#yeah that’s just What He’s Like and you already know by this point

[wcnderlnds]

opposites attract | choi su-bong (thanos)

・❥・ summary: he's chaotic and loud, you're shy and introverted but he can't help but be intrigued by you ・❥・word count: 1.3k ・❥・warnings: mentions of death bc squid game, nam-gyu is mean to reader (im sry), female reader. ・❥・ authors note: i love writing this chaotic man <3

Of course the second game just had to be one where you had to interact with people and find a team. Talking to people, approaching them – it was your worst nightmare. As you stood there in the sea of people all talking and teaming up, you timidly stayed in place, your hands pulled into the sleeves of your jacket giving yourself sweater paws. Since the first game, you had kept to yourself. You had even voted to leave. Why would anyone want to stay in a place like this where people were getting killed for losing children’s games? Unfortunately, the majority had decided to stay even after a heavily heated debate where player 456 had declared he’d been here before. While it was all kicking off, you had hid behind the crowd. Conflict was something you avoided. People were usually something you avoided but when a salesman came up to you with promises of money, how could you say no?

So, as you stood there, too shy to approach, you accepted the fact that you were probably going to die. There was no way you had enough courage in you to find a team. Even if you did, who was there to ask? The only person you might consider approachable was player 456 but he already had a team. There was no point going over there, asking and risking embarrassment as they turned you down. Aimlessly you wandered around the room, fingers toying with the ends of your sleeve – a nervous habit that you’d had since you were a child.

Guess you’d just have to accept your fate. You were either going to get killed because you couldn’t find a team or end up in a team who didn’t want you. Just as you were about to sit down and give up entirely, someone cleared their throat behind you. Spinning around, you came face to face with the infamous player 230. His purple hair was unmistakable, you’d seen him when he’d been fighting some other boy yesterday.

“Senorita, excuse me,” he said, his hands clenching his jacket to his chest. Your eyes landed on his multi-colored nails first before daring to glance up to look at him. Eyes met his dark ones for only a second before looking back down at the ground. He noticed instantly, tilting his head to the side as he looked at you. “Team with us.”

“R-really?” You dared to glance back up. He seemed serious but the look his friend was giving was anything but friendly. It looked like he’d rather team with anyone but you.

“Yeah, really? She’s kind of weird,” Nam-gyu looked you up and down, pulling a face then turning back to Thanos. “We can find someo-”

“Shutup,” he held his hand up in front of his friend’s face, his eyes solely focused on you. “Team with us. I’ll keep you safe.”

It wasn’t like you had any other options so you nodded. Thanos seemed thrilled, throwing his arm around your shoulders in a side hug. Your instinct was telling you not to trust him but at the same time there was something slightly comforting about him. After all, he had ignored his friend to solely talk to you. Why on Earth he was so adamant to have you on his team baffled you but it saved you from getting eliminated… if you made it through the game anyway. 

Turns out it was five mini games in one. As the rest of your team argued about who would do what, Thanos’ eyes were fixated on you who was looking at the ground. There was something about you that intrigued him. The difference in your personalities was more than noticeable. He was loud, crazy and obnoxious while you, on the other hand, seemed shy, insecure and quiet. Maybe it was true. Maybe opposites really did attract because for some reason, he wanted to get to know you more. He actually wanted to know you. That rarely happened with him. Usually he was the type of guy to get a crush, fuck and then move on to the next one. It was rare for ‘Mr One Night Stand’ to really want to get to know someone. To be honest, he wasn’t sure he liked the feeling. The pounding in his chest as he tried to examine you with his eyes. It was impossible to really get a good read on you.

“And, the loser over there can do Gonggi,” Nam-gyu’s voice echoed through your ears. Panic struck, you leaned forward, speaking before you even thought about it.

“I-I don’t know how to play Gonggi,” you mumbled.

“Better learn quickly then, huh?” Nam-gyu smiled fake-sweetly at you.

“Hey, stop it,” Thanos stopped his silent beat boxing to chime in, leaning forward to glare at his friend. “Leave her alone… What are you good at?”

