a sigh and an accusatory finger. “Because my roommate is a nosy bitch who insists on setting me up with every girl she happens to meet.”

“It’s not every girl.” Clarissa huffed indignantly.

Sol’s face told a much different story with how frustrated those eyebrows looked. “You’ve specifically set me up with three of your exes, a girl from your class, and the florist down the street.”

“All I’m saying is that she’s got a great personality and an even better ass.”

“Then why don’t you ask her out?!” Sol exclaimed, throwing up her hands.

“Because I’m already seeing two people!”

It might have just been Venny’s ears, but she swore she heard laughing from somewhere else in the apartment. 

“Alright, alright, you can have your roommate back,” Venny said, holding back a belly laugh as best as she could. Never in her life had she’d been so grateful to hear two women loudly arguing about female love interests. Her family had been concerned with her moving to Toven, knowing that not every place was as accepting of non-heterosexual identities as Ylxret. New Haven had a better track record than most, though, and conditions were certainly getting better as time went on. If nothing else, seeing her two neighbors argue about sapphic love affairs in the hallway was a good indicator that she had nothing to worry about here. “Hope the app set up goes well.” 

“I’m not setting up the app,” Sol declared with a flat tone, going over to the boxed up table and cutting away tape like a woman scorned. “I’ll get a date on my own damn time.”

“I mean, if you’re looking for someone else to add to the list, I’m into women,” Venny joked, smiling at Clarissa. She watched the pink haired woman’s eyes light up, and hastily threw up her hands. “Not that I’m looking for a relationship, I’ve just moved and I think that might’ve been me not having normal social barriers up due to lack of sleep.”

Sol audibly groaned in the background. “Damn it, you’ve given her ideas.”

“Well that’s even better! You’re new in town and need to see the sights, and I know a great little place Sol could take you for lunch,” Clarissa said, pulling out her phone and rapidly texting. “I’m sending you the directions now.”

Venny blinked a couple of times, finally just realizing the full ramifications of what she had just done. At least she knew now never to open her mouth when she was this sleep deprived, or at least, not do so when possible romantic relationships were involved. Feeling the heat rapidly rising to her face, she shot a glance to Sol, desperately trying to find a way out of this increasingly awkward situation. 

With a sigh, Sol pulled out her phone and rubbed her temples. “I’m really sorry about this.”

“Don’t be, it’s my fault,” Venny said, smiling sheepishly. “I’m really not in the place to be thinking about that anyways.”

“Then think of it like a friendly social,” Clarissa said with a large, not at all innocent smile, eyes darting first to Venny. “You need to meet people-” Her eyes flashed towards her roommate. “-and you need to get out more. Win-win situation!”

Sol’s eyes narrowed in challenge. “Clarissa-”

“Venny, what do you think?” she asked, smiling wide and oh so sweet. So this was a game for them both, a sort of give and take war between them, and this is the moment where she was supposed to choose a side. Her next move decided the winner of this match between these two equally stubborn individuals. 

She was already on the edge of the diving board, might as well take the jump.

“What’s the food like?” Venny asked, putting on her best innocent smile. 

Sol sighed in defeat, grumbling and pulling out her phone. “Stir fry and dumplings. Let me know when you’re free.”

Clarissa grinned with a smile that could split the sea. “It’s a date!”

[hannafuckingsucks]

hey guess what uuuuuuh. today apparently was sompfd thoughts day™ on discord so I came up with a super cute n fluffy Hardzzello headcanon! this was all fueled by Joe's birthday post for Ben and the video of Ben gettin kissed on the cheek 😌 big help came from @walking-in-a-daze by making noises of encouragement at me while I spammed the chat with my brain barf lol, and for helping me to get the perfect final scene 🤭

(1,3k words oopsie)

ok without further ado, some very emotional thoughts™ about two headasses:

•°•°•°•°•°•

the thought of Ben and Joe just slowly getting more comfortable with physical contact!!!

like they are just friends first, of course. 

but both of them get very touchy-feely when drunk

it starts with just a hand on the shoulder or a pat on the back. 

or a hug with some extra room for the holy spirit in the crotch area at the end of the  night

but as months go on they get hella comfortable w each other

like public dancing

holding hands

touching their faces

kissing cheeks

idk I just get so soft thinking about them being so sweet and intimate and uuh BABIES

mmmmm the thought of them both being piss drunk one night and

idk Ben gets lost somewhere and Joe is so worried and runs around like "where is Benny?????"

and Ben just shows up after 15 minutes like "sowwy I was at the loo and aiming was hard lmao"

and Joe is so relieved that he's ok, he hugs him soo tightly

and when he finally let's go he cradles Ben's face in his hands and looks into his eyes and says how worried he was and how happy he is that he's fine

and Ben just giggles non stop because he's kinda embarrassed but also so happy 

AAAAAAAAA I'm gonna punch a wall

like I imagine the rest of the gang being there too, Gwil, Rami, Lucy etc.

they are not nearly as drunk as those two and they find it so cute but also constantly have to roll their eyes at those idiots

lovely thought: one of them *accidentally* takes home the other

like they talk about something while they are on their way home and they are really captured by the conversation 

and then it's just "oh we are at your flat Joe"

so Ben's like "I really should get going but-"

and then they talk another 20 minutes at the door step

and Joes just like "c'mon man. please come in. you can crash in my bed, I'll take the couch"

so they get in and they keep talking and Joe starts to get some bedding for the couch

but Ben feels kinda bad like "joe buddy, cmzon, I'll take the couch. I don't want your old man back to feel stiff tomorrow morning" with a wink

like the cheeky piece of shit he is lol

which ends in a lil fight because Joe is "old" but Ben is the guest!

but it's a king-size bed so it wouldn't even be that awkward

they just both look at it for a second, then at each other and 

they BoTH would REALLY love to sleep next to each other. to.. to feel each others warmth uhm

but they are both too pusseyy™ to admit that of course

the situation gets kinda tense

because who will say they want it first??

the answer is no one

but in the end one can talk the other into at least sharing the bed

so the bed is absolutely big enough for both of them, they got plenty of space, even jesus would approve.

but they unconsciously inch closer to each other in their sleep 

shocking, I know

and they wake up somehow spooning

plot twist of the century. revolutionary

I'm imagining Ben as the big spoon because he's bigger. y'know, wider. buff bapey boy

oh and Joe is awake already for like half an hour in the morning but he doesn't want to move because he feels so warm and save in Ben's ARMS. have you seen those guns? magnificent

it's a little awkward when they both wake up finally and Ben just keeps apologizing, feeling like he overstepped boundaries

so Joe has to stop his rambling

and they have a somehow uncomfortable but also intimate talk about how this is not a big deal and everything

about how they both are comfortable with being so physically close AAA 😩

it's very soft but also fueled by sexual tension y'know

Joe is able to talk about this in a very calm and collected manner 

but on the inside hes screaming to himself

about how in love he is 

it's one of those angel vs devil inside-dialogues like  "TELL HIM" "no I can't" "you COWARD" "HE'S MY FRIEND" "YOU LOVE HIM" "so WHAT if I do but he's my BRO" "BRO THAT YOU'D LIKE TO FU-" "shuT UP"

after they talked and made peace with the situation they get breakfast together uwu

or brunch. with mimosas like a true couple

but the are just friends!!!!!!! ;) ;) ;)

but they both still think a lot about their current situation

Ben might feels very conflicted and doesn't know how to handle this stuff and all those new emotions

he just never felt like that before

he just has this... fragile bro masculinity

the classic "I'm not gay but if I was.." dilemma oh poor baby

but now they BOTH constantly have the "I'm not gay I just love my friend" thought and honestly that makes me crack tf up

like. "I love him I would die for him oh my god! but I'M NOT G-" 

and one day Joe just has to talk about it with someone 

he just has to get it off his chest

and so he spills the beans to Gwil like "idk bro I just love him and he's my best friend and I just wanna spend all my free time with him. I mean I'm not gay but sometimes I imagine living in a cottage with Ben and 4 adopted dogs and two goats. we could grow our own vegetables in the garden too. I saw this YouTube video about this one lady that-"

and Gwil just goes "Joe that is so gay please stop lying to yourself"

a Joe's just like :O

so Gwil's like "listen. maybe you are not gay gay, as in homosexual BUT. you are very gay for Ben and that's honestly not a surprise to me anymore because I've been watching you two for some time now and wow. might as well just propose already you dumb bitch"

and Joe's just like

so Ben also goes for advice from Gwil

poor Gwil has to deal with all this bullshit :/

Ben's like "Gwil I need to talk to you about Joe" and Gwil just sighs and looks into the camera like he's on the office

