#so sorry to everyone whos asked something and hasn't been answered yet!

[minevn]

(sorry for mistakes) Please forgive me if I'm prying into my own business, but how are you feeling? I just hope you are taking good care of your physical and mental health! (*ﾉωﾉ)

You're fine! thank you for asking, sorry I've been slow as usual with updates, I still think about Mine every day but right now I'm struggling to balance my college work and my personal life. It's my first semester and I'm a little slow at getting into the hang of it. I also just recently got a significant other so I'm also trying to give them my time as well. That said I haven't had much time to draw so when I do I feel like I've lost a lot of skill. I want to get to a point where I feel both comfortable and confident to finish the refs, but I still would like to get out colored mini sketches of the rest of the cast. That said asks will also be completed slowly, I'm so upset, I got a valentines day ask and i wanted to finish it in time but I got busy with college work :( I also wanted to celebrate White day this year but it most likely wont happen on time. Other then that I've been well, thank you for asking. I hope you and everyone else has been feeling well and taking care of their physical and mental health!

[teojira]

[Light] [Noa x GN!reader oneshot]

Summary: Noa wakes you up at an ungodly hour to go into the overgrown city.

Words: 2.5K+

Warnings: Mutual pinning (neither of you know yet), romance, Reader is insecure, self indulgence at its fucking finest. Gender neutral but Noa thinks you're pretty :)

A/N: I'm so in love with him it actually hurts LMAOO, literally a ache in my chest. I was listening to Light by sleeping at last while writing this <3 hence the title, I hope I got the energy right!

You weren't quite sure what Noa was planning, he had woken you up early, maybe an hour or two before sunrise.

Groaning and rolling away from his poking, he moves to trail a hand down to your side, jabbing his fingers there.

Your eyes fly open with a yelp, staring daggers into his head. You turn to him, and he has a small smirk on his face, laughing silently about the pout of your face.

He's already dressed in his normal attire, his feathered adorned to his person, a sling wrapped around his shoulder as well.

Noa watches your face take him in, and he hopes to anyone who's out there, to Caesar you can't tell how flushed he gets under your gaze. It's bad enough that everyone in the clan side eyes him because they know of his feelings for you. He hasn't worked up the nerve to tell you himself. He doesn't know what to do. He's both simultaneously enamored with you and your differences, but in the same vein, you're so different.

Sometimes, a part of him wishes he hadn't fallen for you. It'd be easier. It's easier to just be your friend and your protector, but falling for you was as easy as breathing.

You move to stretch out our limbs, groaning as you twist and turn, eyes still half lidded. The noise gaining his attention, his previous thoughts disappearing.

You're pretty like this, he thinks. You always do though, no matter what you're doing.

"What the fu-

Noa shoves a finger against your lips, gesturing for you to be quiet.

'I need you to come with me, important.' he signs, moving to grab at your hand, pulling you up. He forgets his strength a lot and yanks you into his chest. Your head knocks into him, and you yelp. In his defense, he didn't mean to!

"Sorry." He sniffs, using a large hand to rub at your forehead to soothe the ache there.

"This better be worth waking me up."

"It will be, come on."

Noa leads you down to the horses, a hand on the small of your back, pushing you to go faster.

"Noa, what is the rush? Is everything okay?" You dig your heels into the soft earth beneath you, looking at him with concern.

He's been unusually impatient.

It's early as hell in the morning, no one else is awake. Not even Dar is up and about and that woman is constantly moving.

"Everything is fine, you worry too much."

"I worry a normal amount, thank you very much." You stick your tongue out at him, moving a hand to rub at your eyes, to get rid of the crust lingering.

You both arrive at the hut where the horses are kept, you linger back as Noa goes inside to grab his. He's fast and efficient, checking the satchel strapped to the animal to make sure he has everything he needs for this impromptu trip he's taking you both on.

It's cute the way he gets in the zone, his eyes trained on his task.

Yawning, you're not processing Noa's words until he's right in front of you in the saddle. That was fast.

"Come, come. Do you want to ride with me or ride alone?" Noa always ask, and he knows the answer by now.

You always ride with him, just like you always go with him anywhere.

It's a running joke in the clan that you're Noa's shadow, always at his heels, asking if he needs anything or if there's something you can do in general.

You've come a long way since then, finding your place in the clan. Not needing to follow Noa like a lost puppy, but as it turns out, you can't shake the habit of being around Noa when you can. Without thinking, you find your way towards him.

A part of you is still insecure about your place among them, knowing just how different you are. Noa is your only true companion, you think. Dar is loving, but you're worried she doesn't like you, same with Anaya and Soona. No matter how much they say they love you, years of differences have made you insecure.

So you cling to Noa like a lifeline, despite knowing you shouldn't, surely he doesn't want to be around you all the time. It's not fair to him.

But Noa never let it show that he finds your differences bothersome, you couldn't lift what the others could? No worries, he'd adjust it for you, making you a pulley to help or helping you himself when he had the time.

Or if you didn't know how to fish or hunt, he'd take you and Soona, and Anaya would come with all three encouraging you and helping you learn. He'd ask his mother to teach you how to make garments and how to farm the earth. He always looked out for you, even if he wasn't around.

They never made you feel like a burden, Noa never made you feel like a burden.

How were you not supposed to love him? In every universe, you're sure you were to be in love with him in every single one.

"Help me up?" You ask sheepishly, lifting your arms up so he can grab onto you.

"Of course."

It's been about an hour or two, give or take on the ride to the overgrown city. Not that you'd know. With the warmth of Noa against your back and the steady movement of the horse, you've fallen asleep again.

Noa snorted when he realized, your body slumped into his, your hand loosely holding the saddles horn in a feeble attempt to not fall off.

He has to wrap an arm around your waist to make sure you didn't fall off or that what he tells himself.

Noa would never admit it, but he cherishes how easily you trust him, how comfortable you are with him, it makes him feel important, makes him feel loved. He'll give you shit for it, but nothing makes him happier.

You're only asleep for the last hour of the ride, breathing softly as Noa leads you both past the overgrown city, the hooves of the horse being the only noise being made.

"Here, wake up." He slows down the horse, pulling to a stop in front of a looming building, covered in greenery. He has not so great memories of it. Almost falling to his death would do that to you. But he won't take you that high. He'd never put you in danger.

His arm slips from your waist, moving to rub up and down your side as he tries and wakes you up for the second time today.

You let out a grumble. He feels it in his chest, and it makes him chuff, but open your eyes, blinking rapidly to get the sleep out of them.

Once he's positive, you won't fall without him propping you up. He demounts with an ease, his feet hitting the ground in a soft thump as he turns around to face you, holding his hands up so you can use him to get down yourself.

You move to grab his hands with your own, ignoring the spark that runs down your spine at the contact.

There are so many differences between you and Noa, too many to even begin to count, but the way his hands are similar to yours, the way he immediately holds you so gently, makes them seem insignificant. Is this what love is? It's weird.

Noa sets you down on the ground, smiling softly at you, then moving to wrap the reins around a piece of metal protuding out of the ground to ensure the horse doesn't go anywhere. Something he didn't use to do, but after the events of the last time he came into the city, he's not going to have that mistake happen again.

"We'll start climbing here." You crane your neck and balk at just how tall the structure is, it's a good couple of stories up, he's insane.

"Uh, Noa, I don't think you remember, but I can't really climb that high."

"I carry you, like I always do." He says it nonchalantly, shrugging with a shoulder.

"Noa, I'm heavy, no." It's always embarrassing when he carries you. It makes you blush, and you're terrified he can hear your heartbeat.

The look he shoots you is devastating.

"You always say that, you are not." He argues, looking offended on your behalf.

There's no point arguing with him about this.

You sigh and gesture for him to turn around so you can climb onto his back.

He does just that, crouching towards the ground.

You're always afraid of choking him out when you get on his back, so you take extra care to gently wrap your around around his neck, sliding your legs around his waist.

"Are you ready? It'll be a bit of a climb."

You let out a 'mhm.' Your brain too occupied with taking in his warmth and his scent, mind all fuzzy at holding him.

"Hold on tight." He squeezes your thigh.

The climb is uneventful, mostly you filling in the silence with what you've done in thr last few days, Noa nodding and offering a hum here and there.

He finally stops, jostling you a bit to look at what he's come to show you.

A smile creeps along your face. It's Eagle eggs, four to be exact.

Despite the Eagle clan hand raising plenty of the birds, they don't do well breeding with their intervention, so to see a clutch is rare.

"Pick the egg that speaks to you the most."

You stare at the nest of eggs, taking in each one's complexion. It's hard, you have no idea why you have to choose. You figure Noa just wants your input, so you take it seriously.

Within a minute, you decide to point to the biggest egg in the center. The eggshell is freckled, and it stands out the most among its siblings.

"I like that one." You say softly in Noas ear. He nods and scoops it up, taking care to put it in the sling.

"Was that it? Can we go home now?" You rest your head on his own, holding back from nuzzling into his soft fur.

"Yes, this is all I needed today."

After making a slow descent down the crumbling tower, Noa helps you get back onto the horse, throwing himself behind you. He moves the egg sling to be on his back, in order for you to be comfortable. (He wants you to lay against him so bad again)

The way home is filled with a comfortable silence, only breaking when you see fit.

It's always nice to spend time with Noa, but this particularly feels different, like something is innately changed in your relationship. You're probably imagining things though.

Noa stops shortly before the village, it not being more than an acre away.

Noa swings a leg off the saddle, falling down and reaching for your waist to lift you down as well.

He breaths out your name, continuing after a moment. "Before we go, I need to give you something. Close your eyes."

You lift an eyebrow at him, but do as you're told. It's Noa, you trust him with everything in you, so your eyes slide closed.

Noa ruffles with something, cursing quietly under his breath. It makes you giggle, you had been teaching him some human vocabulary, alot of curse words included.

You're a bit startled when you feel him brush your hair away from your face, his thumb gently brushing against your skin. The blush that threatens to overtake your face is insane, and you hope he thinks it's just because the sun is beaming down on the both of you.

You feel something be placed over your head, sliding down and stopping at your chest.

Noa takes a second to readjust it, making sure it's snug and resting comfortably on you.

"Open now."

Peeling your eyes open, you're greeted with a blinding smile by him, and your mouth goes dry for a second at it. Yes, he has always been handsome, but the way he's looking at you now, the way his eyes are shining with happiness, it's a lot to take in. He's so handsome and he doesn't even know it.

Noa doesn't notice your internal dilemma over him, nodding his head towards your chest, still beaming with pride.

You snap yourself out of your Noa fueled daze, eyes going down to your chest.

It's the egg you chose.

Confusion fills your brain for a second.

"This is your egg, why am I carrying it?"

Noa told you all about how his egg was crushed the first time he got it, and how a downward spiral that moment had lead to.

Even though he had Eagle son now, you had figured he still wanted his own, to say he had done it for his late father.

"No, this is your egg."

"What?"

"Your egg, your Eagle to raise."

"Noa-"

"Noa, nothing. You are part of us. You get an eagle."

"Noa, I'm not. This is special to your clan. Someone else should have my egg." You try and carefully slip the sling from your neck, but Noa beats you, his hands inclosing around your own to stop you.

"You are apart of the clan." He murmurs, pushing your hands down until they're at your side. His hands then come back to your face, holding your cheeks gently.

"You're not an outsider."

The lump in your throat is suffocating, your eyes well past the point of welling up. Salty tears having no consideration for how embarrassing it is for you to cry over this.

Noa hums, this thumbs coming up to brush them away, still smiling, his eyes willed with warmth and his smile just the more softer.

He pulls you in then, resting his forehead on yours, a hand against the back of your head.

You let out a shuddering breath, smiling so hard it starts to hurt.

"You're apart of me."

"Noa! My Eagle hatched!" You're sprinting to him, he just got home from exploration with Anaya. You've missed him, even more than usual.

You move to grab his hand, trying with all your might to pull him off to drag him to the Eagle area.

Anaya shoots a look to Noa, a smug smirk on his face.

"Noa you go, your mate needs you." He teases, dismounting his horse, grabbing Noas reins from him.

Noa sputters, quickly signing that no, you two are not mates, at least not yet. He hasn't even asked if you liked him yet! He's told Anaya this on the trip, many times, after many rounds of teasing.

You don't understand their signing that well yet, so you tug at Noas hand again, intertwining your fingers.

"Noaaa, come on!" You whine.

Noa is sure he'd do just about anything you asked of him, and then some. So he gets off the mount and runs with you.

Anaya snorts, shaking his head good-naturedly.

"Not mates, as if."

[auclairedetoru]

More of this.

"y/n ?”

Sukuna calls out for his roommate. They're currently lounging in the living room, each one doing their own thing. This is typical for them, especially after dinner since they both eat earlier than most people. One would be watching something on TV and the other would be reading or on their phone, occasionally talking but for the most part they sit in comfortable silence.

“Yes, Kuna?”

He holds back from grinning at the new nickname she gave him. Surprisingly, no one in Sukuna's life has ever called him that, but he quite likes it, especially since it came from her.

“Gojo's hosting a party at his and Suguru's place and they're inviting you. Do you wanna go together?”

She didn't hesitate to agree but warned him that it's her first time going to a college party and she might cling to him the whole time they're there because she's probably not going to know a lot of people. He promises her that he will not separate from her and that she'll have a great time, and he offers her solutions for when she gets overwhelmed, which she appreciates greatly.

Sukuna's excited for her to be at the party. He'll get to show her off, have fun with her and his friends, and most importantly, protect her from any unwanted attention. He wants to show that he's strong and capable of protecting her when needed. For what reason? Well, he hasn't figured that part out yet, but he knows for sure that he wants to do that.

Yeah... He definitely doesn't know the reason.

Things are not going as planned for Sukuna... For the most part anyways.

His roommate is having a blast. Satoru and Suguru are amazing hosts because they provided everything for her to be comfortable. Satoru offered her his room in case it all got too much for her and she needs a break, Suguru went out and got her non-alcoholic drinks in the middle of the party because she told him she doesn't drink. All three of them are trying their best to include her in conversations and games so she wouldn't feel pushed aside.

Thankfully, all their efforts are working. She has told them she's having a lot of fun multiple times. No one has bothered her yet, something Sukuna didn't expect because she gets hit on every time they're out together, and don't get him started on the amount of men that approach her at the gym asking for her number.

What he also didn't expect was for him to be hit on. It never usually happens, people are way too intimidated by him. The only time he gets flirted with is at a bar when they're both drunk. But this time, it's different.

If he's honest, he's getting quite annoyed. This girl wouldn't leave him alone. He's been trying to reject her gently all night long, but she seems to not understand what he's trying to say.

At first, she sent her friend who asked him if he was single, he gave them a simple "yes and not looking." answer before going back to playing beer pong.

Then, she approached him herself, talking about "sorry about my friend haha, they're crazy!". He knows that it's all bullshit, he saw them talking to each other in the corner of the room before each one talked to him. He sent her a forced smile and didn't say a word to her but she still wouldn't leave him alone.

And even now, as he sits in a circle with some of the people at the party playing an intense game of Uno, in which she is not participating, she's still trying to squeeze between him and the person to his right, telling him what cards to play and acting like they're a team against everyone else.

He doesn't want to be mean or rude and snap at her, people are just figuring out that he's not an asshole like his looks might give off, but god is it hard to hold back. He wants to tell her to fuck off and that he's not - and will not be - interested in her, but he can't and it's making him even more annoyed.

Y/n on his left has started noticing his annoyed huffs and how he's scooting closer and closer to her every time she hears that girl talk. One quick glance at his face and body language told her everything she needs to know.

Oh how the turn tables... Or whatever the saying is, because Sukuna's plans are about to flip around.

“hey, girl in the sequin top,” y/n calls out just as her turn started, making everyone look at her and the girl breathing down his neck, “can't you get a hint? You're clearly making him uncomfortable.”

The girl huffs and looks y/n up and down, as if she's trying to intimidate her but clearly it didn't work, “who are you to say whether he's uncomfortable or not? He can speak for himself, right Suki?” her voice becomes sickly sweet at the end, almost squeaking in his ear. He wants to vomit at that ugly nickname coming out of her mouth. He doesn't like it, in fact, it's the worst thing he has ever been called, and people have called him way worse offensive things.

He's about to speak up, but y/n quickly (and without realising) interprets him, “Are you dumb on purpose? He's about to sit on my lap trying to get away from you,” she mentions to the nonexisting empty space between them, “you're annoying everyone, leave before you embarrass yourself further.”

The girl scoffs and rises to her feet, her gaze sharpens with a glare as she places a hand on her hip, “if you're looking for a fight then bring it on now!” she declares, her voice laced with almost too much confidence.

Without any hesitation, y/n shrugs off her jacket and rises to her full height. It's clear as day who would win if things got physical. Sequin top girl is shorter than her, even in heels, and it’s obvious that y/n has spent far more time with a punching bag than she ever has.

Y/n raises an eyebrow as the girl swallows hard, her eyes flickering up to meet hers. The shift in her demeanor is unmistakable, her confidence replaced with intimidation. “you're gonna leave now or what?” y/n asks, her tone steady and unbothered.

With a huff, sequin top girl grabs her friend and disappears between the crowd of people, hopefully leaving the house entirely. Y/n sits back down and puts on her jacket, ignoring how everyone is staring at her so her cheeks wouldn't burn any further. Her heart is hammering against her chest, not being used to confrontation, but she is proud to stand up for her roommate.

She quickly plays her turn and thankfully everyone in the circle understood that she doesn't want to keep the attention on what happened and continued the game. She can feel Sukuna staring at her, so she turns to him, hoping he won't notice how flustered she feels, “what are you staring at?”

Sukuna knows that she's not the type to do what she did, she doesn't even like correcting the servers when they get her order wrong, but she stepped out of her comfort zone to defend him when he couldn't do it for himself. He's feeling something in his heart, something he can't describe, but he doesn't hate the feeling, it's nice actually, like a warm blanket wrapped around him on a cold night.

He planned on protecting her, on turning away anyone who would ruin her night, but instead she protected him and stood up for him. If he was lying down his feet would be kicking.

“that was kinda hot.”

“shut up,” she mumbles and looks away from him and towards the ongoing game, clearly too shy to accept his teasing compliment. He chuckles and does the same, not wanting to fluster her more than she's clearly feeling.

One day, he'll return the favour.

Something quick for roomie!sukuna 🤭

[jetii]

i loveeeeeee ur writing. its like a masterpiece. mwah. i was wondering if you could do an angsty fic with the prompt "I loved you!" with any clone boy you want (maybe crosshair 👀) I was listening to Cardigan by taylor swift and it lowkey set the mood.

sorry if the request is very vague cause i never watched bad batch yet im a huge simp 🥲 so do whatever you want.

