#a beagle boy that actually looks like a beagle!? gasp

[starsteemer]

Watch out villains, there’s a new hero in town, make way for Smokey! (they/them, sometimes she) Sammy (4th image) belongs to @liquid-bats Marionette (6th image) belongs to @jessucakes

[wincore]

field day | jung sungchan

pairing: sungchan x fem!reader

synopsis: when you, as cheer captain, are best friends with the pride and joy of the soccer team, rumors are bound to fly around.

genre: high school au, soccer au, bff2l, fluff

words: 7.5k

warnings: language, jung “the risk i took was calculated but man am i bad at math” sungchan

request: sungchan + ball + “ everyone is looking at us. is that a good or a bad thing? ” (from the first option) ^__^

song recs: after school - weeekly / pleaser - wallows / some - bol4 / sweet talk - saint motel / love so sweet - cherry bullet

a/n: i tried recalling some hs memories for this and im hoping i wasnt the only one that went through the “shipped with a random dude” ordeal LOL. i haven’t written shorter fics in a while so i’m glad i got to. tq for requesting, lovepie <33

In high school, peer pressure tends to come in different forms. For you, it’s taken the shape of this.

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” 

You look around your classmates, scanning each and every face chanting with glee like you’re a star player scoring the winning point. The tall figure shifts beside you, glancing at you like a blinking idiot. You’re not even on the losing team but it feels just as frustrating.

You glare at the boy beside you. The trouble is Jung Sungchan. The trouble has always been Jung Sungchan. 

“Come on!” Chenle calls with a teasing grin from the buzzing crowd. The little shit. It’s getting hotter with each minute you spend by the green soccer field and its dusty chalked lines, just at the tip of the bleachers. You didn’t even get enough time to breathe before you were surrounded, the soccer team pushing a stumbling Sungchan onto you. It’s too sunny for this today.

“The star soccer player gets a kiss from the lead cheerleader after a winning game! That’s the rule.” Chenle announces.

Sungchan looks at you and you turn to him, the both of you looking at each other like fish out of water. Even though you’ve clarified at least a hundred times that you’re just friends, your peers don’t seem to be satisfied. (“Famous last words,” they say.)

“No,” you say, firmly. 

“No,” Sungchan agrees, nodding his head wisely.

“Don’t copy me,” you say, smacking his chest, and a quiet ‘oof’ escapes his mouth.

The fact that you’ve been best friends since Sungchan offered you a light green crayon in elementary school just fuels the idea that you have to date. There’s this difference between elementary school kids teasing and high school kids teasing—it was so much easier back when boys were afraid of cooties from girls. It was innocent too. Now, it’s more of nudges and sly grins, teasing with unnecessary innuendo. (What else do you expect from teenagers experiencing puberty?) It doesn’t stop you from being best friends though. Sungchan still visits on Fridays to get on your mom’s nerves and help you with homework (or try to). You still have all the little trinkets he’s gifted you over the years and the lock to his phone is still your birthday. You’re best friends and strictly that. 

When you got into the same middle school though is when it started going downhill. Holding his hand was awkward, touching him in any way was awkward and god forbid you compliment him on something. The kids around you would run across the halls saying “(name) likes Sungchan!” or the other way around sometimes. Heathens, the lot of them. But at the very least, he wasn’t too fazed and you wonder how he could be that even-tempered. If it was just you feeling that way, then maybe you did like him more than he did you. 

You shake it off. 

Sungchan’s much more grown now and at least a foot taller since his awkward adolescent years; he looks handsomer too but you wouldn’t be caught dead saying it out loud. After all, it’s only going to spark another debate on the anonymous school forum. (“(name) finds Jung Sungchan attractive, they’re totally dating.” “I knew it. A boy and a girl can’t be friends, especially if they’re both good looking.”) If you’re being honest, you hate the rumours so much—it’s one of the reasons, apart from puberty, stopping you from being as close as before. However, you do understand that this is how the passage of time works. You’re not going to be spending all of your time with each other, yes, but you still regard him as important. Your life is too busy now, with exams and practice—and you’d think a busy bee would get some honey as reward.

Sungchan’s curls stick to his forehead, unruly after he wiped at them with a towel. The sunlight plays with his eyes when he looks at you intently and you shrug. The smell of sweat is starting to make you nauseous. You remember that you too need to take a shower.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you mumble.

“Not today?” He asks.

You shake your head. “The girls have a plan.”

It’s not just the sweat. Or the crowds. You don’t like being here at all. There’s one more problem with this place.

You hate soccer. 

And by hate, you mean you despise it. Like you’ll throw up at the sight of it. What’s so riveting about a bunch of smelly, sweaty guys excited about chasing a patterned ball? You’ve tried to understand it but every time your dad explains the rules, you find yourself zoning out of whatever alien language he speaks. 

Sungchan has been the closest to getting you to understand the game and even then, you refused to learn. It’s not like you’re society’s definition of girly—but you’re not a tomboy either. The school has granted you the “ice queen with a warm interior” stereotype so you’ll just go with that. To be honest, you’re just a little more awkward at open affection than your friends. (And Sungchan has the “friendly beagle” stereotype which you’ll agree is partly true. He’s more of a retriever though, with that size.) It’s just funny how you can never seem to know who you are but other people see so clearly.

You hurry up to the locker rooms and hope for a better evening than this afternoon.

-

The sky burns blue and you wipe the sweat off your brow once you step out of the changing room. Cooling off from your shower has gone to waste. Adjusting your school skirt, you take your usual strides to the school gates. 

Ryujin seems to be showing Yuna a very flamboyant dance move while the latter hypes her up. Ryujin is in her gym uniform because she has no care for her reputation apparently, but she makes it work. Yuna’s about to show her own move when she notices you and waves at you vigorously enough to make you jog towards her and stop embarrassing herself in front of the after school crowd. But then again, she’s too cute for that.

“We got bored waiting for you,” Yuna explains, voice hoarse from her cold. Poor thing wasn’t let into performing because of it. “Do you wanna see our cool new move? Ryujin came up with it!”

Ryujin rolls her eyes. “You’re trying to advertise me to (name) so she can recruit me into cheerleading, aren’t you?”

You smile and cross your arms, facing Yuna who’s been caught mid-act. She smiles sheepishly and pats your shoulder like she just said a funny joke.

“Actually…” You begin and Ryujin holds up her arms in a cross.

“No. Never. I’m already part of the hip-hop dance club.”

“I was going to say that I’ll join you instead.”

Yuna gasps in betrayal, big eyes widening, and Ryujin grins before sticking her tongue out and potentially ruining her image with that expression. She doesn’t care, however.

“Anyway, I can’t wait to get to college and join a dance club.” Ryujin looks at the two of you excitedly. “I keep getting snaps from Yeji and feel so jealous.”

Yuna pouts. “Don’t be so happy about leaving me.”

“Aw, is the baby afraid of not getting any more sisterly doting?” Ryujin teases and you laugh at the disgruntled expression on Yuna’s face. 

“Don’t worry,” Ryujin continues with a sly grin. “Taehyun’s here to keep you company for another year.”

Yuna turns red in the face, a high pitched complaint emitting from her throat. “I told you to keep quiet about that!”

“Oh, what’s this?” You wiggle your eyebrows. “We’re starting boy talk early today.”

Yuna huffs. “At least, mine’s just a crush. I don’t know what relationship status: complicated you have going on with Mr. Soccer Captain.”

You flush hotly. “There’s no relationship status to be complicated about! Seriously, why does everyone think we’re a thing?”

“You’re cheer captain and he’s soccer captain,” Ryujin answers logically. “Plus, you’re best friends.”

“You have a lot of sexual tension,” Yuna answers honestly.

You make a face, slipping your arms into theirs and pulling them along the sidewalk. You better get something to drink before the sky starts to turn purple from pink tinged blue. 

“Ooh, another desperate attempt from (name) to not get teased,” Ryujin leans back to whisper to Yuna.

You stop walking. “Wait. Where are we going?”

Yuna shakes her head. “I’ll lead the way.”

Skipping over the concrete sidewalk, you laugh at your friends and their stories (read: Ryujin gushing over Yeji’s college dance club and Yuna’s newfound crush on Taehyun). The blue sky has tinged orange by now but it’s the sort of colour that sits in between more significant timeframes, like night and evening. Passing by a city square, you eye the people with wonder. A girl in a pink skirt skateboards smoothly over the concrete, her boyfriend filming her with a loving smile. 

“We’re here!” Yuna announces.

You look around the large open plaza, with people of all ages and in different attires trying out skateboarding and rollerblading over the grey concrete. It’s been getting popular lately, with idol pop stars taking to it too but you never knew there was this big a community. There seems to be a few stalls renting out skateboards too. The wind caresses your hair, evening cool settling in nicely on your skin. The sky is purple but it’s lit up with the city buildings and street lamps flickering on. It’s not a bad day at all.

Someone catches your attention. A boy that sticks out like a sore thumb everywhere he goes. 

“Sungchan?!” 

Your eyes somehow always settle on his figure, tall and standing out in the crowd of teenagers. He clutches his blue bag, the one he’s had since third grade, close to his chest and looks more like a tourist in this place than a frequent visitor. He’s not the only one in school uniform now that you’re here.

“(name)!” 

You hate how you love the way his face lights up when he sees you. You’re not actually into him. It’s your friends brainwashing you.

“I was going to invite you,” Sungchan says, a sorry smile on his face. 

Ryujin and Yuna frown at each other but you can’t exactly ask the reason for it.

“Isn’t it great we had the same plans?” he beams at the three of you.

Yuna suppresses a smile and you wonder why. It’s not like your friends would know he’d be here—you’d know first as best friend.

"How did you guys come across this place?" He asks, eyes round with curiosity. 

"Somi's Tiktok," Yuna answers, smiling. "We thought she works here but if she really was, guys would be swarming this place."

Ryujin raises her eyebrows. "Speaking of which, I can clearly see why there are so many girls here."

Sungchan beams, turning to you for affirmation and when you don't give him any, he drops his grin to a more polite smile.

“I don’t work at the stalls though,” he answers. “I’ve just been here a few times.”

“You’re trying to learn, aren’t you?” Ryujin asks, raising an eyebrow.

He nods. However, you furrow your eyebrows at her. How does she know? Eyes widening, you realize it must be the school forum. You remember reading a post about a student wanting to learn skateboarding and the wording felt familiar but you didn’t think much. How they figured it out, you will never know.

“Oh! Oh, I think my nose is bleeding. Oh god.” Yuna sniffs vehemently, her finger at her nose. “I think I’m going to need Ryujin to get me to a clinic.” 

Linking her arm through Ryujin’s, Yuna makes an apologetic expression and runs off into a particularly crowded area.

You blink. The realization dawns. 

"They just left me," you tell him, exasperated. "How could they just leave me?"

He shrugs. "My team left me at a rival school's field once."

Great. Your last outing before midterms and your friends have abandoned you. If this is the case, you wonder why they complain about you spending so much time with Sungchan and allegedly ignoring them.

You regain a sense of your surroundings and turn to him. "Wait. They really left you?"

He nods diligently, eyes trained upwards as he tries to recall the memory. "I told you, didn’t I? On the plus side though, I made friends with the opposite team."

"That's so… cute."

Your cheeks heat up at saying it out loud. If Sungchan is affected by it in any way, he doesn't show it. Instead, he has his usual smile on. 

“Do you wanna try?” he asks. “Skateboarding. Or rollerblading but I personally don’t recommend that.”

He curls his lips, shaking his head slightly. You laugh. Of course this beanpole has trouble balancing on skates.

"I- I figured you'd be good at skateboarding. Since, you know, you're so balanced and all."

You raise an eyebrow. "You wanna add skateboarding to your resume or something?"

"Yeah, that and the ability to imitate dog sounds. Wanna see?"

"No, thanks. I’ll pray this weekend to cure your furry behaviour."

Before he can respond, you’re interrupted by a whirlwind of colours and excited calls. A few girls run up to the two of you, younger and probably in middle school, flocking to Sungchan like bees to honey. Never in your life have you felt so ignored as in this singular moment.

You blink, turning to Sungchan who looks like a rather helpless, flustered eye of the hurricane. The winds don't seem to be stopping any time soon.

You clear your throat trying to get their attention. 

"Wow, you brought your girlfriend?" One of the girls exclaims, sounding disappointed.

The other girls make similar whines of disappointment and you have half the heart to whack them over the head and tell them to focus on their academics instead of boys. 

"You're so lucky to have him as your boyfriend," a girl comments, round eyes brimming with jealousy. 

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you declare sharply.

Sungchan looks at you with his doe eyes, blinking cartoonishly. You nudge him with your elbow.

“Yeah!” He agrees, with far too much gusto to be believable. “I’m not (name)’s boyfriend. I have no idea why everyone keeps saying that.”

“Let’s go, babe,” you say, resisting the urge to stick your tongue out at the girls. They’re younger than you and you have high school dignity, you remind yourself.

Slipping your hand into his, you take a few long strides away from them before you realize what you said.

“I- I did- I didn’t mean to call you babe,” you sputter, pulling your hand from his to look at him with wide eyes. 

“It’s okay though?”

Sungchan raises an eyebrow and slips his hand back into yours, smiling. 

“I don’t mind the rumours, you know?” He says honestly but his smile feels all too teasing. “Maybe we should go out for real.”

You huff, separating yourself from him again. “Maybe you just love attention. Disgusting.”

You point an accusatory finger at him and he bites at it playfully.

“While you're here, wanna see a cool trick I learned?" He straightens only having to tilt his head to look at you.

"If it's you falling on your face, then yes."

"I mean, hey, I could totally do that. Done that several times actually."

You smile despite trying your hardest not to. You like this about him—that he’s easygoing enough to make you look at life less seriously. If it’s with him, you could quit everything that makes you unhappy and start everything you love. 

“So where is your skateboard?” you ask, walking side by side with him, who has finally learned to match your pace.

“It’s with one of my friends,” he answers, and points to a tall girl with long brown hair, wearing a pair of tomboyish shorts and T-shirt. Another girl with short hair and a bucket hat accompanies her, wearing a long hoodie and shorts, but she leaves before you reach them. They must be from a different school because you’ve never seen them before. The first thing that pops into your head is that they’d be good replacements for your cheerleading position if you were ever to leave. You shake your head. Now is not the time.

“That’s Jimin!” he introduces, and you wonder how he’s this way—how he makes friends so easily.

Jimin waves at Sungchan and then proceeds to ask if you’re his girlfriend with a big smile, like a script being followed everywhere you go.

She seems a little disappointed at the answer. “Well, I was going to suggest one of the couples skateboards.”

You flash her an awkward smile. 

“But those are pretty difficult! I’ve been here for a month and my idea of skateboarding is still sitting on it while Soeun pushes me around. That’s my friend, by the way.”

“Ah.” You nod. “This is my first time skateboarding, actually. The only ‘sport’ I’ve ever done is cheerleading.”

Jimin furrows her eyebrows before her eyes widen. “Wait a minute. You’re the cheerleader best friend that Sungchan wouldn’t shut up about!”

Sungchan flusters, in the subtle way he usually does, and waves his hands robotically trying to explain. “I was just saying- that- that you’d be good at skateboarding. Because of the cheerleading.”

A boxy grin accompanies his explanation. 

“Right.” Jimin covers her face and sends an obvious wink your way. “Anyway, you can have my skateboard for the day.”

She hands over a smooth black skateboard with white wheels, but on closer inspection you find that they’re light-up wheels instead. It’s oddly fitting for someone like Jimin even if you’ve known her the entirety of ten minutes. Sungchan is good at finding friends, rather. Soon enough, she runs off after making Sungchan promise he’ll deliver the skateboard home.

The trick Sungchan wanted to show you was a failed kickflip. At the very least, it made you laugh so hard you almost spit out the strawberry milk he’d bought you. Sipping his own banana milk, he sulked for a moment or two, telling you to try it out and see how difficult it is.

On the contrary, Sungchan was right. You are good at balancing on skateboards. But that’s where it ends. You don’t think you’ll be naturally good at kickflips, though being able to glide through the plaza while Sungchan runs after you with the drinks puts a big smile on your face. It’s the most fun you’ve had in a while.  

Accompanied by Sungchan’s panicked “oh no”s and “oh we messed up”s, the two of you try the couple skateboarding move too; no one’s watching you here. It’s fun to see him stress over a skateboard because frankly, you’ve never met anyone as easy-going as Sungchan. (“I’ll figure it out along the way,” he says when you ask if he’s studying for finals, and proceeds to get a decent enough score). Suddenly the wandering gap is closed again. You’re not going to worry about stupid rumours from now on. 

But for some reason, ‘you like him as a friend’ doesn’t sound right either. Despite having said it so many times, you might not believe in it. You shake off the thought. This evening, at least, you’re going to enjoy with Sungchan without thinking of teenage drama and hormones. 

"You still don't think you and Sungchan make the perfect pair?" Yuna pouts. 

You narrow your eyes. "I don't take opinions from traitors."

Chaeryoung leans back on her chair, and whispers to you asking if you’re okay. At least someone is concerned about you.

“It hurts to be left by my own friends but—”

“No, I meant, are you okay? Why aren’t you dating Sungchan already? You’re so cute together! And you’re best friends—Netflix writers literally daydream of this.”

You groan, throwing up your hands in defeat.

“And,” Yuna adds, knocking her chair closer. “Who’s really the traitor here? Us who ditched you with the love of your life—or you, who runs off every time she gets a call from her boyfriend?”

“Sungchan is not my boyfriend.” You cross your arms.

“She even shares her lunch with him more,” Ryujin complains from the side. “And they’re not even in the same class. Unlike me, by the way. Class 1 Shin Ryujin. Same class as you, (name).”

You slump, resting your forehead against the desk. At this point, you wish the teacher would walk in and start the class already. Unfortunately, lunch break isn’t over for another ten minutes and lady luck clearly isn’t smiling upon you. 

“Speak of the devil!” Ryujin announces monotonously, leaning against her desk.

Sungchan and a few of his friends from the soccer team wave at you and the girls from the classroom door. Noticing Taehyun, Yuna quickly fixes her hair and you would tease her if Sungchan hadn’t casually strolled up to your desk and sat down on the chair in front of you. Long legs barely contained in the space, he adjusts himself by resting his arm on the headrest and his chin upon it. It’s all normal. However, when he leans down to match your eye level, you hear the sudden pit-a-pat of your pulse in your ear. At this proximity, you can even see the mole on his lip that he’s pointed out before. The sunlight from the open windows is pulling golden strings over his eyelashes and his lips aren’t dry as a desert like you expected. You know he uses the watermelon flavoured lip balm. 

“Too close,” you croak. Embarrassed at your own voice, you rise sharply and glare at him.

“Is your heart fluttering?” Sungchan asks, smiling as he looks up at you.

You roll your eyes. 

You can hear Yuna’s giggling and before you can shoot her a glare, Sungchan calls. 

"Do you have any bandaids?" 

He points to a rough scratch at the base of his palm, fingers slender and less calloused than what you'd pictured. Then again, soccer players don't use their hands much, do they?

You blink. "You came all the way here for bandaids?"

"Well… I remembered you keep band-aids in your phone case. And the nurse hates me."

You giggle.

Yujin mouths from behind Sungchan, “He just wanted to see her.” 

You would feel flattered if you didn't know these people and their shenanigans. They'd do anything for some drama (and to get two innocent people into the dating trap).

“Why would I waste my cute band aids on you?” you mutter under your breath. “They’re limited edition, you know?”

No way are you sticking Ice Bear on your urban hazard of a best friend. A tall, cute, surprisingly polite hazard but he still annoys you nonetheless.

However, Sungchan's pleading smile has grown on you.

You reluctantly take the band-aid out of your clear phone case, the pink panda doll attached to it swaying with the movement. Proceeding, you take Sungchan's hand and lay it on your desk. With careful focus, you place the band-aid, admiring the size difference of your hands before snapping to reality.

Enough with the pink cloud of thoughts, you scold yourself.

When you look up, the proximity makes your heart skip a beat despite the logical part of you saying you shouldn't. Your faces are too close and this time, you don't even have the energy to croak it out.

"Thanks, (name)," Sungchan smiles at you. 

Right then, the sound of a chair sliding harshly against the floor makes the two of you jolt away from each other. All of your friends and his friends seem to be sporting Cheshire cat grins and you don't like it one bit. You don't like not being in on the gag.

"Anybody up for gaming after this? My treat." Chenle looks around. “Sungchan is banned from the arcade soccer game though.”

"'Ey," Sungchan complains.

"Hey, Jisung and Ryujin are banned from DDR too but that's because they almost broke the handles off last time."

The memory makes you smile. Sungchan was there too, and you don’t know why you’re only just recalling all the memories with him in it, carefully and in detail. Every one of them seems to have been amplified, the little interactions suddenly coming to mind. 

“(name)? You’re coming?”

You take one look at Sungchan and give up. Even if this is another childish ploy by your peers, you don't mind spending some more time at the arcade with infuriatingly addictive games. A tiny part of you is even willing to go along with them and see if it turns out the way they want it to.

“I’ll go,” you mumble, and the rest of the group cheers. 

“But I have cleaning duty today.”

The group groans. 

“Just get someone else to do it. Like a junior.”

“Isn’t that bullying?” You ask, frowning.

“Ask nicely. Anyone would be willing to do your bidding, (name).”

“Chenle, will you do it?” You give him a sickly sweet smile. “You’re class president after all.”

Chenle wrinkles his nose. “You’re getting stupider every day, (name).”

You sigh. “Fine. I’ll ask one of Yuna’s classmates then.”

“By the way,” Chenle announces. “Only twelfth graders are invited—”

A bunch of groans interrupt him. 

“Quit whining.” He crosses his arms, glaring at them. “What do you even have to worry about? We’re preparing for the exam of our lives. Oh, and Jisung is an exception.”