Ben's kinda mad at himself because why the fuck would he feel feelings like this???

he currently is very irritated by said feelings and how he's not able to handle them

Ben's like "never in my life have I been soft, I don't know what to do?!"

and Gwil says "Ben you literally cried last week when we watched Aristocats"

so Gwil is trying to calmly explain to Ben that it's ok for him to feel like this and that he gets it, that it can be scary and weird at first but Ben still should be true to himself etc etc

and Ben's just like "..... ok. But. WHAT IF I AM JUST STUPID and Joe only likes me as a bro"

this goes back and forth for a while and Gwil tries his best to stay neutral 

because he really doesn't want to intervene too much by telling Ben about his talk with Joe

but after the 6th time of Ben doubting everything he snaps

"BEN GET YOUR FUCKING HEAD OUTA YA ASS YOU BLIND IDIOT bloody hell! first him and now you! why can't you just both be blunt and TALK?!"

"first him.. what?"

and Gwil just goes "I shouldn't have said that. I should NOT have said that" like full-on Hagrid in the philosopher's stone

and Ben's takes his time realizing what Gwil just said and his brain slowly begins to connect the dots

so the situations just them staring at each other like

Gwil:

Ben:

anyway, this is the end. I would love to let them fuck but uuh. dumbasses don't deserve it yet. this would need a, as @cherries-n-rocknroll fittingly described it, good short 15k pining fic! I agree, but I can't do that 💞

if you got this far, thank you, I hope you got to laugh as much as we did! ✨♥️

[pucks-no-fucks]

Long Distance: Kaapo Kakko X Reader (part 3)

*gif isn’t mine, I am sure I found it on here, I have scoured everywhere, can’t find the owner, if you made it tell me so I can give credit where it’s due*

Authors Note: OOP- I think I know where I’m bringing this now (I have 2 ideas) but you guys will hate me for it for a bit if I go with one of them

Summary: Kaapo and the reader are in Vancouver for the draft.

Warnings: *Possibly a curse or two I can’t remember. Also there’s a passive comment in here, I ain’t got anything against New Jersy btw.

Requested: Yes | No

Word Count: 1,060

It took a lot to convince your mom to bring you to Vancouver. She was pissed about what happened in Slovakia. She was really mad. But you were able to do it. The plane ride over you were giddy. You were excited. You were staying in Vancouver for a week. Plenty of time.

When the plane landed you practically bounced off. Your mom starting becoming suspicious about why you wanted to come to Vancouver. You decided to send Kaapo a text to let him know you were here.

You: Hey I’m here, what are you up too?

Immediately you got a text back.

Kaapo: press

You: oh fun

Read

This was going to be a busy time and it wasn’t necessarily his fault. Besides, he just told you he was working with press. You were too happy for him to possibly be upset about it.

The hotel you and your mom were staying at was nice. Fancy. Gorgeous. Had a nice restaurant beside it too, so your mom treated you there.

Mom was giving you weird vibes however.

You were seated at the table and the second you ordered and the waiter took the menus she gave you a look.

She swished the water and ice in her cup. “So. When were you going to tell me you chased a boy here?”, she said simply. She didn’t sound mad or upset.

You slumped I your chair. “Mom I-“, she cut you off.

“Hey hey. I get it. Sometimes you fall for the wrong person at the wrong time. Sometimes the right person at the wrong time. I just would of liked to know why you had Auntie Aada almost call the police for your return”, she said with a chuckle, taking a sip of her water.

Visibly relaxing, you told her everything. She listened and laughed. She sided with you on most of what happened.

“Aada just worries. Long distance is hard”, mom told you. You knew it was true.

“Yea, but Mom something about this feels right. Not like he’s my soulmate or anything. I mean he very well could be, but that’s not the point. Everything is calm between us. There’s a peace and appreciation that no one else has ever shown me. There’s something there. I haven’t known him long enough to say I’m in love with him but Mom I think that spark is the start. That little something is going to be bigger. I know it’s not going to be easy, but life isn’t easy”, you took a deep breath. Mom looked at you in adoration.

“My Baby is growing up”! Her eyes watered as she said this and her hand grabbed yours. “If long distance is okay with you, then I’m okay with it”.

You blinked back happy tears. She got it. Your mother got it. She was going to support you through it. Dinner was calm after that. Conversation flowed easily.

“Draft is tomorrow. Are you going to be there”?

“Of course”.

~~~~~~~~~

You and your mom sat up with Kaapo and his family. You waited patiently with him, soothing and comforting him. This was big. Obviously, his childhood dream was coming true.

“Your okay babe”, you whispered to him. He had a straight face and was thinking hard.

“Thank you”. He looked over at you and some of the tension in his shoulders disappeared. But not all of it.

You massaged his hand. It always helped you calm down when you were younger. You hoped this would help him. The pad of your thumb ran along the palm of his hand, rubbing slow circles.

“You have small hands”.

You looked up at him with a smirk. “No my hands are average sized. You just have really big hands”.

He smirked but quickly returned his attention to the stage. You rested your head on his shoulder, continuing to massage his hand. Everyone was talking and being loud but the two of you were content with being silent.

New Jersey had taken their place on the stage to announce their selection. Martin Brodeur was announcing it. “For first over all, the New Jersey Devils are proud to select from the US program”, Kappos face fell, “Jack Hughes”.

“New Jersey sucks anyway”, you whispered while clapping for Hughes. You doubted it would help comfort him but it was something. They took their pictures and whatever.

It was a no brainer when the New York Rangers have Kaapo as their selection. It all blurred together, him getting up and hugging you first and then everyone else around him, his walk up, the pictures. The everything.

You were fucking proud.

You knew he was going to be occupied for a long time. You took your phone out and opened Instagram. Multiple notifications came up quickly on your phone.

“Was that you”?

“Are you at the draft”?

“You went to Vancouver”?

You ignored them. Your followers started slowly increasing. You changed your account to private for the time being. Kaapo has found your account making you smile and follow him back.

Opening the explore page, you searched for the Rangers. You followed them. Their page was already quickly filling up with Kakko posts.

New notification: “Is Kakko your boyfriend”?

You didn’t know what to say. Was he? No, the two of you haven’t talked about that. You read it over and over. The question upset you more then it should of. What were you guys? You were too easily upset, you pinned it on a lot of change.

You exited and started scrolling through your feed. Nothing interesting. Basic selfies, basic vacation pics, basic ads.

It was getting late, you had to leave with mom to go back to the hotel. You hugged the Kakko’s congratulations, and left. Kaapo was still busy with the rangers team and press. Mom talked about how much she loved the draft and how she wanted to go to another one.

That made you happy. When you reached the hotel room, only then you realized how tired you were. Almost immediately you fell asleep.

~~~~~~~~

You slept in, but woke up well rested. Quickly, you noticed mom wasn’t in the hotel room. She left a note for you on the clock.

‘Out with the girls, will be back before 5’

It was 11 am. What felt like hundreds of messages spammed your phone. Kaapo had texted you too.

Kaapo: When you get up text me?

You: Sorry I slept in. What’s your plan today?

Your phone dinged almost immediately.

Kaapo: No plans yet. Waited for you.

You: Think we could go somewhere to talk?

You left your phone on the nightstand and started getting ready. Your favourite summer clothes was a good choice. Flip flops and you were almost ready to go. Your hair was put into a lazily done bun before you sat back onto the bed.

Kaapo: Sure

You both decided to meet at the Tim Hortons closest to where he was staying. It wasn’t a far walk for you. Even though you could of taken the bus, you wanted to enjoy Vancouver.

The bell dinged as you opened the door. A quick scan of the Tims was all you needed. An awkward, out of place Kaapo sat in the back corner. You smiled but walked over.

