#or that he was a bad friend like please. he wasn't a bad friend he was scared!!!

[cipheress-to-k-pop]

barista (t.d.)

Pairing: Tim Drake x Reader

Word Count: 6.2k

Summary: You have a big, fat crush on your regular—Gotham’s very own friendly neighborhood coffee addict, Tim Drake.

A/N: Please compliment me about the banner I worked very hard on it <3 Also Happy New Year!!!

Getting a job in food service was honestly the last thing you wanted to do. You had heard enough horror stories from your friends who had taken many summer jobs unlike you. They often complained of insufferable superiors, bad working hours, and even worse pay and even though their stories of annoying Karens were extremely entertaining, you didn't think you'd be any good at handling them yourself. Unless your boss was okay with you cussing them out.

So, when your parents brought up you getting a job, you had vehemently refused. It's not like you particularly needed the money, however, they made a good point about needing to gain experience and how you were practically a rotting pile of flesh since you had begun summer break.

You couldn't argue with their points, even you knew that you needed to get back into a routine and get some fresh air. However, a job as a barista was the last thing you wanted to do.

But when your parents mentioned that you'd be working at your aunt's cafe, you were quick to change your tune. You always had a blast with her, and she'd definitely pay you well, lest she face the rath of her older sister, your mother. Plus, she often claimed that you were her favourite niece, despite not having any other but you supposed it was the thought that counted. Plus, you'd make extra money that you could use for pretty much anything.

So, now adorned in an apron, you stood behind the counter and took orders. Your aunt oversaw the pastry making and baking while you were in charge of the register and making drinks.

The thing you liked the most about your aunt's cafe was that it was a rare find for many customers. The cafe was the perfect space for people to sit in the quiet and get some work done. There was rarely ever any rush unless a big party came, however even then you were never really spread thin. You suppose you should feel bad that your aunt wasn't getting much business but she more than made up for the lack of customers with her overpriced coffee and cakes. But you would never tell her that. Besides, she made most of her profits from custom cake orders.

That's not to say that you didn't get any customers, you had very many loyal regulars that were always polite and would always strike up a conversation with you. Most of them were residents from the high-rise building above the shop so they were usually pretty wealthy and thus knew how to tip well.

And of course, the most loyal customer of them all, Gotham’s very own coffee addict; Tim Drake.

You take back your previous statement; he was definitely the thing you liked the most about the cafe.

You would have been down bad if he had just been just good looking; with blue eyes that were unusually bright and clear, like as though God cut the fabric of the afternoon sky and the clear blue ocean and made his irises with them. His pale skin and dark hair definitely made them seem even brighter.

He was so good looking that your customer-service-smile had frozen onto your face when he first entered the cafe, barely hearing his order over the thumping of your heartbeat and your brains incessant chatter trying to tell you to pay attention to what he was saying. Eventually, you had to apologize and ask him to repeat his order in your stupor, giving the excuse that you were new even though you had been there for more than 2 weeks.

He just smiled politely and told you not to worry before fishing his wallet and paying for his drink, tipping 50%. He wasn't just gorgeous but also well-mannered and sweet. You were down so catastrophically, cataclysmically bad.

The next time he came in, you learnt his name by pretending you needed to write it down on the cup and he casually commented how you didn't really do that last time. You said it was because he had been the only one in the store last time even though there was only one additional customer there. And you all were aware that you didn't bother to ask for the other customer’s name.

Tim continued to come almost every morning for the next couple of weeks and once you learnt how to actually comprehend the words coming out of his mouth instead of just listening to angelic singing every time he looked at you, you realized he was actually very interesting.

He'd always strike up a conversation with you and sometimes you'd take your lunch break and sit with him at the table while you talked. He was hilarious and intelligent and creative and the more you talked with him the more your plain attraction turned into affection before you knew it.

"I see you like Red Robin." Tim commented casually, noticing the insignia pin that you had on your apron. You glanced at the enamel pin that you had bought from a bodega on an impulse out of instinct before nodding, "Yeah, he's my favourite amongst the bats."

"Oh really? How come? Most people really prefer Nightwing, like me."

You shrugged, "I dunno, I just feel like he doesn't get enough appreciation as compared to the others. Plus, he makes the papers the least often."

"So, what? You felt bad that no one pays attention to him?"

You shook your head, clutching the screen as you typed in his order that you had already memorized. A brown sugar shaken espresso that you had convinced him to try just once, and he had immediately been hooked onto. You obviously added a couple extra shots of espresso for his caffeine addicted self.

"On the contrary, the fact that he's not seen in the paper probably means that he's getting the job done quietly and efficiently. Or maybe not. But that's just my guess. He's not bad looking either."

Tim chuckled, passing you his card, "Don't let him hear you say that; he might just swoon at the compliment."

"Well, I haven't actually seen his face, so I can't say with full certainty."

Tim lingered by the counter while you made his coffee, speaking loudly due to the absence of customers at this time. You had once mentioned that this was your least busy time; you wondered if he visited during that time, so he'd get to talk to you for longer.

You shook your head, reminding yourself not to get a big head as you pulled a double shot of espresso, quickly adding it to the shaking glass with brown sugar.

"I bet I’m better looking."

You really hadn't meant to laugh as hard as you had; you just pictured Tim Drake, with his posh posture and Gotham elite personality, sniffing at Red Robin as he tried to critique and compare looks. You were fairly sure that Red Robin was a head taller than him as well. The more you thought about it, the harder you laughed.

When you finally managed to wipe the tears from your eyes, Tim was still standing at the counter with a star-struck expression, pink beginning to paint his porcelain skin in beautiful blooms. You bit your lip, smiling in apology. He must have been quite embarrassed at your boisterous laughter.

"S-Sorry, you caught me off-guard." You explained, still giving him a sheepish smile as you grabbed a napkin and straw for him. The red had made its way up to his ears and down his neck before disappearing underneath the hoodie he was wearing.

Great, you had a crush on the guy and just laughed at the thought of him being better looking compared to a guy you had never even seen before.

"It's fine, it was meant to be a joke, so I suppose I’m flattered."

"No, I was being mean, you're definitely better looking." You teased, "If I ever meet Red Robin, I’ll definitely let him know that."

"I’ll hold it to you." He joked, grabbing his drink.

Having a crush was way more physically taxing than you had remembered it being. Every time Tim was around you, your heart slammed so sharply against your ribcage you would get breathless, and your stomach would twist into so many knots you'd find your abdomen getting sore.

You'd grow visibly excited when it was around the time for him to enter the store, making sure everyone else's orders were fulfilled so that you could give him as much of your undivided attention.

After being hopelessly infatuated and pining for him for a while, you had thought that you had gotten used to the incessant butterflies flapping their fingers against the walls of your stomach. However, Tim continued to prove you wrong.

You had just finished wiping down the steam wand of the espresso machine, when the bell above the store door had jingled, telling you that you had a customer.

When your eyes landed on the man standing behind the register, you couldn't help but freeze, stomach squeezing so tightly you could feel your heart crawl up to your throat, stopping you from welcoming him inside.

Tim Drake was wearing a suit.

His hair was styled for the first time you had ever seen him; dark tresses neatly gelled away from his face aside for a couple strands that tickled his nose.

You clenched the cloth in your hands so tightly you could feel the rough fabric beginning to slightly burn your skin. A part of you wanted to collapse into a puddle on the floor, already knowing how weak your knees had gotten at the site of him adjusting his watch. Oh, you wanted to dissolve into a pile of warm syrup, and you bit your lips to hide a dopey, lovesick grin.

Another, more repressed part, wanted to grab his tie in a single fist and yank the handsome man toward you, climbing over the counter and kissing him all over until his white shirt was stained with your lip gloss, his immaculate hair was messed up by your fingers and his cologne had rubbed off on your skin instead. You forced that part of yourself into the corner because she seriously needed a time-out.

"Um, hey?"

This was the first time he had spoken, clearly noticing how you just stood awkward frozen in time. Oh god, his voice was so much more attractive than you remembered. This wasn't fair.

"H-Hi, where are you going off to so prim and proper?" You asked, pulling yourself together by pinching your thigh so painfully that you could feel a bruise beginning to form.

"Oh, I just have a meeting at work. I do most of the work from home, but I’m needed in the office today." He explained, handing you his card like clockwork and you nodded, stepping away so you could start making his drink.

"Wow, how adult." You mused, shaking the tumbler quickly before pouring it into his cup and handing it to him.

"You look good, by the way," His warm fingertips grazed against your own when you handed him the tissue and straw. You watched as a bashful smile grew on his face at your compliment, making your heart flutter like a feather floating through the wind, "Much better than Red Robin."

He rolled his eyes, small smile turning into a full-blown grin.

***

This was the first time since you had met Tim that he hadn't come to the bakery alone and thus it would be the first time in a very long time that you actually had to take the order instead of automatically input his drink order.

Unfortunately, it would also be the last time you would be taking his order. You were supposed to work at the coffee shop for the rest of the month, however you had gotten an opportunity from your professor to be a part of his research team for the next semester and he required you to begin early. Which meant that you would no longer have the time to work for your aunt.

You had yet to tell Tim, upset at the thought of not being able to see him every morning from now onwards.

You had thought long and hard about it last night after you had confirmed your participation on the research team; you didn't want it to be the last time that you spoke to Tim tomorrow, you wanted him in your life.

So, you came to the conclusion that you would finally confess to him. You didn't want to continue the pining and end up in the purgatory that is the friendzone so you figured it would be the least risky to admit your feelings to him on your last day there. If he said no, you'd no longer have to run into him again every morning. If anything, he might be relieved that his regular coffee runs wouldn't be awkward from now on.

However, there was one new detail that was going to make your plan more embarrassing—

"This is my older brother, Dick." Tim introduced and you nodded, recalling when he talked about his extremely big family. Also, there was no one in city who wasn't aware of the Gotham prince, Dick Grayson, the oldest son of billionaire Bruce Wayne. Your eyes flittered between the both of them; despite being adopted, they shared a striking resemblance to each other.

You gave him a kind smile, "It's nice to finally meet you, Tim talks about you a lot."

"Good things, I hope." He responded, ever the ray of sunshine and you found yourself turning toward him like a lone sunflower. You realized he had that effect on people, the other customers also were privy to his presence. It was almost like he had a halo shining on the top of his head. The term 'Prince of Gotham' was certainly well-earned.

"Those are state secrets." You joked, playfully winking at him and he gave you a good-natured grin.

"So, what will you be having today?"

Tim ordered his regular and Dick got a matcha along with a vegan cheese tart for 'Dami' who you assumed was Tim's youngest brother Damian.

Tim held his card out for you to pay for their drinks and you inhaled sharply, digging your heel into your other foot to strengthen your resolve.

It was now or never, (Y/N).

You shook your head, trying your best to remain nonchalant even though your stomach was taking a rollercoaster ride, and you pins began to prick at your toes from how hard you were stepping on it with your other foot.

"it's on the house."

Tim tried to protest but you shut him down, not even making any moves to try and take his card from him, only handing him his receipt with the order number on it.

"Don't let your boss find out you're handing out freebies to everyone." He teased, sliding his card back into his wallet and you dug your nails into your palm, trying not to chicken out in the last second.

"Actually, the freebies are only for the cute customers that the barista has a crush on." You replied smoothly, grabbing the filter for the espresso machine and not looking back at Tim, afraid of his reaction.

Oh god, was your voice shaking? You tried your best to remain collected on the outside even though on the inside your heart was erupting like a volcano, magma flowing through your veins and setting your entire body ablaze.

You spared a small glance at his older brother, embarrassed that he was here to witness this. A sizzling heat began to run up your neck and to your cheeks, fingers stiff as you tamped the coffee.

A chuckle brought you out of your stupor and your stomach sank. It wasn't the usual laugh that Tim had, instead a mirthless sound that made you look back up at him, only to find him staring at the receipt you had given him, now crumpled him in a tight fist.

"Glad I’m the exception then," He said through gritted teeth, "I’m gonna go."

He left without making so much as another glance at you and your cheeks coloured in humiliation when you had realized his brother had seen that whole interaction with an equal expression of shock and pity that made you quickly bite down on an ice cube to prevent any tears from lining your lashes.

You quickly made the drinks, reminding yourself that it was okay since you were never gonna see him again, keeping your customer service smile on until his brother had left the store and then some before you finally let it fall.

***

"Dude, what the hell is wrong with you?" Dick asked, placing Tim's coffee order on the console of the bat computer, already finished his matcha. The coffee had long been watered down; the ice had melted in the Gotham heat on his walk back home since Tim had just left him there at the coffee shop.

The younger brother ignored him, staring at the screen with a glare that began to get increasingly annoyed. When it became clear to him that Dick wasn't going to move from his side until he got an answer, Tim finally sighed "I’m sorry for ditching you at the coffee shop."

"Apology accepted but that's not what I meant. Why were you so mean to that poor girl? I mean if you didn't like her, you could've at least turned her down gently."

Tim scoffed, incredibly peeved, "Are you stupid? She was clearly asking you out! I've been going there for like 2 months now and she's never been so blushy and nervous before you walked in there with your stupid tall height and stupid big grin and stupid good looks!"

Dick's jaw dropped open; blue eyes wide with shock. Wasn't Timothy meant to be like the smartest and most logical one amongst them? As far as he knew he was also acknowledged by R’as Al Ghul himself as a remarkable detective. Hell, he had discovered the dark knight's secret identity when he was nine.

And yet—

"Are you fucking stupid? She wasn't asking me out! That cute little flirty compliment was clearly directed at you!"

Tim still looked upset, though Dick could clearly see that he was beginning to doubt his conclusions. Thank goodness, he didn't inherit Bruce’s or his brother's stubbornness.

"So, you like her but thought she was hitting on me, so you got all emo?" Dick deftly deduced, watching as an embarrassed rash spread across his pale skin, "Dude, you really hurt her feelings. I think she was about to cry when you walked out like that."

You had really tried to look like Tim's exit hadn't affected you and to an untrained eye it probably would've looked like that, but Dick noticed how you were chewing down on your bottom lip til it bled just to prevent from crying.

Tim's eyes now raised to him, now completely uncertain with a touch of guilt and Dick sighed.

He wasn't the son of the greatest detective for nothing, but it wouldn't take years of training to know what a lovesick boy looked like. He had found out that Tim had been visiting this particular coffee shop every day at the same time when he flat out refused to have Alfred’s French press in favour of driving across town to the penthouse, he'd sometimes sleep in just to get coffee.

Tim would never refuse Alfred’s French press unless he was unconscious. Or dead.

Which lead Dick to do some sleuthing.

Didn't take any effort to check his credit card statement and find out that he had been visiting this particular store every single day. Which is really the reason that Dick tagged along that day, to meet the girl who had so clearly captured his little brother's attention.