I know you got like a tonnnn on your plate and i lowkey feel bad requesting but you write really good so take ur time to take care of yourself.

hiiiii anon. if you are who i think you are, then you'll have already been watching TBB by now, but if you're not, what are you doing!! /affectionate

after listening to the song (i have a sister who is a swiftie but alas i am not) and thinking harder about your prompt, i was inspired to write this for Echo, so i hope that's okay!

The Way Back

Pairing: Echo x fem!Reader

Words: 9,621

Tags/Warnings: angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, established relationship, dramatic reunion, reader is a lawyer, Tech is a good brother, Echo needs a hug, allusion to panic attacks/alcoholism/depression

Summary: Echo always knew you were it for him, but the idea of seeing you again after so much has changed is more than he can take. Until one day he finds himself outside of your apartment, and the choice is made for him.

Previous Work | Next Work | Masterlist

Echo doesn’t leave the ship when it docks on Coruscant.

His eyes are locked on the city-planet, lit up like a giant firefly, watching the endless stream of ships coming in and out. Their trails of light make the whole thing seem dreamlike, surreal. Even that feels like too much, reminds him too much of the view from your apartment, and he tries to close his eyes, but his eyelids are made of glass.

The first time he saw Coruscant, there had been a moment of... what, awe? Terror? Something. Something big, anyway. He didn't understand then that you can have a feeling be a lot of things. He'd looked down on the galaxy's center of power and felt something bigger than he could possibly contain. Now, sitting alone on the Marauder with only the whirr of the vents for company, he thinks maybe the feeling was dread.

The first time they came back here after Echo joined the Batch, the others didn’t notice his unease. Or at least they didn't mention it. It was an adjustment period for everyone, Echo most of all, and his brothers gave him space to do things on his own terms, even when it meant he did nothing at all.

This time, it's different. He can tell they've noticed how he's been acting, and they're not just leaving him alone anymore. He can tell, because they're giving him looks. The kind of looks that ask questions he doesn't have answers for. They make excuses to stick close by, like they're afraid he might take off or that he's going to break down and have another panic attack. It makes him want to hide even more.

He's not going to, though. It's not so bad. Coruscant has always been a source of good memories for Echo, despite what happened. The sights, the sounds, the tastes — they're all still the same. He'd spent a long time on Coruscant before the Citadel happened, and he'd gotten used to it, the way the air smells, the feel of the rain against his skin. He had a whole life here. He was happy.

It's not so bad. He just... doesn't feel like going out, is all.

He knows he’s being stupid. He knows that he should be out there, enjoying what little downtime they’re afforded. Instead, he's on the ship, trying not to stare out the windows, trying to pretend that he isn't bothered by the thought of leaving, of the possibility of running into you again, however small that may be.

The worst part is that he's not sure why.

It's not that he doesn't want to see you. On the contrary, he does. More than anything. He hasn't stopped thinking about you, wondering if you're okay, if you’re happy, if you've thought of him. He's kept his ears open, and has managed to overhear a few stories here and there about you. The most recent had been about you winning a case for a group of Houk refugees who had been seeking asylum in the city, a big deal for a young lawyer to handle.

It had made him smile, a real, genuine smile, the kind he rarely got to have.

But there's something about seeing you again, about you seeing him that makes him hesitate, makes his stomach turn over and his throat tighten. Maybe it's because he doesn't want to know for certain, doesn't want to see that you're happy, that you've moved on, that you're doing well without him.

Maybe it's because he doesn't trust himself. He's different now, he knows that. He's different, and so are you. He doesn't know if he can face you, doesn't know if he'll be able to handle whatever is waiting for him. 

When he woke up in Rex’s arms and realized the galaxy had kept moving without him, he hadn’t thought much of it, solely focused on survival, on the fact that he was alive at all. He hadn't cared about what he'd missed, who he'd left behind. He hadn't known how much time had passed, and the thought that he was a dead man hadn't even crossed his mind. He hadn't thought about you, hadn't given himself the time or space to consider the consequences. You'd been the furthest thing from his mind. He'd had to keep fighting, to keep living. But once he had the time to think about it, to regret, well, it was...

It's different.

There's no other word for it. Everything is different.

Echo has had time, too much time, to think about you, to regret losing you. It's kept him up late into the night cycle, lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, unable to sleep, thoughts running a mile a minute.

You'd been a good person, a better one than he could ever hope to be, and he had loved you, and then he had died.

Or, he had thought he'd died. Turns out he hadn't. That had been the only mercy.

You'd been the first and only person in his entire life to see him as something other than a soldier, and he'd loved you for it. You'd seen him, really seen him, and you hadn't run. He had been terrified by that, but it had also been the best feeling in the world. And he had taken advantage of it. He had let you in, he had let himself fall in love, and then he had died.

It's different, now. He's different. The galaxy's moved on, and he's a ghost, and he's scared. He doesn't know how to face you, doesn't know if he can. So when they’d made it out of Skako Minor and Rex had asked if he wanted to comm you, he’d said no. And he's been saying no every time since.

A small voice inside his head, one that sounds a lot like Fives, tells him that's bullshit.

His brother would have called him out on his cowardice, and Echo thinks that's a fair assessment. But even though he misses you and wants nothing more than to hear your voice, it's better this way. It's better if you don't see him like this, if you never find out the truth. The thought of you seeing him, of you seeing what's left of the man you knew, is too much. He can't do that to you.

It's better if you never see him again. It's better if you have closure, if you've moved on and don't think about him anymore.

You deserve more. You deserve someone who hasn't lost as much as he has, someone who you won't have to worry about, someone who will be there for you.

Someone who can give you the life you want.

Echo knows he can't do that. And maybe if he says that enough times, he'll finally believe it.

“Why are you still here?”

The sound of Tech’s voice snaps him out of his thoughts. He turns and finds his brother watching him from the doorway, an expression of vague curiosity on his face, a soldering iron twirling absently in his hand.

Echo shrugs.

Tech gives a short, impatient huff.

"That is not an answer," he says, crossing his arms and looking pointedly at Echo.

"I was just..." He trails off. Just what? Just looking out the window and moping? He sighs. "Nevermind."

Tech steps into the cockpit, looking unconvinced. Echo can tell he has a question on the tip of his tongue, can see him considering his options. Tech is not the most tactful person in the galaxy, and Echo isn't really in the mood to hear his thoughts, not when they're bound to be blunt. But instead of asking, his brother simply takes his seat beside him and begins tinkering with the dashboard, checking the systems.

The two of them are quiet for a moment, the only sound the clinking of the tools. Then Tech pauses and looks at Echo. 

Echo fidgets under his brother's gaze. "What?"

Tech doesn't respond right away, taking a second to look Echo over. His eyes flicker around the cockpit, as if the gauges and switchboards will give him some kind of clue, before coming back to his brother.

"There is nothing wrong with the ship," he says.

"Okay," Echo says, confused. "So?"

"So," Tech continues, "there is no reason for you to be here. We are scheduled to remain docked until 600 hours, and you have the day off. You could be anywhere."

Echo rolls his eyes, a prickle of annoyance flaring in his chest. "Yeah, well, I'm here, aren't I?"

"Yes, you are," Tech agrees. There's a moment where he considers something, and then he speaks again, "If I may offer a suggestion?"

"Go for it," Echo grumbles, not bothering to look at him.

"Go for a walk."

"A walk?"

"Yes. Physical activity is proven to improve mood and mental health. And you could do with the fresh air."

Echo frowns. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Tech says, not even pausing in his work, "that you've been spending an inordinate amount of time locked away in here."

"I'm not locked away," Echo protests.

"No, I suppose not. But you have not been yourself since we arrived."

Echo doesn't have an answer for that.

"Go for a walk," Tech repeats, and this time he does stop and turn to Echo. He leans back in his chair and removes his goggles, letting them rest on his forehead, and the intensity in his gaze makes Echo squirm a bit.

"Where?"

Tech gestures towards the open space in front of them, the sprawling metropolis. "There are a number of options available, I'm sure. There are parks, shopping districts, museums, restaurants..." He ticks the ideas off on his fingers one by one, and then points back to Echo. "Perhaps you should find out for yourself."

Echo snorts. "Thanks, but no thanks."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want to," he says, the words coming out more defensively than he intended. "I'd rather just stay here."

"Yes, I can see that," Tech says dryly, and Echo gets the distinct impression that his brother is making fun of him.

He scowls.

Tech is undeterred. "But I don't think that is what you actually want to do."

Echo's mouth opens to argue, but then closes it just as quickly. He's not sure what to say, not sure if he wants to say anything. Tech isn't wrong. He doesn't really want to stay on the ship, not truly. The idea of getting out and going somewhere is tempting, and if he's being honest with himself, the last thing he wants to do is sit here, stewing in his thoughts alone. Or worse, with Tech.

And he does need to stretch his legs.

He looks out the window again, taking in the sight of the planet before him. He's not sure what's going to happen once they get the signal for the next job, if they'll ever be back. He might never have this opportunity again.

He takes a breath.

"Fine," he says, throwing his hands up in the air. "You win."

Tech's lips twitch, a barely contained smile. "As I usually do."

Echo shakes his head, a grin playing on his lips. He starts to make his way towards the door, and stops beside his brother.

"Thanks," he says, placing a hand on Tech's shoulder.

"You are welcome," Tech nods. “Try to be back by 0600 hours. If you are late, we will leave without you.

Echo snorts. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

He leaves Tech there and heads to the ramp. His steps slow as he reaches the bottom, but he forces himself forward, out into the bright sunlight and fresh air.

Echo spends the next few hours wandering around Coruscant, letting his feet guide him.

He goes wherever the crowds take him, stopping at whatever catches his interest. It's nice, being able to let his mind go blank and not have to worry about where he's going. He doesn't have to think about anything, doesn't have to consider the consequences, or the risks.

He just exists.

And it feels good.

When he eventually decides to turn back, he's a bit surprised at how far he's come. He hadn't intended to venture so deep into the city, had just wanted a walk to clear his head. But the area he's found himself in is one he recognizes.

Your apartment is nearby.

Echo can feel his pulse start to quicken, his palm begins to sweat, and he stops in the middle of the walkway.

The sun has begun to set, and the crowds are thinning. You’ll be on your way home from work soon, if you weren’t already. His brain helpfully supplies the route you would take, and his eyes flit up towards the skyline. He can't see your building, but he knows it's there, not far away.

The knowledge sits heavy in his chest.

No, he tells himself, shaking his head. I shouldn't.

He has no way of knowing if you're even home. For all he knows, you could be busy, out with friends or maybe on a date.

Don't, his mind warns him. She's moved on. You shouldn't.

He hasn't been to your apartment since the morning he left. The memory is a sharp one, a jagged knife cutting through the fog of his past. He remembers the way your bed had felt, the warmth of your body, the sound of your breathing as you slept tucked against him.

It had been so peaceful.

It had been so easy to leave.

His mind starts to replay those moments, the goodbye you had given him, and it's like a punch to the gut. He knows how much you care about him, knows that if you were to see him again, that wouldn't have changed. You wouldn't turn him away.

The night before, you talked for hours. Your conversation had been punctuated with kisses and caresses, laughter and confessions. You told him how much you wanted him to stay, how much you wished he didn't have to leave, how much you wished things could be different. You talked about what the future might hold for the two of you, and he remembers how that felt, how it made him believe, even for just a moment, that things would work out.

They didn't, of course.

But Echo is still here, and so are you, and he can't help but think that maybe, just maybe, the galaxy might be giving him a second chance.

He takes a deep breath.

There's no harm in taking a detour, he thinks.

He walks, following the familiar path, trying not to think too hard about what he's doing.

It doesn't take him long to reach the building. He hesitates in front of it, looking up at the facade. It looks just as it did the last time he was here. Same lobby, same doorman, same lift. They haven’t even fixed the panel that's been sticking, and it takes a good deal of force for him to press the button for your floor.

The doors close, and he stares at his reflection, at the dark circles under his eyes, the scruff that has accumulated on his cheeks and chin, the lines that have appeared at the corners of his eyes and across his forehead. And then his gaze wanders to the ports and implants, the reminder of what was taken from him and what he was left with. He traces the outline of one with his thumb, remembering how he used to be.

He looks tired.

What are you doing? He asks himself.

He's not sure what he's expecting, doesn't have a plan for what will happen. All he knows is that he can't get the image of you out of his head. He imagines you coming home from work, and him being there, waiting. Would you be surprised? Happy? What would you say? What would he say?

Echo sighs.

He's an idiot.

The lift dings, and the doors slide open.

Your apartment is halfway down the hall, and Echo's stomach clenches with each step he takes. He reaches it and stands outside for a minute, running his fingers over the metal door, staring at the numbers painted on the surface.

It's just a door, he tells himself. Nothing special. Just a door.

His hand moves on its own, hovering over the bell. He waits, listens. There's no sound coming from inside, no music, no voices. Maybe you're not home yet.

Or maybe you're out. Maybe you're not alone.

He rings the bell and holds his breath, counting the seconds.

One. Two. Three. Four.

Nothing.

Echo rings again, this time holding the button down for a few extra seconds, listening for any sign of movement.

There's nothing.

The knot in his stomach tightens, and he releases the button, letting out the breath he'd been holding. He runs a hand over his face, feeling the heat of his skin through his glove. He's sweating.

Well, that's it, then.

He'd thought he was prepared for this possibility, but hearing the silence behind the door and knowing that you aren't home has shaken him more than he anticipated.

Maybe this is for the best, he thinks. It's better this way. Safer.

But the disappointment is palpable.

He's not sure what to do. He considers waiting a little longer, just to make sure, but the more he thinks about it, the more stupid it seems. He doesn't belong here anymore. He shouldn't be here, standing outside your door, hoping for something that won't happen.

He needs to go.

As Echo turns away from the door, a voice calls out behind him.

"Can I help you?"

For half a second, he's sure he imagined it, sure that it's just his brain playing tricks on him, taunting him. But then the voice speaks again.

"Are you looking for someone?"

Echo spins around, heart leaping into his throat, and there you are.

Standing there, a few paces away, is the woman he's been dreaming about, the one he's thought about every day, the one he's missed so much that it hurts.

Your hair is different, longer than he's ever seen it, pulled away from your face. You're wearing a dress, something he's only seen a handful of times, and your makeup is impeccable, but he can still see the hint of tiredness behind your eyes. He wonders how many hours you've put in at work this week, how much you've had to fight for your clients.

But the most noticeable change is that you're looking at him. Your datapad is held loosely in your hands, a bag of groceries on your hip, and you’re staring at him, your brow furrowed in confusion.

He doesn’t blame you.

This is a strange situation, and you must be wondering who the hell is standing in front of you, why they rang your bell and then walked away.

"Um," Echo says, suddenly aware that he hasn't spoken. He clears his throat, trying to gather his wits. He didn't think this through. "Hi."

You blink, clearly not expecting that response.

"Hi," you reply, warily.

Echo tries to say something, but the words won't come.

He's frozen in place, staring at you, unable to do anything except take in your appearance, drinking in the sight of you. He didn't realize how much he needed to see you until now, and the relief he feels is overwhelming.

"Do I..." You trail off, studying him carefully. "Do I know you?"

He feels his heart break, just a little.

You don't recognize him. Of course, you wouldn't. It's been so long, and he's not the same man you knew. His face is one of thousands, identical and interchangeable. He doesn't even look like a clone anymore, not really. He's more machine than man, now, and he has no idea how he expected you to see him.

"Yeah," he manages to say, his voice hoarse. "Yeah, you do."

You raise your eyebrows, waiting. When he doesn't say anything else, you take a step towards him, squinting a little. He can feel the tension in his body, can sense your scrutiny. It's not comfortable, but it's not unpleasant, either.

"Sorry," you say, sounding frustrated, "I can't quite —"

You stop, your eyes widening, and Echo can see the exact moment it clicks.

"Oh," you gasp, covering your mouth with a shaking hand. The motion makes the paper bag of groceries on your arm start to slip, and Echo rushes forward to catch it, placing it on the floor by your feet. He stands up, and he can feel your eyes on him, can see the tears beginning to well up, can hear your breathing quicken.

He waits.

"Echo?" Your voice is soft, tentative, like you're not sure if he's real or not. Like he's some kind of ghost. He's not sure that's not what he is.

"Hey, cyar'ika," he says. His voice cracks, and he clears his throat again.

A small, incredulous laugh escapes you.

"Hi," you breathe. You cover your mouth again, trying to stifle the sob that rises from your chest. "I —" 

You let out a shaky breath, and then another, and then all of a sudden, you're crying, tears streaming down your face. Your hands come up to wipe them away, but more keep falling, and Echo is overwhelmed with the desire to hold you, to take away the pain and the sadness, to make everything right. But he doesn't know if he's allowed, doesn't know if it would be welcome. So instead, he just stands there, helpless.

"I'm sorry," you hiccup, wiping your face with the back of your hand. "I can't believe it's you."

He smiles at that, his own eyes burning. "It's me," he confirms. "I'm here."

You're shaking your head, your eyes never leaving his face, as if you're afraid that he might disappear if you look away. He doesn't blame you, and he does his best to stay as still as possible. The last thing he wants is to scare you, or make you think he's going to leave. Not when he just got here.

"I thought..." You start, and then trail off.

"I know."

You swallow hard, taking a moment to compose yourself. "I thought you were dead."

Echo winces. He's heard those words from a lot of people, but coming from you, they hurt. "Yeah, I, uh... I thought so, too, for a while."

He sees the look of horror that crosses your face, the way your eyes grow wet again, and he wishes he hadn't said it.

"How... How long have you been back?" you ask. Your voice is quiet, strained, and Echo can hear the question underneath, the one you're afraid to ask. The one that makes his stomach twist into knots.

"Not long," he answers, trying to keep his tone even, light. "Only a couple months, really."

"Months?" you repeat, incredulous. "You've been back for months?"

Echo shifts uncomfortably and nods. "Yeah."

You stare at him, your mouth opening and closing as you search for words. "And... And you didn't comm me?"

"I, uh... No."

You let out a sharp exhale and turn away, bringing your hands to your face, and he can see that you're starting to shake again. You're silent for a moment, and he can feel his heart pounding, can feel the blood rushing in his ears. His stomach churns, and he feels like he's going to be sick.

"Why?" Your voice is tight, controlled. It's the same voice you use when you're working, the one you use to keep yourself calm, to keep yourself from getting angry.