“Is this seat taken”, you said in a deep voice.

Kaapos head snapped up to look at you. He chuckled, but motioned to the chair. You slid into the chair with ease. You rest your chin on your hand and looked intently at Kaapo.

“What are we?”, you asked loudly.

Kaapo went tense. “What do you mean?”, he mumbled, tracing random patterns on the table.

“Like. Are we together? Are we not?”, you sighed.

“I-“, he paused. “I don’t know. What do you want to be?”, he finished.

You smiled softly at him. “I want to be your girlfriend”, you said in a teasing tone.

He smiled. “Y/n, will you be my girlfriend”, he smirked.

“I, Y/n, agree to be your girlfriend”, you said dramatically. You both stopped for a second before bursting into loud fits of laughter. It wasn’t even that funny, so you weren’t sure why. You were wiping tears from your eyes, still trying to hold back laughter.

You reached for his hands. He reached for yours. Locking fingers together, you both giggled. Stupid teenager babble.

“Oh my god! Tell me how everything was for you!”, you exclaimed. You jumped out of your chair and almost leaped across the table to embrace him. His arms wrapped around you as he hummed in delight.

“Was good”.

“No no like TELL me about it”, you said excitedly.

So he did. He sat there and talked to you about it. He tried to be conservative about it. It was obvious he didn’t want to make everything about him.

You loved it. You loved hearing him talk about something so important to him. You loved just hearing him talk. You loved that this was a big part of his life, and inevitably yours too.

“I love you”, you blurted.

He froze. Kaapo looked at you like you had three heads. You were mentally beating yourself up over it. You didn’t even mean it. You didn’t know if you loved him yet. It was all too fast and all too soon. It was a spur of the moment. Your face went red. You regretted it immediately.

“You what”?

[kamino-ink]

Behind The Mask | Lee Felix

✧ Genre: Spiderman!au, fluff, angst

✧ Summary: You’ve started to notice how your friend has begun to show up to class absolutely exhausted, always falling asleep - he claims it’s just his schoolwork and his internship, but what you don’t know is that his so-called “internship” is actually his duty to serve the people of Queens as Spiderman.

✧ Word Count: 3.2k

✧ Check out my masterlist!

                                         ✧

 “So, class, as you can clearly see on the board, there are about four key reasons why water is so vitally important to us, as human beings, and the planet itself-”

 “Do you think this is how he dirty talks to his husband in bed?” Jisung whispered to you across the lab table, leaning dangerously close to a stray beaker on the edge of the desk.

 “Dude, I didn't need that image in my mind. Thanks a lot.” You groan sarcastically to the amused boy, discretely reaching over to slide the beaker closer to the middle of the table so the clumsy kid would (hopefully) not somehow manage to break it.

 Jisung sticks his tongue out at you before turning his attention to a very dazed looking blonde beside you. “Come on, it was funny - right, Lix…? Felix? Hellooo?”

 You tilt your head slightly in curiosity as to why the boy next to you wasn’t answering his other friend, your gaze drifting over to his slumped over form. He was just barely holding his head up with his chin resting on the palms of his hands, though his legs drooped down to the floor, the bottoms of his shoes swaying above the ground. His black turtleneck was covered up by the plaid shirt draped over it’s material, though spots of the coal colored cloth was made visible by the odd tears in the overlapping shirt.

 Lately, you’ve begun to notice something... off, about your close friend. He was mostly quiet, unless he was with you or Jisung, choosing to crack stupid jokes around the two of you instead of trying to amuse a larger crowd. That hadn’t changed, really, but Felix was starting to make weird excuses to not hang out with either of you after school some days - this didn’t happen every single day, of course. Though, whenever you saw him again either at school or outside of it, the teenage boy would be covered in spots of dark bruises or little cuts protected from the outside air by bandages (usually Star Wars or Hello Kitty ones, curtesy of his aunt.)

 Needless to say, you were starting to wonder if maybe Felix had somehow managed to have a run in with a bad crowd - perhaps he had been influenced by them, hence the cuts and bruises.

 “Yo Felix, wake up,” you grunt, noticing how your teacher had paused for a split second in his lecture to send a heated glare to the dozing boy, “what’s up with you? This is the third time you’ve nearly fallen asleep in class just today. It’s not even eleven.”

The blonde slowly adjusted his position on the stool, now choosing to let out a whine as he let his tired body lead him to lean on your shoulder for support - mostly for his head. “s’ the Stark Internship, Y/N, I already told you guys like a miiiilion times.”

 “I am going to personally beat Tony fucking Stark up if he keeps making you work so hard. Does the man have his head so far up his ass that he can’t see how exhausted you are?”

 “Look, I swear he isn’t overworking me. I’ll be on a break soon, promise.”

 “Pinky promise?”

 He lets out a soft sigh, begrudgingly bringing up one of his hands from his lap to link his pinky finger with your own.

 “Pinky promise.”

 “Fuck me!” Felix screamed into his pillow, completely ignoring a smirking, amused Jisung sat at his own desk just a mere few feet away.

 “Eh, I think I’ll pass,” the cheeky teen snickers, dodging a pillow that the younger had thrown violently at him from his spot on the bottom bunk, “you kind of did this to yourself, Lix. You pinky promised Y/N that you wouldn’t let Stark overwork you-”

 “But it isn’t Mr. Stark telling me to do all these jobs, Jisung! I’m the one who keeps putting myself in these shitty situations.” The blonde shot back almost too quickly in his hero’s defense, throwing his legs over the edge of his bed so he could properly sit up and face his friend.

 An entire week had since passed the day in chemistry class where you had made Felix pinky promise to take a real break from his “internship.” What you obviously didn’t know was that Tony Stark had little to no time to direct Felix’s superhero antics each and every day or night; it was all him, for the most part. In fact, you weren’t even aware of Felix’s superhero alter ego - Spiderman. Only Jisung was aware of his otherwise secret identity, not including the amazing scientist himself. Sure, he sort of felt guilty about not telling you of his secret, especially since he knew you would support him through thick and thin, no matter what - the only thing that might change or, well, increase is your babying of him. You already worried enough about his consistent injures, why should he put that burden of knowledge on your head?

 But now, the injures had gotten worse - he had a run in with some ragtag gang of robbers at a convenience store a couple nights ago, and one of the bastards had managed to slash through his suit deep enough to leave a mark on his arm. The following day, he had neglected to wear longer sleeves, which meant that his bandaged wound was open for anyone to see - and boy had you seen it.

 “Felix, what the fuck happened to you?” The burning question had been on the tip of your tongue the entire day at school, only you had decided to wait to confront Felix about it until you both began to walk home.

 “I uh - nothing, I swear - I just got... mugged?” He lied to you through gritted teeth, the following laugh stained with awkwardness.

 “How the fuck were you mugged in broad daylight?”

 “Well, um it was actually like... around eleven, I guess?”

 “What - Lix, why in the world were you out so late? There is no way in hell May would’ve let you out at that time for no reason.” You whirled around on him now in the middle of the otherwise deserted sidewalk, crossing your arms over you chest impatiently.

 “S-Stark Internship? Yeah! I was supposed to get some field work done before the next morning and I forgot the other half of the day, s-so I had to finish it really late.”

 Needless to say, you had quickly snapped in a blind, chilling rage, badmouthing the multi-millionaire in front of his nervous intern, who first came to you as your best friend. You brought up the fact that Felix had promised to take a break from the exhausting internship, to which the already perplexed, panicked teenager had then snapped at you of all people, saying that this internship was basically his duty - his life. Since then, you had been silent towards the boy all week, refusing to speak to him out of pure agitation, worry, and hurt.

 “Listen, I know that this entire ‘I’m a superhero’ thing is really, really important to you. But you have to take a step back and look at the bigger picture sometimes; clearly you’re working too much, and between school and your spidey-shit, I’m honestly surprised you haven’t collapsed yet.” The brunette admitted bluntly. “This isn’t healthy like, at all. I doubt Stark would appreciate you getting hurt so often just because you feel obligated to make him proud.”