He was honestly giddy when he realized that you were shooting your shot right in front of him. Oh, he could see the wedding happening before his eyes already, where he would very obviously make his groomsman speech, telling the crowd how he had been there the day you finally became a couple.

But Tim merely crushed up the paper receipt in his hand before storming out and he was left alone in the coffee shop, having to watch as Tim's future wife kept her gaze anchored to the floor while she tried to make the coffee that she had just given them for free. He left a fifty in the tip jar right then.

This would not be the last time that his brother would do something stupid throughout the duration of your relationship. He supposed you might have dodged a bullet due to the misunderstanding but Dick was biased toward his brother and so he felt obligated to try and get you both together.

"Are you sure?"

Dick pinched the bridge of his nose, "Tim, she didn't even speak to me after you left because she was so upset that the guy she had a crush on brutally turned her down."

His eyes narrowed still, "Are you sure?"

This time Dick had had it. He grabbed Tim's ear, unaffected by his shouts of pain and curses at him as he dragged him toward the elevator, "Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne, you go back to that coffee shop, apologize for being a jackass and ask her out. And you better take her to a fancy ass restaurant on your first date to make up for this mess."

"Okay! Okay!" Tim conceded, finally ripping his brother's hand from his ear and he crossed his arms, "You know, this wouldn't have even happened if you hadn't been a nosy ass and followed me to the coffee shop."

"This wouldn't have happened if you weren't an idiot either."

***

Tim had been silent during the patrol and while he wasn't the most talkative, it was unlike him to be this quiet. They were already an hour into the patrol and batman had yet to hear this voice of his son over the comms, but he didn't ask about it. He'd inquire about his son's personal life after patrol when he was back to being his parent and not his partner.

Something was definitely off however, since even Nightwing was more on the quiet side of the spectrum that night, which was extremely out of the ordinary.

It all had to do with what happened right before patrol--

Tim really hoped that Jason wouldn't kill him for stealing one of his motorcycles that he left at the manor but honestly it was the fastest way for him to get to the coffee shop without getting stuck in Gotham traffic. And really if Jason didn't want anyone to be using his motorcycle, he really shouldn't have left it in the garage with the keys there for anybody to take. Hadn't he learnt his lesson after Damian had tried to take one of Bruce’s cars?

Even though there were still a couple of hours for closing time, when Tim entered the store, you were nowhere to be found. Hearing the bell, your aunt had answered from the kitchen instead, telling him that she'd be right there in a moment.

When she finally emerged, wiping her hands on her apron, she stopped, recognizing Tim as a regular but he could tell that she didn't really know anything about him or even his name, "What can I get you?"

He angled his neck, trying to see if someone was in the kitchen but when he couldn't spot anything he turned back to your aunt who waited patiently, "Um, is (Y/N) not here?"

"Ah," She shook her head, "Since it was her last day working here, I let her go early."

Oh, Tim really should've had his coffee today because the caffeine withdrawal was starting to make him hear things. He could've sworn he just heard your aunt say that it was your last day working at the coffee shop.

"Last day? What do you mean?"

Tim returned to the Batcave just in time for patrol, shoulders hunched over and a pitiful frown on his face that had answered Nightwing’s question before he could even ask how it went. He didn't say anything else, just walking over to the change rooms without so much as a glance to his father or younger brother.

Understandably, your aunt refused to give your phone number to Tim considering she had no idea of your relationship with him. If there was any relationship anymore. You clearly had every intention to not be in his life anymore if he had turned you down, explaining why you decided to confess on your last day.

He had asked your aunt to pass his number to you but there was no telling whether she actually would or if you would call him even if she did.

And in retrospect it would be fairly easy for him to find your number or address or which university you went to, but how was he meant to explain how he coincidentally managed to run into you before explaining the misunderstanding and confessing his feelings?

His mind was wracked with questions, and he continued to beat himself up for thinking that you had been flirting with Dick in the first place. If he hadn't been such an idiot, he could've avoided this whole mess and could've avoided upsetting you.

Now even if he managed to find you, there was always a possibility that his reaction managed to turn you off and change your mind.

"Woah Timmy isn't that the girl you like?"

Dick's voice cut across the unusual silence for that night, ringing in his ears so suddenly that for a second, he didn't even register what he had said.

However, when he did, it was almost comical the way his head lurched up like a meercat, spotting Nightwing’s figure a couple of buildings away and immediately grappling toward him, nearly throwing himself off the side of the terrace trying to spot you.

You stepped out of Gotham university, hands clutching a binder to your chest. Tim wasn't sure what had his heart beating faster—the sight of your frost-bitten nose, tinged red from the cold—or that you weren't alone.

You were laughing with a man who, much to Tim’s dismay, was undeniably good-looking and wearing a lab coat, which meant he was clearly smart and shared your interests and oh you both were going to get married, and he was going to be alone and coffeeless for the rest of his life.

"What are they saying?!" Tim leant over the edge of the roof like a right fool.

"This is beginning to get creepy, baby bird." Dick commented from behind him, but all Tim could tell him was to shut up because he couldn't hear just what had you giggling so animatedly.

"it's great that undergrads get a chance to be on a research team; I know it might not seem like much but it's gonna look great on your resume, (Y/N)."

You narrowed your eyes teasingly, "You're just saying that because you're relieved someone is gonna be doing the literature review and wash your empty beakers."

The junior assistant, a postgrad student was in charge of showing you around the lab and giving you a list of your responsibilities. Since it was short notice, you were going to have to learn the ropes quite quickly so as to look competent to the other professors.

He laughed, patting your shoulder and you could've sworn you heard a sound similar to a bird shrieking from above you, "You caught me there. But you'll get your name on your first research paper so that's there."

"I am but a modern-day Cinderella." You grinned, walking with him til he reached his car. He sat in the driver's seat, not yet closing the door when he called out for you just as you were beginning to walk away, "Are you sure you don't want a ride home?"

You smiled but shook your head, "No, thank you, maybe next time."

You watched him pull out of the parking space before driving away, wondering whether you should wait for the bus or just take a cab back home. The next bus wasn't for another 25 minutes, and you didn't want to wait around in the dark, however, a cab would be four times the amount you'd spend using the bus.

You suppose you could've called your father and asked him to pick you up from the university, but he had just gotten home from work, and you would hate to ask him to have to come and get you.

You sighed and muttered underneath your breath, "I should've just asked him to take me home." before beginning your trudge home. A part of you was scolding yourself for taking possibly the most dangerous route home but the other part reminded yourself that it was unlikely for anything to happen.

Besides, you had seen Nightwing patrol the area earlier that night and it was way too early for the bats to turn in for the night. With any luck, he was still roaming around here.

***

Looking back, taking a shortcut through an alleyway wasn't the smartest plan you had ever made. However, you were lucky enough because it seemed like the bats had been watching over you for the night; you didn't even have the chance to get mugged before Red Robin has scared off your potential attackers. You hadn't even noticed them creeping up behind you.

You simply stared at him, starstruck. It was the first time you had ever come into contact with the Gotham cryptids and you had least expected an encounter with the most elusive of them, Red Robin.

You had known he had black hair but through a screen it had really looked more like oily snakes that had further cemented your belief that they were demons.

But up close, his hair was soft and silky, he smelt of sweat and grime but with a slight tinge of cologne hidden underneath. You continued to stare at him, feeling like you could tattoo the sight of him onto your retinas.

"Um," You began, not sure how to even begin the conversation. Should you thank him for saving your life? Or apologize for being an inconvenience. Instead, you found yourself following his gaze to the lapel of your lab coat, only to find him staring at the Red Robin insignia pinned there. It was then you had been reminded of the same interaction with Tim Drake.

"Just so you know, you're way better looking than Tim Drake."

You were in slight awe of Red Robin and also still heartbroken over Tim Drake's scorn earlier that day, so you felt the need to settle the score with him even though it would clearly never make its way back to him.

Afterall what were the chances that the vigilante Red Robin knew the trust fund baby Tim Drake? They didn't exactly run in the same circles.

The masked man just stared at you in surprise, quite frozen after your declaration and honestly you couldn't blame him. He had just saved your life and instead of thanking him you began complimenting his good looks while at the same time insulting a completely random man, when really you had no business doing because you didn't really know what he looked like.

Though the more you stared at his face, finding your eyes drawing lines down the same jawline, cupid's bow, and nose bridge, you couldn't help but find similarities between the man you had just compared him to—

You physically shook the thought out of your head.

"Okay, then," You finished, finally turning around to walk away from him, having had enough of standing awkwardly in the middle of the alley, "Thank you agai—!"

"(Y/N), wait!" His gloved fingers clasped around your wrist, and you cut yourself off abruptly, staring up at him in surprise. It seemed his response had surprised him as well, considering the way he continued to stare at you. You couldn't really see his wide-eyed gaze due to the domino, but you could tell from the slight gap of his mouth and the raised brow.

Your lashes fluttered as you lowered your eyes to the hand still around your own, his voice echoing through your head. He had a modulator but this close to him it felt like you could hear the voice underneath it. His voice was crisper, cleaner and lighter underneath the automated depth, you could hear it just slightly through the syllables of your name.

You looked back at the whites of his mask, "How did you know my name?"

You weren't accusing him of anything, at least he didn't think so, not from your voice. You sounded genuinely curious and your eyes ping-ponged over his features, trying to find something. Then he noticed the ways they slightly narrowed before you whispered, "Tim?"

His jaw went slack, eyes going so comically wide now that you had just known you knocked the hammer right on the head. He took a step back, finally releasing your hand and you cupped your gaping mouth, in shock yourself.

"Wait seriously?! I was just guessing! Why on earth would you make it so obvious!" You chastised.

"I’m sorry, ok?! I didn't have any coffee today and so my brain isn't braining today!"

You crossed your arms over your chest, "And who's fault is that? You're the one who stormed out of the cafe after rejecting me—after I literally gave your drinks for free!"

Red Robin—Tim winced, rubbing the back of his neck as his gaze fluttered guiltily away from yours, "That was...not my best moment."

"Not your best moment? You acted like I spat on your whole family and condemned you to death!" Okay perhaps you were being a tad bit dramatic, but it had been an extremely long day, and you kept being presented with new information which was a lot to take.

You were just a girl, for god's sake!

"Ok, in my defense, I thought you were confessing to my brother—not me! So, if anything, I was upset that you might like my family a little too much!" He retaliated and you gaped at him, incredulous.

"You are just—wow, unbelievable." You finally breathed. Truthfully, you didn't know what to even do now, something told you that you weren't going to be able to walk home completely unharmed. Since you knew his identity, the worst that could happen was that one of his bat friends was hanging over you to put you out of your misery. Best case scenario, you'd sign an NDA and be on your merry way home.

"I’m sorry, (Y/N). This is all my fault, I was being an idiot earlier and I got insecure cuz I thought you were asking out my brother which stung cuz I’ve been crushing on you for like months now." He finally admitted, holding his gaze low.

If you hadn’t been deafened by the sound of your heart pounding wildly in your chest at his confession, you would’ve given him a hard time about how nervous he seemed—just as you had been before he so brutally turned you down.

"You like me?" Your question, simple as it was, still managed to make Tim's heartrate escalate.

"Yes—I mean, of course—How could I not?"

You blushed, a gleeful response already on the tip of your tongue. Well, you would have, if you hadn’t suddenly been shrouded in a bat-shaped shadow that had you instinctively pressing yourself closer to Tim.

"Oh, I’m so dead." Tim muttered under his breath the second he had caught the figure of his father standing atop a building, having heard everything over the comms.

Your eyes widened and you stepped closer to him, a hand tightening around the utility belt strapped to his chest. You had remembered the rumours of what had happened to the second robin.

Tim's attention was snapped back to you the second he heard your sharp intake of breath, "N-Not literally, really (Y/N). I’m probably just gonna get grounded."

That got you to loosen your grip with a relieved sigh, relaxing and letting go.

"Grounded? As in Red Robin is grounded. Or Tim Drake?"

"Probably Tim Drake, Red Robin is still needed in the field. Maybe both." He admitted with a wince, and you have him a gentle pat on the chest that was meant to be a kind of 'there, there'. He gave you a small smile, gloved fingers holding the hand to his chest.

"I suppose our first date will have to wait, huh?"

Tim would be lying if a part of him hadn't kind of expected you to rethink everything. I mean, he had been so mean to you when turning you down after jumping to wild conclusions at no fault of your own. Then there was also his secret that he had been stupid enough to reveal to you.

You didn't deserve this; you deserved much better.

Still these thoughts were extremely fleeting, easily overthrown by his feeling of giddiness and outright joy, a blinding grin taking over his face.

"I guess so. I'll make it up to you, though—Dinner's on me."

You scoffed, "It better be, I’m standing in an alley 15 minutes past curfew with the identity of one of the illusive bats all because you thought I had a thing for your brother."

If his cheeks weren't already bitten from the cold, you would have watched as they went aflame, "I was young and stupid."

"It was this morning!"

"I was eight hours younger."

***

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[writtenjewels]

This Year and Next

Salim was happy that Nick invited him to the New Year's Eve party, but he didn't think he would be able to make it all the way to midnight. The only times he ever managed it were fueled on adrenaline—such as those hours spent in the House of Ashes. This was a much more relaxed atmosphere, light everywhere, safely surrounded by friends.

He stepped out at one point, hoping the cold air would wake him up. He was pleased to see Jason had the same idea. The younger man was wearing a hat, of course, though it was one of those garish hats with gold glitter decorating it. It seemed so unlike Jason that Salim couldn't help laughing.

“Yeah, I know, the hat's stupid,” Jason said, the corner of his lip curling up. “But it's only once a year.”

“I'm just jealous I don't have one,” Salim replied.

“You could always get those stupid glasses,” Jason suggested. “I think Nicky bought a bunch of them.”

“I'll consider it.” A comfortable silence fell over them. Salim took in a deep breath. “The stars look different, don't they?”

“Yep. Ain't gonna see them the same way ever again.” There was another silence and then Jason added, “There's a lot of shit I see different these days.”

“Such as?” Salim prompted when Jason didn't elaborate.

“Me, for one.”

“In a good way, I hope.”

“I think so.” Another short silence filled in. “You wanna go back in?” Jason asked after a moment.

“Maybe later. I'm enjoying just being out here.”

“Company ain't half bad, either,” Jason said. The comment made Salim smile. He turned and met the former marine's eyes. No, the company wasn't half bad at all. The two stood together for a few more moments before Jason spoke again. “So there was somethin' I wanted to do before the new year...”

“You don't have much time left,” Salim teased him.

“I know. I've had to sorta work up to it.” Jason shifted on his feet and fidgeted with his hat. “But I figured if I waited, then it wouldn't be as... serious.”