"I just... I wasn't..." Echo trails off, not sure what to say. I wasn't sure if I was coming back? That's true, but not the whole truth. I wasn't sure you'd want to see me? Also true, but also not the full answer. I wasn't sure I was worth it? Yeah, that's the one.

But he can't say it.

He doesn't know if it's fear or guilt or shame, but whatever it is, it keeps the words stuck in his throat. You're waiting for an answer, and he's not sure he has one.

"Echo," you say, your voice a warning. You turn to face him again, and he can see the hurt and frustration in your eyes. He wants to hold you, wants to apologize, wants to take it all back. But he doesn't move. He can't.

"Why?" you repeat, more forcefully this time.

"I didn't want to bother you," he says. It's the best answer he can come up with, and the worst part is that it's also true. At least, that's what he tells himself.

But the moment the words leave his mouth, he knows it's the wrong thing to say. You stiffen, and then your jaw tightens. He can tell that you're barely holding it together, and he wants to say something, to explain, but he doesn't get the chance.

"You didn't want to bother me," you repeat, and Echo can hear the anger in your voice, can feel the sting of it. "I'm sorry, did I not make it clear how much I care about you?"

"No, you did," Echo says, backtracking, trying to placate you. "You did, I promise."

"Then please explain how you thought keeping me in the dark about the fact that the man I love was still alive and well was not a bother."

The word "love" hits him like a punch to the gut.

You love him. You still love him. You're still here, and you're still loving him, even after everything. He doesn't understand, doesn't know why. Doesn't know how. But he doesn't have time to think about it, not with the way you're looking at him, the hurt and confusion clear on your face.

"That's not what I meant," he says, his voice low, pleading. "It's not that. I promise."

You let out a shaky sigh, crossing your arms over your chest. "What's the difference, then?"

Echo opens his mouth, and then closes it again, not knowing what to say.

"I mourned you," you say. Your voice is soft, almost a whisper, but it sounds loud in the silence between the two of you. "I loved you, and I mourned you, and I was doing okay, and then you just show up, and act like it's no big deal, like I didn't spend weeks, months waiting for you to come back, hoping you'd come back, and..."

Your voice cracks, and a fresh wave of tears begins to roll down your cheeks. Echo reaches out to brush them away, and you flinch. The motion stings, but he doesn't say anything, doesn't push it. He lets his hand drop to his side.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I didn't... I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Yeah, well, you did," you say, sniffling.

The words hit him harder than he expects, and he feels his throat tighten.

"I didn't know what to say," he admits, his voice breaking. "I didn't know what to do."

"Why not?" you ask, and your anger has softened, turning into something else. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No!" Echo says quickly. "Of course not. You were perfect. You were... You were amazing."

You look at him, and there's a vulnerability in your eyes that makes him want to gather you in his arms and never let go. He thinks maybe he should. But before he can, you speak.

"So what happened?" you ask. Your voice is quiet, but Echo can hear the desperation, the need for an answer. "Where were you? Why didn't you come back?"

“I—“ Echo looks around, suddenly aware of the hallway and the closed doors surrounding him, closing in on him. The space is too small, the walls are too close, the air is too thick. He feels trapped, like the world is closing in around him, and he takes a step back.

"Can we... Can we not do this out here?" he asks, trying not to let his voice betray his panic.

You study him for a moment, considering. He doesn't blame you. After all, he'd shown up out of the blue, and you had every right to be suspicious. You're still crying, but there's a steeliness in your gaze, and he can tell you're weighing your options, deciding if he's worth it or not. His heart hammers against his ribs as he waits, praying that you'll give him a chance.

Finally, you let out a sigh and nod.

"Yeah," you say, "sure."

You bend down to pick up the groceries, and Echo rushes forward, scooping them up before you can. You look at him, surprised.

"Let me help," he says. "Please."

You hesitate, and Echo can see the worry on your face, but then you nod, fumbling for the keypad. The lock clicks open, and you push the door open, motioning for him to go ahead.

He steps inside, and the familiar scent of your apartment hits him hard. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed it, how much he'd come to associate it with safety and comfort. It makes his chest ache, and he takes a moment to steady himself, willing the tears to stop.

Your apartment is the same, and yet so different.

It's still cozy, but there's a coldness to the air, a lack of warmth. The curtains are closed, and the room is dark, the only light coming from the dim bulb above the stove in the kitchen. There are dishes stacked in the sink, and a few pieces of dirty laundry have been discarded on the couch. The floor is littered with shoes and other miscellaneous items, as if someone came home and kicked everything off their feet, leaving it all in a pile. Echo’s brow furrows at the mess, and he wonders when you started to let the place get this way.

"I'm sorry," you say, sounding embarrassed. You take the bag of groceries from him, your cheeks flushed. "I wasn't expecting company."

"Don't worry about it," he assures you.

"Here, let me..." You trail off, disappearing down the hall, and a moment later, he hears a door slam shut.

Echo stands there, unsure of what to do. His gaze wanders around the room, taking everything in, trying to find something to occupy himself with. It feels like years since he's been here, and the sensation is both comforting and strange. He remembers the nights he spent curled up next to you on the couch, the quiet mornings in the kitchen, the lazy afternoons spent in bed.

He shakes his head, trying to focus on the present.

You're back now, and he needs to concentrate.

He takes a seat at the kitchen table, drumming his fingers against the wood.

It's quiet, but Echo can hear you moving around, and he wonders if you're trying to clean up, trying to make the place a little more presentable. He doesn't care about any of that. He cares about you.

And he doesn't know what to say.

He runs his hand over his face, pressing the heel of his palm into his eye, trying to think. He's rehearsed this moment in his head, has imagined all the different ways it could go.

And now that it's actually happening, he can't remember a single one.

He's such an idiot.

The minutes pass, and you finally return. He hears you enter the room, the soft sound of your footsteps, but he can't bring himself to look up. Not yet.

"Echo," you say, and he can hear the hesitation in your voice. "What happened?"

"I don't know where to start," he confesses, dropping his hand and glancing up at you.

You've changed into something more comfortable, a pair of sweatpants and your favorite sweater, and your face is scrubbed clean, makeup-free. It's nice to see you this way, a reminder of the times you shared together, and the sight makes him smile.

"Why are you smiling?"

"Nothing, it's just..." He pauses, his eyes wandering over you. "I forgot how you looked in sweatpants."

You roll your eyes, but there's a hint of amusement on your face. "Seriously? You're sitting here, after being missing for months, and you're making fun of my fashion choices?"

"I'm not making fun of you," he says, chuckling. The pressure in his chest eases slightly, and he takes a breath. "I just meant that I missed seeing you this way."

You let out a quiet, disbelieving laugh, and then shake your head.

"You're unbelievable," you mutter.

Echo smiles, and for a moment, he feels normal. As if the last year never happened, and this was just a day like any other. As if he'd just come home from a mission, and you'd greet him with a kiss, and everything would be fine.

But then you sigh, and the moment is over.

"Look, I get that this is... Well, I'm sure this isn't what you were expecting," you say. You move to sit across from him, leaning your elbows on the table and resting your chin in your hands. "But we can't keep pretending like nothing happened. You have to talk to me."

Echo stares at you, his eyes taking in the familiar lines of your face, the curve of your lips, the color of your eyes. They aren’t as bright as he remembered, not as full of life, and the realization breaks his heart. This isn't how it's supposed to be.

"Okay," he begins, clearing his throat. "So, uh, this is going to be a lot."

"That's okay," you say gently. You give him a reassuring nod, and Echo feels a swell of gratitude for you. "Just... Start at the beginning, and we'll go from there."

"Right, the beginning." Echo nods, trying to organize his thoughts, and then he starts to speak.

He tells you everything, from the moment the explosion happened, to the moment he woke up and found himself in Rex's arms, everything in between. He tells you about his injuries, the surgeries, the physical therapy. He tells you about his time with the Batch, his newfound abilities, the things he's been able to do, the things he's learned. He talks about the missions, the jobs, the danger they've faced, and the risks they've taken. He tells you about the planets, the people, the experiences. He tries to leave nothing out, even the hard parts. The loss, the pain, the fear. He doesn't want to spare you any of it.

You sit there and listen, asking questions when necessary, but mostly staying silent. And when he's done, he sits there, feeling a strange sense of relief. He hadn't realized how much he needed to talk about everything, how much he'd been holding in. And he hadn't realized how good it would feel to tell you. To have someone who cared, someone he trusted, who knew him better than anyone.

When the words run out, and the room is silent, you let out a long, slow exhale. You sit there, your hands folded together, your gaze fixed on the tabletop, and Echo waits, not sure what to expect. But the longer the silence drags on, the more worried he gets.

"Cyar'ika?" he asks, his voice hesitant.

You take a breath and look up at him, and Echo is startled to see that your eyes are glassy, and there are fresh tear tracks running down your cheeks.

"Sorry," you apologize, wiping at them with your sleeve. "I'm not — I just..."

You take another breath, and then let it out, composing yourself. "Thank you," you say. "For telling me. I know that can't have been easy."

"It wasn't," Echo admits, and his throat tightens a little. "But I'm glad I did."

You offer him a small smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. You look like you’re far away, lost in your own thoughts, and Echo has a feeling you're not fully present, not in the moment. And he doesn't blame you. His words can't have been easy to hear.

"Is there anything else you want to know?" he asks, trying to break the silence.

You glance at him, your eyes focusing, and then look away, your jaw clenching. Echo can see the emotion on your face, can tell that you're struggling to stay calm, to hold it together. You've always been good at that, he thinks.

"I just..." You pause, taking a shaky breath, and Echo can see the tears forming in your eyes again. "I just don't understand."

He frowns, confused. "What do you mean?"

You close your eyes, taking a moment to collect yourself. Then, you stand up and begin pacing around the kitchen, your hands clasped behind your back. You move slowly, deliberately, your gaze fixed on the floor, like you're trying to make sense of something, figure something out. 

Echo watches you, feeling uneasy. You're not giving anything away, and the silence is starting to get to him. He's never seen you in the courtroom, but he imagines this is the stance you take when you're interrogating a witness. 

It's effective.

"Can you say something, please?" he asks. He knows he sounds desperate, but he doesn't care.

"I'm thinking," you say, and Echo bites his lip.

He feels like he's going to crawl out of his skin. He wants to get up, to follow you around the room, try to coax a response out of you. He wants to make this better, to make this right. But he knows that pushing you won't help, so he stays seated, trying to keep his patience.

 You continue to pace, your expression blank, and the seconds tick by, the only sound the muffled noises of the city outside. It feels like an eternity has passed when you finally stop, standing in front of him, your arms crossed.

"I can't believe you thought I wouldn't want to see you," you say. Your voice is low, almost a whisper, and there's an edge to it that Echo doesn't recognize. It's not anger, not exactly. It's something else, something deeper.

"I know," he replies, his voice just as quiet.

"I thought you were dead," you say, the words coming out in a rush. "I grieved you. I mourned you. And then you show up, and you're... You're alive, and you're here, and you think the best thing to do is to leave me alone?"

"I didn't know what would happen," Echo explains, trying to keep his tone calm. "I wasn't sure if I was coming back, and I didn't want to —"

"No," you say sharply, cutting him off. "That's not an excuse. That's bullshit, and you know it."

Echo swallows, and nods, not sure what to say.

"We made promises," you continue, and Echo can hear the anger in your voice, can see the frustration on your face. "To each other. We talked about our future, we said things that... We made things that were real, and then you just decided it was too much, and you walked away. What the hell is that?"

"I'm sorry," Echo says around the lump forming in his throat. "I shouldn't have —"

"No," you interrupt, your eyes burning. "You shouldn't have."

Echo looks at you, and he feels like he's going to shatter. You’re staring at him with such intensity, and there's an anger in your gaze that he hasn't seen before. It's so different from the gentle look you usually give him, and it makes him ache.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," he says. "I swear, I didn't."

"Then why did you?" you ask, and there's a note of pleading in your voice. “I spent so long wondering, worrying, and you just... You didn't care."

"Of course I did," he argues. "It wasn't about that."

"Then what was it about, Echo?" you demand. "What was so important that you thought you couldn't tell me? That you couldn't comm me, or send a message, or do anything that would have let me know you were alive? That would have told me you were okay?"

"I didn't think —"

"What, that I'd care? That I'd worry? That I'd miss you? That I'd wonder where you were, and if you were okay, and what the hell happened to you?" you say, your voice rising.

Echo can feel the frustration building inside him, and he knows he shouldn't respond, knows that getting angry won't help, but the words tumble out before he can stop them. "I'm sorry," he snaps. "I wasn't exactly thinking clearly."

"That's not an excuse," you snap back, and Echo blinks, shocked. You're the most level-headed person he's ever met, and he's never heard you yell before.

"Yeah, well, it's the best one I've got," he says.

"Echo, I loved you," you say, and the past tense stings. "When Fives told me what happened to you, I —" Your voice catches, and the fight goes out of him. He can see the pain on your face, the hurt in your eyes, and he can't help but feel responsible. "I can't even describe it. It felt like my whole world was ending. And I don’t blame you for doing your duty, but I do blame you for not coming back to me."

"I know," he whispers. "I'm sorry. I really am."

You shake your head, turning away from him. "Why didn't you comm me?"

Echo hesitates. He doesn't want to admit his fears, his worries, the insecurities that have plagued him. He doesn't want to tell you how much he doubted, how much he doubted you. It feels too vulnerable, too raw. And it would only make you feel worse. But the longer the silence stretches, the more you deserve the truth. And he can't avoid it forever.

"I didn't think I was worth it," he says, his voice low. He can feel the heat in his cheeks, the sting of embarrassment. He can't look at you, doesn't want to see the pity, the disappointment, the anger. "I didn't think I was worth it."

You turn to face him, your expression softening.

"You were all I had left," he says. He feels exposed, and it's not a comfortable feeling, but he can't stop now. Not with the way you're looking at him. Not when he's so close to fixing this, to getting you back. "After everything that happened, I just... I couldn't bring myself to do it. I didn't think you'd want to see me."

"You really thought I'd just leave you?"

Echo can hear the hurt in your voice, and he's surprised at the sharpness of it. He expected to be met with some amount of anger, but he didn't expect it to cut so deep. He didn't think his insecurities would upset you so much. He's used to it, by now. After everything he's been through, the doubts and worries have become a constant, an almost comforting presence. But you were never supposed to know about them.

"It's not that," he says. "I know you wouldn't have left me. It's just... I didn't want to drag you down with me."

"That's stupid," you reply. There's no malice in your voice, but there's no sympathy, either. "What makes you think I couldn't handle it?"

"It's not about what you could handle," Echo says. "You didn't sign up for this. You didn't sign up for any of it."

"I signed up for you," you argue, and Echo is startled by the fierceness of your tone.

"And look at what that got you."

You fall silent, and Echo regrets the words the second they leave his mouth. He's always known he wasn't good enough for you, but it's different to actually say it out loud. It makes it real. And he's not sure he's ready for that. But you're looking at him like you can't believe he said it, and the disappointment in your eyes makes him feel even worse. 

Your eyes rove over him, taking in the scarring, the metal implants, the ports and wires, the armor. You look like you’re seeing him for the first time, and the disgust and fear he’d thought might appear are nowhere to be found, just a profound sense of sadness and resignation.

"Oh, Echo," you breathe. The words are quiet, but they feel like a slap, and he has to look away, not wanting to meet your gaze.

"I'm not the man you knew," he says. He sounds defeated, even to his own ears. His eyes are burning, and he has to fight to keep the tears from falling. He hates how weak he feels, how small, how vulnerable. "I can't be. I'm... I'm not him anymore."

"Yes, you are," you insist. You reach out and take his hand, squeezing gently, and the sensation makes him jump. He'd almost forgotten how warm you are, how soft. How safe. He wants to hold on, to pull you close, to never let go. "You're still the same man, the same Echo, I just..."

"What?" he asks, when you trail off. "You just what?"

You sigh, dropping his hand and running your fingers through your hair, tugging lightly. The familiar gesture makes him ache. "I don't know, Echo," you admit. "I'm... I'm sad. And I'm angry. But I'm mostly just... Confused."

"Confused about what?"

"I'm confused as to why you didn't come back to me," you say. "I'm confused as to why you thought I'd want anything else."

"I thought you deserved better," he says, the words sounding hollow, even to his own ears. "I thought you deserved someone who was whole, who could give you a normal life, who didn't have a hundred years of baggage and trauma to deal with. And I was terrified that you already had that."

"Had what?"

"A normal life," he answers. "Without me. And the more I thought about it, the more I convinced myself it was true."

"It's not," you say. Your voice is quiet, but firm, and Echo looks at you, searching for any trace of doubt, of hesitation, of insincerity. But all he finds is determination, and it makes his heart clench. The intensity in your gaze is too much, and he has to look away. His eyes trail over the walls, the ceiling, the floor, lingering on the groceries on the table, the dishes in the sink, the empty bottles of wine shoved into the trash, the pile of laundry on the couch. There’s a dent in the wall that wasn't there the last time he was here, and the carpet is worn. He wonders when that happened.

He feels a tug on his arm, and then you're reaching up to cup his face, your hands soft and warm. You turn his head to face you, your thumb stroking his cheek. The touch is gentle, comforting, and Echo can't stop the sigh that escapes him. It's been so long since someone touched him like this, and it's nice. It's more than nice. It's familiar. It's safe. It's home.

"I only wanted you," you whisper.

"Even after everything?" he asks. He doesn't mean to sound so incredulous, but he can't help it. He's spent so long convincing himself that you were better off without him, and now, hearing you say the opposite, hearing you say the words he'd only ever hoped for, the ones he'd tried to convince himself were true... It's a lot to take in.

"Even after everything," you affirm.

"You could have had anyone," he says. "Why me?"

"Because I love you," you answer, as if it's the simplest thing in the galaxy. As if it's the most obvious thing in the universe. "And I don't want anyone else."

"Cyar'ika..." His voice cracks, and the tears are falling freely now. You wipe them away, and the touch makes his chest ache.

"I've never stopped loving you, Echo," you say. Your voice is barely audible, but Echo hears it. And it's the best sound he's ever heard. "And I don't plan on stopping now."

"I'm sorry," he says. "I'm sorry I left you, and I'm sorry I didn't comm you, and I'm sorry I was such a coward, and I'm —"

"Shh," you murmur, cutting him off. "I forgive you."

Echo can't speak. He's not sure he can move, can't even breathe. The relief is overwhelming, and it threatens to knock him off his feet. His chest tightens, and the tears won't stop falling, and he doesn't know what to do. He's missed you so much, has regretted leaving every single day, and now that you're here, now that he has you back, he can't find the words to express how grateful he is, how relieved, how happy.