 Before Felix could even get a word of retaliation out, he heard his phone’s ringtone faintly going off somewhere on his mess of a bed. He was about to just ignore whoever was calling at such an ungodly hour, but after a sharp glare from Jisung, he tossed a pillow and curled up blanket from the corner of his bed onto the floor to reach his still ringing phone.

 A picture you had taken of all three of you huddled together during Christmas last year displayed itself on the bright screen, showcasing your bright smiles and red cheeks from the cold day last year. The time read one-thirteen in the morning.

 Why were you calling so late?

 “Hello-”

 “L-Lix?” Your voice comes out as a stuttered whisper, immediately grabbing his rapt attention as he presses a button on his phone and puts you on speaker.

 “Y/N, why are you calling?” He notices Jisung shake his head from his seat, clearly wanting you to keep talking considering the dangerously low, nervous tone you were using.

 “I fell asleep on the train and m-missed my stop a while ago. I started walking home, b-but now these two people are following me. I - I think I’m close to the bank down the street, could you - could you come get me?”

 Felix shoots out of his spot on the comfy bed, tossing his phone onto the comforter while he darts over to his closet in a hurry. “Y-yeah, of course! Just don’t stop walking, okay? And stay on the phone-”

 “-Felix!”

 The line cuts off.

 Jisung throws himself up from his seat by the desk and grabs Felix’s phone from his bed, turning his back to the boy as he starts to slide his suit onto his body in a rush. “Felix, she won’t pick up the phone now!” He says quickly, continuing to spam your contact even when they run out of the apartment - not bothering to see if May was awake or not.

 “She said that she’s by the bank, right? I’ll swing over there and take care of the creeps, you call the police and meet me there.” The superhero tells the following boy his plan, already shooting out a splatter of webs onto the side of the building so he can swing into the air.

 He knew that you wouldn’t hang up on him, especially after calling him for help. It was likely that you had already called the authorities beforehand just in case, but he was too worried that they wouldn’t be able to get to you in time. Felix had already lost too many people that he loved in his life, he wasn’t about to risk losing you too.

 The city of Queens was relatively peaceful during the darkest hours of the night, with a good handful of its otherwise lively residents choosing to stay in the comfort of their homes rather than walking around at that vulnerable time slot. While everyone was more than aware of the superhero presence in their world and, specifically for them in the case of the web-slinging hero, city, the rising danger of criminal activity pushed them to refute from stepping outside when the villains might be lurking about in the shadows. This left the city of Queens to be oddly silent during those particular hours, which is why Felix would so easily hear your desperate screaming even before he had turned the next corner that led to the closed bank.

 “Let go of me, you assholes!” You shout at the perps, your voice coming out strangled in taut pain from how the manicured nails of the woman dig into the skin of your neck, her wrist pressing down harshly onto the front of it to regulate your pained breathing. Fighting back had proven useless, as each time you even tried to swing a leg at the powerful woman she would only further intrude onto your sensitive skin, drawing copious amounts of blood that dribbled down your neck and onto your exposed shoulder, the sleeve of your shirt having been ripped in the initial struggle.

 “No one is coming to save you, angel,” the man taunts you from a few feet away, cracking his neck, “not the cops or whoever you called. They won’t be able to piece your damn body back together - you see, my sister here has an acquired taste for blood, but mostly from pretty little girls like you.”

 “-Hey now, isn’t that cannibalism or something? Cause’ let me tell you, drinking human blood is not normal. Dude, that is so messed up.”

 In sync, all three of you twist your heads to look to wherever the sudden voice had come from in the dead of the night, the nails digging into your skin in the back of your mind the second someone else had suddenly appeared.

 Perched on top of a dimly lit lamppost was a figure you never would have thought you would be able to see in person - or in a sticky situation like the one you were currently tied into.

 It was him - Spiderman.

 The young superhero casually hopped off of the lamppost and onto the sidewalk, the pads of his covered feet soundless even then - it was no wonder that none of you had heard him approaching. “Alright creepy lady, if you could let my fr- erm, my little buddy go it would be greatly appreciated. Kinda makes my job easier.” He hums nonchalantly, his bug-eyes seeming to move with his suit as he analyzes the situation at hand.

 The redhead practically strangling you lets out a growl, sounding eerily similar to a wild dog, and easily releases her grip on your neck. Your back slumps against the brick wall as you take deep breaths, your throat sore from the strong pressure, stinging pain from her long nails ringing in your head.

 “A spider, huh?”

 “Everyone has a gimmick these days.” The brother retorts sourly, twisting his neck to make it ‘pop’ again while his sister steps up beside his shorter form. “Come on, Spiderboy, I would love to dissect your organs and the girl’s!”

 “I mean, you guys totally brought this onto yourselves.” He quips, not even hesitating to sling out four splotches of his webbing onto the creepy criminals, effectively ensnaring them into the sticky substance.

 But it could never be that easy, and Felix probably should've been expecting that much.

 While he had been making his way towards your shaking body still leaning against the wall for support, he had left his back turned to the two perps. Because of his keen focus on making sure you were still, you know, breathing, he hadn't noticed that the woman had tore through the web - not until he felt an all too familiar tingling sensation run up his arms, sending his hairs flying under the tightness of his suit.

 Before he could spin around and protect the both of you, she had snagged her nails - more like claws - underneath the hem of his mask, pulling it completely over his head and slinging it to the ground. The next few seconds were like a blur to you as Spiderman turned on his heels and threw the woman back onto the concrete with a sickening thud, splaying his web all over her from head-to-toe, including her entire skull so she couldn't catch a glimpse of his exposed face.

 But it was too late - you had already seen him.

 “F-Felix?”

 Said teenage boy whips his head around the second you utter his name in a shaky, bewildered tone. He sees the confusion, hurt, and complete awe in your glazed over eyes; you had seen him, you had figured it out without even needing to try.

 Lee Felix was Spiderman.

 “... so what you’re saying is I have even more reason to beat the ever living shit out of Tony Stark?”

 The blonde hisses a word of protest at your monotone grunt, accidently pressing down a bit too hard on the gauze he was using to wrap up your bloodied neck, which made you whimper softly in pain - almost immediately the boy bandaging you up paused in his movements, the tips of his cold fingers grazing your skin midair.

 “You’re fine, Lix. Keep going.” You uttered to the cautious boy quietly, watching his every hesitant move in the reflection painted on his bathroom mirror.

 When he had heard the sound of police sirens and the frantic shouting of Jisung approaching the bank a few minutes ago, Felix had panicked and grabbed his mask, slipping it over his head before he had scooped you up into his arms and swung back to his apartment. Luckily May had been in a deep sleep, so she wasn’t there to pester you two about your shared injuries.

 Jisung was on his way back, of course, since Felix had texted him a quick sentenced summary of what had happened.

 “Are you not - how are you not angry at me right now, Y/N?” Your best friend questioned you, guilt seeping into his soft, broken voice so much that it made your heart squeeze in your chest.

 “I’ll admit, I’m kind of ticked off that Han fucking Jisung knew before me, but I suppose I can forgive you for, you know... saving my life.” You laugh weakly, blinking slowly at the reflection of the boy, still clad in his blue and red suit, carefully finishing off the bandaging on your neck. While it most certainly was not the appropriate time for your pitiful heart to start racing in your chest at his close proximity and soft breaths fanning out onto your chilly skin, you couldn't help but fall into a short-lived daze when the boy grabs onto your thighs and turns you to face him.

 “I - I did want to tell you Y/N, I swear,” he mumbles, “Jisung found out on accident, and uh, obviously Mr. Stark knows because he gave me this suit n’ all. Don’t - don’t be pissed at him for encouraging me to do this, please? I was already sort of doing this stuff before he found me.”

 “But why, Lix?” You huff a bit selfishly, looking down at the floor of his tiny bathroom. “You could seriously get hurt doing this - we’re just kids, we’re supposed to be doing stupid shit like - like falling in love, going to the arcade with friends, and going to dumbass parties just for the free food.”

 “Because I’m the friendly neighborhood Spiderman, Y/N. I want to protect the people of Queens, and outside of it - I wasn't able to save my uncle, but... I have helped so many other people doing what I’m doing. I mean... I was able to save someone else I love, for once, tonight.” He whispers to you softly, lifting your chin with a single finger so you can meet his steady gaze.