“I'm not sure I follow,” Salim frowned. “It isn't like you to be so hesitant.” Except with things that mattered, that were deep and personal and made Jason vulnerable. “Go on,” Salim encouraged gently.

Jason suddenly reached out to grab handfuls of Salim's shirt, pulling him forward and landing a kiss on his mouth. He only had a few seconds to realize what was happening before the kiss broke and Jason was backing away. Salim just stood there, unable to form any thoughts.

“I wanted to see how it felt. If I waited until midnight,” Jason explained, “it wouldn't have felt the same. It would've been just another New Year's kiss. I shoulda asked,” he said with an apologetic duck of the head, “and not just laid one on ya.”

Salim's brain finally started working. Just moments ago, Jason said he was seeing himself differently, and now he said he had been working himself up to this moment—to kissing Salim. It wouldn't be honest if Salim claimed he thought the same things, though only because he didn't think it was possible. Too many things got in the way.

And yet here Jason was, only hours away from a new year, taking that step.

“Well,” he said at last. “You could ask me now.”

Jason tilted his head up to look at him. The two men were still for the space of a few heartbeats.

“Do you want me to kiss you, Salim?” he asked softly.

“Yes.” Salim cupped Jason's face. “This year, and next.”

And Jason did.

[hugherin]

⋆ STYLE — QUINN HUGHES. ⋆

when olivia and quinn had a situationship in college, as the years went by neither of them forgot what they had.

warnings: mentions of alcohol and driving while slightly drunk (please don't do this

pairing: quinn hughes x past situationship

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pov: quinn hughes

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

jackhughes had made a new post

tagged: _quinnhughes, lhughes_06 and nicohischier.

liked by lhughes_06, njdevils and 5,376 others.

jackhughes: great time with those guys 😎

user01: why is luke yelling

jackhughes: bad looser in beer poing 😞

lhughes_06: that's NOT true can you stop lying?

jackhughes: whatever helps you sleep at night sweetie

user02: the quinn's look in the first picture is crazy, who's the lucky girl?

njdevils: my favorite boys!!!!!! so proud 😎

canucks: your what.

oliviarosberg: horrible photographer *liked by _quinnhughes*

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You and Quinn were the quintessential casual college couple. However, this relationship dynamic was bittersweet for you, especially when he casually placed his hand around your waist, evoking butterflies.

You cherished a memory of Quinn, but it didn't haunt your nights. Today, after a long day of your routine as a nutritionist, you decided to go for a walk at the invitation of Jack and some other mutual friends from college, who were all in town for the Devils-Rangers game.

You walked through the club's main door, peeking out to look for your friends and Jack but meeting a pair of blue eyes with a backwards cap and a beer in one hand. In order to feign custom, you walked up to them after nodding, praying your breath wouldn't catch as you greeted the (not) stranger next to Jack.

It was surprising that Quinn, Nico and even Luke were accompanying Jack to one of his celebrations. but you couldn't say you were upset, because you really weren't. After greeting everyone, only Quinn remained.

"Hi, Quinn", you say with a kiss on the cheek as he quickly places a hand on your waist, returning all the butterflies you swore were dead.

"It's been a while since I saw you for the last time, Olívia. How is the office going?" he asks before taking a long sip of his beer. He'd aged remarkably well.

"Amazing. Cait is my right hand, you know how it is." you say mentioning your best friend who suffered being the third wheel when it came to you and Quinn.

He chuckled in response. You took another look around the place, not taking long to spot your friends and move away from the group of men near the bar.

After a long time, your favorite club song comes on. Britney Spears was timeless. To you, Britney will always be a timeless icon.

Sipping your freshly-arrived martini from the bar, you hum the lyrics to Toxic as you dance to the floor with your friends who are even more excited than you. Before you know it, you're on your third martini and staring from afar at the blue eyes that seem to smile at you.

You and Quinn never talked about what you had in the past. It wasn't something that bothered you since you were always good friends, but the question of "what could we have been?" always lingered in your head.

During your cloud of thoughts, you barely notice that your friends have hitched a ride home in the arms of tall blond men who seem to be enjoying the women's cheer. You go to the bar to get a bottle of water and find Quinn ordering the Rum and Coke, her favorite drink.

"Still into this?" you say close to your ear due to loud music.

Quinn, in response, lets out a low laugh as he quickly looks away from her mouth to her eyes. "Still into in so many things." He says, taking a sip of his drink and staring at you with dilated pupils. You remember loving to watch that change in his eyes and how it was one of your favorite details. "Your friends seem to be having fun. Do you need a ride home?"

You rethink the proposal in your mind. Bringing things from the past into the present wasn't really something you did, but with Quinn things had always been different, which makes you nod almost involuntarily.

Quinn then reaches behind his back as he makes way through the small crowd to the club's entrance, opening the car afterward.

For some stupid introverted reason, Luke and Nico were in the backseat of the car having a argument about, if you heard right, "why women never go to the bathroom without their friends".

"I'm telling you, dude! It must be some kind of cult or secret group. It doesn't make any sense to go in a group to a place like that." Nico says with an expression of someone who was discussing a super serious matter while Luke just nodded.

"You guys look like Chandler and Joey" you say as you feel a sting in your eye. You hated it when a hair from your eyelashes fell into your eye while you had mascara on. "I think I got something in my eye, can you blow it out?" you say quickly turning to Quinn who huffed and then gave you a quick kiss on the cheek.

You found the act affectionate, but you still didn't know if it was an act of friendship or of friends with benefits like in the old days. Quinn was affectionate even before you thought about being more than friends. Faking a fake cough, Luke says he needs to go back to pick up Jack with the other friends, noting that they will use Nico's car to get home when Quinn inquires.

"So..." Quinn says as he turns the key in the car, making it move "How is your life going? outside of work."

"I haven't had time for much" You said with a slightly tired voice. It was Friday and you had spent the day putting together diets for an entire soccer team. You loved your job, but it was undeniable how tired it got to you sometimes. "You know, family time and all that stuff. I still do game night on the first day of the month." you say turning to face him. Quinn has a serene expression looking at the track, until he stops at a red light.

"I loved the game nights" he says, his eyes shining as he stares at you. "I miss this."

You just shook your head in response. You didn't want to talk about old traditions with Quinn. You wanted to step on the gas pedal of that car and get home as quickly as possible. Running away from discomfort? No. Avoiding problems? Maybe.

"How are things with Cassie?" you asked with a pang in your heart. You had heard rumors through your friends (who were still in touch with some people from high school) about Quinn's relationship with a model.

"Well, there's no more Cassie. I ended things months ago."

Awkward silence.

"Listen" he started. "I'll be honest with you. Months ago, Caity posted a story with you in it."

He took a breath, turning the corner of his house and stopping on the street in front of the door. "And, Olívia, you looked stunning. I haven't been able to get you out of my head since that day. I know I should have said this when we still had something, but" you stop him with a kiss.

You kissed in a different way than you had ever kissed before. It was different. Now it seemed like nothing could stop you.

His hands pulled your thigh into his lap as he placed his hands between your waist and the back of your neck. Butterflies seemed to crush the skin of your stomach as you placed kisses on Quinn's neck, hearing his murmur in response.

You tangled your hands in the curls at the nape of his neck, which seemed a little longer now. You couldn't deny how attractive it was, especially with the minty scent coming from him.

"Olivia, please" he says, in a whisper as he tries to dodge the kisses on your neck. "Tell me you feel the same way." he looks at you with eyes that seem to beg for a single correct answer.

You knew you couldn't be sure of a stable relationship considering both of your professional lives, but having a concrete thing with Quinn was something you wanted since you met him.

"I feel. I swear I feel. We need to talk calmly about how this will go in the future but honestly I don't want to do that right now." you say, taking his hand to your waist again, begging him to understand what you mean, having a genuine smile followed by a laugh in response.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

jackhughes has made a new story.

jackhughes had made a new story on close friends.

pov: quinn hughes

oliviarosberg just made a new post

liked by _quinnhughes, jackhugues and 576 others.

oliviarosberg: he can't keep his wild eyes on the road

caitbazyen: HOT.

oliviarosberg: miss u :(

01hughesslut: the same outfit as jack's deleted story in public story... i mean should we celebrate?

oliviarosberg: definitely don't know who is this dude

jackhughes: wondering who is the guy in the second picture

oliviarosberg: lol that's my buddy 😎 *liked by _quinnhughes*

a/n: so nervous doing this, think i edited it like 45 times 😭

[videolaa]

A New Years Kiss: Minho

Hello, long time no see. Happy New Year. Please enjoy this unedited, extremely poorly written one-shot. From a tired, hungover writer. As always, all rights go to videolaa. You are not allowed to discredit my work, I don't post anywhere else unless stated by me.

You batted your eyes, trying to adjust to the lighting in the room. What would have been distant sounds from the kitchen sounded like loud bangs from your newfound hangover. As your vision cleared enough, your eyes widened, realizing that wasn't your bedroom door. This wasn't your bedroom, your sheets, none of it.

An arm tossed itself over your side, making you tense at the feeling onto your bare skin.

Slowly turning to find Minho, sound asleep next to you, shirtless. There was a hard gulp in your throat, trying to process everything that happened, as you tried to piece the puzzle of last night together. A part of you wanted to wake Minho up and ask what happened, but he looked so at peace that you couldn't pull yourself to do it.

With a deep breath, you closed your eyes, trying to remember everything.

You and your friends decided to go out for a few drinks and watch the countdown. While everyone discussed who's car was taking who to where, you went to get ready. It was new years after all, might as well dress up a bit.

Hyunjin poked fun at you from the drivers seat about Minho, possibly showing up, which made you want to dress up. He wasn't entirely wrong. You did like Minho. He was built, handsome, and he had a beautiful smile that sometimes resembled a bunny. He knew how to make you laugh, especially on days when you felt like crying. Some people said he seemed cold or distant, only they didn't know how caring, funny, and soft Minho was. So maybe you did dress up to see if he would notice yet enough to still blend in for the evening.

He showed up and stuck to the guys and you like you. Slick shots, chasers, and mixing drinks began to swirl with your thoughts. At one point, Seungmin teased you both about not having anyone to kiss at midnight. Remembering you were ready to fire back a comment until Minho raised an eyebrow with a smirk looking at you. "Your alcohol is talking," you pointed out. Minho shrugged, "Mine doesn't have me turning red. Well, how 'bout it. Be my midnight kiss?".

It's just a kiss. He was consenting to it, "Okay. I'll be your midnight kiss." At the twenty-second mark, take a shot for courage.

"10" his eyes went between your lips and eyes, double checking if you were positive with this.

"9" you nodded your head before both of looked at the screen like everyone else.

"8" an arm rested on your back.

"7" the world was quiet.

"6" both of you were leaning in with your hands snaking around his shoulders.

"5" Both of you closed your eyes, and leaned in.

That was all you could remember, not even the cheering. You rubbed your temple, embarrassed by last nights actions. One kiss shouldn't have led to waking up in his bed.

"He's gonna think I'm easy" you mumbled as quietly as possible. You liked him, maybe someone mentioned it and he used it to his advantage - especially adding alcohol into the mix...

With as much strength as you could muster you swung your legs off his bed, trying to slip away in order to get to your trail of close.

Freezing as you heard a tired groan, with a cat like stretch, "Leaving?"

"Yeah," you felt self-conscious now that you were sober, still bare in front of the guy you liked. You wouldn't be surprised if your makeup was smeared across your face. "Give me a minute, and I'll take you home" his voice raspy as he went to leave his bed. "I can call Hyunjin..."

"I'm sorry about... everything," he mumbled. "Don't be, we're both at fault" The air felt unfinished, as if more was supposed to be said, but neither of you could find the right words. "Tell me, do you remember last night?" you asked, quickly pulling your shirt over your head. "Everything got blurry a little after we kissed."

"Was it bad?" Your fingers quickly scrolling to your best friend's contact.

"No, and I don't think the rest was either," his ears were turning pink, causing you to giggle, seeing that thankfully, neither of you remember coming back. "I do remember a certain someone liked having her hands in my hair," he laughed, causing the heat to rise to your face, hitting the call button, your heart leaping to your throat. "I didn't mean -"

"Don't worry, I liked it"

"What?" You stared in disbelief. That did not just come out of his mouth, which had a mischievous smile forming, "I said, I liked it."

Your face was burning, so visible it had Minho shrugging on a pair of sweats as he came over, cupping your face, "You're so red,"

"So are your ears," you shot back. Then he did it again, eyes flickering from your eyes to your mouth. Only his eyes were softer, sober, a soft hello being heard from your phone, repeatedly. "Shit! Hello, sorry"

"You call and don't say anything? Do you want me to have a heart attack?" Hyunjin screamed, bringing throbbing of your head hit you harder than before. "Don't be dramatic, I don't want you to have a heart attack. I was going to ask what you were doing right now -" an echo of vomit, followed by the sound of flushing, was heard in the background. "Are you sick?" Minho raised an eyebrow at the question.

"It comes and goes, last night really-" Hyunjin's body cut him off again, the mere sound was enough to make you feel queasy. "Hello? Is someone there with you?" your voice switched to concern. Only relief you got was Changbin answering, "I got him. He'll be fine. Everything okay?"

"Yeah, I was just trying to check in" you explain.

"And that she has a ride home!" Minho said closer to the phone. "Can you take care of him?" you asked before Hyunjin mumbled something, "Yeah I can do that - she's fine, you two can talk about it later! Minho has her, she's fine! (Y/n) can you call him later?" Changbin huffed. "Yes I promise," you sighed with a slight laughter before hanging up, placing your phone in your back pocket.

"Did that kill the mood?" The feeling of guilt, seeing how close Minho was standing. "Not entirely - could have gone without hearing him sick," he scoffed, but you agreed.

Minho lifted his hand back up to your cheek, "I might though," you stated as his hand froze, letting you continue. "I know last night wasn't planned, and maybe a mistake, but I don't do friends with benefits. So if you want that I can't do that. Plus I really like you I'm not putting myself in a situation like -" you were explaining only to be cut off by a pair of lips.

Shock ran through you at the feeling of his lips on yours. You couldn't help but lean into it yourself. Shutting your eyes, sparks flew across your eyelids. Your hands flew to the back of his neck, Minho pulled away, resting his forehead against your shoulder, "I don't who you believe in but, thank God. I've had liked you for such a long time"

"Wait, really?"

"Yeah, a couple people figured it out. Then last night happened and... I didn't plan on taking you home. I wanted to kiss you, but I planned on asking you out on a date" Minho dumped his confession, leaving you speechless.

This gorgeous man, who could have anyone he wanted, who seemed so far out of your league, wanted you? The new year barely started, but the last 24 hours definitely were not expected.