“I can do spinning top. I played it a lot with my friends…” you tried to speak with a bit more confidence, a pink hue tinting your cheeks. Thanos noticed, grinning at you.

“Spinning top for you then. You’re cute, by the way,” he winked, causing your cheeks to only redden more.

Somehow, someway, the team had managed to survive. A lot of teams seemed to struggle with Spinning Top but you had got it the first try – Thanos almost blowing out your eardrums with the loud cheer of celebration when you did. Now, back in the main room, you were sat with the team. If it was up to you, you would have gone to sit by yourself but Thanos had insisted you sit with them. It seemed like he wanted to keep you around. It wouldn’t be too bad to have some friends, right? You sat beside Thanos, a space between you. While he was in a world of his own, DJing some invisible show in his head by the looks of his hand motions, the rest of the team were arguing. Your knees were pulled up to your chest, chin resting on them.

Watching everyone talk with each other so easily – even if it was arguing – made you feel slightly jealous that you couldn’t. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to because you did but the mere thought of striking up a conversation with anyone brought you too much anxiety. It was just better to keep to yourself. If you had to be the weird, quiet girl then so be it.

“They’re idiots,” the deep voice beside you said. Turning to look, you’d noticed Thanos had closed the distance between you both, his shoulder touching yours now. “You good?”

“Uh, yeah, thanks,” you smiled, tucking a stray piece of your hair behind your ear. “Thanks for letting me team with you.”

“No problem, Senorita. Told you I’d keep you safe, didn’t I?” His toothy grin made your heart skip a beat. Oh boy. That was the last thing you needed.

“Y-yeah,” you laughed, tearing your eyes away from him yet again.

This time, his finger gently reached out, tilting your chin to look at him. His eyes pierced yours, a look of intrigue on his face. “You have pretty eyes. It’s a shame you think the floor deserves to see them more than me.” He leaned in a little closer, his hot breath fanning against your face. Being close to someone wasn’t new for you. It was something that didn’t happen often but you’d had your fair share of encounters with people. “Meant it when I said you were cute, babygirl. Stick with me through these games and when we survive, let me take you out for a drink. Maybe I can get more than a few words at a time out of you.”

Once again, he winked at you, removing his finger from your chin and turning his attention to the argument going on in front of him. Meanwhile you were in a daze, your heart beating against your chest so much you were sure it was about to beat out of your ribcage. Yeah, this man was definitely going to be trouble.

taglist: @angelofbooksworld @ldydeath @taivantaylor @sherlocke3d @djarindroid @justsisse @sassyyoyo @lillyysgirlblog @mysatnin @basquiat-top @urmomsg1rlfreind

[marshmallowwitharubberband]

No, but fr, as a professor I would rather have handcrafted bullshit bc at least it has soul. And because I have seen students fail at chat gpt and that is somehow more insulting to receive than a half-assed work.

Case in point (keep in mind it's college students):

For video editing class, I gave my students a list of music videos from random artists from other countries (because I like to encourage the younglings to expand their horizons beyond their comfort zone and appreciate the beauty of variety). The assignment was to pick a video, watch it, then write a list of effects or transitions that caught their attention and describe what tools or techniques they could use to emulate them. Then, during class they would have to do just that: emulate the effects to the best of their ability (this was near the end of the semester so they had some knowledge of the software already).

It was supposed to look something like "1:03 minutes, the transition is fast and looks dynamic. It could be done with masking and motion tracking" I gave them examples and guided a practice round in class.

Enter Jimmy, Timmy and Greg.

Jimmy submitted a poorly-written work; very disorganized notes, only chose one effect to write about and his answer to how he'd recreate it was "search for tutorial". I gave him an extension and the chance to redo it in class. He managed to find the tutorials he needed and completed the work more or less successfully (but complaining the whole time).

Timmy submitted something that read like AI (idk how to describe it but it has a distinctive writing voice/style) that was kind of a "making of..." description of the effects. But evidently he didn't even read it bc he couldn't do anything in class since he didn't even watch the video nor knew what effects he was aiming for. I sat with him to actually watch the thing so he could at least know the expected result. I gave him an extension and he did reasonably ok but needed a lot of prodding. He failed the related exam later on.