 In all your time being friends with him, you don’t recall ever seeing Lee Felix looking so serious.

 “I was actually able to save you, Y/N - god I was so fucking worried when you called because y-you sounded so scared and I wasn’t there to prevent any of it from happening. I’m so thankful that I got to you before something terrible happened.”

 “I-”

 “Please don't interrupt, for once I’m actually talking about how I feel without chickening out like I usually do,” Felix laughs quietly, watching as your lips twitch into a small smile at his truthful words, leaving him to keep speaking, “I like you - love you, so much, Y/N. S-so, if you don’t mind, could I - could I possibly kiss you?”

 You nod with no hesitation, feeling your cheeks heat up when he gulps and starts to lean in, closer and closer until you lips are brushing against each other.

 “... so should I shut the door before May inevitably wakes up and potentially sees you two kissing? It might weird her out since Spiderman is kissing her nephew’s best friend.”

 “Jisung-”

 “I’ll take that as a yes.”

                                         ✧

[lovingbjorn]

Ninety days. It is Bjorn's 90th day today and my body seem to have an internal alarm. Right after midnight, I started crying for no reason. I thought about Bjorn and checked the date. 90 days since I lost my son. A huge wave of grief just hit me. So today, I write to honor him by honoring those I am most grateful for.

Today I honor those who held my hand. Those who are not related to us by blood but have become family. And I honor those who gave me a reason to get up everyday and function. These people have stayed with me in my dark place and waited for me to come out and see the light again.

So in no particular order here they are.

Doogie, my bestfriend in HS. The first to come for me. The one who saw me first after that miscarriage. And the first in a lot of things in my life. Thank you for the beautiful words, for the sage, for showing me how to honor my son, for loving me when I truly felt unworthy and unlovable. For holding me when I felt like I am breaking apart. I cry until now when I think about that moment you walked into the hospital room. I thought, it has started. People seeing me at my lowest, at my most broken, it has become real... losing Bjorn. That you were there to mourn with me. And I could not have survived it if it was anyone else. I am glad it was you who came to me first. I am happy it was you who showed up and shared that first few quiet moments after that loss. I wouldn't want it any other way.

Darlene and Kento. Both have worked for me since Arkitekto Kolab days and they have been my biggest supporters in EVERYTHING. They have seen me fail and get back up, lose both my parents, and now Bjorn too. Darlene cries whenever I cried and of all my work babies I think it is she who has cried with me the most. Kento, whom I have loved too as my own, spends most of his time comforting me and Darlene. A true gentleman and friend. They were one of the few who I thought to call first when I lost Bjorn. And I did. Thank you Dardar and Kento for everything you have done for me and more.

Monique took care of me when I was hurting, she would show up during the oddest hours just so she can sit with me. And she has been my comfort blanket through all of this. Crying too when I cry, happy when she sees me happy. This girl has a good heart and I would want to see her truly happy because she deserves it so much. Thank you for being with me and sitting with me in the hospital, visiting Bjorn, or just trying to stay alive. I am truly blessed to have you in my life, Niq.

Jam who is on top of my list is not in the photos (for some reason, I don't have a photo of her). She is a steady and true friend. She has her own struggles with friendships but she did not let that stop her from giving and being a true friend to me. Jam, you have no idea how lucky people are to have you. And I am blessed too because you chose to stick around in my life. You came back for me and picked me up when I couldn't. You sat with me and ate peanuts with me in the hospital because it was the only human thing I can think of doing at that time. Yet, no matter how painful it was to hear me talk or see me in my darkness, you sat right there and chose to be with me.

Myk, you moron, leaving me! What am I going to do without you? Well, for a year at least. I tried my best to hide from you after the miscarriage because I thought I have told you sad stories enough. But you came with your love anyway. Accepting all my decisions, processing with me (even if I felt I did not need it), and loving me all the same even if I was being stubborn. I love you, you know that right? I am glad I have you. Please come back soon because who else would rescue me if I get stuck somewhere?

Diane (and Aiys - who is not in the photos) - my favorite brats in the whole world! Our friendship does not need to always have presence. I honestly thought I have lost you guys, but you reached out and I felt so relieved. I have lost friends along with losing my parents and Bjorn. Maybe because I secluded myself so much, maybe because it felt like I can't love anymore, or maybe because I did not want to lose anyone anymore. But in true brat fashion, you guys just snapped yourselves back in and I am all the better for it. I love you guys, immensely.

This kid volunteered to be my son. Roj. And my coach said Roj is in Bjorn's name inverted. And the more I think about it, the more I am glad I found my son in him. Roj is not a replacement, although admittedly, it was easy to see him as so. A few weeks after the miscarriage he came to me and said: "Can you be my mommy?" And boy did I cry. I agreed, of course. Who wouldn't? You see, this boy came out as bisexual during our LEAP journey and I over the weeks I found him to be a true gentleman, a hardworking kid, and a really good friend to all. I felt honored he even asked me to be his mommy. Moreover, I thought, if Bjorn came to be, I would want him to grow up and be like this boy. Thank you Rorow for calling me your mom. I needed that, it did help me get up. I had someone who was counting on me to get up and make something of myself. But more than being a son, you have been a great addition to my family. I can't wait for King and your sisters to finally meet you.

Vince and AJ. The brother and the Kuya. Vince started my LEAP journey with me and I will forever be grateful because if I wasn't LEAPing, I would have done horrible things to myself during the miscarriage. He brought me to people who saw the best in me in my worst. AJ has been with me since day 1 of grieving, he saw how broken I was even before I did and volunteered to sit with me through it all. These 2 are my most constant cheerleaders. Always rooting for me no matter what. Thank you guys, I never had kuyas but you two have been more than that to me. You guys saved me from myself. For that, I am eternally grateful.

Lionheart, Kelly, Pau, Mommy J, Lawrence the fallout (haha), Buddy Beng, and of course, my Coach, whom I love very dearly. Where do I even start? Shale, you are one hell of a woman. I don't know how you carried all of us to the finish line but you did. I love you guys with all of my heart. Thank you for loving the good, the bad, and the ugly in me.

My other Undaunted constants: Rai, Tim, Jeca, Ken, and Mau. Solid support. Grabe. Ang iyak ko parang hindi na maubos-ubos. And here I am speaking tagalog because of you lot. How do I even begin to thank each one of you? We had our crazy nights, and on my loneliest, andyan pa rin kayo. Mau, of course, is in this list because he is awesome. I am here for you guys, no matter what. In the very short time we have known each other, we have been in our most vulnerable, so bawal na unfriend sa atin. We know our worst secrets already! Hahaha

SPAM. I will never forget how you all gathered to just sit and have a drink with me. You all shared painful memories of your past when I clammed up and refused to talk for fear of ugly-crying in front all of you. But you talked anyway. It took all of my strength not to cry that night. So much so that I just burst into tears the moment I got home. I have never truly told you guys personally how I appreciate every single one of you. And I promise to take care of this friendship. I love you guys immensely. Hard to believe, but I really do. What started out as professional connection has become a full-blown friendship that I cannot undo and I refuse to undo. You guys are all blessings to me. I would have stopped being an architect, it is easy to just give up, but you guys are such a great support group, I don't know what I would do without you lot. Thank you, SPAM. I will always always always be grateful for you guys.

Chess and Kevin. My dynamic duo. Thank you for visiting me at home and allowing me to pour my heart out. Shen and Audie were there two. My A+KO babies just barged right back into my life unannounced when I was going through the toughest time in my life. I thought I didn't need it, but I am thankful now that you did. It reminds me to keep on doing good no matter how much I get hurt. Good intentions always sparks another. And I am glad I sparked something in you guys. When I needed to be reminded, you guys came at the right time.

Buck (who isn't in the photo), thank you for allowing me to grieve and go on my own. I owe you a lot. You will always be a brother to me.