All you could do was laugh, and kiss him again. "We don't have to do anything but come back to bed? I'll put a movie on and we can just -"

"Lay there?" you finished his sentence.

"Or sleep off two hangovers" he joked.

"I would love that." Minho pulled you back to the mattress at your answer.

"Happy new year Minho"

"Same to you, too (Y/n). Lets make it a good one"

[eod-agent-13-12]

Hele, Guerilla Songs, and Nap Time

Florian falls asleep to a lullaby while in Reginald's arms.

Content Warnings: Death, Childhood Memories, Crying, Emotional Breakdown, Poisoning, blood and injury, Impermanent death (it's Agent Phoenix death time loop, after all.)

For @tillywunderwing. (Tilly, you asked for this, hope it makes you bawl. >:3 Please blame her for this idea. /j /silly)

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

"Agent?" Reginald looked around the medical facility when he noticed that his agent was not in their ward. They had been grumbling about the fact they only passed out after forgetting to sleep for a few days straight. 'It wasn't a big deal,' they say.

He walked around, asking any nearby nurses and other agents. They all pointed towards a certain room deeper inside.

Dozens of files and mission details swapped in the handler breakroom returned to him, followed by a heavy dread. His footsteps soon hastened, trying to get there on time.

The Head Support Agent stopped at the doorway, listening to his agent sing a lullaby as they held the hand of the dying agent, a product of a well timed poison on Zoraxis' part. It was too late for any antidote or any other solution.

Agent Phoenix held the agent's hand as they gently sang a song he never recognized. Their eyes glimmered as they tried to hold back the tears while they sang.

"Ako'y paalam, na, oh Nanay ko! Ako'y lalayo na sa piling mo. Yaman din, yan' ay tungkulin ko'. Ang maglingkod at magtanggol sa bayan ko." *

He stood there, listening to his agent sing the rest with solemnity that contrasted their usual grin they wear whenever they best Zoraxis in their plans.

This wasn't his usual Phoenix, not the singing and crying agent. They should be signing and smiling, not this.

They lingered, watching as Dr. Marcel provided the time of death. His eyes begging Reginald to help take his agent away from this.

"... Agent... You... did what you could." He practically dragged them out, pulling them as their numbed movements tugged at his heart with the weight of their body.

"... If only I did my mission faster. Maybe... Maybe I could've..." The squeaks in their voice reminded him of the few times he'd blamed himself for how other's missions turned out.

But he knows it'll only destroy them to think like that. It wouldn't help.

Brown eyes stared back at him, light soon shimmering to the bits of grey in them as they held back the sobs. "... I'm not strong enough to save everyone. I'm sorry."

He carefully tucked away the brown fringes that tangled up in front of their face.

"It's not your responsibility to do so... Florian." He looked upon their eyes, trying to pull them outside of that spiral before they could even be lost in the guilt that shouldn't belong to them.

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

"Pa, I can't sleep." Florian looked at the older man in the middle of the night, dragging a comically long looking pillow compared to their tiny height. "... I had a nightmare."

"A nightmare? About what?" He set down the letter he was reading, turning towards his child before opening his arms as invitation. "Did something scare you?"

"Mhm. The field trip. The bomb shelter passageway thingy. The darkness... It looked like it would swallow me whole!"

He chuckled, silver eyes meeting his child's brown. "Maybe it's meant to be like that, firelight. Maybe they're trying to hide what is precious so they're trying to scare the bad guys off, you know?" His hand gingerly carded their hair away from their face.

"Really?" They soon sat beside him, slowly increasing his heart rate as they sat on the arm rest and rested their head on his chest.

"Yeah. Sometimes, you need to look a little deeper to know what exactly is going on."

"... Can you tell me a story?"

"I can do something better. It's... an old song I heard from a... friend." He wrapped an arm around them, making sure they wouldn't fall off as soon as slumber returns to them.

Peaceful rest returns to the child as the old melody returns, along with memories of those who had moved on.

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

"Reginald, listen to me. This is not your fault. You hear me? Don't... Don't get in there. I know you were really planning to go to that underwater lab." Dr. Prism looked at the screen, then towards him with certainty.

"But they... they need back up. Well, the evac team will come get them but-Agent!"

"I'm alright. I'll be fine. Just... Shhh... I'll be fine." Phoenix's microphone hissed as they applied pressure on the cut created by the poison tipped arrow from the bear archer.

"Phoenix!" Roxana yelled, looking at the screen feed of them still grabbing wires.

"The cut wasn't that deep. Please tell me they can get there in less than an hour." They kept an even tone, eyes slowly flashing darkness as they unleashed sparks in Zor's latest schemes.

"We'll try, Agent. Please hang on. And... great work for getting that contraption shelved for the next few weeks-look out!"

Agent Phoenix rolled away from the collapsing component, which they have dodged easily, clearly not dying from it the first few times.

"Well, Agent. I'll see if we can get there much faster than normal."

"... That would be greatly appreciated. I'll try my best to get to a place where you can land quickly." Their fingertips felt cold, cheeks slowly regaining color as they caught their breath.

They fought the urge to sigh when they heard him disconnect the headset.

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

"... Pa, is everyone arguing again?" Florian laid their head on their father's lap as they felt him stroking their hair gently.

"That's why I told you to sleep. Now, you're hearing the adults argue about things. Why didn't you sleep with your cousins and siblings, hm?"

"... Ate was pinning me under her arm." They pouted, trying to fight off the sleepiness taking over. "I couldn't move."

"You need to grow up one day. But... I suppose today is not that day."

"... I can't sleep."

"Is it the passageway nightmare again?"

They shook their head. "No. I just find it hard to sleep in places I'm not used to."

He chuckled, looking at his child who was valiantly fighting off sleep on his lap as they stared at him with tears.

There was little debate on what he needed to do to let this visit just a bit more bearable.

"Di mo rin kaya, bayan, nalalaman? Sugat ng puso, buhat ng sumuko Asaha pa rin, di kita pababayaan Ay! Kahit ako'y sumapit sa kabilang buhay"**

He patted their head as he placed it on his lap, hand on their pulse as he counted slowly. He ignored how cold their fingertips were getting when he removed their gloves so he can feel their life slipping away.

"Ako'y paalam, na, oh Nanay ko! Ako'y lalayo na sa piling mo Yaman din, yan' ay tungkulin ko' Ang maglingkod at magtanggol sa bayan ko"*

Reginald choked as he got to the part he reached in that hospital ward, trying to match the way their eyes barely watered as they lulled their fellow agent to the next life.

Just like he was.

"Di mo rin kaya, bayan nalalaman? Sugat ng puso, buhat ng sumuko Asaha pa rin, di kita pababayaan Ay! Kahit ako'y sumapit sa kabilang buhay."**

Agent Phoenix curled slightly under his touch, trying to burrow into him, clearly dazed from the warm fuzzy feeling.

They were hearing a lullaby after a nightmare, after waking up in the middle of the night in response to something heavy.

Nothing was pinning them this time, only their own chest tightening as the poison slowly shut down their body.

They're not there, they're curling up in their pa's lap, enjoying the feeling of returning to their childhood, of not minding any of the silly things adults argue about.

"Kaya't ang bilin ko ay ganito: Huwag nang babanggitin ang ngalan ko At kung ako'y di na makarating Ang bangkay ko Sa bundok mo hahanapin"***

He really wanted to not sing that part. But... they did. It wouldn't do right if he skipped out in the end. He had to be there for them.

Would they want to be forgotten? Only talked about by whispers? Or would they want him to keep talking about them?

Reginald held their hand as he watched the light fade from their eyes. They clung to him like a child trying to fight sleep but also falling for the warmth he provided.

He looked at Dr. Marcel, his turquoise eyes turning away as the doctor declared the time of death. Their time of death.

When Phoenix opened their eyes and met with darkness, tears slowly started to form as they covered their mouth.

They had been dealing with that stupid bear archer for several runs already. But it was never this bad.

Their mind tried to recall the facts but their body yelled profanities at being ripped away from safety. From childhood. From not being killed every other mission or so.

The reality hit them, hitting them over the head. They weren't a kid anymore, no longer snuggling for warmth. Adulthood, especially whst was born from the path of a secret agent, had traded the warmth of cuddles with the covering of a blanket. It just wasn't the same.

But the world waits for no one. They'll need to wipe their tears and just... try to move on like nothing like this ever happened.

Because, in the eyes of the world, it didn't.

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

The title of the song is "Paalam na, Oh Nanay ko" (Farewell, oh my mother), a song sung by Filipino guerilla fighters during WWII. (Last I checked.)

Here's the (my very rough) translation:

*I'll bid farewell now, o my mother I'll be going far from your arms It's my duty and responsibility To serve and protect my country

**Wouldn't you know, my country? The pain of the heart when you surrendered But keep believing that I won't abandon you Ay! Even if I go to the next life

***That's why for my last request: Never mention my name again And if I never return My remains You will find on that mountain

Additional note: Florian absolutely cried about this after they got home from the debrief. And probably went to their siblings (fellow Phoenixes) and just cried. That death was rough on them.

Tag List:

@phoenix-and-found-family, @the-one-and-only-043, @agentwraith, @jellyfishgummy

@agent--shadow, @blueorchid-95, @silverdragon889, @stellar-collective

@juniperfan16, @warden-draws-sometimes, @definitelyunhingedagentphoenix, @dandorime

[saoirseyun]

— .ᐟ ౨ৎ . . . 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞. 001

𝖲𝖸𝖭𝖮𝖯𝖲𝖨𝖲 — today is the day, at last. much less to your own relief, however. attending your wedding in the local prefecture, aomori; and leave once and for all that drenched life in the brothel... let's only hope that you last in your new life.

𝖢𝖮𝖭𝖳𝖤𝖭𝖳 𝖶𝖠𝖱𝖭𝖨𝖭𝖦 — unreliable narrator, bad writing? idk its been a while since i wrote long works, blunt humor, mentions of sex, taboos, historical inaccuracies, unsettling behavior from dazai, possibly poor depictions of Japanese culture, no beta we die like oda

𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖧𝖮𝖱'𝖲 𝖭𝖮𝖳𝖤 — happy new year & rn im screaming crying bc here it is! my first fic after march 30th. please do enjoy to your heart's content~

𝖶𝖮𝖱𝖣 𝖢𝖮𝖴𝖭𝖳 — 3.0k words, partially proofread

CHECK OUT HALF AN HOUR FOR LOVE, OVERVIEW.

Japanese terminology; kamuro - a female child servant who serves courtesans temporarily until they graduate. shinzō - a young female servant, older than the kamuros, who also serves courtesans but has now been fully bought by the brothel. one/ne - to refer an older sister. obasan - "aunt" or "middle-aged woman" in Japanese. kitsune no yomeiri - a folktale about foxes having a wedding. The belief varies between being a good omen or a bad omen. nanakorobi yaoki - Japanese proverb for resilience. kanji - Japanese writing system in the form of borrowed Chinese characters.

Honorifics; chan - Term of endearment. san - One with respect. sama - One with higher respect and is formal. dono - Literally used like "My lord." ue - Denotes a high status.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑����𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓.

It poured rain that day; paint the skies with suspense and tension between the pristine clouds, a sunshower. When a beloved shinzō gingerly applied a sweet shade of peach blush to your cheeks and covered your face in salient white powder; stroking bold, black liner to your lower lid with a thin brush as to regard high standards of beauty whilst you remain aimless to admire the falling drops of water hit the eaves of your dormitory—drip back to the ground. You were at the least comforted with the weather's appearance coming abroad to stay as your companion, however still, oh so not much relaxed with the hour of your wedding ticks close to its arrival. You didn't even have a single chance to know who is taking your hand in marriage, for goodness sake. A subtly, a few weeks back you were informed by a close woman that a fine gentleman is likely interested in getting committed to you...

You've perk at the voice of the 30-year-old shinzō. In question, belongs to beloved friendly Akashi. Genuinely the definition of safe haven in your case if it counts close friends. "Oi, Jun'ai! A fine fellow been's collective to have you as his own, aren't you aware? Madam-sama does keeping 'em around too! By the teahouse." Her accent's rough and undoubtedly native to common farm villages—and also not forgetting to mention that charisma's energetic and careless as ever today, without a doubt of surprise of course. And bright yells as the poor Akashi had such terrible hearing, she'll never know how loud she is. Gushing you over to the area, finding the old lady herself amidst the aftermath of such agreement, dare say. There's a signed paper with extravagant black ink, strokes elegant front of the elder—smirking with pride regardless of you chiming in to inquire about the stranger.

Who, you may ask, but she simply says that it's best to keep it a surprise… You weren't able to keep composure since that day.

As who does that?! Outrageous, utterly outrageous, you'd whisper harsh mutters only thinking about it even a single time in a day. Oftentimes resist the urge of cursing at that damn woman for casting you aside in saving grace for the brothel's funding and, many of other's finances.

Eyeing your dear assistant tuck delicate, golden pins and fine décor to your lovely hair—all you can do in anticipation was hope he was also a good-looking, refined man who wasn't either younger or older than your age. Preferably of status, sure, that's a most likely. He manages to pay double the amount for you to leave your workplace, after all. He has to be, otherwise you're immediately disappointed by your own lack of judgement. You need to be a lot more cruel to yourself, but it hurts plentiful.

"...Nee-san? Are you feeling okay?" Voiced the young 14-year-old. Who consist attentive to adding your makeup to the delicate skin and face. Her face visuals a pit of worry you'd rarely see in this type of workload. You weren't even sure how to react. "I will be all right," Is what you answered reluctantly.

But the shinzō knew you best.

She was drowning into you eyes a lot more personal, and, rather heartwarming. A sigh. "Ōnami-chan, I beg. It's not of high relevance..."

"If it refers to you, then it has to be." The younger girl insists while she timid to touch your sleeve. Still much a grown-up child, sometimes you forget that too... Your fingers met the scalp of your head out of stress and uncertainty of what to put it. "...Trust me now. This can be excused." Despite having this unsaturated need to tell your closest servant everything without regard and loosening the grasps of staying ideally perfect, no complaints.

The only thing you were to offer in the end was a weightless fondle in her neat hair. Affection like being a genuine member of one's family or just reassuring an immature girl who, yes—older and very well more aware, still innocent and a tiny tad bit of cluelessness. Two reasons can go a long way.

Perhaps she wondered to your conflicted state as to why the reaction. The situation at hand is, at least by an outsider's perspective, is dream-like. Watching her older sister, the woman she has served since childhood to be married off to some well-known or not handsome noble of the court. What fantasy, unfortunately it's our reality.