Greg... oh my god, Greg. His work was also very obviously AI generated. It contained:

- the dictionary definition of the artist's name, not of the artist, just what the word meant.

- the definition of random editing tools like what is blur, what is masking, etc.

- the definition of video editing.

- a wildly inaccurate "biography" of the artist.

I was annoyed because this kid could not even write a dang prompt to at least get more decent results. But I had to be fair. I gave him the extension, he had questions, I answered them, re-explained the whole assignment. He redid and resubmitted... the exact same work. He just broke up some paragraphs to add random timestamps. That didn't even match the video, wdym 4:05, the MV is less than three minutes long!

I failed him on the spot.

All other students managed to follow the instructions just fine, with varying degrees of quality.

So, yeah, as a professor, AI generated works denote you don't even care enough about the class to fail by yourself. But eh, in the end it's YOUR money that's going down the drain when you graduate knowing nothing. (AI can be a very good tool if used right, though. It's just that so far I haven't seen it used right).

here you go professor. several pages of home brewed bullshit. as opposed to the chatgpt-brewed bullshit you're used to these days. i hope u enjoy it i worked very hard on it ❤️

[star-suh]

Happy-ly Ever After: The Spa

Ricky Shen x Male Reader

an: last part of the happy spa trilogy, also i became lazier so i won't be writing content warnings anymore 😭

—

yn hasn’t had sex for a long time due to university assignments so when the opportunity appears, he takes it but first he has to get ready for the occasion. he decides to visit a famous spa that is said to have the most pretty and gorgeous people in the world. “i have to make sure if that’s true” he mutters while locking the front door.

the bell on the door rings, alerting the receptionist that someone just arrived, “hey hello, my name is matthew, how can i help you today?”. “hello, i want a massage and some uhmm… depilation.. y-you know where” yn says embarrassed. matthew lets out an almost quiet laugh, “sure buddy, let me guide you to the locker rooms so you can change your clothes and then go to this room” he hands him a card with a number on it, “enjoy” he smiles at yn.

yn nervously awaits for the person who’s gonna service him when the door creaks open, revealing a tall and handsome guy. “good afternoon, my name is ricky and i’m gonna be in charge of you for the rest of the day” he confidently says, “so a massage and a depilation.. wax?” his question being responded with a little yeah from the client.

the massage started, ricky made sure to put enough body oil so the movements of his hands were smooth, pressing the right pressure spots, relieving yn from the stress.

“how are you feeling mr. ln?” the masseur’s hands kneading the skin as if it were bread dough, moans coming out of his mouth “it feels so good mr.” he praises “the best feeling. i feel as if i’m on top of a fluffy cloud”. yn completely relaxes on the mattress, his body glistening with the yellow and white lights around the room. “okay, time for waxing” unexpectedly ricky slaps yn’s ass making him gasp in surprise, “what?” he says looking around. “you asked for it, ricky pulls out the card matthew gave yn before, a massage and a depilation you know where” ricky hides the card on his pant’s pocket, “the wax is ready man, so sit on all fours or whatever position your comfortable, what matters is that your ass is wide open for me to do a good job”. ‘why’s he smiling like that? yn thought, ‘he seems like he enjoys this type of work’. yn obeys but he just sits with his legs on each side of his body, near the mattress edge, his ass wide open and hole visible for ricky who makes a wow with his mouth and bit his lower lip.

he starts spreading the wax with a device that leaves a thin film of it on yn’s ass, ricky just needs to peel it and ta-dah the hair is gone. he continues repeating the process all over yn’s ass until it’s completely smooth, “something special for tonight?” ricky asks, sensing the reason for the waxing. but yn was too embarrassed to answer, after all he has his ass in front of an unknown’s face. “tough crowd huh” ricky murmurs, continuing doing his job. yn hears when ricky puts the device on a table near them and think he can go already but ricky’s hand grips his left ass cheek hard stopping him from stepping outside the massage bed, “i’m not done with you mr., it’s the turn of your hole to be waxed” despite his smile yn could sense ricky was getting annoyed by his actions. ‘don’t worry yn this is just the last part’ he says in his mind and as if ricky had read his thoughts he mutters an ‘it’s not the last part’.