“We’re only two years apart,” Yuna mutters under her breath.

“Oh, and from class 5, only Sungchan is invited.”

Another round of complaints pass and Chenle breaks into laughter. “Just kidding.”

Your friends are and will always be an odd bunch. Sungchan has previously proved to be the weirdest (several times) and it makes him the most lovable too. But then again, you don’t have free space in your timetable to put in teenage crushes, much less falling for your best friend. What you do have time for this afternoon, however, is relaxing at the arcade. 

-

“Let’s go! I am so good at this. Think I’d impress your Steve Curry?” Ryujun gloats, after having scored three hoops in a row at the arcade basketball game.

“It’s Stephen Curry,” Chenle corrects. “And no, let’s focus here. Our goals are—”

He points to the two figures by the DDR machine, looking like a real couple. He’s been acting as damage control for the rumours and making sure you don’t drift apart because of it. They really don’t make guys like him anymore, Chenle sighs. He should get a friendship award or something.

“—those two.”

Really, Sungchan better be thanking him by the end of this. He’s never met anyone quite like Jung Sungchan, especially because Chenle cannot picture himself liking the same person since elementary school.

“Man, now I wish I had a girlfriend,” Chenle mutters.

Ryujin snorts. “Who’s going to date you?”

“You don’t have a boyfriend either,” Chenle reminds and gets a basketball to the shoulder.

“Why are you playing that when you don’t even know how to use it?” Your voice rings through to them.

“I said I’ll figure it out!” Sungchan reasons.

Chenle and Ryujin stare at the two of you blankly, as you bicker over a claw machine game and they share a look.

“Do they need our help?” Ryujin whispers.

Chenle shakes his head. “I think they’ll figure it out from here.”

Soon enough, you were laughing at Sungchan’s failed attempts and trying to outplay him. Your friends have already given you the shove. Chenle and Ryujin share a high five and that’s where the new story begins.

You finally know the thrill of a teenage crush. It makes you so damn infuriated that it had to be Jung Sungchan. 

Now every time he waves at you from the field or hands you a bottle of strawberry milk or explains the calc notes you missed or does the bare minimum, you need to deal with the quickening of your pulse and a few butterflies loose from their cage in your stomach. It doesn’t help that you’re almost always together.

The two of you currently sit by the school field, Sungchan tying his shoelaces while you cool off with the water bottle he offered you. Practice ended a while ago for you and the girls have receded into the air conditioned indoor gym. The indoor gym is apparently occupied by the gymnast club and you couldn’t be more disappointed that you didn’t join them instead. 

If anything, however, you’d rather leave this whole thing and focus on your academics. Hobbies shouldn’t be draining you—they should feel like skateboarding on a lilac evening with the wind in your hair.

With a friend you like very, very much.

“Sungchan,” you call quietly. 

“Hm?” 

When he looks up, you can’t hold in the urge to fix the hair out of his eyes. You’ve never been very physically affectionate so it might have come off strange. Sungchan looks at you quietly, stars in his eyes and you clear your throat.

“How long have you been playing soccer? It was before we met, right?”

He hums, eyes traveling up and then back to you when he remembers. “Since I was six. You were there at my first soccer match actually.”

“I was? Oh my god, was it the one you lost horribly and the whole team started crying?”

“Yes. Yes, it was.”

You giggle. “Six year old you would be so in awe now.”

Sungchan beams at that. 

“Who knows?” he smiles, looking into your eyes with firm determination. “Maybe I’ll be the next Son Heungmin.”

“Even I know who that is so… no.”

Sungchan pouts and you make a face in disgust. “Don’t act cute, it gives me hives.”

“Okay, maybe not Son Heungmin. I could definitely be the next Park Jisung—and I don’t mean him.”

Sungchan points to a boy passed out on the benches, his exhaustion typical of any high schooler while another boy sits beside him, fanning him with a bunch of assignment papers. Jisung and Chenle really are more entertaining than any game on this field. 

You turn to look at Sungchan, who’s moving his head around trying to catch their attention. When he finally does, he waves at them and gets big grins in response. He’s not all that bad, you think. In fact, he’s quite possibly the most amiable boy in senior year.

“Just be Jung Sungchan,” you mutter. “Not Son Heungmin or Park Jisung.”

Sungchan turns to you, smiling wide. “Advice taken.”

You scoff. “Whatever.”

Maybe it’s just you but Sungchan has been glancing at your lips very frequently today and mentally thank Chaeryoung for letting you borrow her lip tint. You didn’t know something so subtle could get you this giddy.

“Are you… going to give the CSAT?” You ask, glancing at him nervously. Part of you is sad you only developed your first high school crush in the very last semester. Or if it’s comforting, you could believe you’ve liked him all this time.

“Nah. Sports scholarship,” he says nonchalantly. “I was going to tell you but… I’ve been scouted already.”

You gasp. “That’s… great. Your future’s all settled.”

Sungchan seems to dislike the idea, lips pursing. “I don’t think anything’s settled except for the next step.”

You nod, somewhat understanding. 

“What about you?” He asks. “Any university in mind? SKY? I’ve seen you study extra hours at the library.”

You look away, not feeling ready for the conversation.

“I don’t know,” you say quietly. “I don’t know what I like and what I want. I don’t even like cheer anymore.”

Sungchan gazes at you wordlessly but it’s the most comfortable you’ve felt talking about this.

“Maybe I should quit,” you mumble.

You don’t want to commit to something you no longer have passion for. But then again, you’ve spent so much time on it that it’s hard to leave. 

“You should,” he responds, honest. 

You scoff, shaking yourself from that moment of vulnerability. “But why would I quit something I’m good at?”

“If you don’t like it. If it hurts to leave but isn’t any better when you stay, you should leave.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re quite the philosopher.”

“I’m smart, right?”

You smile. 

“Oy, you two!” Chenle calls, making his way to you two with Jisung trailing behind. “I don’t mean to interrupt your flirting but you got a spare water bottle?”

“Are you two going out now?” Jisung asks as a follow-up, and you feel a hot flush for some reason, unlike the previous times you’ve been asked this question.

“No,” you answer. You don’t mind the idea though now.

“Don’t lie,” Chenle complains. “I saw that picture of Sungchan teaching you how to kick a ball. You? And soccer? Something’s up.”

You throw up your hands in exasperation. “Seriously, who keeps up posting to the school page? And where do they get the time?”

"Two people with this much compatibility will always be a hot topic."

"We're not compatible," you retort quickly.

"Wait," Jisung says. "I know how to resolve this."

You raise an eyebrow.

"How do you have your cereal?" He asks, looking from you to Sungchan.

"Cereal first, obviously," you answer.

Sungchan looks up, finger below his chin as he thinks. "I drink the milk first, then eat the cereal and then breakdance to mix it all together."

You pinch your nose. "I swear I question your sanity all the time."

"Hah! That means you're thinking about me all the time."

You look away, rolling your eyes. He responds with an open-mouthed smile and finger guns.

"See?" Jisung grins. "Compatible."

The gruff voice of Coach Lee startles the four of you and Sungchan leaves with a sigh and a promise of meeting after practice. Jisung leaves with Sungchan and Chenle gives you one last teasing smirk before sitting down and going through the assignment papers he was using as a fan previously. You will never understand his miraculous ways of performing his presidential duties.

You don’t have a good feeling about the next match. The only reason you’re even sticking around anymore—as embarrassing as it—is to spend more time with Sungchan. Being with him puts you at ease, even if the school tries to wrap the two of you in a rope of uneasiness. This is your very last practice, for the next match is the final one of this year and then you’ll be back to spending even longer hours at the library with a stack of textbooks. It’s supposed to be a carefree age. At least, adults say that. Your high school life seems to be riddled with worries, and with that thought, you head into the air conditioned room to take a breather off your anxieties. 

Only one more match, you remind yourself. 

The pre-match buzz is driving you to the edge.

Your form is off, you can feel it already and Coach Kim isn’t as sunshine-as-rainbows as she usually is, courtesy to it being the last match of your life. She’ll never know though, how much you don’t want to do this. 

Sungchan waves at you as he usually does before a match, disappointing a third of his fangirls, but it helps you ease. One last time, (name).

Watching the crowd of people, parents and siblings and friends, all excited and talking makes you take a deep breath. You practiced but it wasn’t good enough. You can never do well at something you don’t like anymore. This time, you feel guilty for committing to things half-heartedly. You want to start that fresh new college chapter already, with all of this behind.

There’s ten minutes left. You go back to the empty hall outside the lockers only to pace. This isn’t helping.

“(name)!”

You turn around abruptly to find Sungchan’s tall figure, and you must be looking miserable because his smile falls.

He doesn’t even ask what’s wrong, only takes careful steps towards you. “Do you need water? Medicine?”

His hands hover over your shoulder but he doesn’t burden you with them. You put your face in your palms and sigh, sinking down to the floor in a crouch.

“I want to quit,” you whisper. Your voice comes off more brittle than you’d like, and you realize that Sungchan hasn’t seen you cry since seventh grade when you failed a math test. You didn’t tell him then but you appreciated him studying extra hours for math just to teach you.

“You don’t have to go out there if you don’t want to,” he says quietly, dropping to the floor beside you. “I’ll stay with you.”

You stare at him dumbfounded. “Don’t be ridiculous! They’ll lose without you—you’re the ace, Sungchan!”

“There will always be an ace,” he retorts. “Maybe Jisung will finally get to shine. Or anyone else. I don’t mind spending an hour with you alone.”

You feel a hot flush spread over your cheeks. Looking away to the side, you mumble an ‘alright’ and only glance from the corner of your eye to see him smiling. Jung Sungchan is the most unreasonable boy you’ve ever met. Perhaps it makes him somewhat loveable too.

“It’s your last match,” you whisper helplessly.

“I’ll join the college soccer club and get to play more matches.”

You sigh, giving in. If he’s so adamant, you think that perhaps there is something in you worth sacrificing his game over. It makes an oddly warm feeling bloom in your chest. Sungchan is so damn convincing with his words. You wonder if it’s really okay.

With shoulders touching, an awkward silence takes over in the next second. You turn to him and open your mouth, watch him do the same and close it at the same time he does.

“You know,” he begins, “I was kind of lying about not worrying because I get the feeling coach will evaporate me tomorrow but—I can handle it. Mostly.”

You stare at him with wide, worried eyes. “You don’t have to do this, Sungchan. I’m the one running away.”

You slouch, pulling your knees closer to your chest and burying your face in them. The urge to scream is boiling within you but you can’t get caught. Not now.

“Sometimes to run is the brave thing,” he responds, insightful. “If you’re not up for it, it’s better to quit early than to regret it in the long run.”

You don’t know if it’s the fact that he just quoted Taylor Swift or spoke like your old school counselor—but you find yourself laughing. He makes sense. Sungchan, in his weird, oddball ways, always makes sense. And in that same way, he feels like home.

“You’re so good to me,” you say, looking up at him and at a proximity you’ve never been before.

It’s his turn to fluster, though he doesn’t do so as visibly as you do. He clears his throat, shifting his eyes around before meeting yours. “I- This is bad timing but… I like you. I really do. Since third grade when you drew that birthday card for me. I have it in my bedside drawer, by the way.”

He looks away and makes a face, probably wondering why he said that out loud.

You press your lips tight to prevent the smile that tugs at them. He looks at you with a wobbly smile, trying his hardest to resume his usual dignity—but he’s just a boy, after all. 

“My type is dumb and pretty, though?” You tease, the smile escaping. “You said it yourself.”

He blinks. “Well, I am pretty but if you want me to be stu—”

You shake your head. “I like you too. You don’t have to act cute.”

He pauses, thinking. “I have never acted cute in my life ever. I was born cu—”

You hold his face between your thumb and forefinger. “You do that again and you die.”

He breaks into a smile. 

“I’ve never met someone quite like you,” you whisper, embarrassed of your own feelings bubbling up from the bottle you had kept them in.

He laughs, open-mouthed and pretty. 

“Actually, hey, I didn’t like you all this time from fifth. I liked you and then I didn’t like you and then I liked you again—”

“Okay, I get it.”

His shoulders relax and he smiles at you. You look up at the clock on the wall by the entrance to the field and bite your lip. You don’t love performing anymore but you know all the girls do, even the stand-bys. Jisung might not have to take over Sungchan’s position but you bet one of those tenth graders would love to take yours, the same way you did back then. They’ve practiced harder than you too and it’s only a matter of deserving.

You take a deep breath and get up, pulling up Sungchan by the hand. He raises an eyebrow, inquisitive eyes scanning over your face and you smile at him, strengthening your resolve. You should have done this way sooner.

-

Sungchan plays. You don’t let him sit it out with you. 

Halfway through, you cheer the hardest you ever have, plastic decorative gemstones stuck by your eyes borrowed from the other girls cheering. It’s much more fun, you think. You’ve never experienced soccer like this. You’d love to sit at stadiums and join in victory chants. There’s enough weight off your chest to yell your lungs out.

Sungchan scores a goal almost immediately after and sends a thumbs up over to you. You laugh. This is the best break you’ve ever taken from cheerleading. 

“Ooh, is this perhaps the (name) effect?” Chenle’s voice rings through the speakers and you feel yourself shrink slightly under the eyes. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see your homeroom teacher signal very angrily to the commentator box. You shake yourself off it. So what if everyone’s looking?

Sungchan places his hands on his hips, chest heaving and sends another signal to you before beelining for a straight goal. You whoop and the girl with a notebook beside you is visibly annoyed at this point but you don’t care. 

Without doubt, your school wins and you watch as Sungchan runs to his team, a big smile on his face. The second he’s done getting pet by the team, however, he rushes to the bleachers, skipping over the steps to you, panting when he stops. The risk he took was definitely not calculated. He holds up one finger while he heaves.

“My cheering worked best this time, it seems,” you say to him, laughing.

His face is flushed from the exertion but he laughs heartily. “You could be yelling profanity at me and it’d still encourage me.”

You shake your head at the cheesy line. He takes a step forward, well inside your space but you don’t mind. He leans in.

“Everyone is looking at us,” he says under his breath. “Is that a good or a bad thing?”

You look behind him to find the whole team, along with your girls sharing furtive glances and giggling at the sight of the two of you. A few of the junior girls slap each other’s arms, bouncing on the balls of their feet in excitement. You’re not a celebrity. But everyone wants to cheer things on once in a while, don’t they?

“Good,” you answer, before pulling him by the shirt into a chaste kiss. When you pull apart, Sungchan’s face is so struck with awe that you want to look away but instead you bite back an obvious smile. It’s about damn time, someone from the soccer team yells.

“Woah. I think I scored a goal either way,” he says, an offbeat smile on his face.

“Oh come on, we didn’t even get to chant ‘Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!’ yet—oh shit, the mic’s on.”

Chenle is definitely getting an earful from your teacher after this. The two of you wave at him at the box and end up laughing at him trying to hide behind the desk. 

As expected, the whole crowd surrounds the two of you in less than a minute’s worth of time, with several congratulations and “good score” offered to the two of you. The boys mess up Sungchan’s hair while the girls compliment you on how cute a couple you are. There’s also the question of when you started dating that pauses the buzz and makes everyone look to the two of you for an answer. Sungchan turns to you and you turn to him, and there’s no way you’ll tell half the school that your confession came in a private hallway outside the field—teenage imaginations run wild. 

Instead, you slip your hand into Sungchan’s and run down the bleachers and towards the exit, laughter spilling from your lips. There’s only one place you can think of going to spend a cool blue late afternoon with.

“Skate plaza?” He asks.

“Skate plaza,” you answer.

[inkplotkey]

Okay here some Glomscrooge (I guess I picked Ducktales 2017 universe this time) short fics I wrote with the promts this post gave me:

Prompts: Hurt/comfort

Panic attack+helping them through it

Scrooge gulped. He couldn’t believe that The Beagle Boys had actually managed to capture him. He was now in some sort of a shed, roped tightly. Suddenly the door opened and one of the Beagle Boys threw something on the floor.

”Hi Scrooge, you got company!”

The door closed again. Scrooge looked at the form lying on the floor. No, it couldn’t be…

”Glomgold?”

”Ughhh…”

”They got you too?” Scrooge asked in surprise.

Flintheart managed to sit up and looked a bit dazed. He turned to look at his long time rival.

”Scrooge? What is going on?”

”I’m not sure exactly”, Scrooge answered with a frown. ”The Beagle Boys captured us. I think they will demand ransom.”

”Oh no!” Flintheart exclaimed. ”Not my money!”

”I’m sure we will get out of here before we need to pay them”, Scrooge said confidently.

Flintheart didn’t look convinced however. He had an uneasy expression on his face.

”They said… they are going to hurt us if we don’t cooperate”, he said with a shaky voice.

”What?” asked Scrooge in confusion.

”I have a high tolerance for pain”, Flintheart said. ”I have a high tolerance for pain…”

Scrooge looked at his rival who was repeating the same sentence over and over as in some kind of a trance.

”Flinty? What’s the matter?” he asked and frowned.

Flintheart didn’t reply. His eyes started to look glassy and he actually trembled. Scrooge became worried for the other’s unusual behavior.

”Flinty?” he asked again.

The shorter duck was now hyperventilating. Scrooge gasped as he realised that the other duck was having a panic attack. He hopped next to him so that he faced him.

”Hey, it’s all right, they are not going to hurt us”, Scrooge said with a calming voice. ”That was just bluff. If they hurt us, no one would give them ransom money!”

Flintheart didn’t seem to react to the words and was still having trouble with his breathing. Scrooge cursed silently as he wished he could touch the other duck. He started to jiggle his arms. After a while the ropes seemed to loosen a bit, just enough that Scrooge could get free of the ropes.

He took the ropes off him and hurried to pat his rival comfortingly.

”Hey, it’s okay, it’s going to be okay, Flintheart”, he whispered and stroked his arm.

Flintheart’s gaze turned into him, looking fearful but not as glassy as before.

Scrooge continued to whisper him calming thoughts, hoping it would soothe the other enough.

Gradually Flintheart’s breathing became more even and he could breathe in and out again. Scrooge sighed in relief.

”I’m here, Flinty”, he said with a gentle voice.

Flintheart had tears in his eyes. He looked at Scrooge.

Scrooge’s heart ached. He realised the other was still roped and he opened the knots, freeing Flintheart.

Scrooge wasn’t sure what came over him but he hugged his nemesis. Flintheart was rigid at first but then answered the embrace.

”Don’t worry, we’re going to get out of here”, Scrooge whispered.

Prompts: Angst

Lost memory

 Scrooge frowned. Had the other duck hit his head? Why didn’t he remember Scrooge’s name?

Flintheart Glomgold just blinked and looked at him questioningly.

”Do I really know you, sir?” he asked in confusion.

”Know me? You are my most bitter rival!” Scrooge exclaimed. ”Are you joking right now, Flintheart?”

Flintheart shook his head, even more confused. Why was this duck in top hat talking to him?

”Don’t you remember how you always scheme against me and want to compete in every thing possible with me?” Scrooge asked and cocked his head. ”Like just yesterday we had a staring contest here at the Billionaire’s Club!”

”Staring contest? Sounds ridiculous”, Flintheart commented. ”Surely I have better things to do than that.”

”You don’t remember anything about me?” Scrooge asked in worry.

”No, should I?” Flintheart asked.

”Bless me bagpipes, of course! We have been rivals for decades! Your sole purpose in life seems to try best me in everything!” Scrooge said exasperated.

”Sounds stupid”, Flintheart said.

Scrooge couldn’t believe it but he felt really pained for Flintheart losing his memory of him like this. It didn’t feel right the other didn’t seem to care about their rivalry anymore. How would he regain his memories again? Was it even possible?

”Flinty, try to remember! Us, together, golfing… remember when we had that golf tournament in the moors of Scotland?” Scrooge tried to trigger some old memories out of the younger duck.

”Doesn’t ring a bell. Why would I go to Scotland to play golf with you?” Flintheart asked perplexed.

”Because you would go to the end of the world for me because of pure spite”, Scrooge said and let out a sob.

”Sounds very unlikely”, Flintheart said. ”Why would I care do I lose or win to you?

”Flintheart, don’t you really remember anything?” Scrooge asked. ”Like when you once teamed up with all of my enemies just so you could beat me in a bet?”

”No”, Flintheart said and frowned. ”Why would I do that? I’m a capable businessman, I don’t need help.”

”You really have forgotten me”, Scrooge said sadly. ”You don’t seem like yourself at all.”

Scrooge hated to see Flintheart so indifferent, not seeming to care about their feud or shared past that went on decades. Usually the other would rile easily and challenge him into some kind of contest. His hatred for Scrooge was passionate, so it felt odd that he wasn’t explaining one of his schemes maniacally to Scrooge. Now Flintheart’s eyes looked cold and distant.

Scrooge looked as Flintheart sat down and started to read a newspaper. He didn’t seem to care about Scrooge’s presence at all. Scrooge wasn’t used to being ignored like this by him.

”Why are you staring at me?” Flintheart asked.

Scrooge wish there would be some emotion in his words, but they sounded impassive and uncaring. Scrooge sniffed and sat down on his chair as well.

”No reason”, Scrooge said hollowly and glanced at his rival who wasn’t the same anymore.

 Prompts: Fluff

Being carried

”No one beats me in arm wrestling!” Scrooge declared and put his hand in front of him at the table.

”Oh yeah, it’s time for a new champion”, Flintheart said and smirked.

They started to arm wrestle. Scrooge was surprised to find out Flintheart was actually strong.

”How come we haven’t done this before?” Scrooge asked, trying to distract the other.

Flintheart was oddly focused and only grunted.

Suddenly Scrooge felt itching in his beak and he sneezed loudly. Flintheart took an advantage of the situation and and pulled Scrooge’s hand so that it touched the desk.

”I won!” Flintheart shouted in joy.

”Hey, no fair!” Scrooge exclaimed and cleaned his beak. ”I sneezed!”