"Nee-san, do you adore him to some degree?" How where you to speak to a question as broad and vague as this... That you were obviously not into a man that you didn't even knew existed, how could one love? "To be frank, I am not the most interested..." Even when the life of nobility and esteemed high ranks sound greatly to one's likely. "I can't help imagine but break the poor man's heart sooner or later if it so be it. Either that or potentially unhappy in my own marriage."

"Will I last more than a month there?"

The answer to such is as unclear as midday mist, compared at even evening's pouring drops of rain.

"...Do me a favor, Ōnami-chan. Visit me once in a while—let's say every other month. Then, must you always be sure that I am well and whether or not I'm returning back to this life. I'll write a letter to a buddhist temple in case."

It was too much to do out your own distrust and anxiety in him, of course. Maybe you're exaggerating, and yet only can the Gods know what may happen in time's passing. The most richest people of them all tends to be the nastiest... Heeding your words, the shinzō smiles.

"Okay!" A certain heartfelt warm in your veins. The little girl Ōnami was sure to keep that to her mind.

With the bare minimum of excitement inside of your heart, you've scurry yourself out of the brothel as a final leave to your old world into the carriage—hurriedly saying spoken goodbyes to the kind workers and fellow courtesans, the sweet little kamuros reckless to play out their times in the stunning gardens and hardworking shinzōs… And, yes, of course—do not forget your Obasan on the way. She might as well demean your name quicker in the whorehouse than disgracing the family bloodline and lineage. That out of your way at last, seated on the backseat as the couch leaves the Red Lantern District. To which, the moving world in the foreground of your eyes although you've went into a state of another faint reverie inside your head. On which the scenery fades and soon, a vivid trance that can only be described as unexplainable. Inexplicable dread to your veins just raises your discomfort knowing that you... You were living fine well enough. But... but of course! Why wouldn't the Madam accept such rising numbers on papers? What else was there to make of the situation than romanticise? You must be at least sicker than a loose serial killer.

Stiff optimism fixates your face. Looking out to the carrier and spot every little couple on the roads complete such mundane tasks together under the rain in a sake of not facing loneliness. You weren't sure of a word anymore on what to do. However, making these ceremonies intercept to that kind of point... Ah, how it sickens. The way of ill that's akin to the waves disrupt your unfortunate stomach during a sail travel. In all actuality—case in point—its sensation were although too alike to what you're going through at the moment attending to the wedding. The silence deafens you to a premature funeral! Hearing voices now seems a lot more comforting.

Alas, onwards moment's finality, the carriage stops to the relief of the body. Motion itself places to a hault and your entourage of men escorts you off the ride with the protection of an umbrella covering your head. Here's when your form itself took full stillness and enters a sort, self-control state. Your movements are gracious as ever but you're definitely not moving as to avail. You could only think what's to come. Relentless. Think of your life, over and endless until the head's decomposed itself into liquids. Not even the presence of the clan head's eldest child manages to snap you out of musing.

"...You should be the luxurious Jun'ai-san, is that correct?" The woman sat across the table from yours. She was calm and obviously held regard to such respect in the house as murmurs and shy stares from young maidens chatter about her in disclose, their own little fantasy, a kind of imagination you've grown used to from those disgusting men in the sex industry. What pigs. You've snapped back, forcing your head to the topic at hand as ahe serves the matcha tea. You nod, "Splendid. Then may you refer to me as Dazai Masako, if you will. I'm glad that you're able to make it to our humble mansion." You twinkle at her words and show signs of flattery—although having heard exchanges like these from wealthy clients in the past... "The pleasure is mine to meet you."

"I'm sure you're aware why I've arrived?" You inquire, to be more certain as Masako then flicks her head. Only for it to fade into a slight, disappointed frown. "...Marry my younger brother Osamu, yes, I'm acknowledged. Pardon my critique, however, kind lady. Except you're prohibited to fully engage with my son." Says the clan head's eldest—the sister—who... Pause, what? Hold on. Now hasn't the supervisor explained to you in person that the wedding's immediate? Today, in particular! "Yes, originally so." Masako clarifies, she gestures to an open windows. "Yet as you may noticed much earlier before entering the abode, the weather is not ideal. Therefore, shall it grant misfortune over the lovebirds and ruin the gathering for guests alike. My sincerest apologies..." White powder stains light to your fingertips as you can't foresee this day getting doubled the horrible! It's a tragedy... In your entire own sense, there is not a single opportunity at chance will you ride a half-soggy carriage of return. You didn't knew the folklore of kitsune no yomeiri migrated to Aomori as well. Dazai-ue continues,

"It would be our honour to offer the comfort hospitality of this house. And I suppose it shan't be an issue for you to see him at once. It surely have been long way here to Aomori, yes? We will discuss the formalities soon after meeting Osamu..." ...Roughly translates to tomorrow. The head of the clan's task for you to see him by now seems too easy, but it had to be some pity.

"...Yes." A reluctant answer to your rose-colored lips. Did the products still look good after cold winds meet the face? "How generous of you, ma'am. I prolong my gratitude. For I, can only but offer a mere humble."

It was what matters. You'll commit to this man whether or not you do fundamentally enjoy it—so might as well take a glance at his face. None double taking as you took another deep breath with a servant leading to his room, finally, you think. Meeting him for the first time, when that gluttonous madam of yours hide him from you. Left to the hands of a darling female maid as she takes you to where he resides, parade the prestigious, elegant halls of your presence and careful to approach that damn door and feast your pure eyes.

Said gentle-hearted patron proceeds to leave your wake upon reaching the door facing front of you right now, a polite bow. Gesturing her leave. and instead went off and serve his... Siblings? Assuming so. As your head catches sights of a small, worn-out family portrait next to the door. Clear to not tell which one is Dazai Osamu. Right, right. Your supposed've, soon-to-be husband and hand in marriage, The Dazai Osamu... It's quite bothersome—ponder what's so special about this name particularly and not the father's? Better question yet, why must every woman gossip with a slither of his mention among useless conversations? Now you can't get Dazai Osamu's name out of your head.

And for one reason.

The noise, bleak and rather frank done as if swift in action, behind you caught you off guard and the little silhouette of that man.

"...Dazai-dono, is that correct?" Is what you've been instinctively told by your own gut to try and receive the brunet noble's attention away from the stillness of beautiful ornamental flowers. Unbothered, frozen in the skilled crafts of capture life through the hands of clay and fine arts. Frightened to your snicker, he awkwardly reaches for his fallen smoking pipe. Well, that should be the one causing the single noise but how on earth is it so full of volume...? Can that be a thing?

"And who else shall it be, the one and only, sweetheart?"

His movements—grace akin to the shows of swan lakes and beautiful doves taking leap to the unknown heavens, clouds, and skies with free, open wings; and boundless to the world beneath thee. A skip to your chest, admiring his facial features—the vague dimples wrinkle his lips and stupid, horrendously stupid, smile. Divine mahogany eyes in the corners of an almond-shape and a few cute baby hairs hang behind those pine-shaded bangs. Dazai softly gestures yourself nearer to him, step on the higher platforms of his room, no matter of what status you are, maybe Dazai spoke quietly. Or forgot to use the mouth. The brunet-haired noble examines the physique of that body of yours and fondly admires your face, even though covered and hidden under all of that makeup, he manages to crack a small smirk. "Forgive me, but... Ah, you're... As beautiful as up close."

It's cost him an expense of his whole sense to control his nerves and desire to have you on his lap, held lovingly—darling—precious. Importantly, as embracing your beloved form to his closely as humanely possible. If you're ingenuous in allowing that off the bat... How shameless of him. "Ah, you must be humbling me, my lord. I don't deserve such remarks so early." Gently, you exclaim. Twist the fan to your liking and cover your mouth of kind elegance and timid meekness. By the celestial Gods above, he's head struck although you didn't start seducing the noble with your pretty long lashes... Dear, it stole the time to apply too! Infatuating. That's less time trying to appear loving to him, sure. Well...

It's hard to be doubtful that he does look to love you in those starry eyes and blunt browns. Even harder to imply whether or not if this factor relies importance.... Keeping close to.

"Oh but I am usually quite certain as to what I say whenever, lovely Jun'ai-chan. So to speak... I don't intend to be harsh." Dazai puts to rest his smoking pipe. Cast away soon after picking it up...

"Spare me a good time and listen, I beg, my dear Jun'ai-chan. I am absolutely certain that this must be the most abnormal thing you'll hear today—or ever—throughout your entire lifetime; yet I cannot be held back. Albeit the humble nature resides me, nanakorobi yaoki." Dazai offers his hand, and so you've placed yours in return soon after Dazai reaches to you. "...Since the parade weeks ago sitting adrift by spring's exposition, you've caught these eyes for yourself." Dazai starts. "I—I can't be helped, guilty as charged! But in its climax, I have hurried my legs to the brothel where you used to live. Then... Respectfully having you became a sort of necessity in my brain."

Who's to guess that this fine, handsome young noble is indeed this selfish—greedy?

Then again, who are you to reflect so hasty? Oh, no. How exactly must you put it with him? "What pleasure." You exclaim, feign shock. "In all truthfulness, I'm much more relieved in hearing those kinds of words from you at the moment..." ...And just what are you thinking?! Saying it dilly-dally won't save you from anything. "I'm not disapproving your ways, Dazai-dono. Matter of fact, I appreciate it." He completes a soft-spoken grin that's both boyish and ugly. Ugly in a way that's good-natured, and whole. Akin to the luminous burning sun which lasts eternal and hurts your eyes... Let us become a bit realistic here:

Dazai's hand takes the kettle of refreshing green tea into his hands then proceed to serve you a cup—along a charming smile. "What a merciful woman you are. I hadn't had a message that you were going to be a forgiving type... Well, shall I cherish upon wondrous setting beneath fallen sakura petals of early bloom; and pray to beloved heavens above—with a drenched heart—must it not go soon."

"A heart for poetry?" It's the first you've taken akin to catch on about Dazai.

A couplet, kind of freeform in a sense amidst those twin lines the noble recited with grace and honour.

"Indeed, belladonna. Let me ask you... As it soothes the soul countless of times, how can one not be compromised into the elegance, intricate, and exquisite lines?" To the rhythm of his voice, endear and charming, he takes a pen between two fingers and strokes across a random bit of paper next to Dazai in idle. "What touching words. I much agree." Was all you managed to reply. His writing was neat, written the kanji for what seems to read 'peafowl.' You felt flustered over closely admiring his movements, notably Dazai's fingers. "May we perform poems until the rising sun meets dew grass and kiss the windows clear?"

You weren't expecting your mouth to speak for itself. You only thought of so as light rain drips slowly and comes to a close. It's presumably the late night by now, time flew.

The young noble smiles with such tender elation at the suggestion at hand between him and you. "It'd be ill-mannered for me to decline, no?" He paints a small portrait of himself, modest, he is more than thrilled at your words, isn't he? Although it was basic splats of ink on paper arranged in a way of ornamental flowers Dazai admired his eyes to.

...Maybe you were being a little too arrogant about him.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭.

@wasdy-san, @inojuuy, @imkwikly, @nonexistence1199, @emyyy007, @coilai, @writingandmusing, @hypocritic-trash-baby

[primus-why]

I Feel TFOne Could've Handled This Better...

Hot take but I feel like folks have been really generous with the take that OP was unable to find ~the perfect words~ in the heat of the moment (and thus should be given some grace) when he told D to stand down and "not be like Sentinel"... namely cuz I don't feel that the narrative supports this?

Like-- after all is said and done, OP doesn't reflect on that part of their split. He doesn't have a moment where he seeks validation or voices his regrets over the choice of his words, it's actually cut-and-dry. The narrative (as it stands) supports that OP saw D-16 acting up, so he called him out and stood on business, down to the last scenes where he's basically like "yeah it's a shame but y'all knew I had to do it to 'em."

It didn't have to be much! I'm not saying to absolve Megs, just show OP looking at things from a different perspective/contemplating a bit on that tough choice and the morality of the moment. Some examples of what I wish we had:

B-127 straight up blurting the obvious by later chatting with Orion like, "Wait so you told your best friend that he was acting just as bad as the guy who enslaved us for our entire lives and was torturing him like an hour ago? Oof. Seems kinda harsh." Then have some of OP's regret show on his face.

OP asking Elita-1 after Megs is banished if he did the right thing. Have Elita back his choice up, saying, "You should have seen what he did after you were... gone. It was terrifying. I know it was tough, but you made the right call." OP is grateful for the support, but a conflicted look still flashes across his face before he steels himself to look out towards the horizon... and the future.

Have OP walk past other mechs/former miners who didn't go with the High Guard saying stuff like, "Wish I could've given Sentinel a piece of my mind!" "Yeah, but I'm glad he's gone for good." "Ugh I miss everything." "Oh, it was crazy! Megatron picked him up and then he rrrrriiipped-- oops, hey there, Mr. Optimus... Prime... sir?" And have OP wave hello, looking a bit sick when they leave.

Post-credits scene with Starscream going on and on, asking Megs when they'll be back to teach the upstart Prime a lesson. Megs grabs his face to shut him up. "Patience, Starscream. The Prime thinks I'm no better than Sentinel... but I'll show him. He wants Iacon? He can have it. In the meantime we'll take the rest of the planet! Then I'll come back, crush Prime under my heel, and we'll take Iacon too. Sentinel's reign will barely be a footnote, because I'm about to become Optimus Prime's worst nightmare." The vocal performance would really need to sell this-- like picture Megs saying something like that from a place of anger and hurt, not so much a place of genuine evil or malice.

Basically instead of Orion's assertion being backed up as black and white/good vs bad, I wish we had some different opinions/reactions from the characters sprinkled in there. Like you can't tell me out of allllll the miners who weren't strong enough/willing to go with the High Guard and ended up sticking around that NONE of them were like "eyyo honestly?? Kiiiiinda glad Sentinel is dead. Wish I could have helped, tbh." like come onnnnn...

And you can't even argue that he's not an active threat-- I don't think everyone would see things that way! It's not just about the threat he physically has, but the threat he represents and is very likely to act upon if given the opportunity! He has a proven track record of not only being sneaky and conniving, but also capable of dealing some serious damage/killing people bigger and stronger than him, plus he has the backing of the Quints. All he'd need to do is wriggle his way out of jail and run off to his sponsors, then he'd probably be back to hurt more people! (If the Quints didn't just kill him out of incompetence lmao). There's a lot of "ifs" here, but I think it's a valid argument that not everyone would agree on what is the right or wrong way to handle Sentinel once he was down long enough to, like, do something about him.