yn’s hole clenches on air while being smeared on the wax, this time ricky was using his hands, with gloves of course, he then peels the film of wax in little chunks until it’s gone completely, once again repeating the process until all is clean and smooth. at this point yn has given up, he was now face down ass up, his hole clenching right in front of ricky’s face, “look who’s being cute all of a sudden” ricky pours some cream on his hand and smears it on yn’s ass, he starts to pretend as if the hole was yn’s face, talking to it. sometimes his hand slips right above the pulsating hole disguised as accidental touches, “sorry” he mutters everytime it happens. yn was getting aroused, the same as ricky, who’s bulge started to appear on his silky pants. yn’s dick gets hard, the mere thought of someone as hot as ricky doing those types of things to his hole clouds his mind. ricky blows air from his mouth directly to yn’s hole, it clenches on it. as if he was being hypnotized ricky slowly moves his face closer against the other, whispering sweet nothings to it, his mouth opens, it was watering, eager to taste that ring of muscles. finally his wet tongue mets with it, he licks a strip from his balls to his hole, “fuck” he couldn’t hold it anymore, latching his lips on the needy hole, draggin’ his tongue around and inside it, ravaging it completely. “mr. rickyyy” yn tried to push his head away from him but to no avail, ricky just replied with a moan indicating that he wasn’t planning to stop. the masseur’s hand grabs yn’s dick and closes around it, moving it up and down, “look at you, already dripping” ricky mentions when he touches yn’s wet tip, precum dripping of it, he use it to slick the shaft and make it more pleasurable for yn.

yn leaned on his back and holded his legs, knees near his chest so ricky could keep doing wonders with his tongue, “why are y-you doing this?” yn asked, curiosity getting the best out of him but ricky responded with a simple “it’s my job, i have to make sure i did it well. not a single hair so i think i did a good one” he winked and resumed his rimjob.

minutes passed and ricky has still his face buried on yn’s ass but this time he was jerking off too, pulling his pants and underwear down enough to pull his dick out. “just put it in already, please” yn begged, he wanted to feel something bigger and thicker, ricky’s tongue was not enough for him. “what about your date from later at night?. thought you were doing this for them?”, ricky rubs the puckered hole with two fingers then introduces them and moves them in a scissors motion to open it more, “i don’t care just do it” tears threatening to spill, overwhelming feelings taking over him. “say less”.

ricky’s thick cock pummels its way, its big head opening his walls so deliciously that yn moaned loudly, asking for more, the veins around the cock scrapping yn’s walls so damn good. “ufff tonight’s situation gonna eat good” ricky jokes, positioning his hands on yn’s shoulders to pound harder. the bed moved in a rhythmic pace, squeaking caused by every thrust. “you fuck so good” yn praises, driving ricky even wilder. he discards hispants completely, his bottom half completely naked. he lies down on the bed too and position yn on his side, slapping his shaft on the other’s back entrance, “ready?” he asks, “yeah” yn responds quickly. “i’m not gonna hold back” ricky adds, “i don’t give a fuck”.

his balls slapped against the other while still shoving his dick, “i’m not gonna stop until your ass remembers the shape of my dick and would only accept mine, no one else's. sorry for your situationship”. ricky bites yn’s ear and then lick the back of his neck. yn manages to be on top this time to ride his masseur, with his hands on each side of his hips, guiding him, “you like it mr. ricky?” he sits hard “am i your best client yet” yn says pouting, with doe like eyes that immediately rolled back when ricky hit on his sweet spot, his tip scraping around it, the pleasure expanding throughout his whole body. ricky likes how feisty yn tried to be, “yes mr. ln you’re the best cockwhore i’ve ever had”. yn stops the riding session, he just sits with ricky’s dick still inside, he starts to move his hips and hump on him with all the strength left on him, this caused his hole and therefore insides to contract so tight that ricky came instantly. yn’s inside being flooded by ricky’s sticky spooge, the liquid went down ricky’s shaft and balls, dripping on the mattress, ricky gasped for air, still holding yn’s hips while riding his high, “fuck this was indeed the best fuck. i’ve never had someone to make me cum so easy” ricky praises, he stands up to clean himself and then yn.