”That’s a poor excuse”, Flintheart said. ”I won, fair and square!”

”This must be a first…” Scrooge mumbled in annoyance.

His pride had been hurt. He had never lost in an arm wrestling contest before. He needed to prove he was still the toughest of the toughies or else he would lose a face forever.

”I bet I can carry you to your room!” Scrooge cried and moved to take Flintheart in his arms.

”What?!” asked Flintheart in surprise as he was being lifted.

Scrooge started to carry Flintheart upstairs. He huffed and puffed as the stairs were quite steep.

”What on earth are you doing, McDuck?” Flintheart shouted, feeling flustered. ”Put me down this instant!”

”No!” Scrooge said and continued climbing the stairs up. ”Which room was your again?”

”Err, 526”, Flintheart said confused.

”Great, another four more floors”, Scrooge mumbled. ”Count on you to take the cheapskate room in a conference hotel for billionaires.”

”Hey, at least I’m not sleeping in a windowless room at the basement like some ducks!” Flintheart exclaimed in annoyance.

After reaching the third floor, Scrooge started to feel exhausted.

”What are you trying to prove by this?” Flintheart asked. ”It doesn’t make any sense! And I’m usually the not sensible one!”

”Ugh, must show that I am stronger”, Scrooge mumbled and gritted his teeth.

”Hah! Scroogie, are you worried you have become a weak old man?” Flintheart laughed in delight.

”I’m not! Now shut up!” Scrooge grumbled.

”Oh congrats to the newlyweds!” said a man on the fourth floor.

”What?” asked Scrooge and Flintheart in unison.

Then they realised Scrooge had been carrying Flintheart in bridal style. Both of them blushed deeply.

”Great, we will be the main topic of the conference now”, Scrooge mumbled.

”It’s your own fault”, Flintheart said, still blushing visibly.

It felt actually pretty nice being carried like this. Scrooge was pretty exhausted though which gave Flintheart childish joy.

Finally they reached Flintheart’s room and he opened it with a key card. Scrooge put Flintheart gently on the bed with his last strength.

”I did it!” Scrooge exclaimed in triumph. ”In your face, Glomgold!”

”You sure you didn’t lose a face there?” Flintheart asked sarcastically. ”It seems you are willing to go such lengths to secure a victory that you will make a fool out of yourself in the process.”

Suddenly a hotel worker came in the room.

”I heard you two are a newlywed couple so I booked you a deluxe suite with a king sized bed next to this room, on the house of course!”

”W-whaaat?” Scrooge and Flintheart yelled.

”You should move to your new room now, there is a customer coming to this room soon”, the worker said. ”Have a fun visit!”

Both ducks blushed deeply, unable to think how to react.

[nat-20s]

for @jonmartinweek day 8! (which I definitely realized was happening and for sure did not forget lmao). The prompt was free day/au, so I picked my own theme of “pets”. The last few fics have been pretty loaded, so please enjoy some pure post canon (literal and figurative) fluff

~*~

“I can’t believe I married a dog person.”

They weren’t even supposed to be in the shelter. They had made no plans to visit a shelter. However, as Jon has been learning over the course of the past couple years, a Martin not under duress and given free time outside will inevitably end up trying to befriend any living nonhuman creature in the immediate vicinity.

“I’m not a dog person.”

“The lapful of beagle puppy would indicate otherwise.”

“Just because I appreciate the company of a very good boy, yes you are, doesn’t mean I’m a dog person. Dog person implies I have a preference. I like cats equally as much as I like dogs. Unlike some of us, my heart is open to all manner of furry friends.”

“I don’t...hate dogs.”

“Uh-huh. Is that why you won’t pet Rufio here?”

“He’s nippy, I don’t trust him. And it’s just that dogs are A Lot. I find most of them a bit overwhelming. And needy.”

“Pff, that’s no excuse. You’ve been best friends with overwhelming, and you married needy.”

Martin lets out a distracted giggle as Rufio finally gets in a lick on his face. Okay, maybe it is a pretty adorable sight, but that’s hardly sufficient enough evidence to actually let such an energetic ball of fluff into their home. Still, it’s enough to convince Jon to sit down next to them, and give Rufio a very tentative scritch behind the ears. “I think we both qualify as the needy one in our relationship.”

“Pretty sure that’s called codependency. What would our therapist say?”

“She’d probably say that’s a bit harsh. And that we still need to work on our separation anxiety.”

“Hey, you know what helps with separation anxiety?”

“No.”

“A dog!”

“No!”

They get a dog. Their flat is decently sized and they both have steady incomes and enough free time between them to take proper care of her. They don’t get Rufio, but instead a 7 year old mutt named Daffodil who is, admittedly, the most gentle and sweet creature Jon’s ever met. They also get a cat, a rambunctious 2 year old tabby named Jack (“We can change the name.” “Jon! How dare you! Jack responds to his name, clearly he likes it!”) who had already decided Daffodil was his mom, and they couldn’t possibly bear not adopting them together.

~*~

“You know, we could get a tarantula.”

“Fuck off.”

“I’m serious! They’re not, like, evil in this universe, and some of them have cutest little pink toesie woesies.”

“You’re not serious, you’re being a bastard, and I hate you.”

Martin wraps his arms around Jon’s waist and presses a kiss to the side of his face, which Jon gives a half-hearted swat at, because, again, the man’s being a bastard. Stubbornly ignoring Jon’s pout, Martin presses his cheek to the top of Jon’s head, cheerfully replying, “I’m fine with that, as long as you promise to hate me for the rest of our lives.”

“Well, I certainly can’t make that promise. I won’t even hate you ten seconds from now. I suppose you’ll have to settle for love instead.”

“Hmm. Deal.”

“We’re still not getting a fucking tarantula.”

They do not get a tarantula. Their home remains admirably spider free.

~*~

Martin’s gasp is loud enough to echo, and Jon can feel him begin to vibrate next to him. The excitement is perplexing at first, they’ve been to this bookstore dozens of times, and it’s never elicited this sort of response. Then Jon looks over to the front counter, where a medium-sized cage and a “For adoption” sign have been put on display. With a wild, jubilant glee, Martin asks, “Sonja! Are those baby. Dumbo. Rats?!”

“Sure are! I’ve got a friend who’s a breeder, I take it you’re interested?”

“Yes, absolutely, 100%, we’re getting two immediately.”

“Well…”

Martin snaps his head over to look at Jon with a look of betrayal the likes of which Jon hasn’t seen since the panopticon. “Jonathan, no!”

“Um.”

“You can not tell me you you don’t like rats! Dumbo rats especially!”

“I…”

Ticking off on his fingers, Martin lists, “They’re adorable, they’re smart, they’re cleanly, they’re extremely empathetic, they’re tickilish, which is stupidly cute, they can be trained to use a litter box and do tricks, they’re snuggly and playful and perfect! They’re all the good parts of dogs combined with the best parts of cats in one tiny portable package! Look at their little ears, that are like that because of a slight difference in skull shape that has no negative health effects! Plus, we can set them up in the project room, since Captain Jack isn’t allowed in there anyway. How can you dislike rats?”

“I don’t know! They just sort of..freak me out. Or not all of them, just their feet. I don’t like their little man hands.”

Martin throws his arms in the air, proclaiming, “Their little man hands are one of their best qualities! Look, Jon, are you genuinely afraid of them, or just slightly discomfited?”

“I would say mediumly discomfited. This isn’t like spiders.”

“Cool. ‘Cause in that case, we’re getting the light tan one and the solid white one, their names shall be Peaches and Cream, and you will love them as much as you love our dog and cat children.”

“That’s a rather bold claim.”

“It’s an accurate one. You’ll see.”

Within a week, Jon is transporting Peaches ‘n’ Cream in the pocket of his hoodie, and he can feel Martin’s smug aura from two rooms away. Damn him.

~*~

“Did you know snakes don’t have an amygdala?”

“Okay? You didn’t have to bring me to a reptile store to tell me that.”

“I didn’t bring you to a reptile store to tell you that. I brought you to a reptile store because I want to hold a cornsnake.”

Jon rolls his eyes, but the fondness in his voice somewhat undercuts it. “Of course you do.”

Martin makes a scaly acquaintance in less than two minutes, and as the snake coils around his fingers, he continues, “Anyway, if they don’t have amygladas, do they feel fear in a way similar to us, or is it only a recognition of threats and instinctual response?”

“Martin, my love, I have no idea. Is this going somewhere? It’s fine if not, I’m just checking in.”

“Yes. Because if they don’t feel fear, I’m getting this snake and naming her Georgie.”

That makes Jon let out a sharp bark of laugh, and, for a moment, he’s able to reminisce without any pain. “You know, I think she’d actually love that? She also had a proclivity for all creatures great and small. And a terrible sense of humor.”

“Wow, you really have a type, huh. Also hey! My sense of humor is fantastic! It always makes my husband laugh, and he has very exacting standards.”

“Liar. Your husband finds joy with you at the slightest provocation, no good sense of humor needed.”

“Hmm. He is a bit of a softie, isn’t he? Which is why he’ll let me get this snake.”

“He most certainly will not.”

“But….look at her….”

“It’s not a matter of how cute she is, dear. It’s a matter of you made us get pet rats less than a month ago, there’s absolutely no way you’re going to be able to feed mice to a snake.”

Martin looks at the cornsnake, looks at Jon, looks back, and his shoulders slump. With a wince, he asks, “Maybe frozen mice won’t be too bad?”

“What if she’s picky?”

“...There are species of snake that only eat bugs.”

“Cornsnakes aren’t one of them.”

Waving over an assistant, Martin puts the cornsnake back with a defeated, “Fine. When you’re right, you’re right.”

Jon doesn’t particularly feel like he’s won an argument. In fact, he’s a bit disappointed himself, he always liked snakes. Big fan of reptiles in general, actually, which is probably what drives him to say, “Lizards don’t usually eat mice.”

That’s how they walk out of the store with three leopard geckos.

~*~

Jon’s helping Martin set up the gecko tank in what can now be affectionately called a zoo when all of the sudden it strikes him. Some of the animals in their home right now have life spans of 10-20 years, and never once had the necessary longevity of care come up as a reason to protest against them. Jon had felt so at ease with the concept of a future that he hadn’t even thought about it, hadn’t been steeling himself for the other shoe to drop. He’s stopped having bated breath every time something good happens, instead taking reassurance in a sense of permanence that he wasn’t sure he’d ever feel again. Martin must hear his breath hitch, because he immediately stops what he’s doing to take Jon’s hand into his own. “Something wrong, love?”

Jon shakes his head. “No, nothing. I suppose I’m realizing that we have time, don’t we?”

Martin must know exactly what he means, the weight behind the words, because he brings Jon’s hand to his lips and says, “Yes. Yes, we really, really do.”

[scriptaed]

his side, her side finale | 00:00

genre: angst/fluff/implied smut; 

pairing: reader x jungkook;

length: 4.6k;

synopsis: a collective snapshots in time shared between two, whose fates were undeniably intertwined and futures would never come to be.

No matter how infinite the pages could write itself, in the way that he catches her stealing glances from across the room or the scalding spark imprinted on her hand by the touch of his own, there really are only three versions to every story: his side, her side, and the truth’s side; and in your unsolicited albeit self-justified defense, the truth is, what was once seemingly perpetual is now merely trivial. The imagery that once had you kicking and screaming into your sheets at night, the fleeting moments that were shared by both but valued by one, and the inevitably incessant burden of jealousy brought upon by a fervent want that could never be had could only have been falsified by a break—spatially, temporally, and heartfully. The mind can only tug so much at one’s strings; and yet, to be bent, only time could prove possible.

...and that time is exactly what is needed by all.

her side;

“Are you joining us for dinner tonight, Y/N?” 

“Huh? What?” your ears perk at the sound of your friend’s call. 

“Oh, there she goes again,” your other friend interjects with the roll of her eyes. You almost collapse when she swings a hand over your shoulder. “Are you sure you don’t want to get your ears checked?”

“No, but I might have to get my eyes checked,” you joke, despite pulling in all the performance points you could win with a disdainful scan up and down her less than professional attire. Thankfully, your act is gleefully extended by her cheesy gawk of an expression. Putting up a merciful pair of hands in the air, you laugh, “hey, in all seriousness, it’s not my fault you guys keep drooling over boys.”

“Uhuh, so you’re trying to tell us that boy talk is what’s putting you to sleep?” your friend’s accomplice crosses her arms, raising an accusatory pair of brows. 

“Yeah,” you say much too seriously so you throw in an airy laugh, “I mean, there’s more to life than boys, y’know?”

“Right, like…?”

“Like…” your voice trails off because, for some reason, your mind goes blank as you attempt to recall your lifestyle from your previous hometown. “Like… hanging out with friends! With you guys!”

“Gah! You’re only able to say that because you have dozens of boys chasing you around the office. Us, on the other hand, time just… it just keeps ticking…” the two of them sigh in synchronization and you feel the heat of her arms retract as she shakes the hand of her one and only sympathizer. 

“Psh,” you can’t help but grin throughout the frown elicited by their vivacious performance, “you guys have plenty of time. Just enjoy life for now and I’m sure you’ll find someone along the way.” 

“Wait, but seriously,” her voice suddenly rises from her previously sullen state, as does her head on her friend’s shoulder. She looks you dead in the eye, and, honestly, you almost feel as though your privacy had just been invaded. “You really haven’t ever liked anyone before?” 

“Uh…” you scatter through the disarrayed files that were your buried memories, eyes squinting at the sun that peeks through the clearing sky after a day full of rainfall. “Elementary and middle school don’t really count… too busy studying in high school… college was full of fuck boys I couldn’t care less for… and at work…”

The more that you hear yourself ramble, the more the reality of your lonesome future settles into the already burdened shoulders of yours.

“At work? You mean here? Or do you mean your last job?”

“Well,” you frown, trying to recall every male colleague that had piqued even the tiniest of interest in you; and as the two of your friends lean in, you start to lean back, despite the charging light bulb that flickers from the unlocked recollection of two years ago. “There was a guy who liked me and told everyone at work that he liked me, which I thought was really weird… nice guy, kind of a nerd, but I didn’t like him that way. Who else? Uh, hm—”

—bzzz. 

The vibration against your back pocket pulls the plug from your train of thought. 

“Aw man,” you hear your friends curse in the background, “just when we were finally getting her to spill something.” 

The name on your screen has your heart skipping with delight.

 Yezi [5:20 PM] Hey, I know you’re gonna forget, so you before you do, we’re having dinner together tonight :) 

“It’s okay,” your friend pats the back of the other, “there’ll be some cute enough boys for her at tonight’s barbeque, I’m sure.”

“Ah shit,” you curse under your breath, hastily typing a response before peering up at your friends like a deer caught in the headlights, “actually, guys, turns out I already made plans with my friend from home. I’m sooo sorry.”

“Oh, really?” the two of them gasp. “Isn’t that a two hour train ride from here?” 

“Yeah, so I really got to go now,” your phone tumbles into your bag as you begin to widen your strides like a woman on a mission. 

They shake their heads in unison, “no, no, it’s okay!”

“I’m seriously so sorry guys,” you say as you pant, the distance between you and your friends widening by the second and forcing you to whirl around as you pace backwards. “I’ll make it up to you next time and do whatever you guys want, okay?”

“Really? Anything?”

“Yeah,” your hands draw a wide, inclusive circle into the air, “anything.” 

“Even a blind date?” 

“You know what? Why the hell not?” you chime, whirling back around with your back on them and a smile hidden away. Skipping off into the opposite direction toward the train station, you exclaim nonchalantly, “new year, new me!”

Lately, either through a stroke of luck or a reset of a life in a new town, there’s been something spectacularly whimsical about tonight’s air; and when a zephyr passes by, lifting you to the tip of your toes to an invincible high and relaying the confuzzled whispers of your friends—

“—wait, it’s not a new year, it’s already April—”

—you finally acquire a two year long-sought sensation: golden.

-

“I can’t believe you almost forgot about our plans!” 

“Hey, I had a reminder set on my phone just ten minutes after your reminder” you quip with pursed lips, “and I still made it on time, didn’t I?”

“Yeah,” Yezi prims with a stern look plastered across her face, gesturing, “with your hair and clothes damp in rain and your face smiling like a wagging, clueless beagle.”

“Well… beagles are cute, so I’ll take that as a compliment?” 

She frowns, ignoring your remark, “did you not check the weather forecast?”

“I did.”

“So why didn’t you bring an umbrella?”

“I forgot.”

“Ugh, you forget everything these days,” she plants a palm to her forehead before returning to her plate, “well, I’m glad that at least you’re so carefree nowadays. You’ve finally settled into your new workplace, huh? You look so happy now.”

“You talk—” it���s difficult to speak with food being stuffed into your mouth “—as if I lost a loved one.”

“Well,” she grits her teeth, as if biting her tongue, and proceeds to slice the slab of steak, “I wouldn’t say that’s too farfetched.” 

Frowning, your words come out muffled through puffed cheeks, “whaddya mean by dat?”

“You can’t tell me you forgot about what happened last time you were in town.”

“Uh…?” you furrow your brows, tracing into a forgotten yet familiar field you had long neglected for your own wellbeing. Last time you were in town, last time you were working here, last time you went out on a company party, last time you walked through this town’s treacherously embracing frosty breeze, last time you were dining here, last time you got wasted, not just here but anywhere, last time you shed tears… all the last times of this town shared only one similarity, a similarity you had subconsciously left behind at some point in your transition between the past and the now. 

“Do I really have to say it myself?” she leans in, concerned. “I don’t want you bawling your eyes out again…”

Did she possibly mean… him?

“Jeon Jungkook,” she blurts, “there! I said it!”

Her utensils clatter onto her plate as she tosses her hands in the air in mercy, almost as if bracing herself for the storm after the calm, observing you intently but warily; that supposed storm, however and ever so fortunately, never arrives. 

“Oh,” you utter, words slipping from your lips like sand through a palm, “I’m not crying.”

“You’re not crying,” she confirms, astonished. 

“It doesn’t… hurt anymore?” you almost ask yourself. 

“It doesn’t?”

“It doesn’t,” you utter, shaking your head. Just as she’s caught off guard, you lurch across the table to pinch her cheeks, “but that doesn’t mean I appreciate you bringing him up during a perfectly lovely night!” 

“Sho—” she furrows her brows in combination to her squished cheeks “—he doesh make you shad shtill?”

“Well, he doesn’t make me elated,” you finally release her from your wrath, returning to stare downward at your food, “but I guess it makes me reflect fondly on the past. It’s kind of like a scar. I know how much it once hurt but I can’t feel it to the same magnitude anymore. Actually, instead, the happy, jittery moments are more vivid to me than the tears that were shed. Is that… odd?”

“Like… like what? Examples?” 

Like when his arm bumped into yours for the first time on the walk after work, like when he discretely went out of his way to ensure your safety across the bridge home, like when he enamored over the ‘ripped abs’ of a fully nude female character design of an upcoming project whilst you stood awkwardly with a set of breasts in full display for the two of you, like when the two of you escaped to become the aloof, static noise of an unbefitting party, or like when he held you in his hands and kissed you at the stroke of midnight, the butterflies live on—even today—to shield you from the dampened blows struck by dull weapons of jealousy, insecurity, and remorse. 

With time, the silver lining finally showed itself like a sun shining through after a stormy night. You’ve finally accepted the truths behind every weapon. She was pretty. They were pretty. She never wronged you. They never wronged you. They deserved his love. His heart belonged to whomever he desired. 

He never badmouthed his peers and, as blunt of a man as he was, he never pointed out your flaws, even if that meant you would later return home only to find mascara flakes on your cheeks. He treated women like a gentleman, as contradictory as it may seem from his appetite demeanor; and while you fell for him for that, you also cursed him for that very reason. He didn’t owe you anything… up to a certain point until the lines were too blurred to decipher between the truth, the deserved, and the faulty. Be it Ji-eun or Jennie, you’ve come to terms with his relationships. 

As much as your relations with him seemed to run on a fragile thread of fate, your time had run out and the window of opportunity had been shut—but hey, at least you had fun.

“Are you… smiling?”

“Hm?” you look up to find her staring at you in concern. Blinking blankly, you quickly clear your throat and retract the smile you had subconsciously adorned. “I am?”

“I… don’t know if I should be worried or not,” Yezi downs another glass of iced water and you’re about to follow suit until she almost chokes on her water, “hey—isn’t that Jennie over there?” 

“Jennie?”

You almost curse at Yezi for teasing you over bygones that should’ve been left as just that, but she really wasn’t lying. You can’t believe your eyes when you whirl your head around to look through the darkened tint of the restaurant’s window panes. You might have never really spoken to Jennie, but that figure is undeniably Jennie. 

“What is she doing?” you squint, struggling to grasp a clear vision of her silhouette under the dim, orange street light beside her. You could only catch a hint of her side profile but those cheeks and unique sense of fashion definitely belonged to her; on the other hand, the constant stumbling and the hand to her head, almost as if she’s about to collapse at any second, did not resemble her. “Oh, oh, hold on, wait, whoa—we should help her!” 

You scramble to your feet and bolt out the door whilst Yezi takes care of your abrupt leave with the restaurant staff. A freezing blast of wind welcomes you as soon as you step into the sidewalk but you waste no time. Abandoning the cold behind you along with the past, your mind is set on aiding the collapsed woman on the streets. 

“Hey! Jennie, hey!” you call out to her as you sprint to her side, dropping to the floor without caring to notice the shards of glass that consequently cut your knees as you carefully roll her limp body onto its back and away from the sharp hazards. The pain has you wincing and seething under your breath, but the conditions of the person lying before you has you even more concerned. Her skin is even paler than usual. Her chest rises and falls rapidly in an evident struggle. Your taps against her shoulder gradually become frantic shakes until all you can hear is your voice and the whispering commotion of bystanders behind you. “Jennie! Can you hear me?!” 