"You really thought I was going to leave you?" you ask, and Echo can hear the note of humor in your voice, can see the ghost of a smile on your face. It's reassuring, and he lets himself smile, too.

"Honestly? Yes," he admits.

"Never," you reply.

Echo leans down and rests his forehead against yours, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. You move your hands down his face, brushing the tears away with your thumbs, before bringing them around his neck, wrapping your arms around him. He moves to do the same, pulling you closer and wrapping his arms around your waist. You let out a quiet gasp of surprise, and Echo chuckles, holding you tighter.

"I missed you," he whispers, and it feels good to say the words out loud. "So much."

"I missed you, too," you say, your breath warm against his neck. You tilt your head and press a kiss against his throat, and Echo feels his heart stutter. "More than I can say."

Echo hums and pulls away, bringing his hand up to brush the hair away from your face. Your skin is warm, and soft, and he leans in and presses a kiss against your forehead, savoring the contact. You sigh, and he can't resist the urge to kiss you again, this time on the cheek.

"Echo," you murmur, letting out a shaky breath.

He kisses the corner of your mouth, and then your jaw, and your grip on his neck tightens, your fingers digging into the fabric of his blacks. He moves down your throat, trailing kisses along the column of your neck, and you gasp.

"I missed you, too," he murmurs, and you laugh.

"Yeah, I got that," you say. "Now, will you please kiss me?"

Echo smiles and obliges.

The kiss is soft and sweet, and it tastes like home. He cups the back of your neck, his scomp moving to rest on your hip, and you let out a pleased noise, your hands sliding down to his shoulders. The warmth of your mouth, the way your lips part, the little gasps and sighs you make, it all makes him want to get closer, to be nearer.

You break the kiss, and Echo lets out a quiet whimper. You chuckle and rest your head on his shoulder, and Echo brings his hand up to stroke your hair, his fingers combing through the strands. You sigh and lean into his touch, and he can't help the contented smile that spreads across his face.

"I'm glad you're here," you murmur. "I'm glad you came back."

"Me, too," he says. He tilts your head up and presses a kiss to your temple, his lips lingering. You close your eyes and nuzzle his neck, and Echo sighs, holding you close. It feels so good to have you in his arms again, to be able to hold you, and he wishes he could stay here forever. But the reality of the situation catches up with him, and he can't help the wave of guilt that washes over him.

"I'm sorry, Cyar'ika," he says.

You frown, and pull away slightly. "What are you apologizing for?"

"I didn't think this through," he admits. "I... I didn't know what was going to happen, and now..." He pauses, letting out a frustrated sigh. "I just... I'm sorry. I’m leaving soon, and I know it's going to be hard, and I know you're going to have to say goodbye again, and I'm —"

"Echo," you interrupt, and your voice is firm. You put your hand on his chest, and he can feel the heat of it, even through the layers of armor and clothing. "I know what I signed up for. I'm not expecting anything different."

"But —"

"No," you cut him off. "No buts. I knew what this was, Echo. And I still want it."

"But you shouldn't have to," Echo argues. "I don't want to put you through that."

"Well, it's a little late for that," you reply. Your tone is sharp, and Echo winces. "Look, Echo. I know the situation isn't ideal, but I'm not going to walk away because it's hard. And I'm not going to stop caring just because it hurts." You look at him, and the determination in your gaze makes his heart skip a beat. "You're worth it, okay? No matter what."

"Cyar'ika —"

"No," you say, shaking your head. "You're not changing my mind. You can try, but it's not going to work. So don't waste your time." You give him a stern look, and then your face softens. "Okay?"

"Okay," Echo agrees. He knows it's futile to argue. He's never been able to say no to you. Not when it matters. "I'm still sorry, though."

You roll your eyes, and then stand on your toes and give him a quick kiss. "You're lucky I love you," you say, and the words make him feel lighter.

"Yeah, I am," he agrees, grinning.

"So, what now?" you ask.

Echo shrugs, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. He's been so focused on finding you, on convincing you to forgive him, on making things right, that he hasn't thought about what comes next. The prospect of it is both exhilarating and terrifying, and he doesn't know where to start. There's so much to do, and so little time. And he doesn't want to waste another second.

"Do you want to stay?" you offer.

"Stay?"

"Here," you clarify. "For a while. I don't know how long you can, but..." You pause, a flush spreading across your cheeks. “I was going to make dinner. If you wanted to stay."

"Dinner?" Echo repeats, and he can't hide the excitement in his voice. The idea of a home-cooked meal is so far removed from his life now, so distant, that the thought of it almost makes him lightheaded. "Really?"

You laugh, and the sound fills him with warmth. "Yes, Echo. Really."

"What are you making?" he asks. The question sounds childish, and he can't believe how eager he is, how excited.

"Just a simple dish," you say. You move towards the counter and begin putting the groceries away, and Echo follows you, a smile spreading across his face. While you tell him about the recipe, he moves toward your sink, picking up a dish and turning the water on. You look over at him, and the fondness in your eyes makes him blush. "You don't have to do that, Echo."

"I know," he replies. "I want to."

"Well, alright then."

The two of you work together, talking and laughing as you wash the dishes and prepare the food. Echo feels lighter than he has in months, and it's a relief to be here with you, to have something normal and familiar to do. Something so domestic, so ordinary, and yet, so special.

He wants to remember this.

When the food is ready, you gesture to the table, and Echo takes a seat. You sit across from him, and for a moment, the two of you just look at each other. He's missed you, missed this. Missed being here, missed having someone who knew him, someone he could trust. Someone he could love.

You're both quiet, and Echo can see the wheels turning in your head, can see the way your eyes dart over him, taking everything in. You're cataloging, committing him to memory too. The realization hits him, and his chest tightens. He'll be leaving soon, and you're doing what you can to make sure you won't forget him. It's a sobering thought, and he's not sure how to handle it.

"Hey," you say, and Echo looks up, meeting your gaze. "It's okay. We'll be fine."

"How did you know?" he asks, startled.

You shrug. "It's written all over your face."

"I'm sorry," he murmurs. "I wish I could stay."

"It's okay," you repeat. “We have the night, and that’s more than enough. For now, let's just enjoy the time we have."

Echo nods.

You're right.

You always are.

You smile, and it's so beautiful, so genuine, that it takes his breath away. You reach across the table and take his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. He squeezes back, and you lean forward, resting your elbows on the table and putting your chin in your hand. The way you're looking at him, the affection in your eyes, it makes him feel like he's the only thing that matters, like he’s home.

And, right now, he is.

He's missed this.

He's missed you.

And as the two of you sit there, enjoying each other's company, Echo knows he's made the right choice. He knows that coming back was worth it, that finding you, fixing things, making things right, it's all been worth it. And he knows that, no matter what, he'll be back.

He'll find his way back to you.

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[we-stan-cale]

I was thinking a bit about character development.

Like, Cale, Choi Han, and Alberu have a beautiful friendship - and it grew over the course of the entire story.

I'm probably going to talk about later parts of the story, so Imma put the rest behind a divider so you can avoid spoilers

In the beginning, Choi Han was loyal to Cale but .. it was kind of shallow.

Choi Han didn't understand why they had to wear those shitty Arm robes, was shocked when Cale created his alibi by drinking, and so on and so forth.

He followed Cale, but he didn't really know Cale that well yet and that was clear.

Oh, and it was much more of a hierarchical relationship. Cale as his legs, Choi Han as Cale's knight.

This slowly began to change, though I think there were a couple of key turning points.

Cale almost dying after the Battle of the Gorge was one of them.

I think that's when Choi Han truly realized he couldn't trust Cale when it came to his health. Not that he hadn't seen signs before, but Cale always brushed things off and I think this was when Choi Han realized that no, it's really not okay, no matter what Cale says.

After that, we see Choi Han start asking more questions...

And Cale (with a clear flashback to his time as a team leader, where his people desperately wanted to help more) actually answered them.

The relationship started to shift, and become less liege and knight, and more colleagues. (This, btw, came from both of them. Choi Han asking more, and Cale telling more. Somewhat. A little bit.)

They definitely grow closer in other ways - Choi Han telling them about his long life after they found the Dragon Village, for example. (Though Cale already knew it, so you also see just how much Cale is still keeping his secrets).

And then...

We get Choi Han receiving Choi Jung Soo's memories.

That causes the biggest shift yet.

Now they aren't just liege and knight.

Now we have Cale thinking of Choi Han as his best friend's elder (even if Choi Han doesn't feel a need for that).

Also, Choi Han now knows. Not just that Cale is a transmigrator, not just about his life as Kim Rok Soo, not just about the cataclysm (and what happened to the Choi family).

He also knows about the tragedy that has pretty much defined Cale. He may not know about the aftermath, or Cale's time as team leader, but he knows that Cale was devastated after losing everyone.

We also see Choi Han (who got Syrem's ancient powers and now knows what it's like to use them) insist that Cale shouldn't absorb the Blood-drenched Rock power, a potential standoff that ended when Cale found another way and used Embrace instead.

They are no longer liege and obedient knight.

And then came the sealed god's test, where Choi Han gave up quite a lot of his potential lifespan, just to join Cale in one of the worst times of Cale's life.

And he was happy for it.

We see Cale truly overcome with emotion. The trust and friendship between the two of them is just beautiful.

And I truly meant to talk about Alberu as well (him joining them also adding to this) but I only realized when writing this just how much I had to say about Cale and Choi Han, so maybe I'll do that another time.

Anyways.

That still wasn't everything. Because we also had the indignity test...

And while I think the author didn't fully finish everything Choi Han saw because it'll probably come up in part 2 (it hasn't yet, but I think I see the author building up to something. Because so far they've all been too busy to really address a few things, plus apparently there's dragons dealing with time? Anyways, I suspect we'll get more on Cale's childhood, and what Choi Han knows, and some other things, but we'll see. It took almost 300 chapters in part 1 before we got all the amazing scenes with Cale and Choi Han and the sealed god's test and instant so I'm willing to let the author build things up again.)

Oh, sorry. What was I saying? Right.

Even though we don't have the full story, we know that Choi Han knows.

And in one of the side stories, he says this:

He didn’t know at first, but that person’s days of rest that Choi Han saw was more of a period of recovery than days of rest. Of course, the person himself thought that he was playing around, but it did not seem like that to Choi Han at all. That was why his people, who at some point realized the meaning of this rest day, tried their best not to bother his recovery.

And again, in the same side story but referring to a moment later in part 1

Cale was mumbling. “Haaaa. It’d be great to be a slacker.” Choi Han knew the meaning of those words. ‘I want to rest. I need to heal.’ That should be the meaning. However, he now knew what Cale would say after that.

And skipping the specific details, what Choi Han probably meant when he said he knew what Cale would say after that

Cale looked toward the east and calmly commented. “There are too many things to do, so I can’t rest.”

Choi Han understands Cale 1000x more than he did when they started.

And Cale understands Choi Han better, too.

Which is probably a topic for a whole other post, considering Cale initially almost seemed to put Choi Han on a pedestal as the hero and protagonist of the story.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Butterflies Aren't Just for Kids

Part 2 of Crushes Aren't Just for Kids

Pairing: JLU!Bruce Wayne x fem!JL!reader

Summary: Bruce hasn't asked you out yet, despite the League's interest in your new relationship. When he finally has enough and takes you away from their prying eyes and endless questions, you tell him why you hid your feelings for so long.

Warnings: fluff!!! John, Diana, and Wally get warnings for being nosy

Word Count: 1.6k+ words

A/N: Have I mentioned that I love this show? I considered basing this on The Once and Future Thing (s1 finale) but think that would be better as an independent rewrite. Also, I love Wally so much!!

Picture from Pinterest

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Plenty has changed since Morgaine Le Fay turned you, Bruce, Clark, Diana, and John into kids and back into adults to defeat her son. Bruce learned about your crush on him, as did John and Diana, and Bruce hinted that he’d ask you out soon. Being a superhero vigilante is a full-time job, though, and he has yet to find the time to do that.

Every time you set foot in the Watchtower, John and Diana give you questioning looks. You can tell they want to pry and hear about what’s happening with you and Bruce, but you also know they won’t believe you when you say nothing. Luckily, you still have easy access to all the hiding places Bruce installed in the multi-million-dollar space base.

While you sit in the cafeteria and eat, your thoughts drift to Bruce. He’s off somewhere fighting an alien with Clark, yet all you want is another quiet moment at his side.

“Hey,” Wally greets as he sits.

“Hi, Walls,” you reply with a smile.

“What’s up with all the weird looks?”

“What do you mean?”

Wally looks down and quickly counts the food items on his four trays. He speeds back into the cafeteria for another pudding, and you brace yourself for the wind that follows his return.

“Everyone keeps looking at you like there’s something big happening. They used to look at me like that, but you’re hogging my attention,” Wally answers.

“Sorry about that.”

“Seriously, it’s impossible to miss all of the looks. John and Diana look ready to snap every time you walk into the room.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” you lie. “I’m sure whatever they think is happening will pass soon and all eyes will be back on you.”

“As they should be, right?”

“Right, Walls.”

You excuse yourself, but not before you offer your cake to Wally. You ignore the looks Wally mentioned as you walk toward J’onn’s station in the heart of the Watchtower.

“J’onn, can you send me home? I don’t think I’ve got anything else to do up here,” you request.

“Certainly. I’ll let you know if we need you to return.”

“Thanks.”

A light blinds you temporarily, and when you open your eyes, you realize someone must have told J’onn you have a new home.

“I have got to talk to John about boundaries,” you mumble as you begin the short walk to Wayne Manor.

A few days later, you haven’t even seen Bruce. You’ve been pining after him for years, though, so what’s a few more days before that date he said he’d take you on? As long as it isn’t a theme park, you think as you walk through the Watchtower.

“We need to talk,” Diana says as she pulls you into a corner.

“About what?” you ask.

“You and Bruce,” John answers, stepping out of the shadows.

“What is this, an intervention? There’s nothing to talk about!” you whisper harshly.

“What happened after we left?” Diana inquires.

“He took me home. If you must know, he implied that he’d ask me out, but that is it! He may not even like me anymore.”

John shakes his head with a knowing look on his face. He can read you too well to lie to him.

“Look, I’m trying to be patient and wait for him to decide, ask, whatever, but it is getting very hard to do with you two drawing attention to us! Booster Gold asked me where the boyfriend was, and he didn’t even know who he was talking about!”

“Booster never knows what he’s talking about,” John argues.

“That is not the point.”

John smirks before he asks, “So, when you and Bruce have kids, do you think they’ll look like you two did in Mordred’s kingdom?”

The door behind Diana opens, and you realize you’ve been having this conversation outside Bruce’s workshop. While he was in it.

“Stop,” Bruce demands.

Diana nudges you, and you push her away. You’ll do something, but not because she encouraged you to, because you want to.

“What?” you ask with an exaggerated pout. “You don’t want to have kids with me, Brucie?”

Bruce rolls his eyes at your reply, but John and Diana stay beside you despite his bat glare.

“Are you going to ask her out?” Diana asks. “Because we’re all waiting for you to do something.”

“Clearly,” Bruce replies. “We’re leaving. Lantern. Diana.”

Before John or Diana can speak again, J’onn transports you and Bruce away. They’re left facing each other with a few answers and more questions.

“Where do you think they went?” Diana inquires.

“I’m- I’m not sure I want to think about that,” John answers slowly. “She is my friend, you know.”

“So is he.”

“Yeah,” John says, his voice laced with sarcasm and disbelief. “Sure, he is. Best friend, really.”

When you arrive in the manor, pressed to Bruce’s side just as you were in the amusement park, you don’t hesitate to turn and hug him. Bruce’s arms wrap around you loosely, and you step back when Alfred enters the living room.

“I’ll assume you’re the reason I’ve been getting so many dirty looks and questions from the League?” Bruce asks.

His lips are up at the edges, and you think he will smile at any moment. You can’t tell by looking at him, but Bruce feels like a kid again when he’s with you. He didn't experience childhood like he should have, so he lets himself be genuine with you. He’s done wasting time, he decides.

“You know, I’ve been fighting by your side for a long time,” you say. “But your hugs are way better than your grappling hooks.”

Bruce shakes his head and leads you toward the couch before Alfred returns with popcorn, a tray of snacks, and your favorite drink that you did not ask for nor mention. You thank him, and he winks at you quickly. He’s glad to see Bruce happy and to have visitors in the manor again.

“I should’ve hugged you sooner,” you muse as you reach for the food. “Could have been spending time here for years by now.”

“Why didn’t you say anything before?” Bruce asks softly.

“Why didn’t you?” you counter. You lick your lips before answering, “You’re important to me, Bruce. I didn’t want to jeopardize our relationship or the team, or, worse, put you in danger by saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. There were too many unknowns.”

“So, you planned to, what? Wait until I said something?”

“Caged butterflies,” you whisper. “Cages don’t hold them very well. I would’ve said something eventually, but Morgaine put me in a position where I didn’t have to.”

“Then, technically, John told me.”

“You’re a jerk, you know that?”

Bruce smiles, and the butterflies you felt as a kid revive to create a hurricane in your heart. He leans in and brushes his lips over your cheek before saying, “I’ve been told… I’ve also been told crushes aren’t just for kids.”

“Jerk,” you mumble again as you turn your face toward Bruce.

“Oh! Oh!” John yells when you step out of J’onn’s transporter and onto the Watchtower. “Someone’s glowing. How them butterflies feeling?”

“Like kids again,” you answer honestly. “I guess I should thank you for forcing me to do something.”

“Lanterns have been making dreams come true for millennia.”

“There’s no way that’s true.”

“You don’t know that. You’re not a Lantern, or a mind reader.”

“It’s not true,” J’onn calls without looking away from his console.

“Man, we need better friends,” John tells you.

“You are my better friend.”

“Save that lovey stuff for the boyfriend.”

“I thought he was Diana’s boyfriend,” you argue, tilting your head as you hide your smile.

“The ploy of a mastermind to learn the truth,” John answers with a shrug.

“You really are spending too much time with Wally.”

John stands and beckons you to follow him. You do so wordlessly, but you run into someone as you round a corner beside him. Bruce grasps your arms gently to keep you upright before dropping his head to look at you.

“Here comes the bride,” Wally sings under his breath.

You and Bruce look up quickly, surprised to see Wally has joined John, and they are watching your interaction with far too much interest.

“And that’s why we’re glad Wally wasn’t included in Mordred’s spell,” you grumble against Bruce’s chest.