I feel the situation needed a bit of nuance. In some way I wish they had kicked the can and had D and Orion bicker while Sentinel escaped, then have D get frustrated enough by the loss of Sentinel to point fingers (and his fusion canon) at Orion, who then falls and becomes OP. (Megs could still show some of thar emotion/remorse right after he does it too.) Not only would this open the door for a sequel, but tbh the Quint might have just killed Sentinel anyways and sought to deal with the miners uprising themselves lol. (Maybe that could have been an after credits scenes too instead of the B-127 bit??)

Would love to see a moment in a sequel where they have a calmer moment after arguing for a bit. Have OP mention how Megs was out of line, that it hurt and even scared him to see him act that way, and Megs can quietly point out "you said I was as bad as Sentinel... is that really how you see me? After everything we went through?"

Then OP can fumble the bag again lmao like "D, I... I'm sorry, that didn't come out right... but you still took things way too far..."

"Why am I not surprised-- your opinion is what matters the most! Maybe that's why you became a Prime, since you're so good at acting like the world revolves around you--!"

*gets interrupted by someone else before another yelling match ensues*

[hiraeth-nostalgic]

SO (sorry i was gone i'm back to YAPPING)

who the FUCK is out here thinking reki had absolutely NO growth through the first season of sk8??? I saw a post talking about how even though he is the main character we "never see any development" regarding him and i just need to tell people who believe that: you are wrong.

Listen, reki is the main character™ so let me recount some things for us all.

first thing that comes to mind: when he is experiencing the jealousy that comes from the insecurity of being left behind, but he still shows up to see Langa race Joe. He still calls out to langa, and we see that even though he was insecure and feeling left behind he STILL came to support someone. he then sees that video talking about the guy who created the track shoes that were being worn and thinks it's stupid. that if he can't be at the top of skating, he shouldn't even skate anymore. he should just give up his dream bc a couple people are better than him. He has the talk with his manager that even if you aren't the MOST talented that doesn't mean you can't be involved and Reki still isn't quite there yet. I believe it was Joe who reminded reki that they are all on different levels and reki gets pulled into the beef with Adam. NOW the beef with Adam we see Reki trying to bridge the gap. He wants it so bad. it's not that he's not a great skater, because he is, but i think it comes from the general lack of self-love/self-confidence that held him back for a couple of things. HOWEVER he avoids Adam's moves, he literally JUMPS off the side and FLIPS (something he had never done before!) reki NEARLY wins and he would've if his board hadn't snapped!!! He embarrassed Adam!! something no one else had done!!!

the second thing: We see Reki become okay with not being the absolute best of the best and how he is a great skater, in his own way. (this starts to show in the race with Adam and then at the end we see it REALLY show) sure it may take him a little longer to learn a trick or something but he still learns it. he still loves skating. he redefines his LOVE of the sport not because he's the best of the best but because he actually has a support system in skating instead of before when he had no friends who shared the interest (you know, aside from a previous friend who could no longer skate) and its the story of even if you aren't as great as someone else you know, its still okay to do things for FUN and hanging out.

like this idea haunts all of us. for example: singing? most people are fine singers!!! but because they don't sing like Beyonce or Billie Eilish, suddenly they shouldn't sing for fun bc "they can't make a job out of it" like, the same for reki. Joe, Cherry, and Shadow are all adults who have lives outside of skating but for a CHILD it's the only thing for them at this point in their life, they are still trying to figure out who they are. its crucial to teens. Reki's not getting on a national team, he can't build a career out of actually skating so does that mean he shouldn't enjoy it? no!!! he works at the skate shop, he's really talented at building the boards, designing them, and understanding what will help individual people the best!! that's more than anyone else in the S community that we see actively skating.

Anyway, reki has so much growth in not only his skating but in his mental health but because it's not as flashy as Langa's or Adam's, people overlook it and downplay it.

[sweetnnaivete]

dare i say phone & snack after school time is better than phone in bed time

[sysig]

Still a thief at heart, stealing kisses (Patreon)

[girlivealwaysbean]

hey god if you've created someone for me can you introduce me to them sooner? i kinda need them now

[imabiscuitinthousandworlds]

so i googled my current favourite play that i'm absolutely obsessed with and ended up on the english wikipedia site bc my browser is set to english and. it's so bad. the fucking plot overview leaves out basically everything that happens ever except for the end result. several key figures aren't even mentioned. "this guy dies for freedom" well, yes, but actually no, plus you're implying his sacrifice is actually worth it. that's not true. in some other section a dude is mentioned who claims this play is basically star wars. that someone familiar with the play but not star wars could look at a star wars poster and tell you which characters are narratively similar/equal to characters of the play. i am baffled. i have never, not once in my life, ever seen someone be so wrong. dude must have read an entirely different play. i'm tempted to dig up the english version and read it just to see how fucking wrong he is. he is *so* incredibly wrong. jesus fuck. how could you possibly say that

[kanene-yaaay]

Secrets and the Pros and Cons of Not Running Away

Kanene's notes: I will receive no constructive criticism on this, I saw a character that just keeps being destroyed over and over because he loves and cares too much and since mah bros on that island only SUFFER, I *WILL* take the matters onto my own hands and give them all the tickles and fluff thank you so much for understanding.

Anyway, the Happy Pills Arc is my absolute fave until now, and this animatic is my new obsession. It doesn't has anything to do with the fic, really, but I think it deserves more love drtyuiklkjhg.

Warnings: This is a tickle fanfic. It has hurt/comfort, fluff and some angsty thoughts, but nothing too dark. It happens after the Happy Pills stuff and doesn't follow the canon timeline. Ticklish!Forever and Ler!Philza, Ler!Bad, Ler!Pac, Ler!Mike, Ler!Richarlyson, Ler!Tallulah and Ler!Chayanne. It is 8,000 words long.

[~*~]

Forever woke up. 

His eyes hurt when they opened so he kept them closed for a few minutes more, watching the flash of memories run behind his eyelids in blurry movements and sounds. 

For the first time in a while his mind was silent, clear from all the effects of what the Federation did to him. His feelings no longer exploded crazy in his chest as they often did during the last few days, fighting to survive before the chemicals from the drugs washed them over and got suppressed by a blinding, fake happiness.

Their kids were gone. 

Richarlyson was gone. His son disappeared in thin air and there were no clues or hints that showed any single way to get them back or even know where they went. 

The island was in scrambles, empty. 

There were explosions and grieving and chaos everywhere. Every parent doing any and everything to cope with the fact that from day to night they’ve got what was the most important for them ripped right from their fingers. 

The N.I.N.H.O, his project (his responsibility) didn’t work out this time and they lost everything because of it.

Badboyhalo was losing his colors. Baghera disappeared. Cellbit straight out begged him to not leave him alone during all of this. Mike hadn’t been seen in a long time. Etoiles was trying to keep their hopes up. Everyone asked him what they should do, now. What would he do as their president. 

And what did he do? He fucking lost it. He let his feelings get over his head, exploded everything that he could put his eyes on, demolished his base with TNT and threatened Cucurucho, forced the Federation to do a throwback just so they would have an island to put their feet on. Made the Federation see him as a threat and force those pills on him.

He left everyone. His family. His friends.

(What more could he do?)

And everyone should've left him too.

…

And yet…

And yet Pac jumped head first to save him. Accepting to go under Cucurucho’s “treatment” so he could analyze the drugs and find a cure for it. No matter how much he was shaking in fear the entire time, how bad the Federation treated him before or how there was just no certainty that his plan would even work

And yet Philza saw under his mask of smile, past the point of his gun and right into the pain in his eyes in his lowest moment and said that everything would be fine, that he still trusted him, that he knew who he was and how much he cared about the eggs. He said they would find a way to solve things out.

And yet Cellbit didn’t let him go for a single second. He followed him no matter the instability, during those painful moments of consciousness, beyond the fake minutes of happiness and slipped past his traps just to go and pull him out of it. He shouted and hugged and taunted and broke and fought dirty and did what he could to bring him back.

And yet Bad still talked and answered him, even with how much he was hurting, even with the bombs and screams and the dismissing he came back over and over again with his chats and banters and discussions that so easily led Forever to the trap that would come to save his life.

Once again, there were tears in his eyes. 

They were too his family. Forever was the one who put himself under Cucurucho’s radar by going apeshit and bombarding the entire island and they were the ones who saved him from that white fucking bear. From himself. From the Happy Pills.

He cried.

(What else could he do?)

Agony and hope danced in harmony in his chest, sucking all his other senses to nothing and filling his soul with every emotion under the sun at the same time. It was overwhelming but good to be free to feel so easily. It was horrible that he knew how it was like to miss this freedom so much. It was empty to feel this despair all over again. It was good, no, essential to know he was not alone.

Almost hopeful, even.

And yet their children were gone.

And yet everyone was kind of lost.

And yet they needed someone solid, a strong leader to step in.

Forever didn’t feel strong.

(What would he do?)

He wiped his tears. Sat on the bed. Got up. Put back the flag on his shoulder. Took a deep breath, listening to the very known voices coming out of the infirmary that made his entire face change to a (this time genuine) happy, tired and relieved kind of smile.

The president of Quesadilla Island woke up.

(And he didn’t have any idea of how much everyone had been waiting to show him how much they were happy about it.)

[~*~]

It all started in very tiny ways, as most things did, easy to miss if you didn’t know where to look. 

The first time it happened Forever was at favela. He had just finished fixing the elevator from the Karaoke and was watching the sunset (Hi, Bobby) wash over the beach in a dance of colors at the top of the building, resting on the parapet. Pac was somewhere close, building more houses or getting in trouble with Fit, but, besides them, it was just him, his memories and Copacabana beach.

Forever laid his head in his arms, with a long sigh, closing his eyes and just letting the wind mess his hair and clear his thoughts, enjoying the brief moment of peace before he started thinking about more plans and projects to fill his day and mind with.

It was hard, though. When every block he put down or decoration he pulled up made the blonde turn around with a call in the tip of his tongue, words disappearing when he realized that there was no set of small footsteps following him and probably never would again because they were all gone and he was not and how could he ever even think about-

A shiver ran down his spine and made his thoughts come to a halt when he felt a light tickle in the back of his neck, making him have to move a hand out of his comfortable position to wipe the leaf or whatever out of his skin. 

His fingers made contact with nothing. Uh. Must’ve flown away already.

He was tired. Maybe he should take the rest of the day to clean his base. There were still holes from the mine traps that someone has been spreading across the island lately. Another problem for him to resolve. Looked like those were never going to end.

The tickle came back, following him even when he flinched away, with a puffed snicker falling from his tongue. His hand shot to scare whatever insect it was from his neck again but the touch was as nimble as it was soft, lightly and skillfully dancing away from his hold before it could catch him.

“Que porra.” (“The fuck.”) He tried again and again, going so far as slapping his entire arm behind him, hitting nothing.

The sensation disappeared for a brief while before running all the way across his spine, making him almost jump in the air and finally give up his comfortable position to spin around. “Que que é isso, cara!” (“What is this, man!”)

“Pfff- hahaha!”

Forever turned just in the right moment to see his short friend, with sky blue eyes shining with a playful light, pulling a black, crooked and beautiful wing behind his back, his laugh ringing across the building.

“Philza! Really?” 

“What? You wouldn’t have that problem if you wore a shirt, you know?” Forever’s shouted “WHAAAAT!” did nothing to alleviate his laughing fit, a snort not taking long to appear.

“You, you’re, you’re bullying me, man! I just came out of the hospital and you treat me like this. I can’t believe it!”

“You’re-”

“You come here, you hit me, you don’t let me rest after I get out of a coma… I am an injured, man, you know that, Philza? You’re bullying an injured man.”

“I literally,” his tune tried and failed to sound at least a tidbit serious before he descended in more laughter. “I literally didn’t even hit you!” 

Forever continued as if he didn’t hear the protest of the other, turning around and gesticulating dramatically. “You’re a bully, Philza. You’re such a bully.”

“I am doing that to remind you to put on a shirt! You just came out of the hospital, you’re gonna catch a cold.”

“Nah, nah, nah, you’re mean. You’re just so mean to me. Like, I thought we were friends, you know? But I see the truth now.” He tsked. “That is just sad, Philza. That is really sad, man.”

“Oh my fucking god.” The punch he gave on Forever’s arms didn’t even hurt, only making the president snicker louder. “Shut the fuck up.”

Forever chuckled at how done the other sounded, watching him roll his eyes and shake his head with a big smile before taking (he wasn’t resting anymore so might as well just finish his work here) the chance and walking in between the tables and chairs until he got behind the balcony. In no time he began filling the storage with drinks and food. The high, upbeat joy of banting with his friend slowly calming down.

“Actually, I am going to put back my old black suit soon. I am just taking a break from wearing suits so much, you know?”

He didn’t have to explain what the break was really for and how his old presential clothes didn’t have anything to do with it, Philza understood. 

“Take that time off, Forever, you deserve it.” His tune was soft. 

Forever smiled, wishing he could show Phil how wrong he was. A“break” definitely wasn’t on the list of things that Forever deserved at all. That anarchist was way too kind.

“Thank you very much, my friend.” He closed the cabinet door, turning around (and away), facing the entire restaurant. 

Each chair, each color and decor had been carefully picked by small , gentle claws. The building had been chosen by hand and even the balcony was built lower than normal, made so that a small child could go behind it and pretend to be a barman, sing with the melodies and enjoy the view with their family and friends. 

Signs were still spreaded there, on the restaurant, the rooms, the favela, the N.I.N.H.O, the Spawn, their home and island… None of it had been built to be just for the adults and it all brought a longing pang in his chest. 

Saudade.

They’re gone. They’re gone and he was here laughing and resting and doing nothing to rescue them and how could he be so usele-

Another soft sweep of feathers right under his chin made him flinch away with a surprised, bitten giggle, successfully making his line of thoughts disintegrate for a second time. A half smile painted his face.

“Stop with that, man! It tickles.”

Philza tilted his head slightly to the side, eyes sharp in concentration, as if just realizing something. But at the sound of Forever’s voice he blinked and let his expression become a tad more relaxed, with worried tunes.

“You just seemed to be thinking a whole lot back there. What is in your mind?”

“Nothing really important. It doesn’t matter.”

“Well, I’ve got some bad news for you then, mate. Because it will matter to me. You can tell me anything, Forever.”

And for a moment the other considered not doing that. Teleporting away or brushing his worries with another topic or a joke. But that was Philza. 

Philza, one of the most protective parents who still trusted him with Tallulah when he was away. Philza, who didn’t care about the elections but voted for him anyway. Philza, who trusted him with such a conviction and an unyielding loyalty that Forever had no idea of what he could ever have done to deserve it.

(“You saved my children.” Philza would say if he could listen to him. “You went beyond and further to save everyone’s kids for free over and over so no parent would ever carry the grief of losing them again. You did it for Richarlyson, for Tallulah, for Bobby, for Pomme, for you, for us, for free. I’m not forgetting that easily and I’m not letting you forget too.”)