“Y/N!” you turn around to find Yezi peering down at you from above. “What happened?”

“I don’t know but something’s definitely not right,” you say as calmly as you could, “call 911. I’ll call her family.”

“Got it,” Yezi nods, immediately dialing the numbers on her phone but pausing in the midst of the ring to face you, “wait, do you know anyone from her family?”

Gritting your teeth, you frown as you dig into your memories, “...no, I know she might have had a boyfriend back then, so he might know, but I don’t know if they’re still together and I don’t even know his number…”

“Do you know anyone who might know her boyfriend then?” 

“Well…” 

The ending trails of your voice are whisked away into the returning wind of that fateful night. Hands gripping at your phone and eyes staring at the stranger yet familiarity of a name that glares off the screen, it’s an inevitable force that has you stupefied yet marveled at the revival of a tugging string that ties you to him through the strangest, most meandering paths. 

-

his side;

It was almost like a fever dream. Her name plastered across his screen and his eyes squinting through the glaring light that illuminates his room. It had been two years since he had any contact nor mention of her; and now, out of the blue, in the midst of a nap after gym session, she calls him for help. He couldn’t believe his ears when he first heard her voice, believing it all to be another one of those numerous dreams that had him regretting his past or questioning his choices. He shot straight up in bed, phone grasped and glued to his ears that blocked out the computer fan that ran in the background. 

Even now, after throwing on a sweater and jacket and bolting out the door in a state of rescue, he can’t quite believe his eyes; because there she sits on the hospital bench, in the signature slumped boyish manner and the confused blank stare off into the distance that still has him quirking a smile in remembrance every once in a while. In her favorite white blouse and her only slack of black dress pants, it’s almost as if nothing had changed, almost as if she had never left. 

It’s almost like time had bent to his incessantly subconscious pleas and reversed its works; but the almost will always be an almost, for as long as those hallmark vivacious eyes and those rekindled mien of ambition lives. As far as Jungkook knew, she left with a dreary heart and returned with a fiery purpose. 

Despite all that, he can’t help but notice the way she fidgets in her seat, nearly sinking and avoiding all contact the second his presence had been noticed. Instead of the sheepish flickering stolen glances of the past, he finds himself at odds with the way she fights to return the locked gaze of his eyes. She fought so hard that she might have forgotten how to speak, rendering a soft chuckle from his lips because the girl he endlessly dreamt of might still live after all; and for the first time in a long while, Jungkook has to put forth the effort to fill in the silence. 

“Why did you call me?” he asks plainly as he stands before her.

“Well, I didn’t know any of her friends except you…” he watches as she fidgets with her hands, gaze falling to the floor before returning to him, “are you going to visit her? I think the doctor should be okay with it if you’re her close friend.”

“No, Kai will be here soon,” he explains, finally bending down and placing the bottle of rubbing alcohol beside her on the bench. “I have other shit to attend to.”

“Oh, right,” she mumbles. The evident surge in annoyance amuses him that he just can’t quite wipe the smirk off his face. Turning her head, she continues, “you must’ve had plans with Ji-eun tonight. Sorry for the trouble.”

This is it. This is the moment that replayed on repeat like a broken tape in his dreams. This is his chance to mend the wounds he had inflicted upon the confessing girl who cried her eyes out on the cab home that one, indelible night. 

An uncomfortable silence fills the air with the exception of the unscrewing of a plastic bottle and the gentle return of the bottle against the metallic bench, which is then followed by another staggering silence. 

“We’re not that close and I’m not dating Ji-eun now.” 

The girl turns with the quirk of a brow, especially when she spots him kneeling before her with a soaked cotton ball. “W-Wait what? Wait, shit, ow.”

“I don’t talk to Jennie as much as you think,” he states as a-matter-of-factly and continues to gently pat the cotton against the wounds on her knees. After hesitantly placing a band aid over the wound—something he had never done for anyone else nor for himself who just “sucked it up”—he finally lifts his gaze to interlock with hers, observing intently as if to soak the reality of it all in now before the inevitable tape begins to replay for the near future. “I broke up with Ji-eun before you left.” 

“And...” she utters slowly, “why are you telling me this?” 

Just like in the pool on that one night, her challenging eyes never budge and neither do his.

“I thought the past you would’ve liked to know,” he states. Head tilting to the side as if to get a better look, he remarks, “shit, you don’t look away anymore, huh?”

“Why would I?” she quips, snorting and finally breaking contact to stare off to the side. “It didn’t matter if I knew or not. It’s not like we were a thing.”

“Really?” Jungkook hums, gathering the scraps of cotton and paper before standing to his feet with a genuine soft sigh. It’s hard to brush off the two year old sinking sensation in his chest for something so nonchalant, but he manages to do it like he always does with that stoic look on his unreadable face. “Cause I thought we were.” 

“What?” she gapes and he only gazes firmly back at her. “Why? It’s not like I… liked you.”

“Really?” Jungkook’s eyes flicker up at the ceiling for a brief second, lips pursing as he concludes the cards on the table: the unapologetic albeit risky truth or the defensive albeit purposeless self-deception. Unbeknownst to her, Jungkook had all the cards in his hands. 

“Yeah,” she mumbles, avoiding his gaze and shrugging, “and it’s not like you liked me.” 

Peering down at her from above, the boy’s crooked grin gradually settles into the silence along with the usual unreadable mien that he wears on the daily. “How would you know?”

Finally turning to return his gaze, she raises a brow at him before uncrossing her arms and standing to her feet. One step, two steps until she stands before him as close as she could recall on that night, she utters the one mutual truth of the night. 

“Because you never told me.”

The brief silence filled with tension seems to last an eternity, yet neither of the two could take their eyes off the other. A rush of thrill intermixed with panic floods his blood. His fight or flight system screams at him to obey the very laws he had followed all these years but his mind warns him that change is a necessity for this euphoric heat that radiates from this very moment. He’s never quite felt like this before: throat knotting and heart leaping nearly out of his chest. 

“Let’s—”

“—I need to catch the last train home,” she blurts, quickly taking a step back to distance themselves. 

Like a magnetic force that she is to him, her retraction almost pulls the breath from his lungs along with it.

“What?” he frowns, trying to steady his breath. “It’s 10 right now. My last ride is at midnight.” 

“Yeah, well mine is at 11 and I still have to walk there,” she shrugs indifferently to the entire ordeal—something that Jungkook takes to the heart. 

“What?” he mutters, “the station is right next to this hospital.” 

“What can I say? I’m a slow walker,” she prims, bowing her head and waving her hand to bid farewell. “Thanks for the band aid and all the help today. It was nice catching up. See y—I mean, take care.” 

He stands there in silence, too stunned by the constant turn of events. Distracted by the crestfallen weight in his chest elicited by his shattered hopes, Jungkook raises a hand in response to her pressed, upcurved lips. He can only mumble a seemingly indifferent, “...see ya.”

There she goes—as gracefully as she had reentered his life and as fleeting as she had left for a second time. All this time he knew his side of the story: growingly regretful, discovering a yearning he never knew was within his capabilities, and helplessly pondering over a past he could not change and wondering if she did the same. At some point in time, those feelings became a fragment in time and that person he wished she knew became a version of his present self. He moved on, he forgot the magnitude of the pain, but he never quite came to terms with what it all could have been. 

And all at once, the very moment he stands before her, the past him whomst he had perceived to be temporary comes flooding back into reality—flesh, fervent, and feelings of an immensity he could never have been prepared for—and if he were to be honest, he thought it would have been the same for her. 

He never really knew her side, after all; but at the very least, he desires to hear it from her, herself. She never missed him, she never thought of him from time to time, she never woke up from a dream of him so vivid that it felt so real that she was left with a melancholic loneliness in the air—those words would close the gap in his chest. 

If there’s one thing Jungkook had absolute control over at this very moment, it’s the last chapter of their shared novel in time and this is not the conclusion he imagined. 

Before he knew it, Jungkook finds himself sprinting down the train station. Across the coldly lit hallways, up and down the stairs instead of the ‘shitty, slow escalators,’ and cutting through the nearing midnight breeze of the platforms until the breeze finally brought him to the last unvisited area, his daunting final destination. 

Checking his watch, Jungkook’s chest heaves as he holds his hands to his knees in an attempt to catch his breath. It’s well past 11 now, nearing midnight, and he’s standing at the platform in the opposite direction of her new hometown. To the mere bystander, this platform really didn’t make any sense; but to Jungkook and his inkling, perhaps by a disheveled and desperate state, every twist and turn of the wind brought him right where he believes he belongs. 

Puffs of his breath mark the airy night as he watches his last ride pass by the rails before him. Every cart, every seat, he scans them all. No one. His heart sinks with each check, each flicker of the eyes, and he begins to curse himself for his state of delusion until the last cart of the train flashes by to reveal his finale. 

And as if by some sort of invisible string, life had somehow led him to her once again.

Because there she sits, across the wide yet surely crossable gap of the railway, legs crossed and hands folded in her lap, as if she had been waiting for him all this time. 

Jungkook stands there, stupefied by the works of fate, “why are you—”

“—hey, Jungkook!” she calls out to him, voice echoing across the vast, empty station. “What were you going to tell me back at the hospital?” 

Taken aback by her question, Jungkook chuckles to himself in utter amusement; and as if by the magic sifting through the night, the nearby tower bells ring across the remaining distance between the two at the precise stroke of midnight.

“Let’s date!”

The boy’s zestful holler resembles more like that of a cheerful proclamation, for the way he holds his hands to his lips before throwing them freely into the air garners a giggle from his spectator. His voice projection accompanies the bells, perhaps too softly and thereby physically undetected, but she could hear him nonetheless. 

“I liked you and I still like you so damn much, you dumbass!” 

After witnessing the boy’s courageous display, the words she’s been waiting for but never knew she needed until their paths crossed once again for a limitless nth time slips from her like second nature, almost as if she’s practiced it in her dreams all this time. Her loud proclamation, however, slips beneath the bells like an accompaniment to a ceremonious work of fate. 

The two of them stand on opposite sides of the platform, their confessions are far and wide and perhaps inaudible, but the dorky smiles adorning their lips as they gaze across at their inevitable final chapters serve to prove an undeniable fact. 

Whether by sheer will or by this invisible string, whether by his side or her side, the truth is: their eternities will be forever tied, forever golden.

[trashyswitch]

Easter In The Sanders House

Thomas gets to celebrate Easter weekend with the sides! Patton plans a full day of Easter fun, which gets a little out of hand quickly thanks to Remus...But a dose of innocence should do him some good! (or 50 doses)

Some dirty talk and swearing because...Remus. Also, I have personally ruined my own childhood with this fanfic. -_- But I'll be okay. I promise! Happy Easter everyone!

Easter was usually a house favorite in the mind palace. Though it was a little different this year thanks to COVID, Thomas and the sides could still celebrate it together. They all lived in the same household, which helped a lot. And some of them were capable of conjuring up anything! So the sides could make just about anything if they put their minds to it.

The sides started off with decorating the house with easter stuff. Bits of it were homemade, some of it was conjured up, and a few of the decorations were bought. Example: the huge stuffed bunny. Thomas had bought a medium-sized bunny from Wal-mart, and Patton took it upon himself to make it even bigger! And…

...It ended up being 7 feet tall…

But Patton was LOVING it! He would cuddle it non-stop, ‘feed’ it stuffy carrots, and even brush its belly fur with an old hairbrush. It was quite endearing to watch, as well as a little strange. The father figure would even give it blankets and make it look like a jedi knight. It was actually quite hilarious to see the gigantic bunny looking like the Jawa without the double sash or the gun. Everyone both loved it, and hated it at the same time. Virgil even went as far as to say ‘That’s cursed’! And...he has a point.

The rest of the decorations were banners with hanging eggs, baskets filled with fake grass and plastic eggs, bouquets of real and fake flowers all over the place, and mini egg bowls around the house. There were even little bunnies popping out of mugs placed onto the dining table for decoration! That was Roman’s favorite decoration.

Just like he usually did, Patton set up a little Easter egg hunt of plastic eggs filled wih treats and other little things. This year however, Patton wanted to improvise with extra little items…

Thomas and all 6 of the sides were all ready with their own baskets. The sides’ baskets matched their clothes, while Thomas had a pink basket. Logan was the first to critique Patton’s childish games. “Patton...A little reminder that we’re all in our 30’s. We’re getting a little too old for-”

Patton looked at Logan with a ‘seriously?’ look and squeezed his side. “Hush your piehole. Santa may not exist but no one lets that stop us from celebrating Christmas.” Patton warned casually.

Logan jumped and moved a step away from Pat. “Fine. Touché.” Logan responded.

Roman and Remus both snapped their neck towards Patton. “SANTA DOESN’T EXIST?!”

Logan facepalmed and shook his head while Patton giggled into his hand. “On your mark silly geese!” Patton called. Everyone got into their push position to start running at the ready. “Get set...GO!”

Everyone started running around the house while Logan and Patton just walked. Patton was watching the six boys run around the house with their baskets. There were eggs literally everywhere! And some of them had chocolate, others had origami creations, A few had glitter, a few had cute quotes written in slips of papers like an easter fortune cookie, and other had…

“...An acorn?” Janus asked.

Logan looked over and widened his eyes. “That’s a chestnut oak acorn. They’re an oval-sized breed of acorn.” Logan told him. “They’re usually in more eastern states though. So how did you get it here?” Logan asked.

“I conjured it!” Patton replied. “Good thing you know your trees. You’re gonna enjoy the other eggs near there…” Patton hinted.

Logan looked around for the eggs, opened them up and gasped as he very gently removed it. “A butterfly wing!” Logan very delicately held it in his hand. “It’s...beautiful!” Logan admitted with a smile. Patton smiled happily upon seeing his reaction.

Virgil moved to his bedroom and noticed that there were eggs hidden in there. Virgil opened up, and laughed as he removed them from the plastic egg: They were pins! There was a pin with a salt shaker that said ‘Salty’ on it, a pin of a black cat standing on a skull, a pin of a black rose and a pin with a black cat holding a fish. They were so small and yet, so up his alley. There would end up being more pins, being enamel and backpack versions. It was nice and thoughtful. Sometimes there were dark parts about spring that Virgil enjoyed. And he was thankful that Patton advocated for him.

Logan was having a wonderful time looking at all the spring items hidden in the eggs. There were Chinese Lanterns, walnuts, strawberry seeds, and more! There were even tiny squares that when unravelled, revealed recipe’s that involved Crofter’s Jam! And he even managed to fit Crofters store coupons into the plastic eggs! Logan was smiling and hugging Patton. “Thank you very much Patton. I appreciate the many kind gestures. And I apologize for the insensitive words I said earlier. You can still find ways for 30 year old men to enjoy Easter.” Logan told him.

Patton giggled and hugged him back. “Oh! And one more thing:” Patton conjured up a bunny ear headband. Logan’s smile dropped and he hung his head. “Really? Bunny ears?” Logan asked with a small smile.

Patton giggled. “Do you not remember our promise? You promised during March break that you were gonna wear bunny ears!” Patton reminded him.

“I am aware of my promise, but I’m starting to regret making such a promise.” Logan admitted.

Patton rolled his eyes and put it onto his head. “Perfect! See? It’s not that bad.” Patton told him.

Logan looked up. “Fine. But would you potentially consider making the ears look more realistic?” Logan offered a compromise.

Patton nodded and touched the bunny ears. They turned into brown and white bunny ears, with a very light pink skin all over the inner ear flap. Logan conjured up a mirror, and smiled. “Thank you.” Logan replied.

Remus was running around, acting like a raccoon. “Look at me! I’m RJ! I eat garbage, steal from Karens and ruin people’s lives!” Remus declared.

Roman chuckled and fluffed Remus’s hair. “I feel like you’d be more of a Hammy.” Roman admitted.

Remus gasped and clapped his hands. “YES! I COULD STOP TIME WITH THE POWER OF CAFFEINE! AND THEN BURN PEOPLE TO SHREDS WITH ILLEGAL LASERS AND CAGES!” Remus shouted.

Roman snapped his fingers and ran to Patton’s basket. “We got you something!” Roman told him.

Patton turned around and squealed upon the present! There was a chocolate chick, a DVD copy of ‘Over the Hedge’, and a DVD copy of It’s ‘The Easter Beagle, Charlie Brown!’. Patton happily took the DVD’s and the chocolate chick. “THANK YOU! YOU ARE ALL AMAZING!” Patton hugged as many people in one hug as his arms could. If his arms were stretchy like Elasticgirl’s, then maybe he could!

Later on, the family had a lovely Easter dinner. Cooked carrots, roast beef, baked potatoes and packaged gravy for it all. Patton and Thomas all worked together to make their supper, while Logan took some time to make a Crofter’s recipe he was given during the plastic egg hunt. With some time, Logan had whipped together what he called: Loganberry Crumble Squares. A simple recipe of rolled, layered oat crumble with Loganberry Crofter’s put into the middle of them! It tasted amazing! The recipe called for Gluten-free oats, but Logan just picked up regular oats for the recipe. No one was allergic to wheat. So, why worry?

After supper, the family gathered together to watch the Charlie Brown Easter Special. They enjoyed Marcie’s cute little ‘boiling eggs’ gags, and loved seeing Sally Brown and Snoopy playing with the hats! Patton died of cuteness overload at Snoopy and the bunnies dancing, and Janus admitted he felt bad that Snoopy didn’t have an egg for Charlie Brown.

Virgil looked at Janus. “Charlie rarely gets things. He has a best friend and a crush, but that’s about it. Lucy’s probably the reason he doesn’t have anything.” Virgil admitted.

“That’s true. But you gotta admit: Lucy and Shroeder are kinda cute together.” Roman added.

Thomas laughed. “That all depends on Schroeder falling for her as well.” Thomas added.

Logan sighed. “Poor Schroeder...she never leaves him alone. A life of Beethoven and piano playing is much better than a childish relationship with a girl like her.” Logan added.

Janus smirked. “Right! A relationship with Lucy will NEVER work. It’s not like she actually softens up to Charlie Brown near the end or anything...” Janus hinted.

Roman widened his eyes. “Wait, really?!”

Logan turned to him. “That’s true. I also realize she later develops a crush on Charlie near the end of the comic strips.” Logan added.

“So...So Schroeder and Lucy-”

Remus made a downward whistling sound while he lowered his finger and made an ‘explosion’ sound effect while expanding his hands. “But Charlie and Lucy:” Remus did a wolf-whistle before wrapping his own arms around himself and ‘making out’ with himself. “Oh Charlie! CHARLie! YeS!”

Roman gasped in horror while Thomas widened his eyes. “EW! You’re so disgusting! They’re 8!” Thomas yelled.

Roman had thrown Remus off the couch, leaving Remus rolling around on the floor in a fit of hysterics. Janus was snickering into his hand while Logan facepalmed himself. “THEHEY DIDN’T EVEN GEHEHET TO THE BEST PAHART!” Remus laughed.

Virgil groaned. “They don’t need to. This is why they need more than just teachers and shop owners in their community.” Virgil reacted.

Remus stopped laughing. “Why? Because Sally and Linus could be having fun at the back of the school yard?” Remus asked. “Virgil! You naughty, naughty man~”

Patton dropped his jaw and fixed his glasses with a frown. “That’s it! You need a big dose of innocence!” Patton declared, picking him up and dropping him onto the couch. He climbed onto him. “Starting with your hips!” Patton started digging his thumbs into his hips.

Remus’s naughty comeback was quickly overruled by his very own scream of surprise! “FAAAHAHAHACK!”

Patton smirked. “Language! Looks like I’m gonna need to up the ante!” Patton moved his hands to his lower, inner thighs and started squeezing and skittering.

“OHSHIT- GAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Remus completely lost it and just about kneed Patton in the face a few times! “STAAHAHAHAP! TOHOHOHO MUHUHUCH IHINNOCEHEHENCE!” Remus yelled.

Logan couldn’t help but smile at Patton’s way of handling him. He soon started smirking with Patton as well. “I’d almost say you should up this dose to lethal.” Logan offered.

Patton gasped and turned his head to look at Logan with an excited face. “You’re a genius!” Patton declared.

“And a change of lifestyle may even lessen the indecent behaviour. For example: consumptions of veggies and fruits…” Logan hinted.

Patton’s smirk grew so wide almost all his teeth were visible. “Oh! Fruits are a good one!”

Remus yelped in horror. “OHOHO NOHOHO, YOHOHOU’RE NOHOHOT FILLIHIHING MEHEHE WITH SWEETNEHEHESS!” Remus warned.

Patton looked at Remus with a confident facial expression. “Are you suggesting something more sour? Like...raspberries?” Patton asked.

Remus squealed! And he only heard the word! “NOHOHOHO! NORASPBERRIHIES! BEHEHEGOHOHONE!” Remus ordered. “IHIHI OHOHORDER YOHOU TO-”

Patton took in a deep breath and blew a big raspberry onto Remus’s inner thigh.

Remus squealed and screamed like a bat in severe distress! “AAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA! FAAAAHAHAHAHAHA! AAHAHAHA PAHAHAHAHAHA!” Remus screamed.

“My goodness Remus! You sound like you’re dying! What could possibly be so funny?!” Patton asked.

Janus smirked. “It couldn’t possibly be the thought of playboy magazines or babies making love.” Janus teased, just riling up Patton even more.

Patton clicked his tongue in disappointment. “My my my...I suppose even the smaller doses won’t stop you from your addictive thoughts...Perhaps you really DO need a lethal dose of innocence!” Patton admitted.

Remus was struggling. “WAHAHAIT NO! IHIHI DOHOHON’T! THISIS BAHAHAD EHEHENOHOHOUGH!”

Patton hummed. “Well, guess there’s only one way to test if it’s working!” Patton decided. Patton removed his fingers and let Remus have a break. Remus let in heavy breaths at first, to conquer his loss of oxygen. But within two minutes…

“Hehey, hey Janus:” Remus asked.