“thank you for today, hope you enjoyed it fully” ricky thanked yn while waving goodbye, “hope i can have you here some time soon”, yn turns around and smirks at him. trust, this is not gonna be yn’s last visit to the spa, the happy ending spa.

[nerdlvr]

"get up."

you looked up towards jungwoo, arms crossed as he turned his head towards the door, "prince charming is here to save you."

he actually came?

"my sweet girl what has he done to you!" jisung rushed towards you, falling to his knees in front of you, large hands grabbing the air. you slapped his hands away, embarrassed as jungwoo snorted behind him.

"don't touch me boy- i swear-" you pointed your finger at jungwoo, "you better not mention this to the others!"

he raised his hands defensively, "mention what? i haven't seen anything!"

you rolled your eyes, dusting your (wonbin's) pants before getting up from the floor. your eyes followed jungwoo's, landing on the kneeling boy in front of you, his arms coming up to wrap around your legs.

"get-" you grabbed his arms, pulling him away from you, "get- get up jisung, stop embarrassing me!"

jungwoo stiffled his laugher, his hand coming up to hide his mouth, "that's how you treat your boyfriend y/n? no wonder yuta-"

now jisung was up, standing at a whopping 6 feet looking towards a slightly shorter jungwoo, "that's enough, you can go now, i got it from here. thanks." his large hand patted jungwoo's shoulder, urging him to leave.

you watched as jungwoo's eyebrows raised, a slight smirk on his lips as his eyes landed on yours, "yeah- yeah i'll leave you two then."

jisung turned back to you, a gentle hand coming to rub your arm (which you slapped away) an annoyed sigh leaving his lips.

you couldn't help but roll your eyes as jungwoo poked out from behind jisung, a huge grin on his face as he held up both his thumbs. idiot.

.

"you can leave now you know. jungwoos gone." you pointed to the door, turning away to go back to a well deserved rot sesh.

"woah woah woah, i saved you and now you're telling me to leave?"

"yes." he gawked at your answer, mouth hanging open in disbelief, "are you serious?"

you gave him a sharp nod, hands moving in a shoo motion, "go on."

but he remained unmoved, eyes squinting slightly as he stared at you, "is it cause you don't want me in your room? me? your beloved boyfriend?"

you let out a loud sigh rolling your eyes at the tall boy, "what do you actually want jisung?"

his smile grew, a finger coming up to press against his chin, "how about a kiss?"

"no."

"just a peck?"

you turned, walking to your room, choosing to ignore the fact that he was following behind you, "give me 50 bucks and i'll kiss you right now."

you stopped at your doorway, hands spreading to block his entry, "50 bucks or no kiss."

he scrambled to dig into his pocket, pulling out any change he had. your eyes landed on his spread out hand, "i have 20 bucks and a blue jolly rancher, deal or no deal?"

you snatched the money from his hands, not forgetting to pick up the candy as well, "no deal, buttt- i haven't eaten dinner. i assume you have a card- no?"

you bit your lip to hide your smile, his eyes lighting up at your response "yes!" he relaxed his face, trying to look cool, "i mean- yeah, yeah i do. we can go on a date i guess."

he smiled to himself as you turned around, heading to your closet. you turned around to face him again, his smile dropping as his eyes met yours.

"help me pick out an outfit?" you raised an eyebrow.

"does that mean i get to see you naked?"

"no."

he nodded his head, already expecting that answer, "fair enough, but that doesn't mean i won't try to sneak a peek!"

.

"that's the one."

you watched as jisung stood up from his spot on your bed, hands reaching out to hold your waist.

"look at you."

your eyes met his through your mirror, a silly smile on both your faces, "look at yourself y/n not me."

you shifted your gaze, a soft blush on your cheeks as your eyes landed on his firm grip, large hands placed right on your waist, his fingertips rubbing gently at the lacy fabric.

"you like it?" you watched him through the mirror, his gaze burning your skin.

"i'm actually super hard right now just looking at you."

he laughed as you turned to hit him, eyes turned upward to avoid contact with his bulge.