And that was enough.

He stared at the beach again, the words coming easier when he was not looking at the other.

“Talullah was the one who decorated the restaurant. We were having a Karaoke Night and when we got up here she had already put all those nice trees and pretty flowers…It looks really nice.”

Philza sighed, looking ten thousands of years older.

“Yeah, she has an amazing taste.” Then he walked and stayed right in front of Forever’s view, staring right at his eyes, serious. “We’re going to find them, ok? Richas, Talullah, Chayanne, Ramon… Every single one, we’re going to get them back. So don’t let yourself give up and stay focused.”

The president, his friend, nodded.

“We will get them back.” Forever agreed. “No matter what it costs.”

[~*~] 

But Philza was a discreet fella, so things continued to be shown in tiny ways for a while. A poke when he got too distracted and his thoughts too dark, a scribble to get his attention, a sweep of feathers when he refused to stop working so much and listen to the reason. Forever pretended to be annoyed, but the fact that the other cared so much and in such a playful way kept fishing fond smiles and amused chuckles out of him and that he couldn’t ignore.

His cute secret was secure with him, and so things took a while before it began escalating, all because of a different afternoon…

It started with a jumpscare.

“FOREVER!”

“PUTA MERDA!” (“HOLY SHIT!”) The loud shout quickly descended in a series of nervous giggles. The blond holding his chest and resting in a wall to not fall, muscles trembling with the sudden shot of adrenaline. 

It took a couple of minutes for him to get back his composure and glare at the demon that was still snickering gleefully at him, tail swooping around in delight as he jumped around. 

It took exactly one second. 

In a blink Forever was getting his soul back to his body and then in the other he was throwing himself at him and both were rolling on the floor in a mess of pushes and kicks. “Tu se acha engraçadão, hein? Tu se acha muito engraçadão. Palhaço! Tá palhaço demais, hein, Badboyhalo.” (“You think you’re so funny, yeah? You think you’re so funny. You clown! You’re being such a clown, huh, Badboyhalo.”)

Forever didn’t care that his wrestling was uncoordinated enough so most hits didn’t even land on his friend, different from Bad that actually got more than one or two kicks right before letting himself be lost in a mix of too joyfully complains of “unfair attack” and “dictator” to have any true heat in them. 

Their playful fight was kept for a few pieces of a while before they were too distracted by their own amusement to not let the other go and try to recompose themselves.

“Where! is! it!”

“What?” Forever asked, staring with confused eyes at the black demon who crossed his arms and squinted at him in what Forever could swear was an annoyed composure if it wasn’t the way his tail swayed around and his eyes glinted in glee. Whether it was for being so unclear and successfully confusing the blond or for the original reason he appeared there in the first place it wasn’t clear. 

For a moment his eyes unfocused from the form of the other and watched the wall full of kind, heartwarming messages that he asked for everyone still awake at that night to write so he could make BadboyHalo a surprise. Suddenly all the pieces came together in his mind and formed such a cute picture that Forever couldn’t help but let out a delighted chuckle, lips curling in an amused, teasing smirk. “Ooooh, I see what you’re talking about now, Badboy.”

That chuckles almost became a crackle when the only response he received was a petulant huff and a hand extended in his direction, fingers twitching impatiently. Forever took out his backpack, rummaging through it until he found the compartment where he kept all his flowers, carefully pushing Richa’s favorite one aside so he could pull another one. His fingers clasped around a stem and soon a light purple grazed his sight. “Here. Your daily flower. It’s for until you get better, right?”

“Oh, nice, thank you.” Bad’s voice tinted with a softer tune, carefully gathering the gift and putting it on his own backpack, in a special place, together with the others, before his tune became agitated again, feet tapping on the floor with energy. “But that is NOT what I am talking about.” He got closer and repeatedly began slapping his arm, following the president when he shouted and started running around the enclosed space, jumping in attempts to escape from the sudden attack. “WHERE IS IT! GIVE ME, IT’S MINE!”

“What! What more do you want from me!” When no answer was given besides more chasing and (friendly) hitting, the blonde got the warpstone with an exaggerated sigh. 

“You know, Badboyhalo,” when Forever said his entire name, it wasn’t exactly sing-songing, but it had a little beat painted with amusement and tease, when the demons haven’t been able to successfully annoy him out of his mind, of course. “I really need to go, man, and since you don’t have anything to say to me… tsk, that is so sad, man, I was really feeling quite… generous today”

“No!” The demon tried to grab his shoulder, but the blonde dodged swiftly, still pretending to be looking busy and thinking hard about his next location. “Forever. Do not. You’re not running away. I know what you’re doing!” Forever smiled. 

Being friends with Cellbit, you learned a thing or two. Like how to disappear in the middle of a conversation, but, especially, how to do that in the most annoying way possible. “No, no, no, I’m not running away at all, Bad, I am actually…”

However, that was the thing: Bad was also Cellbit’s friend, and so realized the exact moment that glint filled the president’s brown eyes what was about to happen. His hand flew in another attempt of a grab, missing once again his shoulder when the other, a bit later than last time, dodged, which allowed his reflex to kick in and his hand changed the trajectory and lay on the brazilian’s side, squeezing.

None of them was prepared for the squeal that this action fished.

For a second, a blissful second, everything froze and both stared at each other. 

That is how Forever saw the exact second the demon’s eyes squinted and a playful flame alighted in them.

In a blink his other hand also flew to his waist and began attacking both sides with no mercy. Forever had no chance to even try to stop the barking loud laughter that exploded from him, immediately letting go of the warpstone to clue on Bad’s wrists, trying to push them away by sheer reflex even before his brain could process what was happening. 

“Nonono, stop that! BA-ad!”

Bad couldn’t help but giggle, half adoring and half malefically, at the way the laughter made most of his words get almost intelligible. Besides, Bad thinks he could grow accustomed to having his name being snickered in such an adoring - together with that cute smile and shiny eyes - way more often, really.

His fingers poked and prodded with skill and curiosity, looking for any sensitive spot that could create a new fun sound and concentrating there for a few maddening seconds and plenty of digging before looking for the next one. There was a very nice one juuust above his lowest rib that made the barking laughter become a string of snickers that seemed to grow higher and faster by the seconds. It almost made Bad forget his main job now as his friend and rival the second (actually, even before that, if he was being honest, but honesty was overrated) he discovered that little fun secret about their dear tyrant:

Tease him out of his mind.

“Huh? Stop what, Foreverrr?” “That! You’re ti-” Bad closed his hands in fists and pressed his knuckles on his ribs and rubbed as if his life depended on it, cutting the rest of the sentence with success and filling the room with much more shrieks than before. “What was that?” 

Forever couldn’t answer, his legs were failing and it made him get close to a fall if it wasn’t for the demon adjusting his hold on him and slowly lowering him to the ground, fingers still dancing in each and every rib, scratching and scribbling happily.

“Sorry, I couldn’t hear what you’re saying, some muffinhead is laughing their heart out near here. Perhaps they heard a very good joke. Hmmm, what do you think Forever?”

Forever snorted, eyes almost closed with how much he was laughing, tears beginning to collect in the corner of his eyes. A few portuguese words got tangled with his crackling. Bad nodded seriously and slowed his tickle attack, not wanting to go too far.

“Uh hm, no, I get what you’re putting down here. We just need to ignore the laughter and keep up our nice conversation. I think that is a great idea!” He snuggled his hands cozily under Forever’s armpits, lightly wiggling and poking, which resulted in the laughter becoming a new dance of a calmer, but still high with adrenaline and mirth, string of snickers that made the blonde’s shoulders bounce in joy. “What were you saying before?” 

“Stop tickling me!” “What!” Bad gasped in offense. “How can you even accuse me like that! What the fudge, I thought we were friends. But, no, I see. I came aaaaall the way over here, did nothing wrong and you just treat me like that.” He gave a fake sniff.  “You’re hurting my feelings, Forever.” “Mentiroso!” (Liar!) It was quite difficult to see with tears and squinted eyes, especially when Bad’s hoodie always kept his expressions hidden, however, it was even harder to miss how those shiny eyes glinted with mischief and fondness and his smirk went from one ear to another. 

It was quite the sweet sight. Forever had to push his face away before it made him blush vomit. 

(For a second, he could almost swear that the blue that covered the other’s figure dimmed a little for a piece of time.)

“You’re such a liar.”

“Oh why, thank you.”

Bad freed his hands and softly attacked the back of the elf’s ears, still too lost in the lovely sound of his delightful giggles, crackles and snickers to actually let him go. That was the true sound of Forever’s happiness, not that forced, explosive laughter created by those pills. 

Besides, Forever also wasn’t pushing him away.

Maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t the only one missing that freeing sound. Maybe Forever also longed for those moments of playful fights between them, of pushing the buttons and teasing and caring and always, always being there, for the better or the worse.

Eventually, the president held his hands and stopped the attack, left over giggles still pouring from his lips like a waterfall. 

Their eyes met.

Forever’s smile got relaxed and small before growing bigger. 

Bad just hummed, tail starting to sway fastly from side to side.

“So, Badboyhalo…”

“Yes?”

Forever’s grip got more firm. 

Bad’s pull got equally stronger. 

They kept smiling.

“Are you… uh.” His voice lost the undertone of playfulness, brown eyes focusing with true curiosity for a moment. “Coceguento? How is it in english? Tickly?”

“Oh, it’s ticklish. For example, you are very ticklish, Forever.”

“Hehehe,” he snorted, and his curiosity was satisfied. “Yeah, yeah, I got it. But what about you, Badboyhalo? Are you… ticklish?” The word came slowly and playfully, tinted with a nice accent.

Bad’s tail opened his backpack, rummaging in search for a very specific item.

“Hmmm… no, actually. I’m not.”

The blonde’s smile got more dangerous. “I don’t know… I don’t believe in you, man.” He found it. 

Bingo.

“Then why don’t you try to find out?” 

Forever pulled him closer and with a swift move the enderpearl that had been in his bag was thrown to the other side of the room, successfully freeing the demon from his hold. Not a second later, though, Forever was jumping on his feet, ready for another chase.

Lots of laughter filled the afternoon, that day.

[~*~]

After that, the avian wasn’t the only one who now randomly poked, prodded and attacked the outgoing brazilian when he wasn’t expecting, anymore. Even though Badboyhalo’s attacks were much more out of the blue, following him in those lonely afternoons when he was distracted in his adventures or too lost in a project to realize the other invaded his base in the middle of a sleepless night. 

But, you see, the difference between Philza and Bad and knowing that Forever is actually pretty ticklish is a very single detail: Bad is a fucking gossiper who loved to set chaos just to see where it would go. 

And, therefore, the main reason why Forever was so screwed right now.

“NÃO! SAI, SAI, SAI. LARGA DE MIM!” (NO! GET AWAY, GET AWAY, GET AWAY. LET ME GO!)

“Que isso, moço, tá fugindo da gente por que?” (What is this, bro? Why are you running away from us?) 

Forever didn’t even have to turn around to see Mike’s giant smug grin. It was almost palpable in his tune. But if anyone could have any doubt about its existence, they just needed to listen to his crackles as both him and Pac chased their friend through the Spawn, leaving a very amused Bad and  Bagi, who shouted a “Boa sorte aí, Forevinho!” (Good luck, Forevinho!) in the wind behind.

“Pois é, a gente só quer um abraço apertado do nosso presida da galera! Cadê o espírito da Favela Six?” (That’s right. We just want a tight hug from our favorite president! Where’s the Favela’s six spirit?) Pac, however, questioned with a genuine tune, almost naive like as he followed the other closely, getting closer and closer by the seconds. For a moment he almost tricked the president into thinking that he was the merciful one, then he remembered about that one tickle fight he, Mike and Tubbo had in the Favela.

Let’s just say it was just a very quick thought, really.

“Favela six é o caralho, ceis querem é me roubar. Eu já disse que não vai ter Armazém da Galera nenhum! Isso é ataque à autoridade, hein!” (Favela Six my ass, you just want to rob me. I already said that there won’t be any Free Storage! This is an attack on authority!)

“A gente só quer o que é nosso por direito, Forevin.” (We just want what is faithfully ours, Forevin.)

The blonde didn’t even have a chance to answer before an arm grabbed his shoulder and pushed, disbalancing him enough so Pac was able to sneak behind him and lock him in a hug, snickering gleefully in his ear.

“Que isso, cara, achava que tu era compromissado! Vou falar pro Fit, hein!” (The hell, man! I thought you were compromised! I’m going to tell Fit!) Forever’s struggles only grew stronger when he saw Mike getting closer, wiggling his hands in the form of claws as he stopped running and instead began to approach slowly, chuckles falling freely from his lips and making shivers run across his spine and giggles to pile in his chest. 

He tried again to free himself from the hug, showing no success. Pac’s hold was firm as a mountain.

“E desde quando que tu tá malhando? Tá todo mamadíssimo aí, né, eu tô sabendo.” (And since when you’re ripped? You’re all ‘mamadíssimo’ now. I see what’s going on.)

Pac let out an amused, with drops of shyness, snort. “Pois é, né, moço. Sabe como é né… Tô indo na academia do Fit bastante esses tempos e tudo mais, aí dá nisso.” (That is right, bro. You know how it is… I’m visiting Fit's Gym a lot these last days and that is what happens.) His tune lost a bit of the light and became more serious, cracked in the corners. “Também, né, a gente nunca sabe quando vai precisar. Eu não quero que quando chegue a hora…” (Also, we don’t know when we’re gonna need it. I don’t want that, when the time comes…)

Forever knew exactly what he was talking about, the same cloudy thoughts that filled everyone’s mind in the island the second he warned that the kids had ran away because a danger greater than everything they’ve seen before was coming, the Federation choosing to announce the train station’s opening in just a few days also did not help their nerves.

He looked at Pac’s shadows under his eyes, suddenly remembering that his friend also went under the Happy Pills Treatment, the horrible withdrawal, the exhaustion of recovery, all to save him. 

His struggles became just a little, a little less strong, heart melting and hurting like it did for every single member of their dysfunctional family since they arrived in that boat.

The scientists deserved to have their own silly fun, even if the fun was destroying their friend and president in a mess full of giggling pieces.

And so Forever let out a loud laughter, wiggling his eyebrows and giving him a knowing smirk. “Tu tá praticando bastante exercício com o Fit é? Aham, hehehe, tô sabendo.” (Doing a lot of exercise with Fit, yeah? Uh hm. Hehehe, I see.)

“FOREVER!” This time the snort that came out from Forever’s mouth was more of a result of Pac's unfairly squeezing his belly non stop instead of a reaction to the affronted shout, the one with blue hoodie not throwing any other remark or getting lost in any dark thought. The blonde counted that as a win for him. 