Janus looked over. “Yes?”

“Imagine Marcie being spicy for Peppermint Patty~” Remus made a sexy roaring sound.

Patton was immediately at him again. “Time for the second lethal dose, you stubborn pickle!” Patton declared quickly.

Thomas wheezed and hung his head. “Did you just call him a pickle?” Thomas asked, laughing.

“Yes I did! Because he’s being a green, sour dick!” Patton declared. While Thomas questioned his ears and sanity, Patton started blowing raspberry after raspberry on Remus’s thigh.

Remus was absolutely losing it! “AHAHAHIHIHIHIHI CAHAHAHAHAN’T! AAAAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOHO *snort* DAHAHAHAMMIHIHIHIHIT!”

Thomas quickly whipped his head around to see where the unusual sound came from.

Patton had widened his eyes and covered his mouth. “You SNORT?!” he asked, stopping his tickling momentarily.

Remus took a quick moment to breathe and nodded his head. “Ihihi- Ialways hahahave.”

Patton looked at Roman. Roman nodded and shrugged his shoulders. “It’s true. He snorted when he was little too.” Roman admitted.

Patton looked at Roman curiously. “What about you?” Patton asked.

Roman hummed and tilted his head. “Me?”

Patton started staring at Roman with suspicious eyes. “......Logan, get him.” Patton told him.

Logan wrapped his arms around Roman and immediately went for the belly. “Way ahead of you.”

Roman squealed and threw his head back with bubbly giggles coming out. Despite Remus’s laugh sounding more witch-like, The twins’ laughter sounded fairly similar to each other. So now both twins were being tickled for separate reasons; Remus’s being ‘constant potty mouth’ while Roman’s being ‘kept secrets’.

“LOHOHohohoho! Meheheheheaniihihie! Lehehehet mehehehe gohohohoho!”

“PAHAHAT! *snort* IHIHIHI’M GOHOHONNA *snort* KIHIHILL YOHOHOHOU!”

Patton gasped at Remus’s words. “Threatening me as well!? My goodness...You really don’t learn, do you?” he teased. Patton blew one raspberry on his left thigh, and two raspberries on his right thigh.

“AAAAAHAHAHAHAAA-” With one last snort, Remus finally went silent. He couldn’t really breathe very well at this point and was growing very red. So Patton gave him a break and got off him. Remus took some time getting his oxygen back. It felt great to be able to breathe again. He tried to breathe fairly heavily to get oxygen in faster. With due time, he slowly lost his tomato face and started turning more peach-colored again. With a bottle of water from Patton, Remus was pretty much okay. He was smiling and still slightly giggling after he finished the bottle.

“Are you done with your silly jokes yet?” Patton asked.

Remus lifted his head up, took one look at him and let his head fall back down. “M...Maybe for a bit.” Remus replied.

Patton smiled. “Good.”

Remus laid there for a few more minutes while he took in the sound of Roman’s giggly laughter. Logan was STILL tickling him but this time, he was pinning one arm up and tickling his armpit. To make things even better, Roman was starting to snort as well. And Patton was living for it!

“It’s truly fascinating how both twins have developed a snorty laugh.” Logan added.

“Shuhuhuhut uhuhuhup! *snort* Ehehehevihihihil fiehehehend!” Roman yelled to him.

Logan raised his eyebrows. “Evil? You think I’m being evil?” Logan asked.

“Yehehehehessss! Ehehehevihihil Ihihihi- *snort* Ihihi sahahahayhy!” Roman shot back.

Logan chuckled at that. “I am being much more merciful and gentle to you, compared to how Patton was treating Remus.” Logan explained.

“Yohohohou’re tihihicklihihing mehehehe *snort* fohohor noho reheheasohohon!” Roman protested.

Logan rolled his eyes. “Actually, we did have a reason to tickle you. We just didn’t tell you what it was.” Logan added.

“We wanted to see if you snorted too!” Patton declared.

Logan looked at Patton. “Hey! I was gonna tell him when he stopped insulting me with his childish names.” Logan reacted.

Patton snickered. “He was gonna find out anyway. Minus well do it now!” Patton declared, closing his eyes with a proud smile.

Logan sighed. “You’re no fun.” Logan whined.

Patton opened his eyes and opened his mouth in surprise. What did he just say?! “I...After all I planned for easter-”

Thomas quickly put his hands on Patton’s shoulders. “Patton, don’t listen to Logan. You are tons of fun! You planned all this for us, and for that we’re so grateful.” Thomas told him.

Janus, Remus, Virgil, Roman and even Logan nodded. Logan paused the tickling for a moment while Roman sat up.

“Thank you Patton!” All six of them said happily at the same time!

Patton smiled and couldn’t stop himself from tearing up. “You’re welcome guys.” Patton hugged Thomas. Virgil joined the hug as well, followed by Remus.

With that out of the way and Patton cheered up again, Logan resumed tickling Roman for a little longer before letting the prince breathe. Roman’s loss of oxygen was much more minor compared to Remus. But that was only because Remus wouldn’t stop doing the one thing that granted him tickles. Maybe it was because Remus wanted tickles? Or maybe it was because Remus has a legitimate addiction to it.

Whatever the reason, Remus was quick to start up his grotesque headcanons about the Peanuts Characters. This would further ruin Patton’s childhood and cause Remus further fits of ticklish laughter. Perhaps they could consider a new, more effective treatment for dirty language?

Or...maybe not. Remus seems to like it. And no one would wanna ruin his fun! Happy Easter indeed.

[eastofthemoon]

Manage to write this Ducktales fic for Halloween. Enjoy!

Title: Afterthought

Rating: G

Characters: Darkwing Duck and Launchpad

Summary: Drake is trying to make plans for Halloween, but doesn't realize how extensive Launchpad's are. 

Archive of Our Own

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

“Almost there...just a bit more,” Drake muttered as he carved off the last bit of pumpkin. He grinned as he stepped back to admire his work.

His Darkwing Duck jack-o-lantern. He had carved every detail of the eyes, the beak and that ever-so-confident smile.

“Almost perfect,” Drake said aloud as he reached into the trunk and carefully lifted out the items required. “Just need to put on the final touch and voila!”

The small hat, mask and cape fit the pumpkin perfectly!

Drake took a photo to share with the DWD Fanclub, reaching for his coffee as it uploaded. “Much better than all those Gizmoduck pumpkins, if I do say so myself.” 

He took a sip, but spat it out moments later, coughing as he looked into the mug. Why had his drink betrayed him with its bitterness? The answer, naturally, laid in the abyssal darkness of the liquid before him.

“Ah,” Drake grumbled. “I always forget the milk.”

He muttered to himself as he went into his fridge and snagged the milk carton. As he added it to his coffee, he glanced to his calendar.

“Haven’t heard from LP for a couple of days,” he said aloud.

Launchpad had told Drake he was going to be busy with preparations and wouldn’t see him for a bit. That hadn’t bothered Drake since they had just spent a week marathoning the entire TV run of Darkwing Duck, trying out another fan's recommended watching order. 

Besides, Drake knew some people took decorating for Halloween seriously, and LP did like committing whole-heartedly to things.  He was getting a bit of a foreboding feeling from the plans, though; from what Drake had seen of Launchpad's crayon blueprint scribblings, this was going to be on a whole new level.  And much as he didn't want to bother him, it had been close to a week since they'd spoken.

Maybe giving Launchpad a call would help - and if anyone could appreciate his masterpiece for Halloween, it would be his literal partner in fighting crime.  Drake reached for the cell phone and hit dial. He heard the beeping as he took another sip of his drink and swallowed it in time to hear his partner answer.

His ear was greeted by the loud whirring of a chainsaw.

Drake nearly dropped the phone until the roar stopped and he heard Launchpad’s voice. “Hey, DW!”

“Uh, hey, LP,” Drake answered as he lowered his cup. “You okay there?” He narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t crash into your toolshed while answering the phone again did you?”

There was a deep sigh. “I wish,” Launchpad replied. “Sorry, I was just finishing final preparations for..the night.”

Drake sipped his coffee again. “How is that going, anyway?  You've been keeping kinda quiet.”

Launchpad clicked his tongue. “Well, the inner barricade is pretty solid structurally.  I've got enough fuel to keep the burners going, but I think I need more metal sheets for the outer wall.”

Drake raised an eyebrow. Just how big was he planning to make this thing?  And - burners?

“Since I assume you’re staying put I figured I'd stop by your place once I was done patrol for the night,” Drake replied.

There was a gasp from the other end.  “YOU’RE PLANNING ON GOING OUT?!”

“Sure,” Drake said as he set down his mug, placing his  hand on his hip. “Crime doesn’t take a night off just because it’s a spooky night.  I mean, the new mayor is talking about having crime take a vacation, but that's just talk”

“Oh DW,” Launchpad said as it sounded like he was tearing up. “You’re the bravest hero I know.”

“Uh thanks,” Drake replied. 

He was of course brave - braver than Gizmoduck at any rate, and there weren't any other heroes he knew of around - but the enthusiasm was welcome.  It was a bit much, though; Drake was just going to make certain no one tried to do any pranks on innocent victims or steal some kid’s candy. It wasn’t that huge of a deal.

“I can pick up a pizza and we can relax with a movie?” Drake continued.

“If we survive the night,” Launchpad replied in a dark tone.

“You...really get into the spirit,” Drake replied.

“What do you mean-” Launchpad started but then cut himself off. “Oh, wait, got to go. Delivery guy is here with the barbed wire. Got to go!”

Drake barely had time to say bye before he heard a click and put his phone away.

“I really don’t get the theme he’s going for but at least he’s dedicated,” Drake muttered.

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

“You jerk! Give it back!” a kid dressed up as a cupcake yelled.

The Beagle Boy laughed as he began to rummage through the kid’s treat bag.  “Finders keepers squirt!”  

“You didn’t find it, you stole it,” the kid dressed as a fire truck said as he tried to yank back the bag.

“Still found it, still mine,” the Beagle Boy replied as he shoved the kid back. “Now scram before I-”

“I AM THE TERROR THE FLAPS IN THE NIGHT!”

The Beagle Boy and his victims all froze as they looked around.

“I AM THE CANDY CORN THAT LIES AT THE BOTTOM OF THE BAG FOR MONTHS!”

“Blackarts?” the Beagle Boy said aloud. “That you?  If this is a prank-”

“I AM DARKWING DUCK!” 

The Beagle Boy was greeted with a kick to the face. He grunted as he fell back and tossed the candy bag in the air. Darkwing flipped, caught the bag and tipped his hat at the Beagle Boy.

“If you want candy, you’ll have to go trick-or-treating like everyone else,” Darkwing Duck cried. He held up a fist. “So leave these kids alone or else.”

The Beagle Boy grunted and glared. “Or else what?”

Darkwing Duck grinned and brought his face closer. “You want to find out?”

The Beagle Boy sweated, trying to stand his ground, but then growled as he began to step backwards. “He didn’t have any good candy anyway.”  He grumbled under his breath. 

The kids came closer as they watched the Beagle Boy retreat and then joyfully looked up to Darkwing. 

“Thanks, mister,” said the cupcake kid.

“You are welcome,” Darkwing said triumphantly as he handed back the bag. “Anything to help a citizen.”

“You got a great costume too, but I thought it was supposed to be red,” said the fire truck kid.

Darkwing halted and forced a smile. “Um..this isn’t a costume. I am Darkwing Duck! Avenger of the weak and...what are you doing?”

Both kids reached into their bags and held out a piece of candy out for him.

“Here you go,” the cupcake kid replied. “Only fair you get candy too!”

Darkwing decided to let the correction go and took the candy. “Thanks, kiddos! Now you'd best get home before it gets too late.”

“Okay, we will,” said the fire truck kid as they waved and ran off.

Darkwing sighed as he unwrapped the candies and popped them into his mouth. “Fourth time tonight,” he muttered. “Oh well, at least they kind of appreciate me.”

Suddenly his phone rang. Darkwing reached for his phone and saw it was Launchpad’s number.

Didn’t think I was running that late, Darkwing replied as he answered. “LP?”

“IT’S A HOLIDAY!” Launchpad shouted so loud Darkwing had to pull the phone away from his ear. “IT’S JUST KIDS DRESSED UP IN COSTUMES! AND THEY GIVE OUT CANDY AND-”

“Whoa, whoa, LP slow down,” Darkwing replied. “What are you talking about?”

Launchpad quickly told him the summary of his night and with each passing word Darkwing could only blink dumbly.

“Let me get his straight,” Darkwing said as he found a bench to sit on. “You thought this whole night was cursed because you read an ‘ancient scroll’ which was actually a candy wrapper and that all the trick-or-treaters were demons.”

“Yeah, funny huh?” Launchpad said with a laugh.

Darkwing was flabbergasted. Then suddenly the conversations the past few weeks flew into his brain and they took on a different meaning. 

“I really need to practice my detective skills.”

“Say again?” Launchpad asked.

Darkwing shook his head. “Nothing. My patrol’s almost done. Want me to stop by your place?”

“Sure! I’m just going to get this free candy from Mister McD, but I’ll meet you at my place.” Launchpad laughed. “Man, it’s a relief to know I don’t have to fight off eldritch horrors in October.”

Darking chuckled. “Yeah, I’ll bet-”

“Now I just have to worry about the flying archers in February,” Launchpad said darkly.

Darkwing went silent. “Come again?”

“It happens every winter.  Crimson streaks everywhere marking the resting places of the fallen, hunters around every corner seeking out new prey,” Launchpad continued. “I'm starting to suspect they're assassins - their targets marked with the design of the beating heart they seek to still.”

Darkwing clicked his tongue. “Launchpad, have you ever heard of a Valentine?”

“Valen-what?”

DW rubbed his forehead and made a note to have a long chat with him.

[lvlyhao]

「PART THREE: FAMILIARITY」

HUMANITY SERIES; Q.K

A/N: guess who forgot to update lol they’re whipped i just— also two surprise appearances hehfjfhsjh

important: i can’t think of anything??? the general warnings are in the masterlist if you wanna be sure none of them is a trigger for you!

word count: 2.8K

pairing: qian kun x reader

disclaimer: the characters in the story below do not reflect real people or present real facts. this is purely fictional, and you may not copy, change, translate or repost my work in any way. all rights reserved © cherry-hyejin 2021.

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Cussing like a sailor, you trudge towards the man, who's catching his breath by the sidewalk. His glance instantly darts to your face, about to say something. You cut him short, though, too disturbed by the fear that still clouds your every action.

“We have to leave while we can. Like right now.”

“H-how do you know I’m not infected?”, he asks, abruptly realizing something even more critical. "How do I know you are not infected?"

He backs away, then, gorgeous features closing off in hesitance. While he stares at you, you think his voice is much, much more angelic than you thought. It drips with uncertainty but is beautiful enough to make you forget how to speak for a minute.

"Uhm”, you clear your throat, now looking for your weapons. It's a good attempt at escaping his piercing eyes, but it dawns on you. He has quite literally no reasons to agree with what you were planning.

"I'm immune, actually. My DNA has some mutation that I honestly cannot explain that well. You", you pause, scanning his defensive form before going back to putting away your knives. "You are definitely clean. It's been over 15 minutes since I arrived: no walker bit you or you would have, at least, screamed. If by some chance it happened and I was not aware of it, I would have seen it in your eyes by now. It's the first part of the process", you grimace.

The guy stays silent while you speak, taking everything you say into consideration. You find it makes sense to him if his relaxed posture is anything to go by.

Finishing up with your arrows, you promptly head back to where you came from, assuming your companion is close behind.

“Wait!”, he trots, halting in front of you. “I… I don’t think I can go with you.”

You could say it's the dumbest thing you have ever heard, but your yell from earlier begs to differ.

“I can see you don't trust me, and you have no reasons to, but this is how rescue missions go. I see someone in danger, I do my best to get them away, and we go to my settlement, where we can hopefully be stronger by numbers. We can get there if we run." Your voice is borderline dull, almost like you have made that same speech 500 times in the past few days. It would have made him laugh, under different circumstances. Yet, he plainly breathes, running a grimy hand through his hair. 

“It’s not that”, he peers around, lost. “I came to the pharmacy for medical supplies for one boy in my own settlement. He needs them as soon as possible, or I’m not sure I’ll be able to help him at all. Besides”, he tentatively lifts your dominant arm by the sleeve of your jacket, careful not to touch you. “We should clean that and put some bandages around it, even if I don’t have the time to stitch it up.”

You are not sure what part of his speech you should pay attention to first.

“You have a settlement?” The question bursts its way out of your mouth before you can think better, but he doesn't seem to mind. Lips curling into a proud smile, he stuffs his hands into the pockets of his hoodie.

“Yeah, I’m currently the father of 6 children from the college I used to attend”, he snorts.

“That’s amazing! I’ve been mapping this area for some weeks now, and I never found anyone”, you smile. “I’m currently the parent of”, stopping, you count the names in your not-chewed fingers. “16 children? Around that. I swear there's a new name every time we make the roll call."

Studying his kind expression, warm under the red sunlight, you feel as if you could talk to him for hours. I'd never get bored. Your situation seems small, squeezed all the way in the back of your mind. It's clearly much less important than your attractive stranger.

Gasping quietly in realization, he sobers up. He pulls you by your jacket once more, just as delicately, and keeps you close.

“Listen, I understand you have people to take care of, but you said you could get there in time if you run. My boys are not too far from here. I think it would be safer for you to come with me for now, at least wait until morning. Otherwise", he gulps, "we will both be in more danger."

You reflect his words guardedly. You are painfully aware that the clock is ticking and each second spent here makes it a bit worse. When the sun goes down is when things get seriously nasty. The night would swallow you whole before you could get to the campus, and then your eyes would be useless. You wouldn't be able to see any walkers or even traps you came across. You'd be a sitting duck. 

Sighing, you know your decision has been made.

I can only hope Taeyong forgives me for this.

With a curt nod, your free hand gestures for him to lead the way. He seems awed by how fast you agreed but decides against mentioning it. Instead, he gives you a gracious smile and goes on. He stands just past the crushed glass, where you can now see a coffee-coloured messenger bag on the once-white floor. Something seems to be fidgeting inside of it, and you stiffen.

Before you can ask about it, he drops your wrist. Picking up the bag gently, he cradles it to his chest and looks at the inside softly. He coos, speaking in a language you know to be Mandarin. That’s when it pushes out—the little, furry snout of a puppy, licking his hand and whimpering. 

It's like your systems just crashed.

“You have a dog in your bag?”

Laughing briefly, he turns to you again. Cosy inside of the leather is a tiny Beagle, looking at you with bright eyes. You can't help but think it's ridiculously adorable.

“Well, not at all times. I found her wandering around here, but one of her ears was bleeding and she’s limping”, his voice lowers to a whisper, watching her with concern. “One of my boys is a vet student. I thought maybe we could help her.”

Choosing not to question it, you simply nod. The bleeding ear would explain why she stayed here even with the noise. Her hearing must be quite damaged.

“And I’m assuming the medicine or whatever you needed is also in there?”

He's serious once again, reminded of the primary reason for his trip.

“Yes, I placed it in separate pockets and smaller bags. We are good to go.”

A breeze swiftly races inside the barely lit building. It’s a warning of how fast the twilight is coming, and he takes it. His quick steps sound first, light on the ground, and he checks to see if you are coming. Understanding of his rush, you jog along.

“I didn’t forget about your hand, by the way. I know a safe spot close to here where we can stop for me to treat it.”

Staring at his broad shoulders, your breathing hitches as the throbbing in your fingers come back. Treatment would be useful before you have to amputate it, but...

“Do you know how to do that? Not to doubt your capacities or anything, but I can just clean it with some water later.”

Running to come up to his side, he playfully eyes you. He is moving so naturally along the streets you imagine he must know this route well.

“I am a med student. Uh, was, I guess.”

His striking traits are highlighted by the blue hour, hues of periwinkle ghosting over his nose, forehead, cheekbones and lips. He chuckles airily, and you are conscious of how surprised you must look.

“A med student. That’s pretty helpful, huh? I’m sure you care very well for your friends."

From the corner of your eye, you see pink spread over his face. He glances up to the sky, lost in his own head.

“I try to. Our youngest has just turned 20. I can’t imagine what it must be like to go through this at that age.”

You hum.

“I know how you feel. I’m watching over an 18-year-old”, sighing, you think back to the freshman dance student at the settlement. You pray he doesn't feel your absence so strongly, familiar to his tendency to cry.

Comfort sparks in the way your companion bumps his shoulders into yours, drawing you out of foggy thoughts. When your heart suddenly tries to break free from your ribcage, you swallow dry. Could I not find a worse moment to develop a crush?

Beating yourself over your feelings, you travel silently, sometimes admiring the starry skies. It feels nice to be like this, almost… at peace. Funny how you can feel that way around someone you barely know while touring a town full of bloodthirsty beasts.

“Ah”, he breaks the silence awkwardly. “I still don’t know your name.”

You wince at that, realizing you were forgetting about it. It's like I've known him for ages.

“Sorry. I’m Y/N”, your voice is soft, rivalling the autumn winds.

“Y/N... That’s a beautiful name”, he compliments, eyes finding yours. “You can call me Kun.”

You say his name out loud, testing it, and giggle. It feels nice in your lips.

---

The trip to the first hiding spot was fast, just a matter of minutes cruising under the starlight. The place is a dainty, small wooden cabin, right at the foot of the mountains that surround the city. All around you are bushes and fireflies, that blink over stray pieces of cars. How they got to here, in the forest, is a mystery to you, but then again, a lot of things do not make sense anymore. It's simpler to overlook it and get inside, plopping down on a rusty chair as Kun grabs a flashlight from a corner.

His hands work quickly, and with confidence, like medicine is in his blood. It's impressive, but, most of all, painless. His touch is even gentler than Tyong’s and feels warm against your cool skin. A tiny smile plays on your lips the entire time, watching him and the sleeping puppy discreetly.