“What spell?” Wally asks. He doesn’t give anyone time to answer before he rambles, “Hey, have you told her about your childhood, Bats? I mean, you’re definitely a loner now, but good luck learning anything about him; he’s one tough walnut to crack.”

“I know,” you and John say together.

Bruce tightens his grip on you before requesting J’onn send him home. The Watchtower is no longer a haven from Gotham, not with the League’s new favorite topic of conversation: you and Batman.

“We should buy a vacation house,” Bruce says as you open your eyes in Gotham.

“Yeah. In Coast City, where Ollie can find us and bring the rest of the fan club,” you joke.

Bruce stays quiet for a moment, and you begin to ask him what’s wrong, but he cuts you off.

“Get ready. We’re going on that date I promised,” he says.

“You never actually asked,” you point out.

“Will you go on a date with me?” Bruce asks.

“I’d love to.”

“Then go get ready. I’m taking you somewhere we can be ourselves.”

“Where could you possibly take me that Bruce Wayne won’t be recognized? And if you say an amusement park I will walk out right now.”

“I was thinking Metropolis. The roof of the Daily Planet. I called in a few favors.”

“I take it back. You weren’t a cute kid… you’re still cute.”

“And you still have trouble with maintaining eye contact.” Bruce leads you to the stairs and spreads his hand over your lower back before he whispers, “We’ll work on it.”

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Digital Circus with a Mime Reader, who CAN speak but prefers to use sign language and gestures: they find find Kaufmo in the middle of abstracting and try to calm him down (against their better judgement). It doesn't go well, ending with them locking and closing Kaufmo's door, and running to find Caine... Only to hear the theme song suddenly stop and Jax say something about a "new character" as they approach...

Ough finally some Kaufmo angst-

........

Approaching Kaufmo's door, you stopped in front of it and politely knocked, wanting to check up on him before Caine could summon everybody to perform the Digital Circus' "theme song" musical number.

As of late, your fellow clown hasn't been feeling up to snuff, since apparently nobody was laughing at his jokes anymore...

Although said jokes have all mentioned something about an exit--a way out of the digital realm you've grown quite comfortable living in. But even when he is dead serious, the others are convinced he's only kidding around, pretending to laugh and sometimes asking him if he could joke about something else.

Least to say...it grew frustrating for him.

The only reason he hadn't totally lost it yet was because of you, a mime who has lived in the circus for the past five months and befriended him quickly. Together you've put on many acts: with his wacky props and your invisible techniques, your shows were amusing to all.

That being said, you didn't want your longtime partner to think about any exits too much, as you've lost several friends in the past when they started talking about the same thing.

It happened to Queener, Kinger's beloved wife, and the poor chess piece has been on the brink of abstraction ever since (honestly, it's a miracle he didn't immediately follow her).

Fortunately, he remained stable enough to be around everyone.

As for Kaufmo?

He didn't look so good last night at dinner, and you haven't seen him all morning. Normally he'd be up and about, juggling random things as he walked or approaching you to brainstorm new acts to perform.

Him locking himself away in his room was not normal.

Especially when he knew this musical number was super important to Caine.

After waiting a minute or two, you perked up as he finally answered the door.

At first you smiled in greeting, although that was quick to fade when he only kept it open just a crack--enough for you to barely see his face...

Which bore a terrified expression underneath his runny makeup, making his frown look worse than it actually is. His hat was nowhere to be found, either.

''Are you okay, Kaufmo?" You signed, eyebrows furrowed in worry.

That was your usual way of talking, despite knowing you could very well speak freely. You had no clue if you were proficient in sign language before entering this circus, but regardless it always came in handy, and everybody did their best to communicate with you that way (or at least those with fingers, unlike Zooble or Gangle).

Since your performances usually involved silence and expressive gestures, you didn't see a need to talk often--and that was usually fine with Kaufmo, who'd always chatter with you in sign language right back.

But when he attempted to respond, you swore you both saw his own hands glitching, before he quickly retracted them, clearly frightened.

You, on the other hand, wanted to believe it was just a "digital hallucination".

That's all it was...right?

"I-I'm sorry, [y/n]..haven't been..feeling like myself-f-f lately.." Even his own voice was betraying him, as it sounded distorted, lagging as though he was a slow computer program. "But you believe me, don't you?"

"Believe what?"

"The...the exit, of course! The thing I've been talking about this whole time!! It's real! There IS a way out!! I-I can show you!!"

You blinked, before shaking your head. "Kaufmo, let me in."

"Oh no, I think that's a bad id--wait! Wait!!" Despite his pleas for you to stop, you forced your way into his room, shutting the door behind you so nobody else could intrude or eavesdrop.

The last thing you needed was Caine listening in.

Yet after taking a look around at the state of his quarters--with everything being a complete mess and the word "EXIT" scrawled onto every square inch of the ceiling and walls--you were nothing short of terrified for his mental well-being.

'My god....what has he done..?' You thought to yourself, mortified.

"No, no, no, no!!"

Looking back at Kaufmo, you saw him back up against the wall, holding his face as black glitchy polygons started appearing on his body. He gasped in horror, looking at his hands...and then up at you.

"What's..h-happening to me-e-e?"

Your heart sunk, knowing exactly what was going on.

"You're abstracting.." You whispered, your voice small yet shaken.

"I-I didn't...think I'd be next...it hurts so much! Christ-!!!" He began crying, his makeup oozing as he stared at you with empty, soulless black eyes. One of his arms was already taken over by the glitches, morphing into a large one covered in jagged polygons.

"Make it stop..MAKE IT STOP!!!" He screamed, slumping to the floor.

You were frozen in a state of panic, unsure if you should go get Caine or stay here and try to pull him out of his abstraction.

Either way, you had to do something fast...lest you lose him forever or become infected yourself.

"Just focus on me, pal. I'm here. I'm here." Kneeling down, you grasped his non-glitching hand tightly with both of yours, attempting to guide him through a breathing exercise.

"You'll get through this." You mouthed, but he just shook his head, noticing a single glowing eye forming on the surface of the glitchy flesh.

"Wh-Whatever you do...don't tell Caine, I beg you-u.." He pleaded. "He'll lock me away...a-and I'll be all alone in the dark..I don't wanna be alone.."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you shook your head, and he gazed at you in confusion. "What do you mean "no"? You'd let him throw me into the cellar with the rest of them...?" He started to grow angrier, feeling betrayed. "I thought we were partners!"

"We are partners, Kaufmo. Always will be." You sighed, wishing there was another way to stop this from happening. "But there's nothing more I can do...he needs to know-"

"Fine...maybe things will be better if I'm not around to tell my stupid jokes anymore."

"Kaufmo-"

"Go....run, [y/n]...run-n-n-nnNNNN------"

Immediately after he said that, you let him go right as his other hand quickly became overtaken by the abstraction, almost taking you with it.

You got up and took a step backwards, watching in mute terror as he rapidly grew in size, turning into a massive amalgamation of glitch black polygons. Even more glowy-trippy eyes were popping up in different places, looking in every direction.

Within seconds, Kaufmo no longer resembled the clown you once knew (or a person, in general)....but was instead replaced by a horrific digital beast with a long neck, standing on four legs.

You gulped as every single eye on his body suddenly shifted to stare directly down at you.

'Uh-oh-'

You hastily created an invisible wall just as he lunged at you with a ferocious roar, slamming right into the illusion like a bird smacking into a glass pane.

'He still falls for the oldest trick in the book..oh Kaufmo..'

Although it pained your heart to abandon him like this, he was too far gone to be saved. He didn't even recognize you anymore.

The only thing you could do now was get Caine before he harmed you or anybody else--even if it means you never saw him again. He could very well threaten the entire stability of this world if he got loose.

You quickly ran out of the room just before he could break through the "wall" and go after you, slamming the door shut and locking it tight.

Moments later, you heard him ram into it, the hinges damn near breaking off (but by the grace of cartoon physics, that didn't happen).

You wiped the sweat from your forehead, making a mad dash out of the dormitory section of the tent in a desperate search for Caine.

Unfortunately, you could already hear Bubble's singing in the distance as the gang's musical number routine was already starting:

"Gangle, and Zooble, and Kinger, too~!"

You ran as fast as your legs could possibly carry you. They were already aware of both of your absences, and they chose to go on with the song anyways.

'Jerks..they couldn't at least wait for me?' You huffed. 'Caine never tells us when we're doing these musical ditties-'

By the time you arrived, however, you heard the music abruptly cut out.

You stopped upon seeing your friends tumbled over each other on the floor, with Gangle's comedy mask being broken and Jax picking himself up in annoyance.

"Caine, is this one of your NPCs or is this a new sucker?"

Blinking, you glanced at the new person he was referring to, surprised to see a girl dressed as a red and blue jester.

"........."

Now you couldn't say anything to Caine.

Not right now, at least.

[ooctlt]

I think the etiquette of ask blogs is a forgotten art. what I'm saying is (imo) it's not that people don't want to play, it is they don't know HOW, and more importantly they don't understand that the game exists to begin with. obviously you do not have to teach people the rules because your time and energy is finite but idk. it feels like from some of your OOC responses that you assume people know the rules and are playing badly, but I genuinely think people (me) just don't know what you are wanting them (us) to do. and also they (i) don't know how to tell if they (i) are playing the game correctly.

An example I am genuinely confused about is, is inciting a "shut up" answer a signal that the game is being played correctly, because we are inciting a reaction from the character? or is a "shut up" answer a signal that we are playing wrong and need to do something different? I'm sorry. I really love your art and seeing the story unfold but I'm confused and I want to play and I don't understand how.

yeah ive had a couple people tell me this has been the first active askblog in a while and the concept of askblog etiquette has been forgotten- @thatneoncrisis and i made a diagram:

link to full-res image

a "shut up" reaction will hopefully show whether or not it's a closed path of exploration: if you have gideon sweating, going "pshhh its nothinggg" it means there is something worth exploring. if you have harrow slamming the door in your face, that is an advance that wont work on her

transcript under the readmore:

DEAD END QUESTION ANON: CAMILLA DO YOU THINK HARROW'S HOT?

"Please stop talking to me."

This question is BAD because it's BLUNT, INCREDIBLY PERSONAL and founded on INCOMPLETE KNOWLEDGE of their relationship.

NOTE that its not that shitty questions will NEVER be answered, its that 1) they have a LOWER chance of being answered and 2) they have a HIGHER chance of being made fun of in character

gideon: haha who thinks harrow is HOT

DECENT INCONSEQUENTIAL QUESTION ANON: CAMILLA DO YOU LIKE TO DO ANYTHING FUN WITH HARROW?

"Sure. We run a lot of errands together."

This kind of question may not advance the plot, as it is INCREDIBLY BROAD yet NONINVASIVE. They're good for quick 1-3 panel answers. May generally be met with a less EXCITING answer.

It might also be DIFFICULT TO ANSWER because a broad question could include MULTIPLE ANSWERS - asking "do you guys go out" could not be answered SUSTAINABLY, because i cannot draw all the places they visit

ANON: EVERYONE, WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE CLOUD / WATER / MOLECULAR STRUCTURE / BONE / CAR / COFFEE BRAND/ BOOK CHARACTER?

me: "i have to do so much research"

NEAT QUESTION CAMILLA HAS HARROW EVER ASKED YOU TO DO SOMETHING WITH HER SHE WAS EXCITED ABOUT?

"Yes, actually. She once invited me to [REDACTED], I didn't know she liked that sort of thing."

This question is SICK AS FUCK because not only do you learn something SUBSTANTIAL about the characters, you have stumbled upon A NEW PLOT BRANCH, one that actively deepens character connections and their past within the world. It specifically remarks upon a MEMORY* rather than AN OPINION and will typically be LONGER.

Another good option is to PROMPT something following this:

ANON: CAMILLA, MAYBE YOU SHOULD TRY TAKING HARROW OUT TO DO [REDACTED] THAT SHE LIKES BEFORE XYZ?

and this can then spiral onward…

*DM, ONE TIME I ASKED ABOUT A MEMORY AND I GOT A RUDE ANSWER; WHAT DID I DO WRONG?

It's not that this topic can never be spoken about, it's about WHEN you asked it and HOW you said it, or even WHO you asked.

Some topics, like the nature of HARROW AND GIDEON'S UPBRINGING are too recent for them to talk about, it has only been TWO YEARS since they left and there are SPECIFICS about the situation that the AUDIENCE hasn't discovered yet. There are things like GIDEON'S PARENTS that she CANNOT answer because she DOESN'T KNOW and answering multiple asks with I DON'T KNOW becomes repetitive and dull for both the DM and PLAYER.

BUT! She can learn! Over time, when the time is appropriate and feels the most natural for STORY PROGESSION. Think of it like a BAD ENDING in a visual novel. You START OVER and ask a DIFFERENT QUESTION, or approach it from a DIFFERENT ANGLE. If Gideon reacts poorly to someone congratulating her leaving BAD CIRCUMSTANCES, consider talking to her about the FUTURE. Instead of trying to pry at Camilla to see if she had an INTIMATE RELATIONSHIP with Pyrrha, try to ask about other things in that period of her life, like how they met or what caused her to move out.

FINALLY, if you'd like an ask to be answered out of character, your best bet would be to goto @notedchampagne and send it there. If you'd like an ask to be answered SINCERELY or you don't want SNARK, you can specify this in the ask, but know this blog may not be your thing.

[annisassintchaska]

AUDACITY: Toto Wolff x Wife!Black!Reader

TW: CURSING, YELLING

The hectic race here in Monza had finally come to an end and it is now time for the post-race interviews. One by one, the drivers were asked questions about what happened during their drive and what they think could've been done differently; however, a specific question a young driver had pissed off the wife the Mercedes AMG Petronas F1 Team, Y/n Wolff as she march her way in front of the man, blocking the journalist's sight of him.

"Could you please repeat that question you asked?" Y/n asked to make sure she heard the man right. "I asked if he felt that since he hadn't been winning any races for Christian, if he thought that maybe his time here in Formula 1 is running out?" the man asked once again, this time with a bit of fear for what the shorter yet feisty woman had to say. "So, I wasn't hallucinating, I heard you correctly! Now let me educate you on something here since you seem to lack the knowledge! A driver's career doesn't just end because they've been constantly not making it to the podium, sure he hasn't been winning yet he did a damn good job at keeping himself in the top six and THAT should be praised considering the state of favouritism going on in his team. Next is to address the fact that yes, we all know that Christian Horner is an impatient man when it comes to certain things, however he would never be that foolish to let Sergio go and if he was, he would pay for it dearly at my hands as I would personally burn his headquarters and garages to ashes, not leaving a pinch of paper for him to start over from. Mark my words, as whatever it is that you call yourself, the post-race interviews are for questions about the race and shouldn't go to the extent of you putting doubts into any driver's mind. BE WARNED THAT THIS IS YOUR FIRST AND LAST WARNING AS YOU ARE WALKING ON THIN ICE SEEMING THAT I COULD'VE HAD YOUR CAREER ENDED ON THE SPOT. Now apologize!" She shouted in anger that someone who should've been able to be trusted to ask sensible questions was actually a complete idiot out for nothing but starting chaos.

"I'm very sorry Sergio, I didn't think my words would have been taken that seriously" said the man as he was on the verge of tears, out of fear that he almost lost his job due to a foolish question. "It's ok, no hard feelings. Just try not to make this mistake again or best believe she'll be back for you" Sergio said as he went over to hug the man, being in shock himself.

Toto had been doing an interview with his drivers, when George noticed what was about to happen and tapped Lewis on the shoulder. They both called for Toto's attention, where the trio along with their journalist, watched on as Y/n gave the visibly shaking man a piece of her mind. After that was done, the lady interviewing them decided to ask "So Toto, you've obviously seen what your wife had just done. What would your reaction be to her for this?" the journalist smiled as she awaited an answer from Toto who as himself looks genuinely scared. "My question is What the fuck do you all want me to do?! I'm not getting involve in that! The last time you all had me interfere, I was unable to sleep on my pillows for a month!" He replied in a panicked tone as Lewis and George were the only two who knew what his "pillows" meant. "Dude, you've got to be kidding me. You still call her breasts pillows? How comfortable could they be?" George asked in amusement that his boss was still obsessed with his wife's boobs. "Trust me Russ, they are very comfy, I've also added and new pair. The ass" Toto said making everyone, including the journalist laugh. "Alright, so I see you're unable to help the guy out, that's all the questions I have for you three. Have a nice rest of your day" the woman said as they replied, "Same to you."

Unbeknownst to them the cameras had still been filming LIVE and they manged to capture the response which sent the world into a spiral at the fact that such a giant of man's weakness was being able to sleep on his wife as it now became the biggest thing to tease him of whenever he did something he wasn't supposed to.

[lost-in-fandoms]

I have a fic idea I need someone to write but basically it’s Max as current Max and his “community service punishment” is to talk to class in the next city they’re in….which is Austin….where teacher/single father/former retired (years before) driver/whatever Daniel lives and obv max clocks him right away and is 😍😍 and Daniel is 😍😍 but is also a shit stirer and keeps cursing around him trying to get him in trouble again

Not exactly what you asked for, but i hope it's still okay. Sorry it took me a little bit to get to it!

The school looks nice. Max never goes to pick up his nephews, he knows by what Victoria tells him that it's already chaotic so he doesn't want to accidentally make it even worse by showing up in front of an excitable group of children, but he has vague memories of his own elementary school and this looks much nicer.

The paintings on the walls look professional and beautiful and the classrooms are big and bright. Even the people he passes by look fancier, but max doesn't know if they always look like that or if they have dressed up for the day

All in all, he's not mad about having to do this. His community service could have been much worse, or much more boring, than just talking to a bunch of kids about street safety and being respectful of others. He's already done his little speech to two groups, even sticking pretty close to the script someone had handed him the day before. His favorite bit had been the last 10 minutes with each group, when the kids had been allowed to ask him any questions they wanted. A kid had asked if his car was able to go to the moon, and when max had said no the kid had said "oh. that's not cool then". Max had laughed and agreed with him.

He still has one group to go, and then he'll be able to go back to the hotel and look over some data before maybe streaming with the boys.

"How old are they?" he asks the PR person who's been trailing him all day. He doesn't remember his name, it's someone sent from the FIA not from the team, but Max hasn't managed to displease him yet, which in his opinion should already count for something.

"Six," the guy answers after checking his notes, letting Max cross the threshold first behind the school principal.

The class looks colorful. There are drawings and posters on the walls, bright pillows in one corner, near a very well stocked bookcase, and the kids are sitting in a semicircle on some mats on the floor.