“Tá bem engraçadinho, mas você não vai conseguir me distrair. Sabe, o Badboy me falou algo muito interessante sobre você que ele descobriu mês passado…” (You think you’re being funny, huh. But you’re not going to distract me. You know, Badboy told me something very interesting about you that he discovered last month…)

Mike finally got right in front of him and Forever immediately started kicking in his direction to keep those offending fingers away from his torso at the same time that he continued to attempt to pry Pac’s hands - that somehow seemed to sense the exact spots he was the most sensitive and concentrate all their pinches, scribbles and tickly efforts on them over and over again - until the attack forced Forever to press his lips on his shoulder to contain the blossoming laughter and embarrassing squeals that tried to escape from his mouth.

His efforts to not let any sound out, however, were demolished when, in his distraction, Mike grabbed his ankle and grinned like a shark that finally got his prey. 

“Eu preferia uma mãozinha, mas já que é isso que você tá oferecendo…” (I’d rather you gave me a hand, but since you’re offering…) And, locking the leg in a headlock,  his fingers began dancing across his sole, walking around his arch and giving some special attention to the extremely ticklish space right under his toes, skillfully dodging any kicks that this move resulted in and breaking Forever’s barriers instantly.

Forever’s booming laughter filled the air in a free dance of joy, mirth and a warmth that filled his heart when he remembered just how long had it been since all of them could just get together and goof around a bit, no kidnappings or imminent dangers in their minds for a blissful pieces of time.

[~*~]

“Soooo, guys, I think I’m heading out, now.” Forever kept jumping on the trampoline, restless energy running on his veins after talking to Phil about his journey in the Nether. The virus hadn’t spread a lot those last days, but the conversation was hard, not only because of how, primarily, exhausting it was to go through all of it, but because for some reason something in him made he almost feel compelled to shut his mouth and not say a single word about the infection to anyone else.

They played and gave each other a few remarks and pokes of fun when Philza asked for Forever to take off his shirt in the bunker, careful touches analyzing the skin around the ébano substance glued on his back and in the nape of his head. Even so, it made the blonde want to hide away the result of his journey. Forever never have been ashamed of his body. He used to walk around shirtless, on the good old, first days on the island, afterall. But if he was being honest... he was afraid about that infection, and Philza didn’t seem very relieved about it either.

It was a literal mark about how he had failed in absolutely every single sense and chance he had out there. In finding any clue, in getting their kids back, in saving Walter Bob or even himself. In the end, he was not able to do any of this.

That is the President of Quesadilla Island, everyone.

(“We’re going to talk with Cucurucho and demand answers about what the fuck is this.”

Forever gave a humorless chuckle, happy that the children were outside playing so they weren’t here to witness how defeated he sounded for a second before adjusting himself to a playful grin that didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, Philza, he is very good at this. Giving us answers, right?”

“We have to try. If someone knows about this it is the Federation.”  Philza brushed the other’s sarcastic ‘há!’ easily and moved until he was right in front of the brazilian, capturing his eyes in a firm stare. “And if they don’t have anything, we’re going to find our own answers.”

Forever nodded, not really believing.

“You worry too much, my friend.”

“Exactly. I already told you but I will repeat it until it gets through your thick skull: I always will worry and I’m not leaving you side, mate.”

For a moment words escaped from his tongue, a mix of feelings of ‘safe’, ‘happy’ and ‘embarrassment’ filled his chest before he got a hold of his senses. 

“Alright, alright, alright.” 

This time, when he smiled there was a light back into his brown, tired eyes. 

“You know, Philza, you really need to get over me, man. The line continues, I’m already moving forward and you still try to romance me, it’s- what is the word? Oh, embarrassing, hehehe”

The avian took advantage of his position to hit the other upside his head, a surprise snort being fished from his lips. 

“Oho, shut the fuck up. You’re the one who is still on this!”)

And yeah, maybe he was just making a strategic retreat after showing vulnerability, but who could blame him, really? No one, that’s who. He would be out before they did try.

“Come on, Richas, vamo de Megabase.” (Let’s go to Megabase) He called, getting out of the trampoline when the boy kept painting and paid him no mind. Tallulah, however, stopped writing on a book to go to him, Chayanne turned to look from his place next to the grill nearby, already testing a new recipe.

The girl placed a sign and stared at him with attentive eyes, lips firmly pressed in a shadow of disappointment. ‘You already going?’

(God. He really missed the sound of little steps and signs being placed. They missed it all so much.)

Forever internally winced. He really didn’t spend a lot of time with Chay and Talullah since they’re back, letting them enjoy more time with Phil and just making quick check ins once in a while. He also took the last days to spend as much time as he could with Richas, afterall.

“Yeah... sorry, Talullah, but me and Richas still have to finish our project, right Richas?”

Still no answer from the younger one, too concentrated in every stroke to pay the conversation any mind.

Forever chuckled, sensing a chance for some mischief. Cleaning his throat, he lifted his voice from the usual soft tune he always used with Tallulah to a more taunting tune, making it louder so Richas could listen perfectly well.

“Ohhh, but maybe you can go and help me to make it, right, Talullah? You’re such a nice, helpful egg who listens to your parents when they call you, just like Chayanne. Richarlyson could take some examples from his older siblings more, tsk.” The president had to hold the snickers when he saw the red cow head stop and slowly, threateningly slowly, turn around to face him, Richas letting go of the brush to squint their eyes at him. Talullah and Chayanne rolled their eyes, amused, already used to the playful banters between father and son. “But ahh, he just never listens. Oooh, I have an idea! While Tallulah helps me with the decoration, Chayanne, you can go too and make your delicious barbecue there to keep us- AH!”

The surprised shout was a direct result for when the younger launched himself at his father in protest and began roughhousing immediately, both descending in growls and portuguese for a few couple of minutes before Forever laid a satisfied Richas on the floor, who immediately placed a sign.

‘Pai, stop. I’m making Pepito’s birthday present, let me finish it >:0 we can go Mebase later :D’

“Ok, ok, I get it, I get it. You like Pepito more than your own father. Yeah, yeah, no Richas, no, I get it.” He began fake sniffing and making crying noises, leading to a Richas kicking his leg in a clear message of ‘stop the dramatics’ before going back to the canvas. “Ok, ok, warn me when you finish your drawing then, we can stay a little more.”

The three kids danced in excitement.

(...)

He is not sure how exactly he had ended up in this position.

Talullah and Chayanne were secure and cozy his arms, half because of a poke of fun at Philza that started with a joke ten minutes ago and they just kept it running and half as a parting hug that was stiffly (but still very carefully) answered by Chayanne and warmly by Tallulah. Forever enthusiastically squeezed and hugged them even tighter. A bit jealous of how Philza could shield them both with his wings during their own hugs and how he could only wish that his arms would be strong enough to defend them when the time comes.

“OK, now it’s for real. Richas, let’s go!”

But, when Richarlyson appeared in front of him, paints and canva already put inside his backpack, his smile had a different tint in it and, between his curls, Forever could recognize the flame that always appeared when that kid’s inner demon - not his terrifying artistic alter ego, though, the general demon that lives inside every rascal kid - woke in search of chaos.

He immediately became wary.

‘Chay, Talluh, can I tell you a secret about Pai Forever? 0-0’

Both siblings immediately nodded.

“Ohh, gossip. I like, I like.” Philza snorted at the affronted look in Forever’s face. 

“Vai contar nada, vai contar nada, seu muleque atentado! Nem sei o que tu vai falar, mas não vai falar não. Que que é isso, Richarlyson, tá se virando contra o seu próprio pai?” (You’re telling nothing, you’re telling nothing, you absolute brat. I don’t even know what you’re about to say but you’re telling nothing. What is it, Richarlyson, are you turning against your own dad?)

During the entire scold Richas kept jumping around in circles with the utmost, simple delight, wiggling his body and tail in sync in front of Forever, as if daring him to let go of the other two eggs to go and actually catch him, like a cat looking deep into your eyes before throwing the cup right off your table.

He put a sign on the ground.

‘Pai Forever is absurdly, awfully, very, very, ticklish. And it’s so funny because he always agrees to give us anything when we tickle attack him at home.'

“WHAAAAAT! RICHARLYSON, TU VAI FICAR DE CASTIGO, SEU OVO SAFADO. VAI PASSAR O RESTO DA VIDA NAQUELE CASTELO ASSOMBRADO LÁ DO TEU PAI CELLBIT. VOU CHAMAR O ELMARIANA PRA PUXAR TEU PÉ DE NOITE” (RICHARLYSON, YOU’RE GOING TO GET GROUNDED, YOU RASCAL. YOU’RE GOING TO SPEND THE REST OF YOUR LIFE IN YOUR DAD CELLBIT’S HAUNTED CASTLE. I’M GOING TO CALL ELMARIANA TO PULL YOUR FEET IN THE NIGHT.)

His kid, his beautiful, beautiful baby boy that he would explode the entire island for and go through the literal hell all over again if it meant that he would be finally safe, only looked at him in a confused expression - as if the lil shit just couldn’t tell why his dear pai was running away from him as he tried to get closer - and began following his steps as Forever tried to put distance between them, holding Chayanne and Talullah the farthest away from his torso that he could while the two squirmed trying to escape and attack.

In the end his back ended up hitting the tree and, without being able to get his items to flee, he had nowhere to go.

“Wait, wait, wait, don-” A chortle escaped the very exact moment Richas began drilling on his sides, making Forever want to bounce up and down with the sudden tickly energy that shot through his entire body, leaving his mouth with a big, dazzling smile and his arms to fall in an attempt to protect himself from the tickling, which inevitably brought the other children close and sealed his fate.

Tallulah was bold, briefly looking at his face for any sign of discomfort before carefully shoving her claws under his armpit, scratching the ticklish skin with ease, but for the loud shriek that this resulted one could think that she just unlocked a full, unmerciful on a tickle attack.

Chayanne took a bit longer, giving his surroundings and sky a wary look, as if a monster would appear the very second he lowered his guard, only to end up finding his father’s gaze, who was watching at them with a soft expression and nodding encouragingly. The little (way to young) warrior relaxed and also took the job of scribbling, encircling and digging (just the tiniest bit, he had to be mindful about his claws after all) the other armpit, fish just more squeals and plenty of gleeful laughter with that.

Forever felt like he was about to jump out of his skin, his body going crazy at the ‘it tickles, it tickles so so much!��� feeling while his brain was still caught in the need to not move around too much to not hurt any kid with his squirms. All of which ended up with the blonde doing a weird little dance around the spot that brought plenty of giggles and amused snickers from the young ones.

Now, the similarity between Philza and Bad is that, while he wasn’t exactly the one who created it, Philza was more than inclined and wouldn’t necessarily refuse to add to a chaotic situation it if the chance came, if he felt like it.

That is why he stepped close, winking at them. “I think it’s better if you just agree to their terms, Forever.”

“I-I” the adult tried to bite back another giggling fit, but their tickles were so goddamn light and maddening- “I don’t even snk know what thehey want!”

“Just agree to give them anything then.”

Forever shook his head. He knew his son enough to understand how much of a pain in the ass that decision could become.

“Needing more convincing? Well, kids, you saw it.”

“Filho da puta-” (Son of a bitch-), and Forever threw his head backwards in more laughter, more squeaks, more half squirms.

Now, Philza may not know Portuguese. However, six months sharing an island with 7 brazilians and plenty of reasons to swear taught him well what some words meant. He snorted, half amused and half affronted.  

“Do NOT swear in front of the children.” Then, a wicked grin was formed in his expression.“You know what? I think the eggs need a little help.”

Forever’s eyes got wide when he saw the avian stepping close, cracking his fingers, making an electric shiver run across his spine and spread through his nerves, making his fingertips tingle with adrenaline and anticipation. 

His legs tensed in preparation for the chase, unfortunately, his son knew him too well.

In a blink Richarlyson threw himself on his legs and hugged them, successfully stopping him from even trying to escape. And those extra pieces of time were all that Philza needed. As fast as he was to defend and attack, he positioned himself right in front of the president, firmly pressing his shoulder to the tree and not really, truly, preventing him from escaping, but successfully securing him in place, in the same time.

“Ok, kids, what I know for a fact is that his neck is a very bad spot…” He demonstrated it by lightly tracing and wiggling his nails on said place, all of the dragon hybrids watching attentively as the action made Forever lose himself in a sea of snickers and yelps, a stronger reaction only coming out when two more tiny hands got mixed in the fun when Chayanne and Talullah tried mirroring their dad.

“But a spot that could make him cave…” Philza hummed before turning to the young one with a red mushroom cow head. “What do you think, Richarlyson? His hips or the back of his ribs?”

Richas looked at his dad. 

At how dark have been the circles under his eyes since he came back, at how he kept chatting with the islanders but never truly talking to them, how he always kept running off to another project or meeting, always saying that Richas was his son and his best friend and the only one he could trust when they got caught up in the middle of the night building and decorating his base.

He saw how, until now, he hadn’t run away. Through the teases, the attacks and tickles, he stayed.

And so, he smirked. 

Placed a sign.

‘Both?’

“Geez, I’m never getting into a tickle fight with you, mate.” Even so, the avian reflected his smirk right back at him and both turned to look at Chayanne and Talullah, who nodded in understanding and placed their claws on the back of his ribs. 

“Nononono! Wait!” Philza placed his free hand on his hips, thumb pressing the spot right above the bone, the palm resting on the back of his spine. Forever’s speech became more high pitched and much faster, with nervous, delirious chuckles already spilling and spinning in the air. “None of you said what you wanted from me! That is not justo, uh, just, huh, fair! Calma aí, come on, wait, wait, wait!”

They did not, in fact, wait.

For a second, once again, everything else in the world disappeared. There were no code monsters, no Federation, no Purgatory or anything else but the warm, electric feeling of fingers and claws prodding, pinching and scratching that took over his entire senses, making his laughter ring free in a song composed of yelps, shrieks, squeals and snickers that filled the air. There was nothing else but the fun, the joy and the warmth of a careful touch and silly taunting smiles that his heart melt with care over and over again.

In the end, after more laughter, plenty of teasing and lots of snorts, they finally agreed to ask him to visit them again after a couple of days for a nice picnic. A request which, in between leftover chuckles, plenty complains and a few gleeful tears, Forever agreed, a plan of vengeance already forming in his brain.

[timewizard-oldman]

i just finished watching adventure time i am so not ok about fern im so not ok about everything actually

fern is literally so special to me i've cried over him like 3 times......, i feel your pain unknown individual..............

[trimmedarmor]

doing the equivalent of gripping something intensely hard then forcing myself to let it go every time i see something about the stupid fandom drama i got pulled into earlier this year

[sudokuplayer]

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