After that, your wounded hand is snug against the white bandages and the sting lessened. You feel like you could go on for miles, but Kun only laughs and tells you to calm down. No way you two are running uphill to his house.

“Wait, you mean you guys live… up there?”, you point, and he follows your finger, contemplating the towering trees of the forest nonchalantly.

Seeing your dubious expression makes his heart crack a little. He understands how intimidating it is: the dark, unknown forest. Who could guess what lurks between the twigs, spying on the few, brave souls that dare cross their territory?

“I know hiding from zombies in the woods sounds a bit weird, but I promise it’s safe. They have a hard time traversing the trees because they’re so closely set. Also”, he studies the grass beneath his feet, feeling a mix of shame and hesitance himself. “We might have planted a few landmines around the perimeter.”

The sound you make then is something between a wheeze and a gasp.

“How did you…?”

“I preferred to not question when Yukhei showed up with them”, he breathes, sounding like a tired father. “There’s a protected path we’ll follow, though!” He makes a face at how he saved the most important detail for last. I have no idea what is wrong with me today.

But, Kun thinks, secretly relishing on the way you shine under the moon, if you’re scared, I’ll hold your hand.

---

The journey to his house is more serene than you guessed. There are no walkers you perceive. It's almost like this place is completely cut off from the world, far away from real danger. Although maybe that is just Kun's effect on you. You have not failed to notice how tranquillity seems to flow out of him in waves, wordlessly comforting your wild heart. It's nothing like you have ever felt.

I met him two hours ago.

Once again shaking off your feelings, you try to focus on the other things that surround you. The crickets, the faint crunch of the grass and fallen leaves, an owl, how smooth his skin could feel under your fingertips...

Oh my god, you cringe.

As you steady yourself against the trunk of an oak, your shoulders finally loosen. Not too far ahead, you can see something that resembles a ski cabin, surrounded by barbed wire, and with orange light pouring from the windows. The path you walk on is surrounded by sharp wooden stakes from both sides, but the place still feels homier than the campus. 

You don't notice your grin until he smiles back, taking your hand in his and continuing the walk. You remain quiet until the ground changes from grass, pebbles and mud to beaten earth, and you stand right outside the fence. It's far taller than you, with the metal glittering intimidatingly. If the landmines had not made you feel safe, this definitely has. 

Kun, still grasping your hand delicately, surrounds the house with an attentive look. He searches for something and stops a few meters from where you were. It’s always simple to find—the crossing point—and he spins to face you.

“If you don’t mind holding the bag, I can cross over first and then help you. Is that okay?”, he asks, looking for approval in your eyes.

Warmth takes over your heart at his caring nature, knowing he could have just gotten in and expected you to not hurt yourself.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” 

With no other words, you reach for the bag, and hug it against your chest, observing the sleeping dog in your arms. While you are distracted, Kun steps on the lower row of wire and carefully places his hands on the upper one, creating a space he can shimmy through. 

He pays close attention to where the barbs were, but does it calmly, and gets to the other side with a small sigh. He then gestures to the bag, stepping on the wire once again, and passing it over with even more care than he had for himself. 

The moment he takes the bag from you, you feel your fingers brushing. While you both pretend not to notice, the heat rushing to your cheeks speaks for itself. Neither one of you mention it.

Then, it's time for you to get in. You can admit you are a bit apprehensive. Kun’s frame is sturdier than yours, in general, and he was just fine, but the idea of sneaking through sharp thorns is not exactly exciting.

Kun seems to know what you feel, and gives you a sweet smile, hoping to calm your nerves. He places the bag on the ground gently, trying to keep the puppy asleep. The process, then, starts over. 

One foot over the first wire, a hand on the upper one and the other stretched out for you to grab. The wind picks up abruptly, and you can't tell if you shiver from it or from the grip of his fingers on yours.

“No need to hurry”, Kun whispers, eyes trained on where your body is concerning the barbs. He, time or another, tells you to bend a little lower or higher, and pulls more at the cable. To your relief, though, all is well. After a minute of wiggling, you touch the other side of the fence and allow yourself to rest. 

“You did good”, he praises, patting your hair kindly. You sort of feel like a kid, but maybe not in an unpleasant way. 

Tardily letting the tiredness from the day catch up to you, your brain slows down, and your limbs ache. You had not noticed Kun was already up on his feet with the bag until a hand shows up before your eyes, a silent offer. You take it without a second thought, letting him pull you up. 

From then on, your mind gave up on processing a lot of what you did. You were nearly sure you went up a row of stairs to a wooden deck, the floor squeaking under your boots. Your new friend still holds your hand securely, which you are thankful for when you trip on a loose board. His eyes examine you for a second, making sure you're alright before he turns to the door.

It is also made of wood but painted red and unyielding. Letting go of your fingers, he knocks 3 times, waits a couple seconds, and then 4 others. The house, so far still, erupts into hushed cheers and shouts. Kun can only shake his head, holding in a smile, and look up when the door flies open, candlelight spilling out. The slim figure that appears nearly throws himself in Kun’s arms, but freezes when he sees you and the bag.

“Y/N?!”

“Hendery?!”

“...You two know each other?”

---

final notes: don’t question the way the virus works. just don’t, ok

[allfandomxreader]

After Dust Settles

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: As a teenager, you never could’ve imagined the life you and Steve would share together. 

Warnings: Language, minor blood and anxiety mention, but I think that’s it

Words: 2.1k

A/N: So this could either be a one shot or if you guys like it I could make it into a mini series, let me know if you'd like me to continue it!! Not my gif!

Masterlist

Cold tile was pressed against your cheek. Steve murmured somewhere next to you in and out of conscious from his drugged state. You desperately wanted to reach for him, to hold his hand, to escape. God, you really wanted to escape.

When the Russians returned, they yanked your fallen bodies from the floor, asking once again “Who do you work for?” for the thousandth time. You couldn’t answer, your eyes fixated on the blood smears where Steve laid just moments ago. You’ve survived the Demogorgon and even his army of dogs, but you were going to die in a secret fortress beneath your part time job. It was almost comical.

The doctor, which by now you’ve decided wasn’t an actual doctor, reached for tools on a metal try. The scraping of metal sent chills down your spine, his footsteps that grew louder as he reached for Steve’s hand didn’t help either. The boy pressed against your back squirmed to get away from his grip, it was only then did you scream about the code.

The Mind Flayer roars, his hands swarmed around the open area trying to capture anything that dared to move. Your eyes were trained to the floor, trying your hardest not to stare at the creature that stood only a few yards away. You can’t hear anything, not Steve who tried to snap you out of your daze, not Robin who demanded answers to questions you couldn’t quite answer, even the fireworks sounded like they were miles away.

You needed to breathe. Air. You needed air.

It’s been years since the supernatural had left Hawkins, the small town is now deemed safe. There aren’t any more Russians, no sign of monsters, all the fighting ceased after Starcourt. Dust that the lab and the Upside Down kicked up has since settled.

It had been ages since you’ve woken up gasping, hands trembling, and coated with sweat. Nightmares haven’t been so common lately, you almost forgot they existed. Almost.

On any given morning, you’d reach for Steve. Usually, he’d still be sleeping, his lips always parted, his hair messy and fanning the pillow beneath him. Today however, the spot beside you is abandoned by Steve and stolen by four paws and a wagging tail. You smile at Grover, gently running your hand along his spine as his tail thumps softly against the mattress, eyes pleading to stay in bed just a second longer.

Steve would flip if he saw the sight, complaining for days about shedding and muddy paws. The beagle knows he’s not allowed in bed. Steve drilled that memo in his head the second he sprinted through the door, sniffing all his new surroundings. It only took him a few nights to understand the concept. But you let it slide, just this once.

It took only a moment to regain your bearings and be brought back to reality. The room around you is dark despite sunlight trying to invade the room behind closed curtains. Pictures hang neatly on the walls, a pile of Steve’s clothes in the corner, two stray cups litter the bedside table. You are home. You are safe.

Sighing, you pull yourself out of bed and into the kitchen, Grover’s muffled footsteps trailing behind you. The house is oddly silent, Steve clearly isn’t home, the note on the fridge only confirms it. “Store run, be home soon -S”

There couldn’t possibly be anything either of you needed for the day, grocery shopping has always been a Sunday errand. You haven’t even made the list yet, there’s no telling what that clueless man will bring back.

It’s Saturday, the day reserved for sleeping in and movie marathons with your husband. Saturday isn’t a day for waking up alone, weekdays are. Well, not for you, your job demands early mornings whereas Steve’s alarm goes off an hour after you leave. For years, Steve’s always been there the moment your eyes open. Of course, on the day you needed it most, he’s gone. You’ve always had shit luck though.

Grover eats happily while you brew a pot of coffee and scrub away the grime from last night’s dinner off dishes as it brews, quietly humming to yourself. You can’t help but bask in the comfort of your home.

There’s only two bedrooms, a quaint kitchen, a decently sized living room, and a small dining area. It’s nothing like the grand house Steve lived in before, there’s no way you could afford a three story abode and both of you refused to take money from his parents. But it’s away from Hawkins, just a few states away from bad memories.

The life you know now is nothing you could’ve dreamed of as a teenager. Married to your best friend, each of you pursuing dream jobs, being a home and dog owner, with a white picket fence to top it off. It’s all you could’ve asked for back then, and at the time it seemed so untangable, so unrealistic. It was hard picturing such a happy and bright future when you were surrounded with death and gore.

For the most part, both of you have healed. Your wounds are now faint scars, nightmares are a rare occurrence instead of every night. You don’t jump when the phone rings or panic when there’s a knock at the door. You don’t have to worry about saving the world anymore, only bills and what to cook for dinner, or whose turn it is to lock the door. For some, such a simple life would be excruciatingly boring, but for you and Steve it’s paradise.

“Hey sleepy head,” Steve calls from the front door, keys and plastic bags dangling from his hands. “You weren’t supposed to be up yet, I wanted to surprise you with breakfast.” He explains, kicking the door shut with his foot.

“I was wondering why you went to the store so early.” You smile, shutting the tap off and drying your hands. He sets the bags down on the counter, leaning in to peck your cheek.

“I didn’t want to wake you, you looked so peaceful even if you were snoring louder than Grover.” You bat his shoulder as he scratches the beloved dog behind his ears. “How’d you sleep?” You shrug, looking away only for a moment but Steve knows your mannerisms too well. His face softens as he pulls you into his arms. “Nightmare?”

“Yeah.” His hand combs through your hair as he holds you close, just his touch and the scent of his cologne put your mind at ease.

“I’m sorry, if I had known, I wouldn’t have left.”

“It’s okay, I’m a big girl. I can fight monsters all by myself.” You giggle pulling away and emptying the contents of the groceries.

“When have I ever let you fight on your own?” Steve helps place the food items on the counter, pancake mix, chocolate chips, and syrup are now placed neatly on the laminate. “I rented a few movies for tonight, I got The Princess Bride, The Labyrinth, and Alien 2.”

“We’ve already seen those.” You laugh, grabbing a mixing bowl from the cabinet above.

“And we loved them so we’re watching them again --hey stop that, it’s my turn to cook.” He says gently tugging the bowl out of your hands. You raise your hands in surrender as he begins to follow the instructions printed on the box.

Steve and you have always gone back and forth with household chores. You made it abundantly clear that you’d never be the kind of wife to do all the cooking and cleaning the second you said “I do”. It wasn’t a shock that Steve was okay with this, he was already used to caring for himself since his mother was barely around to do it for him. Hence the chores list hanging on the fridge, each of you having an even number beneath your names.

While Steve cooks, you set plates and silverware on the dining room table before flicking through the mail. You don’t open the ones labeled for Steve or even the bills, that can always be a problem for Monday.

One stands out amongst the rest. To Mr. and Mrs. Harringtonyou smile at the scribbled handwriting, you don’t know if you’ll get used to being Mrs. Harrington. “I think the kids wrote us.” You pad back into the kitchen, waving the crisp envelope in the air. You tear into the paper as Steve cranes his neck, hand still mixing pancake batter.

A single polaroid falls into your hands, each kid dressed in their cap in gown. Their arms are thrown over each other’s shoulders, grinning at the lens, their happiness frozen in time. “Miss you both, can’t wait to see you.” You read aloud, smiling at the faces you miss more than anything. “They’ve gotten so big, I can’t believe they’re graduating.”

“They’re about to be adults like us.” Steve chuckles, scooping batter into the skillet. You don’t look away from the tiny photo, tracing their faces with your fingertips. You can only imagine Mrs. Wheeler ordering them to pose, to stand up straighter, to smile for “just one more!”the same way she did when it was you, Steve, Nancy, and Johnathon graduating.

“They look so happy.” You whisper. Steve looks up then, noticing the falter in your smile. He sets down his spatula, ignoring the pancake that will most likely be burnt by the time he returns.

“Are you?” He asks, weaving his arms around your torso.

“The happiest.” You kiss his cheek, passing the photo into his hands for him to get a good look.

“Do you think that’s why you haven’t been sleeping well?” He nods towards the invitations plastered onto the fridge, “Your nightmares usually come back before we visit. Do you think it’s anxiety?” He asks, walking towards the fridge and placing the picture right in the middle of graduation party invites.

“Maybe,” You shrug, flipping the forgotten pancake, only earning a glare from your husband. “It was burning!”

“I told you it was my turn to cook!” You laugh and hop onto the counter as he takes over once more.

“I get scared sometimes,” You admit, Steve doesn’t turn away from the food but you know he’s listening. “Like, I get it, it’s over and it’s been over. And life has been so,so good, you know? But I feel like I’m always waiting for the other shoe to drop. For us to have to fight again and I’m so tired of fighting.”

“Hey,” Steve whispers making his way towards you, his fingertips absentmindedly stroking your arms, “It’s been over for a long time. And I understand, returning to Hawkins has always been hard, but we’ve done it many times and everything has been okay. We see the kids, we spend too much money at the arcade, we eat dinner with our parents, and then we come home. We come home without bruises, we come home without something new to give us nightmares.”

You sigh, leaning your head against Steve’s chest knowing he’s right. It’s just anxiety, it had to be.

You and Steve eat in a comfortable silence, the only noises are from your forks scraping against plates or him asking if you could pass the syrup. You’re lost in your own thoughts, feeling excitement to return to the kids but dreading the “Welcome to Hawkins” sign once you enter city limits.

“Steve?” You ask, he only hums in response as he shovels another bite into his mouth. “Let’s say it isn’t over. When we go home and for whatever reason the Mind Flayer is back and they asked us to help… Would we do it?” Steve ponders for a moment as he chews, swallowing before he answers.

“Yeah, I’d like to think we would. It’s not really in our nature to sit back as our friends save the world.” He smiles, although there’s a hint of pain evident in the way he curls his lips. “We’d fight how we always do… Together. All of us.”

“Yeah,” You nod, pushing your now empty plate forward. “Can you do me a favor?” He quirks a brow as he stands, grabbing both dishes to clear the table. “When we leave, can you make sure to pack that bat?”

“The bat? You want me to pack the bat?” He laughs.

“Yeah, you know, just in case.” You shrug.

“Anything for you.” He kisses the top of your head before heading into the kitchen to start the dishes, leaving you alone at the table, once again lost in your thoughts.

You hope visiting Hawkins will be like the last one, a vacation spent smiling, laughing, eating Mrs. Wheeler’s home cooked dinner after the kids’ graduation ceremony. You hope the door is closed like everyone told you, you hope El won’t have to use her powers to defeat a greater evil again. You’ve already saved the world twice; you hope you won’t have to do it a third.

Forever Tags: @superfrankie111 // @rueinn // @lemonadeorange73 // @simplechicwithacrazedheart // @youshutthefuckupville // @captainpeggy40​ 

[waveypedia]

little details i adore about astro boyd

(yes i watched it again yes i love it sue me)

The way the camera tilts when boyd talks when the “camera” Is Boyd’s pov to show he’s moving his head

The little flashes of Boyd’s true core memory from the very beginning

when boyd “malfunctions” the first time, only gyro freaks out. Akita looks totally calm

Boyd’s fake core memory fading out to show the reflection of his horrified face

Gyro almost never actually addresses boyd, treating him like an inanimate object, until he calls him a real boy

Gyro’s little gasp of horror when he realizes Fenton is out of commission

Lil bulb’s bulb turns red when gyro belittles boyd and machines in general in the lab, and that’s what puts him out of commission

(that was the inciting incident for it to go evil in both the great dime chase and beware the buddy system (as buddy), but gyro himself has never said it)

The picture of young gyro and boyd has a crack in it, representing their broken relationship

Immediately after Huey jumps and grabs gyro’s arm to protect boyd from him, gyro (unconsciously?) shields him with his arm

The shot right after has Huey still on gyro’s arm (continuity mistake) but then gyro just gently sets him down, even as he’s freaking out

Later, when Gizmoduck crashes into the ground, gyro grabs Fenton’s bag and Huey and carries them out of the blast zone w/o a second thought

Launchpad acting as troop leader 

The s’more with donuts and cookie dough (where did they get that???) 

Huey is more upset that the s’more isn’t regulation than that he’s being teased 

Huey’s “wow, that was easy” when Boyd asks if he wants to be friends 

Boyd has the jwg downloaded into his brain 

Boyd accidentally set the bully’s s’more on fire with his laser eyes hehe karma “

Manny!! Get this dangerous machine out of my lab!!!” “Which one?” “

What idiot called [him] [Boyd]?!” Haha mark beaks did gyro just called mark an idiot (it’s what he deserves) 

Gyro is so dramatic he keeps monologuing dfghjkl

The way akita belittled and never actually addressed gyro, his former intern, until they started fighting & how he addressed gyro as intern, (what he calls Fenton) even though he’s obviously not an intern anymore 

“Protect Gizmoduck” 

Every time lil’ bulb sat on gyro’s shoulder and when he sat on gyro’s head in the lab 

Akita knew gyro wasn’t responsible for Boyd’s “malfunctioning,” yet he belittles gyro like he was responsible since he knows it hits a nerve 

Huey insisted on calling boyd boyd, while everyone else called him 2b0. He also used he/him pronouns while everyone else used it/its pronouns, which is dehumanizing 

Gyro’s little “ow” when he and akita are slapping each other 

Huey’s terrified expression when boyd, in world breaker mode, broke fenton’s helmet 

when gyro has lost his glasses and akita is doing his “you’ll never invent anything worthwhile” bit, he backs away from akita only for his hand to go over the edge. He does a little hand wave and turns his head to find the ground, but there’s nothing there. And he can’t see so he doesn’t know how far off the ground he is! He probably thought akita was gonna kill him 

Gyro’s little satisfied “hm.” when inspector tezuka arrests akita

Actually all of gyro’s little noises, hums, screams, and grunts. Jim Rash is really talented.

The way Boyd’s head lifts when gyro says 2b0 and floats in front of Fenton

huey stands Fenton and lifts his head when gyro has Boyd’s attention and Fenton is out of commission 

There’s a picture of a crying strawberry in the background of boyd and gyro’s hug which perfectly encapsulates my feelings on the matter 

Gyro’s sweet, calm, loving expressions after he hugs boyd 

Huey frowns when boyd chooses the name beaks chose for him, but then smiles again when he explains his reasoning 

Team science walks RIGHT BY akita’s hiding place right before inspector tezuka stops them 

When gyro says “hide 2bo”, Fenton straight up rests his arm on boyd’s head like an armrest. Huey just shoves his hand in front of Boyd’s face 

When inspector tezuka leaves gyro to grill boyd, gyro just kinda… remains lying on the cop car. He doesn’t get up until she starts running after Lil Bulb (and then he sprints away)

Gyro’s “oh no” when he sees inspector tezuka 

The way gyro’s voice trails off when he knows he’s failed to convince inspector tezuka he’s on a field trip, and her attention is diverted to boyd, but he finishes his sentence anyway 

The pissed look gyro gives Fenton when he blows a hole in the wall of akita’s lab (even though gyro asked him to) 

The way Fenton’s hair bounces and flops around whenever he moves his head 

the fact that Fenton apparently thinks gyro was born in akita’s lab (where was Fenton born?) 

Lil Bulb sitting on gyro’s head 

“I don’t wanna break anything.” / “Then why must you insist on breaking my heart?!?!”

Gotta say I hate doofus and I’m glad he was only in this episode for a couple of seconds but that was so funny and I hate him a tiny bit less for his comedic value

Doofus and mark beaks vehemently refused Boyd’s hugs, but Gyro, who notoriously doesn’t like hugs (“the hugging is just for today”) gave him a giant one

It’s a huge step from the beginning of the episode where gyro literally jumped on a table to avoid boyd

The way huey says fenton’s name (fen-uhn) 

The fact that the Gizmosuit gets alerts for crime everywhere, not just in duckberg. it sounded like it taps into local police radios?

Fenton can speak Japanese

Fenton defending Gyro to inspector Tezuka, but not himself

Inspector Tezuka called Fenton Gyro’s “partner” - and he is, by the end!

Akita’s little homemade sound effects and gadgets 

“computer, zoom and enhance” *pulls out a magnifying glass*

Huey’s annoyed face when Fenton is overjoyed at the robbery 

Boyd can eat bowls 

All the ads for glomgold’s energy drink, especially the ones that show glomgold hella buff (what is with him and wanting to be seen as buff?)

When they fly away from tokyolk, Boyd’s pose at first mimics Fenton, but then he flies ahead and he and huey have a kid fun moment (tm)

According to the end credits, the thieving pigs are named Clown and Capsule! 

Bully Beagle, the junior woodchuck beagle boy

[imaginesmai]

Michael Gray-Umbrellas

Hi guys, it’s been a while! I wanted to do something special for the 500 followers, but I have already more than 600. I’m so happy, really!! So, to celebrate, I’m working on a little surprise for you. I will try to have it as soon as possible, and it’s related with requests. Can’t wait to show you! 