"you make it so difficult to be nice to you park jisung."

ᡣ𐭩 ｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅rent-a-girlfriend.com ~ 13. 🩷

previous ~ masterlist ~ next

notes : at the beginning jungwoo was punishing you but having you kneel on the floor with your arms raised over your head! i needed a short story to kinda build the subtle connection. we're going from disgust to a bit of acceptance and friendly banter.

taglist : @bunniin , @neverbeurs , @fakeuwus , @natokkiz , @222brainrot , @mystverse , @sk8mrk , @ksywoo , @snowyseungs , @nislost , @nosungluv , @jae-n0 , @peterm4rker , @livingdoll-hara , @doejaejung , @tommina , @413ktz , @aerivrs , @cyjzzl , @dolleyedgirl , @nneteyamss , @mrkleelvr , @4chensungs , @nctrawberries , @multifandomania , @catpjimin , @dudekiss3r , @yuujiswrld , @slayhaechan , @catdonut657 , @kodasity , @ohwowzersthatscool , @byeonwooseokabs , @hyucksunset , @rksbae , @hyucktion , @lionzyon , @baobeii55 , @jakesbubu , @axo-l0tl , @sunghoonsgfreal , @strawberrysavi , @hyunjungjae , @kookssecret , @babrieeee , @defzcl , @sikuthealien

[wannabepoeticischiya]

all the colors of the sun

ao3: all the colors of the sun pairing: karasu tabito x f! reader genre: romance wc: 17.6k status: one shot

You don't need to wish for love or for someone to love you. Because… sometimes, you just never realize that you've had them all along.

And if he were to put it into words, he'd tell her: “And ya don’t need to wish for him to love you…”

Because he already does.

“No way in hell did Karasu get a girlfriend before me!” Otoya protests, voice laced with all the stinging sensations of envy as he, Isagi, and Yukimiya huddled together like the Avengers if the superhero group was the type to peek at people from around a corner.

The object of their interest? None other than the assassin, Karasu Tabito—talking animatedly to a girl all the while looking like he just won the World Cup, saved the universe, and had gotten married all in the same day. His smile was very annoyingly wide, and his laughter sounded so happy that it scratched the ears of his very envious teammates.

"Maybe he’s just being nice to a fan," Yukimiya offered, though the model himself couldn’t stop the bitterness from tagging along with his words. He swears he could almost taste it.

“Karasu?” Otoya questions incredulously.

“Nice?” Isagi follows.

“Ha! The only way Karasu and nice belong in the same sentence is if the word isn’t is in between,” Chigiri remarks, arms crossed as he leaned against the opposite wall, silently judging his teammates—who were very keenly drawing nearer and nearer to the borders of looking like electric posts if they could pull the We Bare bears pose—from their spot in the corner.

“Why’re you guys talking about him anyway?” Chigiri asks, sipping casually on his energy drink.

“Look at him, Chigirin!” Bachira’s head popped up from behind the trio like a Whac-A-Mole, pointing dramatically at the crow in the crowd. “Karasu’s talking to a girl!”

Chigiri chokes mid-sip, spilling his drink all over his hands and on the floor from absolute mortification. “He’s what?!”

"Whatcha guys yellin' for? Yer gonna get us in trouble if ya don't keep it down—"

“Hiori! Look at your childhood friend!” Isagi whispers in alarm, as if the scene he’s been watching unfold before his eyes for the last five minutes is nothing but fever-induced hallucinations.

"He ain't my childhood friend,” Hiori mutters, rubbing the back of his neck in annoyance that he had to clear this up, again. “If anythin’ he’s—”

Tired of Hiori’s stalling, Isagi shoved the Ice Man’s face in the direction of their crime-committing teammate.

“[Name]-san?” Hiori mumbles in surprise, blinking repeatedly as if the scene before him was something out of this world. Well, he should’ve expected this considering… well, considering them.

“You know her, Hiorin?” Bachira pokes his head from Yukimiya's side, curiosity all over his honey-colored eyes.