And the other people in my life I failed to mention or post photo of bec of the 10-photo limit: Ate Jaqi, Doj, Shailoe, Jimbo, Jorge, Steffi, Karen, John, Miljo, Aya, Sheila, DJ, Yssa, Arvin, Yen, Kooks, & the arki thesis kids Jaje, Joseph, Apollo, Karl, & Alexa. THANK YOU. The old constant friend, the unexpected friend, the coaches, the work kids, the extended work kids, the mentees, the young architect hopefuls who seem to put so much hope in me... You guys have given me little sparks of hope everyday, giving me purpose to get up, reminding me of my good, helping me accept my not-so-good, and believing that I can be bigger than myself.

Thank you for sharing my grief and my sorrow. I am rebuilding myself everyday, and doing that has been made a little bit easier because you all exist in my life.

[blueboxesandtrafficcones]

Second Chance at Forever - Chapter 7

Happy New Year, all!  Sorry for the slight delay :)  Last chapter they took two steps forward; now, unfortunately, they take one step back.  Things are more fragile than they realize.

Chapter 7 of this year’s entry for the @dwsecretsanta, my present to @wordsintimeandspace!  Beta’d by the always-kind @stupidsatsuma​

@doctorroseprompts​ and @timepetalscollective​ as an AU fic

General warnings for: alcohol use, cursing, discussions of sexual activities

Masterlist

AO3

Summary

Once upon a time, a boy and girl met at a bar and fell in love - until he ghosted her.

Five years later Rose Tyler’s best friend Mickey is getting married, and arranges a dinner for her to meet the groomsman she’ll be walking with - unaware that the two already know each other.

John Noble’s not sure how his friend and mentee managed to connive with the Universe to bring the One Who Got Away back into his life; all he knows it carefully built and maintained walls are crashing to the ground with no warning.

A few weeks later, Rose walked out of the conference room at work, humming to herself.  The client had loved her designs, and for once she was ahead of schedule as she made her way towards her office.  Pulling out her phone, she started composing a message to John.

Can you sneak away for lunch?

She hit send, walked around the corner – and found him lounging against her assistant’s desk.  Stopping in surprise, she watched him for a moment, grinning.  She didn’t know he even knew where she worked.

His phone chirped and he pulled it out of his pocket, smiling as he composed a reply.  Before it reached her, her assistant stepped out of her office and noticed him.

“Hey!”

“Hey,” he replied, and Rose’s nose scrunched.  Did they know each other?  “Ready to go?”  What?

Donna grabbed her purse and jacket, locking her computer.  “Yep.  Where’re you taking me today?”  Coming around to greet him, they hugged briefly; and he kissed her cheek.  What?

“Just a surprise somewhere for my best girl.”  What?!

Donna laughed, linking arms with John and dragging him towards the elevator bank off towards their left; they never even looked at Rose.  “Come on, loverboy.”

Rose’s heart fell, face flaming.  Oh, God.  Oh, God!  It was just like Jimmy and Margaret, only somehow more visually nauseating.  Peeking around the corner to make sure they were gone, she stole into her office and slammed the door behind her, locking it.  Dumping her tablet and phone on her desk, she fell onto her couch and burst into tears.

Forty-five minutes later, she had managed to get herself under control.  Her makeup was a loss, but she kept wipes in her desk and no longer looked like a raccoon; instead her appearance was that of a ghost, pale face and red eyes.

Still sniffling, she unlocked and cracked her door before logging onto her computer, determined to bury herself in work.  Mindlessly clicking through her email, deleting the spam and flagging items to reply to later, she didn’t look up when someone knocked on her door.

“What?”

“Rose?”  Her assistant, Donna, poked her head in.  “You busy?”

She waited, trying to decide if she wanted to be petty.  Keep your cool; there may be more to the story, she tried to convince herself, but at the end of the day she was a generous soul and so she just sighed.  “What’s up?”

“Are you all right?”  Donna came in, standing in front of her.  “You look like death.  Did the Emersons not like your design?  But it was perfect!  Exactly what they wanted!”

“No, they loved it- did you need something?”

“If it’s a bad time…”

Donna might have been twice her age and bossy to boot, but she was at heart a caring, compassion person, who was efficient at her job and made Rose better at hers.  Despite the betrayal she had suffered not an hour before, Rose decided in that moment that it was John who deserved her anger, not Donna.  Donna didn’t even know she was seeing someone – sort of.

“No, it’s okay.  What is it?”

“I wanted you to meet someone.”

Rose felt like she’d been stabbed in the heart; oh, God, John was about to walk in, wasn’t he?  Then she had an unpleasant thought – how long had Donna been seeing him?  What if this time Rose was Margaret?  “Okay!” she squeaked, running a nervous hand over her hair.

Donna beamed, leaning out the door and gesturing someone in.  After a moment she stepped out, before tugging a reluctant, sheepish John behind her.  “John, this is my boss.  Rose, my brother John.”

So distracted by his presence in her office, Rose almost missed the introduction as John’s expression did a rapid change from shock to happiness to confusion.  “Wait, what?”

“My brother, John,” Donna repeated, frowning at her.  “Seriously, are you okay?”

Rose felt weak, confusion and hope fighting a war in her chest.  “Brother?”

“Yeah,” John forced out a chuckle.  “Donna – my sister.”

“Of course.”  He mentioned her frequently; nearly any story from his childhood involved her, and Rose loved hearing them, loved the brash and bold woman he described.  It had never occurred to her how similar his description was to her assistant.  “Your sister.”  And then in a move entirely unlike her in the workplace, she flung herself into his arms, growing slightly weepy.  “God, she’s your sister.”

“Yes?”  John wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as she sniffled again.  “What-”

“I saw you,” she whispered, pressing her lips to his neck.  “When you were here to pick her up, I guess, I saw you and I thought- I thought-”

“Oh, Rose.”  His grip on her tightened, swaying her slightly.  “I’m sorry.  But didn’t you see my message?  I told you I had plans with my sister.”

Rose shook her head, burrowing it into his neck.  “Didn’t look.  Too busy crying.”

“Oh, I’m sorry love.”  He didn’t seem to notice the epithet, merely whispering soothingly into her hair.  “I can’t imagine what you must have thought.  There’s no one else, surely you know that.”

“I thought maybe- cause we’re not having sex-”

“It’s you, Rose,” he interrupted, guiding her head away from his shoulder to see her face.  “There’s no one else – I don’t want anyone else.  I’ve already got the best – I’ve got you.”

“What the hell’s going on?”  Donna’s voice broke their spell, and John settled Rose back on her feet.

“Um…”  Rose bit her lip, looking up at him, wondering what he wanted his sister to know.

“We’re dating,” he said shortly, grinning down at Rose.  “All right with that?”

She returned the smile, even though that fear and hurt still lingered in the back of her mind.  “More than.”

“Since when?”

“A few weeks five years ago, and then the month,” John explained, shrugging.  “Sorry I didn’t tell you, it’s just… fragile still.  Obviously.”

Comprehension hit Donna like a bolt of lightning then, making her eyes go wide and her jaw drop.  “No!”

“What?”

“You’re her?”  Donna turned to Rose, looking her over.  “Oh my God you are!  You’re the girl!”

“I am?  What girl?”  Rose’s mind raced, trying to figure out what her assistant-turned-boyfriend’s-sister was talking about.

“Donna…”

“So, five years ago this one shows up on my doorstep,” Donna started, ignoring his pleading face, “completely soused and rambling on about some girl and that it was somehow my fault she now had a broken heart.  He was a bit hard to understand, to be honest.  Absolute basket case.  Talked about how nice and pretty and smart she was ‘til he passed out – and it took a while.  When he woke up he refused to discuss it, but… it happened.  And it was about you.  Wasn’t it?”

Rose merely shrugged, trying to take that in as she looked up at John, who was scowling.

“Maybe,” he reluctantly admitted, crossing his arms.  “Shut up – both of you.”

“I don’t know how to react to that,” she murmured, leaning into his side.

“Are you busy?  Can you take the rest of the day, I mean?”  Unfolding his arms, he wrapped one around her shoulders and held her to him.

“Um, yeah.  I think so, hold on.”  Reluctantly stepping out of his embrace, she checked her calendar.  “All clear.”  Putting on a quick out of office, she shut down.  “Donna, I emailed you earlier the final details for a follow-up with the Emersons next month, this time in-house; once you get that set up, you can take the rest of the day as well and I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“You got it, boss,” Donna smiled.  “And tomorrow, we’re going to lunch – I want to hear your side of all this.”