This was requested by someone, but as I said in a past post, I deleted accidentally some of the names of the people who requested. I hope you like it, whoever you are!

MICHAEL GRAY-C FOR CATCALL (ANGST ALPHABET)

Umbrellas were kind of a problem for the society. First of all, they were always too small; it didn’t matter where you put yourself, you would always wet your back or your front, and your socks would always get soaked. Second, people with umbrellas. Most of the people didn’t realise that using an umbrella meant triplicating your body’s width, and that always led to painful bumps and even a bruised eye. As a consequence, you had always hated umbrellas. They were ugly, hid people’s face from you and got you wet anyway. That was, however, until you met Michael Gray.

Being a bookworm meant having time to think about stupid things like the problems about an umbrella, and it usually meant not knowing too much people in your town. Sure, you had friends and family, but you didn’t like to go out and you weren’t really popular. If Michael hadn’t decided to pass by your favourite library and throw his coffee on your new dress you wouldn’t have probably met. He did, he bought you a new one and literally chased you until you said yes to a date. After that, it was all history; two years of a happy relationship with the man of your dreams.

Which led to that moment, you wrapped around his arm as a huge umbrella covered you both. Rainy days in Birmingham were common, but you didn’t like them. The only thing you wanted was to wrap yourself in the biggest blanket and cuddle with Michael after a long day of work.

“You’re awfully quiet” Michael pointed out, not looking down at you. “Usually, you would be talking nonstop about something right now.”

“It has been a long day, you know that the coffee shop has a lot of costumers in winter”

You had been working in a coffee shop for more than a year then. It had been Tommy who had found the job for you. The coffee was close to the Shelby’s place, and Michael had made a routine picking you up after he got out of work. That way you could walk together to your shared apartment.

“You could take some free days. I could ask Tommy for them too, it would be nice to spend Christmas in a more… quiet place, don’t you think?”

“What about Christmas party? Or New Year’s one? Actually, what about every Shelby’s party?” you frowned, getting closer to him when you felt the rain hitting your side. “I’m sure Polly wouldn’t be too happy about that. She starts planning them in summer.”

“Love, I don’t want to go there. I want to spend Christmas with you, not with my nosy family. And I’m sure you think that way.”

You huffed, looking up at him. Michael was already looking at you, with a half smirk on his lips. He knew you loved the idea, you were always pestering him about not having enough time for the both of you. And honestly, he would love a quiet Christmas with the love of his life.

“If we do so, I’m not telling Polly, you are. Also, I don’t want to hear any last-minute trip with the boys or to find Arthur in our door the night before.” The Shelby used to do that a lot; calling Michael at the worst hours and ruining your plans. Your boyfriend didn’t mind helping them, yet you didn’t enjoy the sight of Michael bloody and bruised at your doorstep at three in the morning. “If you really want to go, you have to promise me no surprises. Just a quiet Christmas.”

“Just a quiet Christmas, Y/N. You, me, we can bring Chester if you want.”

A smile crept in both of your faces when Michael named your little dog. He had found him in the streets some months ago; his mother, nowhere to be seen, and next to him two dead puppies. Chester had survived by chance, and thanks to your cares, he was then a healthy beagle and the light in your lives.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea” you laughed. “He tends to be a little aggressive towards new furniture.”

“Polly can always-“

Michael’s next words died in his mouth as a hard slap rang all over the street.

To get to your shared apartment, you had to walk through the bad neighbourhood of Birmingham; that’s probably the main reason Michael always waited for you to get out of work. There lived beggars, whores, junkies and homeless. By then, it would have been normal that you had had a problem with someone. In the end, there were killers, children’s rapists and mad men in there. But it hadn’t until that moment.

You were pushed a few inches forward, and had it not been for your arms wrapped around Michael’s, you would have fallen to the ground. The ghost feeling of the hand against your backside made you walk towards Michael’s other side, and look to the culprit from there.

It wasn’t just one, there were three of them. The first one was laughing, showing you his toothless mouth. The one in the middle had his hand inside his pants, probably had it since you appeared in the street, judging by the huge bulge. And the last one was looking at you, letting you know that he had slapped your ass.

“I really thought it would be more loose” he said, not hiding the lust from his eyes. “Seems like not every Shelby is an used whore.”

“I want to touch it too!” the first man tried to get up, propping himself up in the wall.

You opened your mouth to say something, and begged to your brain to let it be something different from a cry. But Michael beat you to it.

“That’s not fucking nice from you, mates. Apologise to her.”

As if Michael had told the best joke ever, the three of them started laughing at mocking his jokes. The one with the boner, who got up too quickly to Michael or you notice, tried to grab you. You didn’t have time to step back before Michael had punched him square in the face. If anyone had to say, Michael was the least aggressive Shelby. He always preferred to use the words and tried to keep everything under control. However, threatening his girl called for drastic measures.

The guy fell to the floor with a pained scream, and finally, he removed his hand from his pants to cover his nose. Soon, his two friends were up, rage in their eyes. You clutched Michael’s arm tighter, the rain and the problem with the umbrellas long forgotten.

“You think you’re tough, hm? If she’s your bitch, you shouldn’t let her dress like that. Is begging for attention” the toothless one said, his voice rough. Michael’s fists clenched at his side, and the hand that was gripping the umbrella became white.

“I really suggest you to stop talking and apologise to my lady” Michael said under his breath.

“What are you going to do, hm? Bore us with your great speech, Shelby?” the one who touched your ass laughed again, already knowing who Michael was. If that was supposed to be a relive, it wasn’t. It just meant that those men knew who your boyfriend was and they weren’t afraid of him.

With the corner of your eye, you saw a shiny object in the hands of the toothless, and you gasped when you realised it was a knife. Not too big and probably not too sharp, but dangerous enough. Tears welled in your eyes in fear, and you tried to pull him backwards to leave. However, he didn’t move an inch. All Michael did was raise an eyebrow.

“We’re going to give your “lady” what she’s asking for, you’re going to watch and, just when I cum in her, I’m-“

A bullet hitting him in the middle of his eyes made him shut up, and the toothless man fell to the floor with a loud thud. Everything was silent for a second, until his friend started to shout at you and to threaten you. From his mouth fell all type of threats, all of them related with you or with Michael’s family. Although you were sure he was going to kill both of you there, when he tried to take a step towards yourself he fell dead to the floor next to his friend, blood coming out from his forehead.

The only one left was sitting on the ground with the help of his elbows. The blood of his nose was mixed with the rain, that was heavily falling on all of you. Still, not a drop of water had hit your skin since Michael hadn’t drop the umbrella.

“Please, please I didn’t do anything” the man cried, trying to get away but slipping on a puddle. “They-I told them not to, b-but they didn’t listen. I-I told them she was your girl-“

“You think this is because she’s my girl?” Michael frowned, rage filling his voice. “You shouldn’t do that to any woman, single or taken. If she doesn’t give you consent, you can’t even think about her.”

“Yes! Yes, I promise I-I told them that!” an ugly sob left his lips. “L-Let me go and you won’t see m-me again, I promise!”

“I mean, you’re right” Michael sighed. “Maybe if it had been any other woman, I would be angry. But this is my woman.”

He couldn’t beg for his life anymore as a scream tore from his lips. Where previously had been his boner, now there was a hole with blood pouring out. Your eyes widened as Michael put the gun back in his pocket, and gave you a soft smile before walking again.

That time, the hand that wasn’t holding the umbrella covered your shoulders, and he left a quick kiss on your forehead. You nuzzled into his side, gripping his middle and smiling up at him too. And even after three dead bodies and a harsh conformation, still not a drop of water had landed on you. It seemed that sharing an umbrella with Michael wasn’t that bad.

Want to know more about me? Here is my Masterlist! Feedback is always appreciated!!

[boydgearloose]

#47 with gyro and Fenton (you can make it fenro but you don’t have to)

tw for a mild description of injuries, nothing too graphic but it’s better to be safe than sorry

Gyro stared at the clock on the lab’s wall, leaning back in his chair. It was about thirty minutes before he’d planned to go home. Normally, the inventor would spend as many extra hours as he could in the lab working on various projects, but he’d decided to allow himself a day off after a very stressful board meeting that didn’t exactly go as planned and that day was tomorrow. Since he didn’t have much of anything to work on, he wanted to go home as soon as he was allowed to and spend the rest of that day and the next one with no one around save for Lil Bulb and his three (sometimes four if the neighbors weren’t home) cats.

However, there had been a setback. Cabrera had gone on a Gizmoduck mission to stop a robbery at the movie theater, and Gyro didn’t want to leave work before him because he didn’t exactly trust him alone in the lab. The problem was that his coworker left over an hour ago when these things normally only took a few minutes and having his day off delayed because of this was irritating Gyro.He guessed the paparazzi had stopped him or something like that, which made the whole ordeal even more annoying because it was such a pointless reason to take so long stopping a stupid robbery at a stupid movie theater. If it was a murder or wreck or even a robbery that took place somewhere more important then sure, of course it would take more than a few minutes, but Gizmoduck dealt with robberies on a near daily basis! What was so different about this one?

The chicken was about to walk to the movie theater and chew Gizmoduck out in front of all the reporters and camera-men and fans there to see him until a ding from the elevator sounded and caused him to breathe a sigh of both relief and annoyance.

“There you are!” he groaned. “It took you long enough! What were you even doing out there for so long, you little-”

Gyro’s words was cut off by the sound of a body abruptly hitting the floor.

A loud scream left the inventor’s throat, and he turned around as quickly as he could to see Cabrera lying completely still on the floor, not even moving a muscle. For a second, Gyro was petrified, staring directly at the motionless body of his coworker. Good lord, was he dead? Did Cabrera actually get himself killed this time?

Right as he was starting to really panic, he noticed the very shallow rise and fall of the duck’s chest and sighed in relief, glad that he wouldn’t have to deal with the emotional trauma of someone being eradicated by one of his inventions all over again or the pummeling Cabrera’s mom was sure to give him if her son was wounded on his watch. But although he was alive, the duck still didn’t look too good. Gyro got this feet and slowly walked over to the other’s still body.

He was going to scold Cabrera for making him think he was dead for a good fifteen seconds, but then he got a good look at his wounds and started feeling ill again. The duck was lying on his back, giving Gyro a good look at his face which was bruised all over. He’d never seen someone with two black eyes before, both just as bad as the other. Not only that, but Cabrera’s face was covered in gashes, some of which were still bleeding. Although his shirt covered most of his upper half, Gyro could also make out some bruises and cuts along his shoulders. Everything below appeared to be fine, which meant there wasn’t any damage to his organs, but a concussion or other sort of brain injury definitely looked likely, which was just as worrisome.

“My goodness, who did this to you?” Gyro choked out, squatting down so he could get an even closer look at Cabrera.While he seemed to be fading in and out of consciousness, the other understood what was being said and tried to crack a grin. “O-Oh, nobody, Dr. Gearloose. Just one of those Beagle boys I think.”

“You think?” This wasn’t looking very hopeful. “Can you seriously not even remember?”

Cabrera seemed to think for a moment and tried his hardest to shrug. “Kind of, yeah. It was a Beagle boy. The one with the really big hands. They punched my helmet to bits.”“They what!?” Gyro was trying his best not to freak out, but Cabrera sure was making it difficult. “Where is it? The helmet? And the rest of the suit as well?”He thought again for a moment. “Oh yeah! I took ‘em off in an alley because I didn’t want to be flying around as Gizmoduck without a helmet. Then I came here.”

“You left my hero armor in a blathering alley, you fool!?”

Cabrera nodded. “Sorry, Dr. Gearloose. I’ll call for it right now, and it’ll just come right back! Don’t you worry.” He cleared his throat. “Blathering balth-”

“Oh, no you don’t!” Gyro practically leapt on the duck and clamped his bill shut with his hands. “You are absolutely not going to call the suit over in your condition, do you hear me?”The duck nodded, and Gyro let his bill go. As much as it did worry him that the Gizmoduck suit was in the back of an alley for anyone to take, it wouldn’t be much without a functioning helmet and only worked for Fenton. He’d collect it later. Right now, he had something much more urgent to deal with.“Why didn’t you go to the hospital?” Gyro asked, looking the duck’s injuries over again. “Your face is almost entirely blue.”

“I couldn’t really remember where it was,” Cabrera replied. “That’s why I came to you. I was hopin’ you could take me.”

“I can’t drive, you dummy.”

“Ah.” A long yawn left the duck’s throat. “In that case, I think I’m gonna sleep here actually. Wake me up in a little bit, ‘kay?”

Gyro gasped, impulsively grabbing Cabrera’s shoulders and attempting to hoist him up. “Listen here, you,” he grunted as he tried to drag the duck’s body over to the small couch in the corner of the lab despite it being heavier than anything his rather weak arms normally lifted, “I have every reason to believe that you are severely concussed and in desperate need of medical help, so going to sleep will be the last thing you do, understand?”Cabrera nodded. “Hmmmmm…yeah.”

“I’m dead serious,” Gyro continued, slowly making his way over to his destination with Cabrera’s body in tow and trying not to get a hernia as he did so. “If you die on me, I’m going to be in more trouble…than I can even…articulate…and I’ll lose my job…and be plagued by guilt every second of my- geez, did you start working out or something?”“Yeah! You should join me sometimes.”

“By how this is going, I might need to.”Finally, Gyro reached the couch and practically threw Cabrera’s body on top of it as gently as he possibly could. He took a while to catch his breath from having to exert himself so much and then turned his attention back to the injured duck.“Okay, you stay there, and do not fall asleep if you value your life or mine. I am going to get something for those wounds of yours and call Mr. McDuck so we can get you the medical attention you need,” he scolded, reaching into his pocket for his cellphone.

“Wait!” Cabrera suddenly called out, grabbing for Gyro’s wrist. He pulled back, careful not to drop his phone. “What’s the matter with you?”

“If we tell the hospital, they’re gonna know I’m Gizmoduck!”

Gyro sighed, mentally muttering something to himself about how the concussion had possibly made this dummy even dumber. “They won’t. I’ll tell them you dropped a really big beaker on your head or something. We’ve lied our way out of these things before, remember?”“Oh yeah.” Another good natured laugh left Cabrera’s throat. “Do all that then.”

When he was about to turn around to get the first aid kit and dial Mr. McDuck on his phone, Gyro took one more look at the duck lying on the couch in front of him. For some reason, seeing him like that, completely vulnerable and beaten up, struck something in him. He wasn’t sure what it was or why it hadn’t hit sooner, but standing there and properly taking in just how badly Cabrera was hurt almost made him want to offer some sort of comfort to the other. And of course, although Cabrera wasn’t in a very stable state of mind at the moment, he still managed to pick up on it.

“Is something the matter, Dr. Gearloose?”

“Ah!” Gyro shook his head, collecting himself. “No. No, it’s fine, just…ah, are you…” He gulped, as if it physically hurt him to ask. “…Are you okay? I mean, elsewhere. You don’t have any broken bones or things like that? I need to know because of, uh…the story I have to tell the doctors that I mentioned so they don’t know you’re Gizmoduck. Yeah.”Cabrera tapped his fingers and screwed up his face in thought. “Nah, I’m good. Thanks.”

The inventor sighed, stretching and turning to walk toward the shelf that contained the first aid kit. “Sit tight, Fenton. I’ll be back with…”

Gyro stopped dead in his tracks when he realized what he said. Even though he was facing the other way, he could practically feel the goofy smile on Cabrera’s face burning into him from behind.

“Wait a second,” his voice squeaked out, “you just-”

“No I didn’t!” Gyro shot back, face completely flushed in embarrassment. “I said Cabrera!”“No, you said Fenton! You said my name!”“I did not.”“Yes you did! You like me, Dr. Gearloose!”“I swear on the success of each and every one of my upcoming inventions, I did not call you Fenton.”“You said it again!”“I…ugh!” The chicken let out a squawk of frustration and stormed off. “You are severely concussed and are hearing things and that’s final!”

As Gyro trudged away and dialed his boss’ number, he could only hope that his coworker was stupid enough to forget his little slip of the tongue. But deep down inside, he knew that he was nowhere near it and started to mentally prepare himself for the weeks and weeks of teasing that would surely follow.

[superwolfiestar]

Partners in Time Ch.11

Later…

After many puzzles and beating down enemies, the heroes finally reached the supply room, where they saw a strange green Wiggler-like creature who appears to be taking a sip of the vim. Once it did, the back of this Wiggler was connected to cables with two electrical outlets that transported the vim it just slurped to the Shroob Saucers up above.

"That must be how the vim supply process works here, right, Stuffwell?" Panchito guessed as he and the other heroes walked to the Wiggler.

"Yes, that Swiggler is the one who transfers the vim fuel to the Saucers." Stuffwell nodded.

"That kinda looks gross, if you ask me…" Jose cringed a bit.

"Well, we have to find a way to make this process stop if we want to save the peoples." Panchito said.

"Yeah, but how do we get-… OH NO!" Jose eyed at something that was probably bad at the last sentence, causing his eyes to widen.

Confused at first, the rest of the heroes shifted their gaze in the same direction as Jose, and also had their eyes widened.

They saw Young Panchito lifting his hammer, about to hit the cup that the Swiggler was drinking, with Young Jose panicking from behind.

"PANCHITO! O que o diabo are you doing?!" Young Jose shouted.

"Getting rid of the combustible, obviously!" Young Panchito replied.

"NO! Não faça isso!" Young Jose protested. "What if you anger the Wiggler?!" He warned.

Young Panchito didn't listen to them and by swinging his hammer, he knocked down the glass, spilling all of the fuel on the floor. Of course, the Swiggler was not happy at all and did a loud roar as his body becomes red and grows a bit:

*ROOOOAR!*

"YIIIIKES!" Young Jose shrieked as he runs to his older self and tugs tightly on his pant leg. Jose gave Young Jose a piggyback to calm him down.

"Nice going, Panchito! You just created an even bigger problem!" Young Jose hissed.

"How would I predict that?" Young Panchito questioned, trying to make an excuse.

"It doesn't matter! Let's just hurry and take care of that Wiggler!" Panchito demanded and stood in his fighting position.

The cables detached from the Swiggler as he begins to suck in air into his either nose or mouth before sending out a purple cloud of smoke towards the heroes. Thankfully, both Red Roosters got rid of the smoke by jumping on it.

Then, two Dr. Aliens showed up on both sides and tries to attack the heroes by shooting out lasers from their guns, but the heroes jumped over them. Both doctors then pulled out a red and a white mushrooms each.

"Guys, be careful; if you stomp on them, they'll drop the mushroom they're carrying and it will land in the vim. If the red mushroom lands in last, the Swiggler will drink it and become stronger." Stuffwell warned. "So you'll have to knock the white mushroom in last."

"Got it!" the heroes replied.

Panchito and Young Panchito stomped on the Dr. Alien carrying the red mushroom, and it fell into the vim, followed by Jose and Young Jose whose then did the same to the other Dr. Alien carrying the white mushroom, and it also fell in the vim.

The Swiggler drank the vim, and it became neon green and weaker because of the white mushroom that landed in last, giving a chance for Young Jose to Jump on its head.

"INCOMING!" Panchito shouted out loud as shockwaves caused by Swiggler's stomping was coming after the heroes. They quickly jumped over them, but the Swiggler was so pissed that his guards were destroyed that he continues to create more shockwaves.

"Panchito! Jose! Young Panchito! Young Jose! Use this!" Stuffwell open the suitcase to summon a Fire Flower and tosses it into the air.

"A Fire Flower! Thanks, Stuffwell!" Panchito thanked him before he jumped back to Panchito pocket as the Fire Flower dissolves and its particles falls over Super Caballeros and their youngsters counterparts' heads.

The Super Caballeros’ clothes, including their younger selves, changed to their Fire Flower appearances, and the four begin to charge up their fireballs and shot as many as them at the frozen Swiggler. Once the time-stopping effect wore off, the Swiggler was already defeated and the Fire Flower effect on the past and future Super Caballeros wears off.

The Swiggler faces defeat on the ground before exploding into another Cobalt Shard.

"Hey! It's the second Cobalt Shard!" Jose exclaimed.

"Excelente! We now have two pieces!" Panchito said as he takes the Cobalt Shard.

"Woohoo!" Young Panchito and Young Jose cheered.

"Sweet! Let's take it and-… Huh?"

However, Panchito was interrupted when a familiar figure zoomed past him and began to run in circles, catching everyone's attention:

"Eh?" Jose did.

"What the-?" Young Panchito did.

"Wait a minute! Is that…?" Young Jose recognized the figure.

The figure couldn't stop running in circles and it made the heroes just stand there and keep their eyes on it. Because of that, they ended up becoming dizzy, and the two Cobalt Shards flew out from Panchito's pocket and it landed on the ground. Once the figure stopped running, it revealed that it was actually Young Zeus and he snatched the two Cobalt Shards!

"GWAH HA HA! LOOOOSERS!" he laughed. "Thought you could get away with stealing MY treasure from MY castle, did ya? It's payback time! I'll take MY treasure…plus whatever you just picked up as compensation!"

"What a spoiled child he is…" Panchito thought after he got rid of his dizziness while glaring at Young Zeus.

"Prince Zeus! Let's scram!" Young Nik Nokturn suddenly came in flying on his broom.

They all watched Young Zeus leaving with his Clown Cart while following Young Black Art Beagle out of the factory.

"Ooh… Could this day get any worse?" Panchito whimpered.

"Cruel fate!" Stuffwell came out of Panchito's pocket. "We finally succeed in recovering the second shard and now this happens… Shame cycle initiated. We must return to our own time and rework our strategy."

Soon, the heroes shook their heads to get rid of their dizziness.

"Ugh… What happened?" Jose groaned.

"Young Zeus just swiped the two Cobalt Shards…" Stuffwell told them.