Max tunes out the principal as he introduces him for the third time today, looking instead at the teacher, who's sitting on a mat like the kids, smiling the most beautiful smile Max has ever seen.

When their eyes meet, the teacher winks, his smile widening as Max, embarrassingly, feels himself blush.

The PR guy (Max really should have asked for his name) coughs a little, and Max realises the principal has finished his introduction, and everyone is looking at him waiting for him to say something.

The teacher hides his smile behind a hand, and Max feels torn between leaving the room and trying his hardest to impress him. Which is hard, considering his speech is about looking both ways and remember to buckle your seatbelt and a joke is a joke only if everyone involved finds it funny, but Max has never backed down from a challenge.

So he smiles his best smile, and lowers himself to the floor, crossing his legs to mirror the kids.

"Hello, I'm Max," he starts. A cheery chorus of hello Mr. Max chimes back at him, which is already a good start, maybe, and then he throws himself into it.

He knows he's overdoing it a little, being way too enthusiastic about traffic lights, but the teacher seems to appreciate it, and the kids don't look too bored yet, even answering the easy questions he throws in from time to time, so he doesn't feel like toning it down.

He feels like he's doing a very good job, launching into his being a good friend means making sure everyone is comfortable spiel, when the teacher raises his hand.

Max blinks, sentence dying on his lips. The kids look expectantly at their teacher.

"Uh...yes?" Max doesn't know what the correct way to act in a classroom is anymore. He should be a good example for the kids, but how can he when he's being thrown off course?

"Hi Max, yes, thank you. I wanted to ask, would you say being respectful includes the language we use with our friends too?"

The kids look back at Max with attentive little faces. The teacher (again, Max needs to pay more attention to names) has a shit eating grin on his face, showing he knows exactly what he's doing. Max considers getting up and leaving, but then remembers he doesn't back out of a challenge.

"Yes, it's important to be respectful with that too," he answers, his own sickly sweet smile on. The teacher's grin widens, but he doesn't say anything else, so Max awkwardly tries to go back to his speech, barely remembering where he had left off.

He's almost at the end when the teacher raises his hand again.

Max considers ignoring him, but the kids have already noticed, and it would probably be bad class manners to. Not that Max cares, but he doesn't want the kids to think badly of him.

"Yes?" he says, maybe a little more harshly than necessary. The guy seems extremely pleased by it.

"Do you think it's correct to punish someone if their joke hurts someone's feelings?"

Max narrows his eyes, grimacing a little. He's pretty sure he's not being punished because he hurt someone's feelings, but only to use him as an example.

"I think the most important thing is to apologize," he tries to contain his annoyance now that the kids are looking at him again, but he's not sure he's successful, "and to make sure not to do it again."

"What if someone hit someone else?" a little girl with a long braid asks, throwing a glance at another kid sitting further down the circle.

Max is not getting into class politics, thank you very much, not even if they're six years old.

"You never should hit anyone, that's not nice, but apologizing is always the most important thing."

Max can feel the PR guy growing a little bit nervous behind him when another kid raises his hand. Max hasn't even finished his speech.

"What if someone says a really bad word?"

Oh, god.

The teacher's smile is impossibly wide as he blinks innocently at Max. Did he brief these kids????

"Sometimes it's..." Max starts, but then he sees the teacher subtly shake his head, frowning slightly. Fine, no hard truths for the kids. "You should never use bad words, especially not to hurt somebody's feelings."

What bad words do six years olds even know?? The teacher is smiling at him though, so Max tries to relax again, rushing through the last part of his speech and then letting the kids ask questions.

"Are you a teacher?" a kid says, even as his hand shoots in the air.

"You need to wait for your turn!" long braid girl rebukes him, her hand firmly above her head.

"You talked too!" another kid exclaims, turning towards the teacher while point at her. "They both talked without permission!"

Maybe this is a challenge Max can back out of.

The kids all start to bicker, as the teacher tries to quieten them down, and for the first time today Max feels a bit overwhelmed.

Those are kids. Tiny people. Who will probably remember this day as the day racing driver (and possibly teacher?) Max Verstappen was in their class to talk about not swearing and staying on the sidewalk. He's not used to this.

Sure, he knows how to talk to kids he knows, and he is alright with kids interviewing him, but this is different. He doesn't know how to be a role model for these kids.

He doesn't know what his face is doing, or if his time just runs out, but suddenly the teacher is clapping sharply and standing up, heavily leaning against a chair to do so.

"Okay, say thank you to Mr. Max, and then go grab your books for quiet time!"

Arguments forgotten, the kids chorus together a thank you Mr. Max, and then scamper away, digging into bags and backpacks for books.

Max watches them for a second, the only one left sitting on the mats, before a hand appears in his line of vision. When he looks up, the teacher is looking at him with a smaller smile, softer and gentler than before, one that makes him look, if possible, even more handsome.

Max accepts the hand up, standing and brushing his jeans off.

"Sorry about that," the teacher says, sounding completely unapologetic.

Max smiles at him, shaking his head.

"It's fine, I've had worse," he jokes, shrugging slightly. The man laughs, big and bright and beautiful, and something in Max's chest shifts, trying to make space for it, to hold it for as long as possible.

He wants to hear that laugh more. He wants to be the cause of it again.

Which is a really silly thought to have, when he's about to leave the classroom and never see the man again.

"Claire, stop that right now or I'll take back your sharpening privileges!" the teacher suddenly says, looking at whatever is happening behind Max. There's a squeal, one girl complaining loudly while a few others giggle.

The teacher turns back towards Max, smiling with something that could almost look like regret.

"I have to go before they start killing each other. Thank you for joining us," he says, offering his hand to Max once again, who takes it gladly. He doesn't know what the PR guy is doing, but he hopes he's not writing this down to tell the FIA.

"It was a pleasure," Max says, still holding his hand. Neither of them is pulling back. How long does a handshake need to be before it turns into holding hands?

The volume of the conversation behind Max raises sharply, and the teacher looks away, narrowing his eyes a little.

Max knows his time has run out, but suddenly he can't bear the thought of never seeing him again. It's stupid, probably, but if there is the smallest chance....

"Listen, this is probably really inappropriate," the teacher's eyes snap back to him, widening in surprise. They're warm and beautiful and Max is still holding his hand. "but could I maybe get your number?"

For a second, the man just looks at him, as if processing what Max has actually said. And then, to Max's absolute shock, he smiles, eyes twinkling.

"Well, you're not a parent, and you're not a colleague, so I guess there's nothing too wrong about it," he says, finally pulling his hand away and walking towards the desk to grab a piece of paper and a pen.

Max walks out of the classroom a minute later, already listening to the sound of the teacher's voice raising above the arguing of the kids. In his pocket, a number and a name: Daniel.

[sailorstar9]

Running Into The Ex-girlfriend At The School Reunion

“Hyoma...” Shika Sotomi, Chigiri's girlfriend for three months, sang. “Let's go together. Aw man, we're gonna be in different classes in 3rd Year. I'm so sad.”

“We're in the same school.” Chigiri reminded, the couple was walking to the Rajitsu Tech soccer club. “We can see each other any time.”

“That's not what I'm trying to say.” Shika pouted. “You're the school's top player, you're gonna go pro when you're older.”

“Sorry, Hyoma.” Shika called out after school some time later. “I promised to hang with a friend today. I can't go home with you.”

“Got it.” Chigiri waved her apologies off and headed off for soccer practice.

“Sorry, I've got a new boyfriend.” Shika called Chigiri out shortly after he tore his ASL. “Let's break up.”

“Boyfriend?” the redhead was taken aback. “You 'have' one, even though we haven't even broken up?”

“Keisuke-kun asked me to go out with me yesterday.” Shika shrugged. “I didn't wanna let him get away because he's got more potential than you. Anyway, now that you're injured, I have no use for you anymore.”

Time passes, in the Manshine City soccer team hostel...

25-year-old Chigiri received an email on his personal laptop, an invitation to the upcoming high school reunion.

After much consideration and discussion with the older Wanima twin, he accepted the invitation.

On the day of the school reunion...

“Chigiri, I didn't think you'll come to things like this, so I'm surprised.” one of Chigiri's former female classmates greeted. “Long time.”

“Listen and be shocked.” Wanima Junichi piped in. “Both Chigiri and myself are players in the Manshine City soccer team.”

“That's amazing.” the women gushed. “I knew you two were great at soccer and I thought you'd become something great.”

“So, are you single now?” one of the braver women pressed. “I'm currently looking for a boyfriend.”

“I also broke up with my boyfriend last year.” another woman added. “Are you free tonight?”

“Hyoma!” Shika called out and everyone turned around.

“I didn't see Sotomi's name on the invite list.” Junichi was confused as everyone took in Shika's rather unstylish outfit.

“I came to see you.” Shika spoke. “I want to talk.”

“We can talk here.” Chigiri stood his ground.

“That's okay.” Shika stammered. “That's great. You're a professional soccer player? You were always great at soccer.”

“How do you know that?” Chigiri asked.

“Junichi-san is always in contact with his younger brother, so I confirmed it with Keisuke-kun." Shika answered. "Hyoma, let's start over.”

“What?” Chigiri echoed in disbelief. “Now, with me? You were the one who said Wanima Keisuke had more potential than me.”

“Sorry, I was wrong.” Shika wailed. “I learned that it means nothing to just have potential in high school.”

“So, it's all about money?” the other women realized that it was all about.

“I didn't say that.” Shika protested.

“Didn't your last boyfriend see you only as an ATM? He made you spend money on him and then tossed you away after he drained you dry and leaving you with all his debt.” a female classmate explained. “Money is indeed important, but it's a little too good to be true to change your mind about a person you made fun of right after they make money.”

“You were saying that?” Junichi snapped. “Now you want to get back together because you have no money. It's too coincidental.” he moved the entire party to another table. “Shika still hasn't gone home yet.” he noticed the lone Shika drinking in the corner. “She hasn't given up on you yet.”

“I'm going to the restroom.” Chigiri excused himself.

“Hyoma.” Shika cornered the speedster outside the men's toilet. “You were in front of everyone else, so you couldn't say how you really felt, right?” she snuggled up to Chigiri. “I know you well. That's why I wanted to talk alone. You still like me, right? I'll go out with you. You've always been relaxed, so your feelings aren't obvious.” she continued, despite Chigiri slapping her off him. “But in high school, I felt that you liked me. You just can't express how you feel, right? It's okay. I get you.”

“I struggle to understand why you think I still like you.” Chigiri retorted. “First of all...”

“Hyo-kun.” F/N called out, a two-year-old toddler in her arms.

“You just came?” Chigiri walked over. “How did you know I was here?”

“Keiichi woke up from his jet-lag and started wailing for his daddy.” F/N replied. “Wanima-kun told me you were in the restroom. And that Satomi-san had chased after you.”

“Hyoma?” Shika splattered, seeing Chigiri's arm around F/N's waist

“I'm already married to F/N.” Chigiri explained. “And as you can see, we have a son.”

“What?” Shika exclaimed. “What's so good about that plain wallflower? I'm... my skin is a little dry right now, but if I go back to my normal lifestyle and work on myself, I'm beautiful. I'm so much better than her.”

“You still talk like that.” Chigiri sighed. “Before she went for that Germany scholarship after I tore my ASL, she made me a senbazuru; there's no way you can beat F/N. She wrote an encouraging quote in each and every origami paper. Also, I don't choose people based on looks. When we were going out, I liked you because you were honest. But, you changed. Those who can only look at people's qualifications will attract the same type. You brought this upon yourself. We're leaving.”

“So cute...” returning the reunion table, all the women cooed over Keiichi. “I knew F/N had all of us beat when she left that senbazuru to Chigiri.”

[ipleadbritney]

lovers to enemies, the play

osctober day 20: lovers to enemies

landoscar, vaguely high school au

Oscar's about to say some very bad things any moment now.

“Where the fuck did George get this from?”

Okay, so Oscar might have worded that out a little bit differently. But the sentiment is the same, because yeah, where the fuck?

It's telling that no one berates Lando for his comment. Everyone's fatigued from George's latest script read. The team has separated into little cliques across the auditorium, poring over the new script.

Lando untangles himself from the curtains. Logan hasn't repurposed the curtains yet, but he says they're supposed to be the night sky. All Oscar sees is a lump of blue fabrics. “In the last scene, I'm proposing to Oscar, then in this one, I'm— I'm killing him?”

“Maiming him, actually,” Alex drawls, flipping through the script. “Oscar's getting killed by Carlos in scene 14.”

“So I don't even get to kill Oscar!”

Alex shrugs. “Take it with George.”

Lando huffs, returns to his pile of would-be night sky curtains. He looks like he will take it with George. Luckily, George was called by his student council peers to supervise a fight. Or something. Oscar wasn't really listening; he was preoccupied with understanding how his character turned from engaged to half-dead in between scenes. 

He stares at the tiny scrawls his sisters left in the margins of his old script— the one George called “too raw to be performed” and completely rewrote over the weekend. Heart eyes for Harry! Don't forget! Based on George's pace, Oscar will have to forget everything and restart.

Even Lando's character's name got changed. Logan says it was first Stephenson, but Lando demanded something different and it turned into a whole fight. Oscar wouldn't know. He hadn't been casted yet. Then it was Harry, up until 30 minutes ago. Now it's Orlando.

At least Oscar kept his name. Oscar, played by Oscar Piastri. 

“Do you get it?” 

Oscar considers bailing out. He's only doing this as a favor to Logan, who's only doing set design as a favor to Alex. Mr. Stella would be disappointed, but that might be better than whatever George's thinking of.

“Hey, Oscar!” 

Oscar looks up. Lando's moved closer to him, dragging his island of curtains with him.

“Been trying to talk to you,” Lando pouts. 

Oscar flushes. “Sorry, was just… trying to understand the edits.”

“Yeah, that's what I'm trying to talk to you about.” Lando fully sits in front of Oscar. “Do you get it? The edits?”

He's not entirely sure he got the previous draft. “To be honest?”

“Uh-huh.”

“No, not at all.”

Lando's face brightens up. “Great, because I don't either.”

It's comforting to know Lando, who's much more experienced than him, is just as confused as Oscar. 

“George's my mate,” Lando says, “and he's brilliant, but this is— what's the word? Convulsion?"

“Convoluted.”

“That one, yeah. Convoluted. He went to this workshop with Nico Rosberg and Jenson Button— the actors —and suddenly he thinks he's Shakesy P reborn."

Oscar nods, unable to form a proper answer.

Lando doesn't seem to mind. He continues, “Why do you get to keep your name, anyway? Orlando's horrible. And I know George's into this whole lovers-to-enemies trope, but where's the development? Where's the tension?”

Over Lando's head, Alex gives Oscar a thumbs up, mouthing, now's your chance. Oscar ignores him. 

“What's the point of being—” Lando pauses, checking the script, “—of being fated enemies if I'm not gonna kill you? Orlando and Oscar don't end up together, but they deserve to at least kill each other, right?”

Oscar tries to process the dozen plot points Lando discussed. He fails. Instead, he says, “I see you're excited to kill me.”

“Totally not the point, Osc.”

“Osc?”

“If I keep saying ‘Oscar’, it sounds like I'm asking for your hand in marriage. So, you're Osc.”

“Let's have dinner first before all this marriage talk. I'm free tomorrow. We can also go over the script again. Sounds good to you, Osc?”

That can be arranged, Oscar thinks deliriously.

Wait, what? 

Lando laughs, fond. “You're cute when you blush, Osc. I'll text you the details, okay?”

“Uh, okay.”

Oscar feels like they've skipped a couple steps, a couple scenes— but when Lando Norris is looking at you like that, who would ever say no? 

The moment breaks. George storms inside the auditorium and stalks towards the stage. “I have a new idea!”

Everyone groans. 

[calehenituse-brainrot]

Hiiiii may I request a very obvious and everyone knows it— a simp, pining, very much in love cale? With a dense reader who doesn’t realize they’re making him flustered- dense and oblivious? :>>

Thats all u can choose how u want to write it :))

Oh, ur works are so gooooodd btw :DD

LETS GO BABE !!! AND THANK YOU 🥺🥺💗

im gonna make this short as hell because i need sleep and it's three in the morning. im loopy as hell and couldnt think of how cale as a character would simp and this is the best i could do, im sorry 😭

Alver was a bit elated, to be honest.

After the war, things finally settled down and the lives of the citizens of the Roan Kingdom settled back to normal, or perhaps even better than before.

The talk of heroes was still a warm topic amongst the nobles and commoners, especially about Cale Henituse, the most praised hero of the continent.

Despite the heavy nickname he carries, Cale Henituse continued to be himself — not that Alver was surprised — and still became that bastard guy that Alver trusts.

Cale was chosen to handle the matters a Prime Minister would handle, gaining the position as the proxy of the Prime Minister — a position that was still vacant, of course reserved for Cale himself. But if the man himself knew of it, he'd immediately run away so Alver declared him to just be a proxy to keep the man by his side with the reason that he hasn't found someone fitting for the position yet.

Of course, Cale wasn't given as much as work as an actual Prime Minister are usually given. Alver was kind to his dongsaeng, so he would make sure Cale still has enough rest to slack off for awhile.

During those times, Cale would rarely come by to visit the Royal Palace, which was absolutely understandable. Alver himself would not want to visit his workplace if he's given a day off if he wasn't the Emperor and practically living in his workplace where a political dispute is always happening.

'He's been visiting often, hasn't he?'

Alver glanced up from his paperwork to his dongsaeng who wss reclining on the couch of his study, just sitting there and munching on cookies, this time without Raon.

"Cale..." Alver sets his fountain pen down, looking at Cale with a slight frown on his handsome face. "Is there something wrong?"

"Of course not, Your Highness," Cale answered quickly. "Nothing is wrong."

Alver pursed his lips into a thin line, not believing Cale once a bit because he knows his dongsaeng and while it is probably not something particularly serious from how lax Cale was, Alver was sure it was still something that bothers the redhead.

Alver hummed, taking another sheet of paper from the piles that were on his desk. "Then, is there a reason why you're here?"

"Can I not spend time with my Hyung-nim?" Cale asked with a raised eyebrow as if he was completely serious - Alver knows that he's not because why would Cale be here and spend time with him when he had been whining the other day about how looking at Alver's face was enough to remind him of the stress of work?

Alver shook his head, deciding to just accept Cale Henituse being contradictory as usual. He wonders why he's still so confused when he should know best that Cale Henituse is a walking contradiction and everything he does is confusing.

"Well, if you're staying here, might as well know that Dame [Name] is going to be here again for a private audience."

"From the [Last Name] Household?" Cale questioned and Alver let out a chuckle, "Is there any other one?"