“All right.”

John looked between them, frowning.  “I… do not like that idea.”

“Too damn bad.”  Rose grinned at him, letting her tongue peek out between her teeth.  “Come on, you can buy me chips.”

“Oh can I now?” he retorted, watching as she grabbed her things.  “Lovely.  Let’s go.”

“See you tomorrow, Donna,” Rose said, rolling her eyes as John stalked out.  “Have a good night.”

“You too,” Donna winked, making her blush as she stepped out into the hallway.

“Right, so chips?”

[a-spoopy-bird]

Non-Voltron AU Langst (i cant stop)

A Cuban teen sat on the edge of a bridge. Living in the big city, many people didn’t have the time to stop and make sure Lance McClain wouldn’t jump. Besides, why would it matter to them? Teenage suicides happened all the time around here. Every time the entire city went into mourning, saying someone should do something, but nothing was done. A few weeks later another would happen, and the same thing would happen. Mourn. Complain. Forget. Repeat.

Lance McClain had just lost two of his younger siblings in a mass school shooting. He didn’t know how to move on from here. He didn’t have any friends, besides Hunk, who was probably at home enjoying family time. Lance didn’t want to drag anyone down with him. He has been slowly crashing for months now. No one noticed. No one ever took a second glace when he stopped eating breakfast. Or when he stopped wanting to go outside as much. Or when he stopped making as many jokes. They don’t notice how he is always tired, despite sleeping whenever he could.

He sighed. No one had stopped yet. He didn’t expect them too. The suicide prevention center was supposed to be monitoring this bridge, looking for potential suicides. Yet he had been sitting here for five minutes, and no one has come to stop him.

That’s because your invisible. It’s been that way your entire life. Somewhere in the middle of a large family, always coming in second place. Hell, people literally ignore you. They leave you on read. They have stopped asking if you wanted to go anywhere. No one cares anymore. Hunk will forget about you as soon as everyone else does. Tears pricked at Lance’s eyes. He knew that he was exaggerating.

A car stopped. Right in the middle of the bridge. Someone got out, screaming at the driver. “If you don’t like it then go! I don’t give half a shit!” He slammed the door and walked to the railing. The driver rolled down their window.

“Honey, I’m sorry, just, please, get in the car.”

“No. Get out of here.”

“Don’t use that tone with me young man. Get in this car right now.”

“Mom, you’re causing a scene. Go home.”

“Get in this God damned car or I swear to God I’ll-”

“Do what? Beat me? I’m eighteen, I don’t have to live with you anymore.”

She pursed her lips. He glared. She flicked him off and drove off. He raised both hands in a double middle finger salute as she drove off.

Lance was suddenly aware they were only a few feet away from each other. He didn’t want anyone to be there when he jumped. He looked at the water, several stories below. It would be simple. A slight shift of balance then- slash- no more Lance McClain. The water sparkled innocently, as if it knew how many people it’s killed and was trying to catch another.

“It isn’t worth it.”

“Huh?” Lance looked at the guy.

“It isn’t worth it, jumping. I’ve tried.”

“Mmh.” Lance said, looked back down. What a lucky guy, to have jumped and survived. But Lance wasn’t planning on getting lucky.

“What’s your name?”

“Lance McClain.”

“Keith Kogane.”

Silence. Cars droned on in the background.

“Do you know how upset I was when I found out I had survived?” Lance looked up, but Keith was just looking out at the water. “I wanted to come right back here and try again. I would have tried as many times as it took.” He looked at Lance. “And, if I’m going to be completely honest, if it weren’t for Shiro, I would have.”

Lance looked back out at the water. “You know that school shooting?” He asked quietly. Keith nodded. “My younger sisters, they- they had been in it. They hadn’t made it.” He added in a whisper.

“They were why you were holding on?”

Lance nodded. “I- I’m the youngest now. Before we moved here, I had seven siblings. Now I only have three.” He looked at his lap.

Keith didn’t say anything. The just stayed in that moment, watching as the water turned orange.

Lance didn’t come off the railing. He sat there watching the water below him change hues. “Do you ever wonder how much different life would be if you just disappeared?” Keith looked at Lance. “Like, if I had just vanished. There would be a search for a few months, tops. My family and friends would eventually believe I had died. Then if I were to somehow reappear a year or so later, everyone would celebrate, people would mention how great it was, but a few weeks later, once the story was exhausted, everyone would forget. Yet, never once would someone remember. Just like Sarah Musulini. She committed suicide right here, only a week or two ago. If I said the name, no one would know who I was talking about. Her mother, her brother, they’re both still in mourning. But nothing is being done to prevent suicides off this bridge.” Lance took a breath. “Nothing to stop drunk teens from accidentally pitching off, nothing to stop someone from falling to their premature doom. Nothing to stop someone from being murdered but it being framed as a suicide.”

“Older siblings?”

Lance nodded. “The oldest was drunk and alone. He- he had fallen off the side, and no one heard his scream on the way down. Then, Veronica, she had been pushed by a gang member. It was played off as a suicide for months. No one remembers these tragedies. And, I just- I can’t take it.” His voice broke.

Keith put a hand on Lance’s shoulder. “You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

Someone was walking down the bridge. Once he reached the two teens, Lance saw he had a robotic arm, a white air tuft, and a scar on the bridge of his nose.

“Lance, this is Shiro. Shiro, this is Lance.” The shook hands.

“Did you and your mom have another falling out?”

“Yeah. She’ll come crawling back when she needs drug money.”

Lance listened silently. Somehow, listening to this made him felt better. He wasn’t the only one with issues. The wounds of this city still stung. His sibling’s deaths still were pits in his heart. But maybe he could go on. He turned so his beck was to the sun set.

“Hey, we’re going downtown for some pizza. Wanna tag along?” Shiro asked.

Lance smiled. “Sure.”

Hey I’m sorry for the Langst spam but i’ve written a lot of it in the past like five months. So here i am sharing it so you guys can cry as hard as i did :’)

[demialwrites]

Dragon’s Nest

Link to AO3 Page

You sat in the cafeteria, nursing your food. A table over, that large man you knew as Reinhardt slapped the cowboy, McCree, on the back. He hit the man harder than he intended, because McCree slapped face-first into his food. Reinhardt gasped in horror, and then the cowboy lifted his food-dripping face to glare at the large man. Genji sat on the other side of McCree, shoulders shaking with poorly-contained laughter.

You watched them with longing, wishing you were laughing with them. Specifically, sitting next to Genji. Maybe leaning against him, holding his hand under the table, exploring the cybernetic parts of his hand with your fingers.

“I am no stranger to pining looks at my brother.”

You ducked your head at that. Hanzo sat down the table from you, judging you with a flat expression. How he got there without you noticing, you didn’t know. He just sort of appeared there with his neat-looking sandwich with all the dressings and the wheat bread, putting your heated leftovers to shame. You wanted to flatten yourself against the table. Then roll into a ball. Then roll on out of the room. Disappear. You had been caught pining like a teenager. You knew it, he knew it.

“Can we please change the subject?”

You pleaded with your eyes. He nodded. You straightened your posture and faced him with your whole body, taking it upon yourself to choose the next talking point.

“What made you decide to cut your hair like that? I heard you had beautiful hair,” Hanzo narrowed his eyes just enough that you detected it, “I mean, not that your hair isn’t nice now. I like it!”

You hopefully backpedaled enough for him to realize you meant no offense. And it was true, you did like his haircut. You wondered if the buzzcut part of it was soft to the touch. There was no way a man like him would let you reach out and feel.

“I just liked it.”

Oh, thank goodness. He wasn’t mad.

“Fair enough,” you said. “Same with the piercings?”

Hanzo nodded again.

The conversation almost died right there and with it a good first impression. You were horrified inside, blaming yourself. Hanzo looked away, brushing lint off his light grey, long-sleeve shirt.

“Genji said I should get to know everyone,” he admitted. He didn’t sound convinced, and his eyelids dipped in a way that gave him an unimpressed expression.