"He WHAT?! OH CRAP!"

"Just our luck… Now where did they went off to now?" Panchito questioned.

"I'm not sure, but we better head back to the present and tell the news to Professor Gyro." Stuffwell said. "

Once they make it back to the present, they reappeared at the castle's garden instead of the room where the time hole leading to Toadwood Forest currently was.

They wasted no time in heading to the throne room, where Professor Gyro and Fenton was waiting for them.

"About time you all showed!" Professor Gyro turns around. "Ran into some persnickety obstacles, did you?"

"A lot, to say the least…" Young Panchito sweatdropped.

Stuffwell came out and immediately told the Professor:

"I am deep in a shame cycle, Professor. We nearly had a pair of fragments, but... That Young Zeus fellow made off with them both."

"Heh heh heh…" Professor Gyro laughed. "Now, now, no need to get your leather lathered. There've been new time holes popping up here faster than toast on Sunday morning!"

"Wait… You mean…" Stuffwell was speechless.

Then, two earthquakes came in and four new time holes showed up in different rooms of the castle.

"Wow… Hold up, now that more time holes showed up, I'm getting a reading of another Cobalt Star energy from one of them…"

"Really? From which one, Professor Gyro?" Jose asked.

"It's from the time hole at the second floor of the castle. I bet that time hole will lead us to where Young Zeus made his escape in the past."

"If you say so… Panchito! Jose! We must chase! We MUST have redemptitude!" Stuffwell demanded.

Fenton laughed. "Look now, before you rush off, I think it'd be wise to survey the rest of the castle. And another thing! There's a noisy feller from the past running around with a twin ducks dress in pink and yellow."

"That sounds like Scrooge! Eh… Our Scrooge, I meant!" Young Jose gasped. "And he's still with our Boy Princess Donald and Princess Della!"

"Can you all make sure there's no trouble out there?" Professor Gyro requested.

The group nodded and went outside. There, they found both Scrooge trying to entertain a crying Young Boy Princess Donald, with Young Princess Della standing on his side along with the triplet, Webby, and the present staff. They managed to do it successfully by doing what they called the Scrooge Twist. Panchito and Jose found that move quite interesting and they asked the Scrooges to teach it for then. With that, the Super Caballeros learned the famous Spin Jump, just like from their previous adventure at the Beanbean Kingdom.

With this new move, the heroes went to the current time hole located at the second floor, in the castle's library. They jumped in, ready for their next destination in the past.

[midyxthcrisis]

The Rich | C.M.

I was walking down the streets of Manhattan, trying to get away from my father. I loved him, but he kept pushing me to get a husband. I wanted my freedom for a little longer. My blue skirts were dragging along the filthy streets, getting them dirty. Pa was going to kill me. It was worth it though. I was daydreaming when I felt a small tug on the bottom of my dress. I looked down and saw a tiny Beagle chewing on my skirt. I bent down and picked it up.

“Well hello. Now, we don’t to chew on my skirt do we? Where’s your owner?” I asked the dog, bending down to pick it up. Just then a boy with a crutch who appeared to be my age walked up.

"Sorry miss, I lost my dog and you see-"

“No, it’s okay. Please don’t call me miss. Is he yours?” I asked the boy, holding up the dog. His eyes lit up at the sight.

"I can take him back to where you live if you would like." He shook his head.

"I wouldn't want to bother you miss." I laughed a bit

"No really, it's fine. I'm actually trying to get away. Please call me something else besides miss." He gave me a look that made my stomach do flips.

"Why do you wanna get away?" He asked

"Well, my Pa's trying to make me get married. I'm only 17! I just want my freedom a little longer!" I ranted to a complete stranger.

"Well, what's your name?" He asked me, smiling warmly. My stomach did somersaults, again.

"I'm Winifried, but  gets either calls me Winnie or Win." I told him.

"Well, nice to meet you Win, I'm Crutchie." He told me.

"Now, should we take this little guy back to your house?" I asked him. He nodded and started to walk away.

"Wait! I can't go fast because of this damn dress!" I told him, trying to run and carry a puppy at the same time.

"Sorry." He said slowing down a bit.

"Oh it's okay, I have four older brothers. I just don't want to drop him." I explained

"What's his name?" I asked him, stretching the dog's ears

"I haven't decided yet." He responded. We walked up to a building that said Manhattan Lodging House

"Oh, so you're a newsboy?" I asked him

"Yup, I love it!" He said with an infections enthusiasm. I laughed a bit and walked into the door. We winded through hallways until we got to a room full of other newsboys. They all stopped what they were doing and looked towards me and Crutchie. A few of them whistled.

"Damn, who's might youse be?" A boy with a blue shirt asked me, slinging his arm around my shoulder. I put the dog down and pinned him against the wall.

"Now, this dress is my Pa's favorite dress on me. I hate men who hit on me. I live in a house with four older brothers. I know self defense. We wouldn't want Pa to get upset at me with blood stains on my dress, now would we?" I said to him. Loudly. Everyone else in the room "Ooo"ed and a few stifled back a laugh. He gulped and shook his head.

"Good." I said dropping him to the floor.

"Wow, nobody ever stands up to Jack! Much less a goil Win!" Crutchie exclaimed

"Yeah well, I grew up in a house with five guys, so I know a thing or two about self defense." I said laughing a bit.

"Thanks for helping me get my dog back!" Crutchie said smiling. His whole face lit up when he smiled. It was really cute. Shut up Win! What are you saying!

"So, what are you gonna name him?" I asked Crutchie. He looked at the Beagle for a moment

"Win. I'll name him Win." Then he smiled at me. I blushed.

"Thanks." We just kinda sat there for a minute, looking at eachother

"What time is it?" I asked anyone.

"Um, about 6. Why?" I jumped up and mumbled

"Shit." I walked toward the door but my arm was grabbed by Crutchie

"Why are you  goin' so soon?" I sighed

"My Pa's gonna kill me if I'm not home by 7. I have to climb a fire escape, which is kinda hard in this." Gesturing to my tight dress.

"I can walk youse home if you want." He offered. I looked around at everyone.

"That would be lovely, thank you." We walked side by side until we got to my fire escape.

"Well, here's my stop." I said, feeling on the inside that I was parting with part of me. What? What is this feeling? I asked my self.

"Well, it was nice meet you!" Crutchie said walking away. I got a sudden burst of courage.

"Crutchie wait!" I said.

"Yes?" He asked, looking at me with his bright hazel eyes. I ran up to him, grabbed his face, and kissed him. Fireworks went off in my stomach. I know, that's cheesy, but it was true. He wrapped his arms around my waist and he kissed back. After a minute we broke apart, gasping for air. I smiled at him

"See you tomorrow?" He smiled as well and nodded. I climed up the fire escape, going through my bedroom window to see Ryan, my older brother, smirking at me.

"What?" I asked him

"You know what." He told me, shoving my arm a bit.

"Please don't tell Papa." I begged him.

"Fine, but you owe me." He said

"I'm the baby sister, I don't owe you anything." I said, looking out my window to see Crutchie leaning on the ladder, gazing at the ground. I watched him as I came up for the word that I was feeling. Love.

a/n: this is very bad but it’s two years old from my wattpad because I have literally no motivation to write hA

[enbydemirainbowbigfoot]

New Everything Parts 10-End

“Come on, come on,” Hugo urges the phone. It rings and rings, and then-

“Hello-“

“Fethry!! Jeez, don’t-“

“-you’ve reached Fethry’s voicemail! I'm probably spending time with family, or on the pier, or out on the water with Mitzi! Leave me a message and I’ll call back when I can, okay?”

The phone beeps.

“Fethry, it’s Hugo,” Hugo says quickly. “What the hell is going on?! The line went dead and there’s this giant-“

He peeks out of the window again.

“-this giant monster thing! It’s wearing a red shirt, I don’t know if that helps but where are you?!”

He hangs up, breathing heavily, then slams the phone down on the receiver. “Damn it!!”

Hugo races to the door, grabbing a hoodie- even if nothing’s wrong, which he doubts, he can’t risk anyone recognizing him- and sets Scruffy gently on the table. “Can’t let you get hurt, little buddy. Be good.”

Time to go.

———

When Hugo emerges onto the streets, Duckburg is in chaos. Several cars are flattened, there’s a few fire hydrants spewing water, and there on the corner a cabbage stand has been smashed.

Hugo barely pays any attention to this, however. He scans the few people fleeing the scene, in hopes of finding Fethry, then sees a familiar limousine.

“That’s that duck’s limo,” he realizes, already running over. It’s a long shot, but maybe Fethry will be there.

He’s not. Instead Hugo finds the limo-driving duck from the move- what’s his name, Lunchpad? Launchpot? No, Launchpad.

“Hey, it’s you!” Launchpad clambers out of the wrecked vehicle, and promptly pitches forward. Hugo watches as the duck picks himself up. “Have you seen Uncle McDee?”

“Uncle who now?”

“Uncle McDee,” Launchpad explains. “Mr. McDuck! I was gonna go see if he was okay, and then I crashed.” He pauses. “Actually, it was because the monster nearly stepped on the limo-“

Hugo waves his hand impatiently. “Haven’t seen him. Have you seen Fethry?”

Launchpad frowns. “Nope, not today. Why?”

But Hugo’s already gone, running down the hill in the direction the monster had gone. Something tells him that, as a Duck, Fethry will be where the trouble is.

———

He tries Fethry’s number again, only to get another voicemail. “No, no! Come on and pick up, Fethry, this isn’t funny!! Answer your phone, Duck- oof!”

Hugo rights himself in time to see two dogs- two of the Beagle Boys, he thinks- rush past him after nearly knocking him down. “Hey!!”

The dogs don’t stop, or even look back. They’re shouting something- hamburger? Weird thing to yell about, but okay. Maybe they’ve seen Fethry.

“Hey,” Hugo calls again, racing to catch up, and swerves in front of them. “Have you seen a skinny duck in a red hat?”

The shorter Beagle Boy glares up at him. “No, we haven’t!! Now move it before I move you myself!”

Pre-Fethry Hugo- well, Steelbeak- would have taken that as a challenge and started swinging. He wants to, but somehow his time with Fethry as a friend (friend?!!) has changed his priorities. Instead, he takes a breath and steps aside.

Scanning the area again reveals nothing Hugo hasn’t already seen, and he realizes with a jolt that he’s worried. “Come on, Fethry,” he mutters, “where are you?”

��——

Fethry gasps as Ana stumbles, but quickly catches the toddler and hands her to her mother. “Here, May,” he says, “this way she won’t fall!”

He scans the group- the ducks May and Ana, plus a couple named Remus and Leonard, and their son Lucan. They’re all safe, and he breathes a sigh of relief.

Fethry had been mid-call with Hugo when a car flew by- evidently kicked by the monster. He’d ducked and accidentally dropped his phone, which hit the pavement and skidded into the street, only for the monster to step on it. After that he’d been forced to run like everyone else, only stopping to help Remus, Lucan, and Leonard rescue May and Ana from a collapsed building. Thankfully nobody had been hurt, but then Fethry had to lead them away from the destruction the monster was causing.

“We’re almost to Killmotor Hill,” he tells them. “We just have to get past these next few apartments!”

Leonard grins. “Thank God,” he says, gripping his partner’s arm. “Hopefully Gizmoduck arrives soon, before more people get trapped or hurt.”

Remus pats the lion’s shoulder comfortingly. “Don’t worry, honey,” he says. “Fethry knows the way.”

“I hope Gizmoduck gets here soon,” Ana whimpers, clinging to her mother.

The wolf cub, Lucan, looks determined. “Of course he will! He’s a hero, and heroes always save the day!! Right, dad?”

Remus nods. “Right, Lucan. For now, though, we have to stick close to Mr. Fethry, okay? He’s gonna get us out of here.”

“DON’T BE AFRAID, CITIZENS!”

Ana looks up, suddenly excited. “I see him!!”

“I AM-“

“Gizmoduck!” Lucan exclaims, pointing. “He’s here!!”

Hopeful eyes follow the superhero, white armor shining bright against the blue shy. The hero waves as they fly by, and Fethry could swear he sees a confident grin. “We’d better get out of his way,” he tells the group.

What follows is frighteningly similar to the old war movies Donald had snuck in to see when they were kids- explosions, smoke, and rubble everywhere. Fethry probably won’t be able to hear properly for a few days, and Ana’s already covering her ears in her mother’s arms.

Everything looks like it’s going to be fine, when, while scrambling over a fallen tree, May twists her ankle.

“Aah!!” The duck cries out, falling to the ground. Lucan helpfully rushes to catch Ana.

“Come on, miss,” Leonard says, helping her up. “Let us help you.”

“We’ll help you walk,” Remus adds. “Lucan, do you have Ana?”

“Yeah, dad,” the wolf pup confirms. “I’ve got her.”

Seeing how small Lucan still is, Fethry decides to stick close to both him and Ana. “Hey, don’t cry,” he says cheerily to the toddler. “We’re gonna be okay!”

“Promise?”

Fethry crouches down, closer to her eye level. “Promise-“

WHAM!!

With a cry, Gizmoduck comes hurtling past them. They slam into a still-standing shop- Fethry thinks it sells surfboards- and their armor begins smoking.

“Okay,” Fethry says decisively. “They're okay, we’re okay, we can still make it to-“

“RoooaaaaAAAAAAAAAAR!!!”

Oh no.

“Fethry! Lucan!!”

“Ana!!”

“Fethry!!”

———

The pier is covered with rubble when Hugo arrives, and frightened cries fill the air. He can see Gizmoduck, propped up against a wall and producing a frightening amount of smoke, and the monster, visible only by virtue of its size, but his focus isn’t on any of that. It’s on the scrawny duck in the floppy red hat, standing bravely in front of a couple of kids.

“Fethry!!” Hugo shouts, breaking into a run. He’s found them, they’re safe, he’s found them and it’s going to be okay now-

-except that the monster raises an arm and throws a chunk of building.

“No!!” Hugo yells, forcing his run into a sprint. He gets closer and closer- sees Fethry shove the kids out of the way, the kids are safe but Fethry isn’t- Hugo’s too slow and he’s gonna lose everything again-

(Hugo is fifteen and has been brought to the hospital waiting room by a concerned teacher. He’s angry at first- he doesn’t need to go to school, why is she butting into his life like that- but the doctor calls him into room 104. “Hugo,” ze says gently, and right away Hugo knows that everything has gone terribly, awfully wrong. “It’s your mother.”)

(Hugo is twenty and his beak has just been shattered. He can’t talk, he can’t defend himself, he can’t fight. He’s in prison, he’s trapped, and everything he relied on is gone. He’s angry, and scared.)

(Hugo is twenty-nine when FOWL is finally defeated. Just when he thought he had what passed for a stable home, a solid rock to cling to, everything came crumbling down around him, again, and Hugo was alone.)

He reaches Fethry and stumbles to a halt. No time to get both of them to safety, so he wraps himself around his friend’s body and closes his eyes tightly. The impact doesn’t hurt that much, which admittedly is probably bad, but as he opens his eyes he sees Fethry’s face- dirty and shocked, but unharmed.

“Hugo!!” Fethry yelps, catching him as he topples sideways. “Are you okay?!”

He’s not, he knows he’s not, even with the lack of pain. He’s just gotten hit with a wall, and something’s probably broken and-

“Ow,” he manages- yup, that’s blood. “Hey, Feathers. Forget about me, are you hurt?”

Fethry shakes their head, eyes darting over him. “Hugo, you stuck yourself in front of a building to protect me!! I’m fine, but you need to go to the hospital!!”

Several somethings are definitely broken, Hugo decides. He can see Fethry still, but black spots are starting to gather around the edge of his vision and now he’s really sure that’s a bad thing.

“Feathers- Fethry- look at me.”

Fethry’s eyes land on his. “Hugo-“

“Fethry.”

Fethry stops talking.

“I’m not good with words,” Hugo admits, fighting to stay conscious, “and I’m not good with emotions. All I knew before you was cold and hard and fighting to get on top- but then you found me in that shed. It was raining and I felt miserable already, and the last thing I wanted was company because everything had gone wrong again. You didn’t leave, though, and I didn’t understand it. If everything was bad, why were you acting like I was good?”

He takes a deep breath, reaching up to wipe away Fethry’s tears, but his hand falls before he can make it.

Fethry grabs it. “Why would you put yourself in danger like that, though? Why’d you think you had to- and now-“

A tear lands on Hugo’s cheek, and he smiles. He can’t hold his eyes open any more. “Because,” he murmurs. “People do crazy things when they’re in love.”

Everything is okay, he thinks. Everything is finally okay.

(Hugo is twenty-nine, and his last hold on anything normal has just been shaken by the arrival of a scrawny, red-jacketed duck. He’s angry, and he’s scared, but instead of everything falling apart, a new everything starts to shine through the cracks. Unlike his last “everythings,” this everything is gentle. It’s kind. It’s constant, and maybe it’s a bit weird, but it’s also causing him to fall in love, and Hugo suddenly realizes he can’t imagine life without it anymore. It’s Fethry, he knows. Fethry has become his rock to cling to, his closest friend, his person to talk to. Fethry has become everything to him.)

[kimjongdaely]

Christmas Tree

“Guys.” You stare at the undecorated Christmas tree skeptically. “This looks like it’s going to collapse.”

“Don’t be silly.” Baekhyun waves you off. “We’ve been using this for the past five years and nothing happened.”

“I think that’s the point...?” You glance at him with furrowed brows. “It’s too old, Baekhyun.”

“It’ll be fine.” Chanyeol pipes up as he takes out boxes filled with Christmas decorations. “Come on, let’s decorate!”

“I honestly don’t think—” You raise your voice over the excited boys, still worried about the worn-down plastic tree set up in the middle of the living room.

“It should be fine.” Junmyeon places a hand over your shoulder, a small smile on his face. “Hopefully.”

You sigh as you follow the boys to the tree only to hear a large crash. The dorm is quiet for a long while as you stare at the broken tree lying on the ground and the faces of the shocked members. “I told you so.”

“No!” Baekhyun cries dramatically, falling to his knees and clutching onto the damaged tree. “Don’t die! Please, don’t die on me.”

You roll your eyes at him, sighing for the umpteenth time that day. “Okay, we need a new tree.”

“I’ll go buy!” Yixing offers like the angel he always is. “Uh, I might need someone to go with me though.”

“I’ll go.” Minseok offers and Kyungsoo nods along, flashing the two beagles—who are dramatically spewing Romeo and Juliet death scene lines at the tree—with a glare of disapproval.

“We’ll be back soon.” Minseok tells you softly. “Make sure they don’t destroy the dorm while we’re gone.”

You laugh as you nod, biding them goodbye as Jongdae and Junmyeon whine behind you, saying how they would never let anything happen to the dorm.

“Jongdae, help me clean this mess up.” You motion for your long-term boyfriend to follow you. You grab for the brooms as he takes apart the broken tree and putting the pieces into a cardboard box—Baekhyun still dramatically crying over it.

“Alright you two.” You give them each a broom as you take out the vacuum cleaner. “Quit mourning and start cleaning.”

“What about—” Junmyeon pipes but you shake your head. 

“Junmyeon, you don’t have a very...clean reputation.” Sehun cackles at your statement as Junmyeon’s face falls. You giggle lightly as you hand him a box of Christmas lights. “But please, would you hang these up around the dorm?”

“Okay.” Junmyeon nods at you before snapping at Sehun who was still laughing. “Shut up, Sehun! You’re helping me.”

“Jongin.” You turn to the second youngest. “Can you help me put up the wreath please?”

“Sure.” He smiles as he takes the box, eyeing the mess as the beagle line tries to clean up. “Really, these hyungs...”

You laugh, heading to help the beagle line with their cleaning.

“We’re back!” Yixing announces as the three come in with a new Christmas tree boxed. “Wow, the dorm is actually clean.”

“I’m surprised.” Minseok mumbles, but sounding pleased as he looks through the dorm.

“Okay, let’s set up the new tree.” Kyungsoo sets the boxes down and starts to unpack the new tree.

“We’re all busy.” Sehun yells down the hall. “Jongdae-hyung, you should decorate the tree later.”

"What?” Jongdae whines. “Just me? That’ll take days!”

“Well that’s what a girlfriend’s for, right?“ Chanyeol laughs as he continues sweeping the floor busily as Minseok, Yixing and Kyungsoo finish setting the tree up.

“Funny.” You mumbles as you pick up the decorations. “But I think I’d prefer decorating it with Jongdae than letting you boys destroy this tree again.”

“We didn’t do anything!” Baekhyun whines as you giggle, starting to set the tree up.

Jongdae takes his spot next to you, humming a light Christmas carol as he hangs up ornaments and lights.

It feels suddenly quiet and when you look around, the boys are gone. You frown, “where did everyone go?”

“Dunno.” Jongdae shrugs, still humming. “Maybe the kitchen to annoy Kyungsoo.“

You smile at the thought of an angry Kyungsoo trying to shoo the boys out. 

That’s when Jongdae taps you lightly on the shoulder to catch your attention, a shy smile on his face. “Jagiya, I have something for you.”

You giggle at him. “Christmas present?”

He smiles. “Something like that.”

And then he kneels, making you gasp loudly. He presents you with a shiny ring that gleams under the Christmas lights, making your eyes water. “Will you marry me?”

“You’re kidding.” You mumble, too shocked to register this properly.

“I’m not.” For once, Jongdae’s face is completely serious, a small smile on his lips and his eyes filled with affection. “I love you. So please, marry me?”

“Yes.” You breathe as tears roll down your cheeks. You’re so happy you can’t breathe. “Yes, yes, yes!”

Jongdae slips the ring on your finger before pulling you in for a deep kiss, the boys bursting out from all around with words of congratulations.

“Best Christmas present ever.” You whisper to Jongdae who laughs.

“I think mine is better.” He pecks you gently on the cheek. “You.“

©kimjongdaely

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