You were a lady from the [Last Name] household, the head family being your single mother, Baroness Charlotte and you were the eldest one out of the three daughters the baroness had. People had originally thought the daughters were going to get married off to older noblemen who were willing to pay off their dowry but due to the Baroness' competence and your clever mind, your sisters have been pried away from the clutches of older noblemen as you were both enough to help your sisters to live.

Your household was compassionate towards orphans and the poor even before the war, providing food and shelter to the ones who needed them. This gives your family very good support from the commoners and loved ones, always being helped by the commoners with the little things. Your family had been very neutral when it comes to siding with the Princes as you all only focused on yourselves and those who are in need.

During the war, Alver had you and not your mother be in charge of sending out help to those who are in need, citizens of the Roan kingdom or not, and to make sure everyone is safe. Due to seeing his thoughtfulness, your family eventually sided with Alver. You had been exceptional in carrying out your duties and earned quite the fame for being the representative of the warm and generous Roan Kingdom, so when you returned, the title Dame was given to you for your services.

Cale would know that, not only because you were an important figure in what would be Roan Kingdom's history regarding politics and international affairs, but you had always coincidentally been wherever he was during the last few years so your title was given pretty quickly and earned much more respect from the nobles.

"Right..." Cale turns away from Alver.

Alver let the conversation to sink into his brain. Why did he have to say that to Cale? The man has been present every time you had to have a private audience with Alver, which had been a frequent event because you were building an establishment to house the homeless.

A knock was heard from the other side of the door of Alver's study.

"Come in."

You stepped into the office, dressed as formally as usual with a white shirt with ruffles and a long, fitted red skirt that flares around your lower calves. There was a folder clutched close to your chest, most likely the cause of your presence here.

"Oh!" You sound elated when you saw Cale in Alver's study but then turned back to look at Alver. "Your Highness, I didn't know you were expecting a guest."

"Dame [Name]," Alver greeted you with a relieved smile. "Please tell me you've brought me good news regarding that housing property case."

Cale stood up from the couch, approaching Alver's desk as well, curious about what good news you were bringing that you were smiling so brightly.

"Of course," you say, closing the door behind you and approaching Alver's desk. "The verdict's out -- the housing property is still within its area and not Viscount Chers'. We sued Viscount Chers for destroying some of the building he claimed to have entered his estate and won, so he has to pay for the cost, damages, and also interest."

Cale has heard of the case before. Viscount Chers had thought the housing property was being built on his land and had ordered his guards to destroy some of the building. With you supervising the project, you immediately sued Viscount Chers for his actions.

"Dame [Name], have I ever told you that I love you?" Alver smiled at you as he received the folder in your hand.

Cale jolted a bit upon hearing Alver's words and glanced at you, seeing your smile as you spoke, "Flattery gets you nowhere, Your Highness."

Alver sighed. "Shame."

Cale wanted to ask since when were you and Alver gotten close enough to be joking around like that. Of course you had been close to the two of them, but it seemed you have gotten more familiar with Alver. Just in time, Alver caught his gaze and raised an eyebrow, confused why Cale looked like he had a lot on his mind.

"How's your family, Dame [Name]?"

"Oh, my, thank you for asking." You cupped your cheek and closed your eyes as you continued, "My mother is well, but my sisters have been going out to parties more than ever. I think they're starting to have people they fancy."

Cale tilted his head, interested. "You seem relaxed about that."

"It's a part of being young," you told him. "Besides, I'm so busy to the point I can't really keep them safe forever. It's like having kids of your own, I guess. What about you, Cale-nim? What would you do with your own kids?"

Cale let his mouth speak before thinking properly, stumbling out his words. "I guess if we have kids -- wait, no, I mean, I already have kids, like Raon, Ohn, and Hong."

Alver watched this with a raised eyebrow, a knowing smirk forming on his lips as he watched his sworn brother trip over his own words and overexplain things. 'Is this why he had been in my office for the last few days?'

"I'm not the type to restrict them too much from experiencing life," Cale told you. "I don't want to be someone they grew to hate because I held them back from living their lives."

You smiled softly at him and Cale grinned, patting himselfon the back for his answer. "That's actually a very good insight for parenting. I might need to remember it once I have kids of my own."

"Aw, look at you both, talking about kids," Alver teased, the shit-eating grin on his face made the alarms in Cale's head come to life.

He caught on.

"Speaking of, Dame [Name], I heard you've been getting many letters regarding marriage," Alver brought up the rumor he had picked up a few weeks ago. He didn't think that such a rumor would end up being something so useful.

"Marriage?" Cale asked, his whole body going tense.

Your cheeks are tinted red as you laughed away Alver's words. "Oh, please, all of them are only sent because they heard you were handing me one of your major projects for developing the kingdom. I'm not dumb enough to see they're simply trying to get to you and Cale-nim."

"You should tell them that you're with my sworn brother so they won't bother you," Alver said, wasting no time to immediately struck that nerve.

You laughed again. "Oh, no, I don't want Cale-nim to get entangled in weird rumors."

"I don't mind."

Cale's cheeks are red when he said that and he wanted to hide from you when you and Alver turned to look at him. He cleared his throat and continued, stuttering a bit when he spoke; "I-I mean, just use my name if they caused you trouble. I don't mind."

"Oh, my, thank you so much, Cale-nim!" You grasped his hand with both hands, the smile on your face so bright that Cale's face immediately darkened with so much blood rushing to his face.

"I might overuse it so much that no one will dare to get close to me," you say, letting go of his hands.

'Oh, please do overuse it,' thought Cale.

"I think that's what my sworn brother would like," Alver added with a grin.

Cale wanted to kick Alver in the shin.

"Do you hate the idea of me with another man that much, Cale-nim?" You asked with a playful grin.

Cale opened his mouth to defend himself but no sound came out when he saw your smile and the red flush of your skin. He closed his mouth and decided to just stand there like an idiot.

"I don't think another man could live up to my standards considering I have been spending so much time with the both of you," you continued shyly. "Perhaps I should linger with the others lest my mother will complain about my being single."

"Or you could just keep spending time with us," Cale prompted, shrugging his shoulders to appear nonchalant. "There's no harm in that. Keep all of the bugging men away."

He doesn't miss the raised blond eyebrow Alver was giving him while you weren't looking.

"Perhaps," you murmured, beginning to walk towards the door. "Talking with the both of you is wonderful but I do have to rush to handle these paperwork."

"What time do you get off work?" Cale questioned quickly.

You stopped, turning to look at the red-head. "Around four. Planning on taking me home and meeting my mother, Cale-nim?"

"She loves the cakes from that dessert shop, right?"

You laughed, shaking your head in disbelief. "Yes, Cale-nim. The strawberry shortcakes are her favorite."

Cale nodded. "Noted."

You bowed to the both of them, excusing yourself out and leaving the two brothers inside the study.

Cale let out a sigh. "Well, I'll be leaving—"

Alver grabbed a discarded paper and crumpled it into a ball, throwing it at Cale who frowns. "What?"

"I cannot believe you came here just so you could ask Dame [Name] on a date."

[wasawattpadkid]

Housewife

Part - 15

Summery: Billy and Stu have been planning these murders for quite some time. Everything is going to plan until you show up. What happens when they meet someone who is just as mentally deluded as they are?

Pairing: Poly! ghostface x fem!reader

Warnings for this series: murder, blood, smut (will be more in depth on smut chapters), power dynamics, a dash of sexism, knives, stalking, perverse behavior, cheating, homophobic slang, word "suicide" is used

Part 1

They said you'd be okay, that everything would be fine. The bubble you so happily lived in for a week burst within seconds of stepping into that building. You drove to the school telling Billy to take his car driving separately with Stu. No one could know about your relationship with the boys. It made you all seem suspicious. Billy and Stu just lost their girlfriends in a brutal attack they wouldn't be holding hands with you. Stu didn't like the fact he couldn't be himself around you. To him, nothing changed. There would be a lack of banter during lunch but that was about it to him.

Billy agreed with you. It wouldn't seem right with all of you laughing and carrying on especially if it's your first day back. You'd be a celebrity to the drama-hungry teenagers. As much as Billy hated that fact there was nothing he could do about it. After a couple of weeks, things would die down and you all could move on. Logistically it made sense. Guy loses his girlfriend and confides in one of the few people who truly understood what he went through. It was trauma bonding he thought.

You picked at your dress sitting in the plastic chair you were assigned. Everyone stared. You didn't look traumatized to them. No, Betty Crocker looked completely fine. Best dressed as always. You heard the whispers, the rumors. The most popular one is that you and Stu were running around behind Tatum. Tatum saw you two at the party going at it and there was a fight. How a cheating scandal got her caught in a doggy door was not explained. In high school, rumors didn't need facts or details. The kids ran with whatever hurt someone the most. Surprisingly Billy Loomis was being made out as a hero. Once again the world thought he could do no wrong.

Keeping your head down and your hopes up you tried to get through the day. The first period blew by without a single thing learned and so the did the second and third. With books in hand, you walked the hallways making your way to fourth period. That's when you saw him. The group of girls some of them cheerleaders crowded around your boyfriend. Stu with a smile answered their questions trying to keep up this sorrowful widowed boyfriend act. Something about the scene made your blood boil. It wasn't cheating, you had told both him and Billy to keep their distance from you. To play their part. It didn't stop you from being upset at him for eating up the attention though.

Stu saw you storm off to your next class. He frowned wondering what asshole made you so upset. Your books hit the desk with a thud making the boy next to your desk jump. "Rough day?" He asked as you threw yourself down in the seat. You wanted to snap at him but hadn't done anything wrong yet. "It hasn't been great." You huffed as the teacher started talking. "What happened?" He whispered. Was he living under a rock for the past three weeks? Every state at this point heard about the gruesome Woodsboro massacre. Your name was in every newspaper in town. If by some chance he didn't know, you didn't want to bring it up. You wrote a note on the inside of your notebook holding it up so he could read. "High school." He read aloud making you close your eyes with a sigh. "Sorry." He whispered still talking.

He stuck out his hand waiting for you to shake it. "My name's Chase." You looked at the teacher with his back turned before you shook his hand. "Y/n." Chase pulled his hand back with a smile. He went to speak before he ripped a piece of paper out of his binder. He passed you a note that read "Nice to meet you." You smiled slipping the note into your pocket as the teacher turned around. The class was much more manageable having someone to talk to. The lunch bell rang as everyone stood up. "Are you grabbing lunch?" Chase asked walking out of the classroom next to you. "I bring my own." The blonde boy followed you to your locker watching you put away your books switching them for your lunch box. "I had one of those in elementary school!"

He looked at your Looney Toons lunchbox with wonder. You laughed remembering how the men you lived with made fun of the bright red box that morning. "My dad got it for me years ago." You headed outside as your conversation with Chase continued. Billy and Stu sat on the water fountain arguing over TV shows. "Fuck off no one watched Home Improvement for the plot. Name one other character besides Pamela Anderson." Stu blanked for a moment making Billy clap his hands together. "Thank you." Billy said having his point proven. That painfully red lunchbox caught his eye and a smile appeared on his face. Immediately disappearing seeing the blonde boy standing next to you.

"Are you sitting with anyone? You could have lunch with me and my girlfriend." He pointed over to a tree on the lawn. "Thank you but I'm eating with some friends of mine." He nodded. "Cool. I'll see you tomorrow then." Chase headed over to the tree seeing his girlfriend waiting for him. You watched the two hug each other getting a little jealous of people you didn't even know. It must be nice to be able to just be normal teenagers. You wouldn't trade what you had with the guys but you did wonder sometimes how much different things would be if all this hadn't happened.

"Hey, Betty!" Stu smiled at you as you sat down next to Billy. "My day could not have been any worse." You groaned opening up your lunch. "You seemed to be having fun with your new friend." Billy sat with his fingers interlocked and his elbows on his knees. It didn't take much to let everyone around him know he was pissed.

"Who Chase? I just met him in 4th period. You don't have to worry he's got a girlfriend." You picked up your sandwich taking a bite. Stu didn't mind you making friends as long as he and Billy were top priority. "That didn't stop you with me." Stu's eyes widened at his partner's words. You sat your food down thinking about what he just said. The sudden hostility wasn't a surprise. "You're saying this was my fault?" The air around you was calm and collected. You couldn't afford to make a scene. "I'm saying a guy having a girlfriend didn't stop you before." Stu nudged Billy's shoulder trying to get him to stop. "Come on man." Stu's neck tensed as he looked around. "There we go. You're blaming someone else for your fuck up. Billy, babe you've got to come up with something more original." You closed your lunch box losing your appetite.

To Billy, your behavior was only trying to piss him off further. It was Stu who saw your hands start to shake. You were strong, both men knew that but only Stu knew how easily you covered up your emotions. "My fuck up?" Billy sat up straight looking at you with bemusement. "You knew I was taken but that didn't keep you from flaunting your shit around in those dresses and writing your number on my hand, did it? You even helped murder my girlfriend just so you wouldn't be left alone. You're the same girl you were in middle school. Just a Stepford wife who will do anything just to have someone care about her." Billy smiled thinking he won the argument.

Your hand collided with Billy's face. The smack made everyone around you three stare at the pathetic spectacle. Stu covered his mouth in shock. Tears threated to fall as you stood up. Billy held his cheek as you walked back into the building. All his words came crashing back down on him. He realized too late that he seriously fucked up. "I didn't mean to say that." Billy said but Stu for the first time wasn't feeding into his bullshit. "You need help man." Stu shook his head as he followed you into the school.

You ran to the nearest bathroom locking yourself in a stall. Your hand shook as it covered your lipstick-stained lips. Small gasps echoed off the bathroom walls as you fought to breathe. How could something go so wrong so fast? Your head spun as Billy's words played over and over. Did he think that poorly of you? The bathroom door opened causing you to pull your legs up. "It's me," Stu spoke making sure no one else was in the bathroom. You struggled to breathe quietly. He could faintly hear the sad whimpers coming from the last stall. "Honey..." He started to talk but the name made you lose all composure you had. Your cries turned into sobs as your lungs fought for air.

"Unlock the door, please. I'll crawl under if I have to but I just bought these pants." He fake whined making a laugh break the chain of tears. He smiled to himself at the noise. You reached up opening the door for him. The girl he'd fallen in love with was curled up shaking like a leaf on a tree. It was a heart-wrenching scene.

Stu held out his arms letting you cry into his chest. "I didn't mean- I- I swear," You sobbed in between words not being about to finish the sentence. "Shhh, it's going to be okay." He repeated rubbing circles on your back. "I didn't mean to hit him." The words were incoherent but Stu understood. He was amused that you were concerned about Billy. He knew the man deserved a lot more than a slap to the face. Hell they both did. After everything he said to you, you were worried about the pain you might've caused. The bathroom door opened once again letting the student walk in. She saw Stu hold your frail body as you continued to cry. Stu opened his eyes wide shaking his head towards the door. "Um, I'll just hold it." The girl said awkwardly as she backed out of the room.

While Stu comforted you Billy sat outside cursing himself for what he'd done. "What happened?" Billy looked up ready to choke out the guy who decided to butt in. "Deputy Riley?" Dewey didn't have time to entertain the kid. "I saw you get hit, what happened?" Billy smiled awkwardly not knowing what to say. "It was just a misunderstanding. I'm not bent out of shape about it." The cop sighed. He knew something wasn't right. Dewey had seen you and the two men leave your house Friday and he saw them again when all of you left for school. He couldn't protect Tatum and that's something he'd hate himself for, for the rest of his life. He still had a chance to protect you.

"I wasn't asking about you. What did you say to her?" Billy was taken aback by the man's tone. "I'm sorry?" Everyone in Woodsboro found it hard to take Dewey seriously. They had met several times when Tatum ran around with the group of friends. Billy never saw him as intimating. He was the kinda guy who if you flicked the cap off his head he'd run to go catch it. Especially now with the cane he was dependent on. If he didn't respect him then he definitely didn't respect him now that he was limping around. Billy still didn't understand how he lived through it all.

"Forget it," Dewey said realizing Billy would be no help. He made his way to the office asking them to call you up. "Dewey you have to be in relation to the student." He frowned hearing that nickname. "It's deputy Riley and this is a police matter." He pointed to his badge and the secretary rolled her eyes. "Y/n L/N to the office."

You heard the call through the loudspeakers. Stu wiped the rest of your tears kissing the tip of your nose. "Don't let him get to you. He says stupid shit all the time. Billy doesn't think sometimes." Stu tried to comfort you but he also had to help out his friend and lover. You sniffled nodding your head. "Is my makeup okay?" The question made Stu laugh. "You look beautiful as always Mrs. Crocker." You half-heartedly smiled not believing the boy. Before you left the restroom you tried your best to fix your appearance in the mirror. "Why do you need to go to the office?" Stu asked hugging you from the back. His head rested on your shoulder looking at your reflection.

"I don't know. Can you put this in my locker for me?" He took the lunch box from you agreeing to put it away. "Thanks." With one more kiss, you ran off to the front of the school. You could see Dewey sitting near the vice principal's office. Cops were never good, especially with everything you've done. "Y/n!" Dewey exclaimed standing up. The secretary looked at him with suspicion as he cleared his throat. "Y/n I need to speak with you for a moment." With a silent nod, you both entered the vice principal's empty office. His arms wrapped around you pulling you into a hug. "I'm glad you're okay." He said thinking of the girl he couldn't save. At the funeral, he had cried on your shoulder. Thanking you for being such a good friend to his daughter. You hadn't even known her a week but that meant the world to Dewey.

The night you came over to stay he couldn't get any sleep because you and Tatum loudly talked about Tom Cruise and sang some songs on the radio. You were probably the last person to see her alive and knowing that meant something to Dewey. "You finally got out of the wheelchair!" You congratulated and he posed. "Physical therapy. They say If I keep it up I might go right back to normal." You smiled happy that things were working out for him. His eyes looked at your side remembering how bad your wound was. "How are you? Did everything heal okay?"

"I'm as good as new. The stitches fell out on their own and it doesn't hurt anymore." You poked the closed wound showing him you were fine. Dewey was glad you were doing alright. "Why did you want to see me?" You wanted to know since you saw him sitting in the office. The man gestured to the chair as he sat down across from you. "I saw what happened outside."

That was just your luck. The one time you publicly assault someone there's a cop nearby. "I feel awful about. I didn't mean to hit him." Dewey held up his hand making your mouth close. "You're not in trouble." He laughed. You could've broken Billy's nose for all he cared.