“Probably wise,” you said.

Hanzo looked you in the eye again. His stare was more intense than most. His beauty made up for any discomfort at being regarded so intensely. You would have forgotten about his brother had Hanzo not mentioned him just now.

“I thought we were changing the subject,” you pointed out.

Hanzo looked away again, giving your gaze the opportunity to break from his and slide down the curve of his cheekbones and settle in his lips.

“I know that everyone wants to know what happened between us, my brother and I.”

It was no secret that a lot of agents have been gossiping about what happened between these two. But that doesn’t mean you were tactless enough to ask one of them to their face.

“Yes,” you said, leaning forward, “but we don’t have to talk about it.” Your hand cut through the air to underscore what you said.

Hanzo eyed you for a few seconds, deciding whether or not you were sincere. You were, so you just stared back. He sighed to himself and looked down.

“I had liked the idea of getting piercings since I was a child,” he said. You smiled, happy that he was being honest. You felt like you were getting somewhere with this man. You rested your cheek in your hand and your elbow on the table, watching him speak. “I had wanted to do this for so long that getting them did not feel like rebellion. It felt like relief.”

Your eyebrows flew up. “Wow.” You had never heard anyone describe piercing their flesh as relief.

“Yes,” he said softly.

You regarded him for a moment.

“You know…we can’t really have a proper conversation with you sitting all the way over there.”

Hanzo got up and moved his tray next to yours, but not before giving you a look that said he would blame you if this ended in disaster.

That encouraged you to be friendlier out of spite.

The two of you ate in silence for the next few minutes. Hanzo was close enough that you heard the crunch of the lettuce when he bit into his sandwich.

“What else do you do for…‘relief’?” you asked, restarting the conversation.

Hanzo eyed you again, and you realized how suggestive that sounded.

“I just, I-I meant that-”

“I know what you meant,” Hanzo cut in dismissively. “You are interested in my brother, therefore you wouldn’t flirt with me.”

You couldn’t look at him the handsome man and say that wasn’t true.

But the moment passed, because Hanzo went on to answer your question.

Turns out the two of you fit together well as friends. You encountered him naturally because of your jobs as agents, and he gravitated to your side more and more to make a comment or two, sparking a conversation.

You both had a love of being alone on your off time, but when you were together, you were so comfortable that it was like you were alone. Hanzo didn’t require you to talk to him or keep him entertained. When you did talk, the conversation flowed easily. While he was blunt, and sometimes that hurt, he didn’t seek to hurt you. It didn’t take long for you to learn that, and to start correcting him when he went too far.

You listened to Hanzo speak about any topic with genuine interest, but when he spoke of Genji, you mentally tucked away anything you learned. Hanzo noticed your interest. You tried to hide it by pressing your lips together, but the corners of your mouth twitched upwards. You looked elsewhere, but your eyes crinkled with joy.

“What do you see in him, anyway?” he asked one day.

“He’s so chill. But every once in a while, he’ll throw out a comment that makes you wanna punch him. Or kiss him. Not sure which.”

Hanzo sighed.

“I could never understand why some people would want to listen to him.”

“You do the same thing,” you shot back. Hanzo sniffed. “Also, the vibration in his voice; it’s cute.”

His face screwed up into a mix of confusion and disgust at the reference to his brother’s cyborg body.

“You like what he has become?”

“I do. He’s still a man,” you said. “Well, that nice ass doesn’t hurt.”

“I see,” Hanzo answered with that deep voice of his.

You thought the conversation died right there. You settled back into your knitting. The scarf you were making for Lena’s birthday was getting tighter the more rows you added. You sighed at the length of wool in your lap, but continued. Lena wouldn’t mind; she would appreciate the thought either way.

“You should tell him.”

“No,” you always replied, refusing to hear different.

And Hanzo always looked at you like you were being a fool. And maybe you were, but that was your decision as an adult.

Hanzo continued to stare at you. But this time he didn’t wear the contempt you thought was rude and wanted to slap off his gorgeous face (one of these days, the look of shock will be worth it). Hanzo looked through you, weariness in his expression. Then he blinked and lifted his chin, gazing at you again.

“If you won’t, I will.”

Hanzo put his bow aside on your bed and got up to leave.

“No, Hanzo, please,” you begged, getting up as well to jog towards him, but the door was already shut behind him.

Hanzo brushed your words aside. He was tired of your foolishness. It gave him room to hope and believe you would fall for him instead, and forget his brother. It was time to put that hope to rest. He didn’t know what Genji would say, but Hanzo had put the truth out there. And nudge Genji in your direction.

Hanzo stood silently behind Genji, who sat perfectly still and cross-legged on one of the higher roofs of the watchpoint. His ribbon floating on the wind was the only thing about him that stirred.

“Hanzo?” Genji said simply, sensing Hanzo behind him.

“I came to talk.”

“Have a seat,” Genji said, twisting in his seat to hold out a hand in the space next to him.

“Unlike someone like you, I do not think I could sit on the hard floor for very long.”

“If you are attempting to say that now that I am a cyborg, I am a 'hard ass’….”

Genji pulled a small, purple pillow from beneath his seat and held it in the air for Hanzo to see.

Hanzo huffed.

Genji slipped the pillow back underneath him. “Just sit, Hanzo.”

You fussed for the two hours that Hanzo left you hanging. You spammed him with messages. He usually checked the messages and got back to you in his own time. Right now he wasn’t even checking his messages.

“Come to my room,” was the message he finally sent after what felt like forever. The irritating man always phrased requests like orders.

You’re going to go to his room, all right. You’re going to give him a piece of your mind and then leave. But when you stormed into Hanzo’s room, he wasn’t alone. Genji was standing next to him.

You couldn’t look Genji in the visor. You were kind of shrunken in on yourself, hunched, and feeling that need to disappear again.

“You are sure about this?” Genji said in Japanese to Hanzo. “She won’t even look at me.”

“Do not be rude,” spat Hanzo. “Speak English.”

“You are right,” Genji said, switching back to English. He turned to you. “I apologize.”

“It’s fine,” you said quickly.

Genji took your hand and lifted it to waist-level.

“Look at me,” he implored.

You did, and he curled his fingers around your hand in a proper handhold.

“That’s better, isn’t it?”

You imagined that he was smiling at you behind his mask as he said that. You were gazing at him, and your heart was soaring. Flying off into the clouds, taking your brain function with it.

Hanzo grunted in annoyance at your moony state. It snapped you out of it, and you glared at him. Him, standing there with judgment in his eyes and his crossed arms.

“Excuse me, Mister Miserable? Don’t you try to bring me down and make me miserable like you.”

“That is not fair,” Genji said. “He is only this grumpy, because you didn’t notice his feelings for you.”

Your brain function halted again, and your jaw dropped. Then you recovered and yelled, “What?!”

You let go of Genji’s hand and turned to give Hanzo your full attention, demanding and waving your hands, “Why didn’t you tell me? You have been giving me so much shit ever since I met you. We’re not on a playground where pulling a girl’s hair is an appropriate way to signal you like someone!”

Hanzo arched a brow at you in confusion. You forgot he told you that he and Genji grew up with private tutors and probably never set foot on a school playground. Still, you had a point.

“I think I can answer this one, as well,” Genji said, amused with an undertone of wicked intent.

“No,” Hanzo said, glancing at his brother, “I will do it.”

“I’m waiting,” you said, hands on hips.

With the same weariness you saw earlier, Hanzo uncrossed his arms in preparation to tell you the truth.

“I sat near you in the cafeteria all those months ago, because I was drawn to you. And then,” he paused, and a blush spread across his cheeks, to his horror, “And then you tolerated my presence so well after that. You find me rough around the edges, and maybe I am. But you never left. Once I realized you were not going to leave, I…may…have…fallen in love with you.”

He finished with dark, rosy cheeks, but with a stubborn stare. Refusing to let his embarrassment overwhelm his ability to look you in the eye.

“I feel so comfortable around you!” Hanzo blurted, then more quietly, “But you have feelings for Genji.”

Your face softened, because you felt bad. Here were two great guys, and you somehow ended up in a love triangle with them. This was going to end badly.