"Why'd you slap him? I'm not trying to sound creepy but I saw the three of you leave your house this morning when I was getting ready for work." You were great at talking. Your father always said you could "sell a submarine to a seahorse." Years of hearing "you should be a lawyer" definitely changes a person. Lying was second nature but you didn't want to lie to Dewey. Those pitiful puppy dog eyes killed you like a knife to the gut. You knew you didn't have much of a choice. "He said some really hateful shit- oh I'm sorry." You held your hand over your mouth not meaning to curse. He shook his head motioning for you to continue.

"Today has been horrible. Rumors have been going around and I can't go anywhere without someone pointing at me. I keep hearing about that night and it feels like I'm back there again." Your eyes started to water again. Dewey looked around finding a tissue box to give to you. "Thanks." The man smiled. "You're welcome, anyways what were you saying?" The tissues came in use as your continued your story.

"That week after everything I couldn't eat, sleep, or get out of bed. My dad didn't want me getting hurt and it was torture. I had no friends and no one to talk to. Stu called me every night to see how I was doing." You smiled fondly remembering your conversations. "He lost everyone he cared about in one night. Me and Billy were the only people Stu could talk to that wasn't a shrink." The way you talked started to make Dewey feel bad for Stu. "He loved Tatum." You watched as Dewey flinched hearing her name. He grabbed one of the tissues knowing he'd need it at some point.

"I begged my dad to let Stu stay at my house. My dad's a truck driver so he's gone a lot." Dewey looked confused. "Your dad let Stu come over while he was gone?" As long as Dewey was around, Stu and Tatum never got a moment alone. "It may be hard to believe but I am an adult. I can handle myself."

The deputy looked at the desk trying to hold back tears. If he'd had a dollar for every time his little sister said she was old enough to take care of herself he'd be a rich man. You were both stubborn and headstrong. He huffed out a laugh at the irony. "It's a little hard to believe but I'll try my best." Dewey joked making you smile. "Stu spent time at my house while my dad was home. He had to make sure he trusted Stu." Now that made more sense to Dewey.

"His parents were more worried about the damages to their house than their own son." Just saying the words upset you and the deputy could tell. Just from what you've told him so far he could tell you cared about the boy.

"When he showed up at my house that night he hadn't cleaned or even put a bandaid over his stabs. My dad had to teach him how to take care of himself like he was 6 years old." You scoffed looking up at the styrofoam ceiling tiles. "I knew Billy by hanging around the friend group. He's not the easiest to talk to. He took Sydney's death hard. Even Stu couldn't get him to talk." It was utter bullshit but he believed every word of it. Dewey knew about Billy's father's drinking problem. He had pulled him over for DUI once before. The whole town knew his mother left him a year ago. The kid had a tough run. "My dad had left for work and Billy showed up at my door one day. He said he tried to call Stu but he wasn't home so Stu's mom told him he was at my house."

Dewey listened carefully trying to hold off on giving you his brotherly opinion. "Billy had no one. He can be a prick but he's got issues. Billy told me and Stu that he couldn't go home and that school was a nightmare after what happened. I know I should've called my dad but I didn't. I let Billy stay with Stu in the guest room."

You hated the way Dewey looked at you like some dumb little girl. He was probably right but you despised it. "They aren't bad people Dewey." He smoothed his hair down as he leaned back in his chair. "If they're so nice why'd you smack Billy?" You rubbed your face feeling distraught. "I told you what he said was rude. We're all on edge. You don't know how hard it is to go to school and see the seat next to you is empty..." Dewey's gaze dropped as you heard what you said. "I'm so sorry I didn't mean that."

Dewey sniffled trying to compose himself. "I know. I know this is hard for you and it's hard on them too but they don't need to be living with you. They're upset and confused. All of you are looking for something to cling to. It's not healthy." He was sympathetic towards the boys but he didn't trust their intentions with you. You didn't want to hear it. The idea that you were some love-sick girl in need of attention was infuriating. "Is that all?" You asked ready to get up and leave. Dewey didn't want to upset you he wanted to keep you from harm.

"Are you mad at me?" He asked like a child. Once again those eyes made you feel like the bad guy. "No." You groaned. "I'm just upset about everything." Dewey nodded. "I'm not saying you have to stop being friends with them. You need friends, especially at a time like this but they don't need to be at your house." You thought about what he said. Your first day was horrible but you never once stopped to think about how Billy or Stu felt coming back to school. Your whole argument might have just been a build up of emotions.

"Okay. I'll talk to them tonight." Dewey was beyond happy the conversation went the way it did. He used the cane to help himself up. You hugged him again before you opened the door. "Have a good day Dewey." You waved leaving him alone in the office. The deputy truly believed he was doing the right thing.

You knew it was going to be hard to avoid Billy when he sat right next to you in 7th period. You weren't as upset as you were earlier. Just because you had a new perspective on his behavior didn't excuse it. It took you a few seconds to make sure this badass persona you made stayed on while you sat through class. Billy sat in his seat biting his nails waiting for your arrival. You walked in keeping your eyes forward as you took your seat. He waited for you to say something or even look at him but you didn't.

"I'm sorry." He said getting no attention from you. Stu had already jumped Billy's ass for speaking that way to you. He had gotten used to the way Billy had arguments. The moment the boy felt threatened or accused in any way he'd say the thing he knew would hurt his accusor the most. Billy thought if he hurt them first they couldn't hurt him. It usually worked in his favor but today his words hurt him more than they hurt you.

"I didn't mean what I said to you. It was out of line." He whispered still getting no response. "Would it kill you to answer me?" At this, you turned seeing the still prominent red handprint on his face. You almost reached out to touch him. He saw your hand twitch itching to cup his face like you'd done all weekend. That was one thing that really made you feel horrible. After being used all weekend long Billy decided you treat you like this. You cook, you clean, and you moan their names when they ask but it wasn't enough.

"How's your face?" You turned back around and looked at the chalkboard. Billy smiled. You answered him but you had no intention of playing his game. He thought it was attractive. Like he said before you called him out on his bullshit and this was no exception. Although you felt bad for slapping him you hoped he'd remember that pain because it wasn't nearly as bad as the pain he caused you. Billy would find a way to fix his mistake and apologize for what he did. He felt horrible for his actions. He was changing for the better it was just taking a little longer than expected.

"I'm sorry." The note read with a small frowny face next to the words. You sent the note back without giving him a reaction. Billy scribbled something else on the piece of paper before handing it back to you. "I'm an idiot." You nodded to yourself reading his words. "I know." You wrote back as a small smile appeared on your lips. You glanced over at Billy seeing that stupid grin on his face. Both you and the boy struggled not to laugh at each other. How you ended up finding any of this funny was a mystery. Stu's inability to be serious was apparently rubbing off on you.

The class bell rang making everyone run for the doors. "Don't think I'm not still pissed cause I am." Billy pursed his lips in thought. "I can work with that." He shrugged as you both left the classroom. "You know we're like Bonnie and Clyde? When Clyde realizes that he can't go on without Bonnie because she's smarter and a little crazier than he is. He couldn't have done it without her. There's a reason everyone says "Bonnie and Clyde" not the other way around." He raised his eyebrows up at you thinking that was a good response to the current situation. You took his analogy as a compliment and even an apology.

"Didn't Bonnie and Clyde both get shot to pieces?" Billy scratched the back of his neck not thinking that far into the movie. You tried to hide your smile at his embarrassed state. "They did but it was kind of romantic in a way." He tried to spin it so you wouldn't take it as an insult. You both walked outside heading towards your locker. "So you think I'm a Stepford wife huh?" Billy definitely saw some similarities but it'd be relationship suicide if he pointed those out. "No, I just said that shit back there to upset you. I'm an ungrateful psychotic asshole." Once you put away your belongings you slammed your locker making Billy jump. "Ungrateful asshole? Absolutely, but you're not psychotic." You started walking as Billy ran up to you.

"You don't think I'm psychotic?" Billy Loomis was a lot of things in your book but you didn't consider him psychotic. "No. You've got mommy issues, daddy issues, and childhood trauma. Join the club. You and Stu just did something insanely fucking dumb." You made your way to the parking lot dreading the conversation you'd have to have with the boys when you got home. "You think what we did was dumb?" Billy considered the whole plan a work of art. It was something the two boys had spent a whole year planning.

"Incredibly. Now let's not talk about this here." He grabbed your arm pulling you away from everyone else. "Why do you think it's dumb?" He was a little insulted by your criticism. You looked around making sure no one could hear you. "Because you're 18." You thought back to what Dewey had said. "We're just kids. None of us have a job. I don't even know how to do taxes!" You whisper yelled. "If I didn't make a guest appearance you wouldn't have lived let alone gotten away with it all." Billy didn't want to believe it but that night Gale could've easily shot and killed both him and Stu. You saved their asses.

"Thank you." He said catching you off guard. All you heard was I'm sorry but never thank you. "For what?" You asked not knowing what he was getting at. "Thank you for helping us that night. Thank you for taking care of Stu. You took better care of him that night than I ever have." Your eyes looked at his lips as he spoke. The day had thrown way too many emotions at you. You couldn't exactly define what new emotion you were feeling now looking at the man.

"Nope." You said walking away from him before you made a mistake. Billy stood confused. How did that manage to upset you? Quickly you made it to your car seeing none other than Stu leaning on the hood. "What part of stay away from me do you two not get?" Stu watched Billy chase after you. "Did you two kiss and make up?" He asked happy everything was okay again. "Not exactly." You got in your car starting up the engine with a roar. "What did I say wrong?" Billy asked as he tried to catch his breath. Stu jumped off the hood trying to figure out what happened between the last time he saw you and now.

"I'll just talk to you when I get home." You pulled out of the parking space leaving the two men behind. "What the hell did you do now?" Stu held his arms out dramatically. "I apologized." Billy's eyebrows were furrowed as he tried to understand what exactly happened. "I can't deal with another clusterfuck, I really can't." Billy said shaking his head. Stu skipped behind his friend heading towards his car. "Sure ya can buddy. With that mouth you're sure to cause more problems." Stu smiled earning a hit from Billy. Stu groaned in pain holding his arm. "Yeah okay, I deserved that."

(if your name has a line through it Tumblr wouldn't let me tag you)

Part 16

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[raikanata]

Taking Care of a Difficult Child - Mayoi Ayase Feature Scout 2 4* Story

[ Read on my site for a better viewing experience using Ois~su♪ ]

Warning: This is a Fan TL and is not proofread.

Characters: Mayoi, Tomoya, Tatsumi

Season: Winter

Mayoi: So you're asking m-me to take care of Hokuto-senpai?

Tomoya: I'm sorry to ask so suddenly. It turned out that our next location wasn't going to be a day trip.

I can't take Hokuto-senpai to work with me, and the pet shop manager hasn't returned to Japan yet, so...

I'm looking for someone who can take care of him until I return from work...

Mayoi: I see. I understand your situation.

Well... I'm very happy that you came to me for help, but...

I really don't think I'm suited to take care of Hokuto-senpai...!

Even when you first got Hokuto-senpai, I mostly spent time in another room so I wouldn't get in your way...

Um, umm... Can't you ask the people in "ANIMALS" for help, like you did before?

Tomoya: Well, I tried to ask them. But it looks like everyone already has plans on that day.

They can only be back by the evening...

Mayoi: And someone has to take care of Hokuto-senpai until then, right...

(Wh-what should I do? I more or less know how to take care of Hokuto-senpai, since I watched Mashiro-san doing it...)

(Even though I know how to care for him, I don't know if he'll listen to me at all.)

(Nevermind that, if something was to happen to Mashiro-san's precious Hokuto-senpai because I wasn't able to take care of him properly...)

Tomoya: ...I'm sorry, Ayase-senpai. I put you in a difficult position by asking something like this so suddenly.

Mayoi: No, I...

Tomoya: Please forget about it. I'll try and ask some other people as well.

Mayoi: (I've troubled Mashiro-san a lot, not only in the "Dead End Cafe", but also as a roommate...)

(I want to return the favor if I can...)

(After all, he came to me for help. There must have not been anyone else that he could ask.)

I, I got it!

Tomoya: Ayase-senpai...?

Mayoi: If the members of "ANIMALS" can make it towards the night...

I will accept the responsibility, and take care of Hokuto-senpaii!

Time: The next day

Mayoi: Then... Let's get along today, Hokuto-senpai ♪

(Since Tomoya-san is off to work, from here on, I have to take great care of him..!)

Uum, Mashiro-san already fed him, so next up...

Mayoi: Eek!? Hokuto-senpai cried out suddenly...! What's wrong!?

I'msorryI'msorryy, I know someone like me isn't fit to take care of you!

But please, be a little patient with me...!

Ah, where are you going...! Please waaiiit!

Tatsumi: (I'm relieved that my vegetables seem to be growing nicely♪)

(Right. Before I forget, let me send this picture I took to everyone in "Gardenia". Uuh, to attach an image...)

(...Hm? There's a familiar crying sound coming from somewhere.)

(The source of the voice... seems to be Mayoi-san and Tomoya-san's room. That means...)

Mayoi-san, Tomoya-san. It sounds like Hokuto-senpai is crying. Did something happen?

(No answer. I can still hear the crying, but no sound from Mayoi-san or anyone else...)

(I'll have to invite myself in, Mayoi-san!)

Tatsumi: This is!? Mayoi-san, are you okay!?

Mayoi: Uuu...?

Tatsumi: Why did you collapse in the room like this!?

Where is Tomoya-san!? What exactly happened here!?

Mayoi: ...Ah, God must be so merciful as to allow even a person such as myself to receive a final call of fate...

Tatsumi: Please hang on! This isn't a final call of anything!

Mayoi: Uuu... I'm sorry to make you worry like this...

I was so deeply focused on taking good care of Hokuto-senpai, I forgot to take care of myself, even to eat...

But I never thought that I'd pass out... If Tatsumi-san didn't find me, who knows what would have become of me...

Tatsumi: You're exaggarating. However, I'm relieved that you seem better now.

Mayoi: You even made toast for me. Thank you so much, really.

Tatsumi: It's Hokuto-senpai that you should thank. I was alerted to the situation thanks to his cries.

Mayoi: I-is that so. Thank you, Hokuto-sen--

Eek!? Why are you screaming so much? Did, did I do something to offend you...?

Uuu, you really won't listen to me...

What do I do... At this rate, we won't even make it until everyone from "ANIMALS" arrives.

Tatsumi: Please raise your head, Mayoi-san.

Tatsumi: Hokuto-senpai is yelling at me as well, it's not because of you.

I heard from Koga-san that the reason why Tomoya-san started to call him "Hokuto-senpai" was to get him to listen.

He seems to have a bit of a difficult personality, right? We need to get him to let his guard down first.

Mayoi: Let his guard down, huh... But, how...

Tatsumi: That's right. Is there anything that Tomoya-san uses regularly when taking care of him?

Mayoi: Well, there's a blanket on the bed over there, but...

Tatsumi: I heard that having an item around that carries their smell, or their owner's smell, is calming for animals.

Using that, maybe we can try and see whether we can get Hokuto-senpai to lower his guard?

Mayoi: I see...! It's bath time right now, so I'll try to take him to the bathroom with the blanket!

He-here! This way, Hokuto-senpai! It's bath time now♪

Ah, he's walking this way...!

....but, ahh! He completely stopped in his tracks!

Tatsumi: Hm, it's not going all that well.

Mayoi: N-no! When I take a step back, he also takes a step forward...! I just can't get any closer to him!

Tatsumi: That's fine. We can work like this until Koga-san and the others arrive.

Mayoi: Yes! Like this, I'll succeed in taking care of Hokuto-senpai properly ♪

Tatsumi: That's right, keep going, Mayoi-san.

Tomoya: ...Ah. Akehoshi-senpai sent me a text.

"Hokuto-senpai's doing just fine~!", it says.

Hm, there's a picture attached too... This is, Ayase-senpai feeding Hokuto-senpai?

I'm glad that Hokuto-senpai seems to be listening to Ayase-senpai seriously...

I have to thank Ayase-senpai properly. Let's get him a nice souvenir before returning home ♪

Tomoya: ....That aside, why does Ayase-senpai seem to be holding my clothes that should have been in the laundry basket?

[ ☆ ]

[farshootergotme]

Did my ask about Dicks love language get eaten?? I sent an ask a while ago but it hasn't been answered. In case it did: what do you think his love language is? Cause I'm thinking words of affirmation and acts of service :3

Sorry!! I did get the ask. But there's so many others that I still have drafts of that it slipped my mind!

So, Dick's love language:

I'd say I agree with your take, but I'd also add physical touch as one of his ways to show affection. We often see Dick hugging his friends and family— either to greet them or comfort them. He's also one to keep an arm wrapped around others, like I've seen he does with Tim, or Kory. In fact, since we're bringing up Kory, he's shown to be very physically affectionate with his partners. He's the type to keep an arm around their waist, kiss them casually or hold hands. If the other person is comfortable, he won't hesitate on showing this type of affection.

As for acts of service, we know he tends to be a very available person. He helps when he can, he's one call away to anyone who needs him, he's happy to just do anything, not matter how big or small, for the people he loves. He's always offering to listen to anyone who wants to talk (I've seen it so many times I could make a list), he's ready to take on any responsibility that'll keep someone from getting overwhelmed, and that's a way he has of showing he cares. This can of course have it's consequences when he does it in spite of his own well-being, but I won't elaborate on that for the moment.

Now, words of affirmation is definitely another way he shows affection. He praises hard work, gives away compliments when he can and he ensures others know their worth when they're around him. It isn't uncommon for people to feel insecure around him, as he's often put on a pedestal by others; yet he never contributes to these insecurities. We can see it with Roy—who many times has compared himself to Dick—when he tells Dick he's always been jealous of him, that he's wanted to be him, and Dick immediately starts telling Roy that he's good man, even if he's made mistakes. It won't change how kind and caring he is. He doesn't think he's better than Roy or anyone else. He believes in everyone's worth and makes them aware of their value when they present him with these doubts.

One could also make a case for quality time being one of his love languages, but I'd say that even though he enjoys spending time with others, is not often he gets the chance to do it, as his life is very busy. But if he can hang out with the people he cares about, he will. The annual vacations with Wally, patrols with his family, reunions with the Titans, etc. As long as there isn't a world-threatening evil to defeat or a dangerous case to solve, he'll enjoy and look forward to these moments in which he can spend some time with others.

Gifts is the only one I haven't seen much of. I can't confirm nor deny if this is one of his love languages, but I'll say it isn't something he's opposed to.

Overall, Dick Grayson is just a very affectionate person who doesn't shy away from expressing his love for others and caring openly about them. It's one of the reasons he's so loved and trusted. It's very difficult to resist his charm.