“Yeah,” he breathes, still struggling to process the image, “She’s…” his words faded to a dull echo. It’s only been a few months since he last saw them together. There wasn’t anything unusual, same old Karasu, same old [Name], still laughing and talking like they were the only two people in the world. They’ve always looked like that. Always looked at each other like that. So how come seeing them now… how did they look so different? Almost as if they were…

“In love.” He whispers.

“What?!” The peepers—minus Yukimiya—screamed in unison, garnering a few odd stares from the people walking by.

“What I meant,” Hiori clears his throat, “is that she’s Karasu-kun’s childhood friend.” Hiori smiles, “She’s also ridiculously strong.”

“Can’t be stronger than Karasu, right?” Otoya asks, his eyes giving way to the bubbles of whatever evil plan it was that he was concocting in his head.

“Oh, I ain’t sure.” Hiori shrugs, “But from all the fights they had that I can remember, she never lost a single one."

Hiori caught sight of the smirk on Otoya’s face growing wider, and if he were to push it, Hiori was certain that Otoya would was going to tear his jaw open from it.

Amused by the ninja’s shamelessness, Hiori imparts a very much needed word of wisdom.

"If she and Karasu-kun were to fight for real right now, she would still win.” He laughs, not quite liking the sudden image of Karasu’s bruised face from long ago showing up in his head, “and that's with Karasu-kun burnin' all the candles at every end."

Otoya’s suggestive expression wilted like a rose at the new information, stepping behind Yukimiya all of a sudden.

Wanting to see how far he could go, Hiori hummed and pretended to think deeper, “I think she does kickboxing—or was it karate? Well, doesn’t matter. Yer screwed either way, Otoya-kun.” Hiori pats Otoya’s shoulder as he walks past the group of terrified teenagers, “Best not to try!” He calls, waving his hand in farewell.

As he walks away, snickering softly to himself as he noted the look from his teammate’s faces. He remembers the day those two met, a moment in time so engraved in his head it felt kind of strange to see how much had changed.

Or maybe… just maybe, nothing’s changed at all.

---

"Didja lose your partner?"

A younger [Name] stood in front of a boy crouched by the bike rack near the curve, popsicle in hand as the other scratched the back of her neck—craning her head to see if anyone was around the corner.

[Name] tried to catch his eye, shamelessly offering the half-eaten treat to him when he ignored her question.

Met by his silence, she steps closer to him, setting her bag next to his yellow hat as she crouches down to try and get a glimpse of his face.

"Oi," she calls again, waving a sticky hand in front of his face. "Can ya hear me?"

The boy hides his face further in the comforts of his arms, swatting away her hand without a word.

[Name] furrowed her brows at his dismissal, pouting at him even if he couldn’t see.

What’s this kid’s deal? She thought.

Just as she was about to get back up and walk away, she heard him—albeit very soft that could be mistaken for the wind—whimper.

He wasn’t upset at her or anything, but he just didn’t know what else to do at the moment, so he couldn’t help but try to push her away. This was the last thing he wanted… for someone to see just how weak he was. He didn’t get partnered up with the girl he wanted, so what? It wasn’t like it was the end of the world. He thought it was the stupidest reason in the world. It shouldn’t be something to be so upset over.

But he was.

To him… getting partnered up with Marisa really, really mattered.

Pained by the sudden reminder, he felt the back of his eyes tingle, silver brimming his downcast gaze.

"H-Hey, c'mon now, don't cry..." [Name] panics, dropping down to eye level with him once more at sight of the tears streaming down his very sad face. Mindlessly, she thrusts the melting, half-eaten popsicle to him like an offering, like the spirit of summer could magically solve all his problems.   

She pats his back awkwardly, "I lost my partner, too." She blurted, her voice colored in cheer and laughter, as though the matter of losing a buddy on a school field trip was a funny story they can share for life.   

The reason for Karasu's sadness was a very different matter altogether, still, he appreciated his classmate's efforts. Her kind, and frantic energy pulling at the corners of his lips even by the smallest centimeter.   

"Hio-kun prolly made it back to the teacher, maybe your partner is there!" She smiles at him, like there was no surer thing in the whole wide world aside from her optimism. She extended a hand for him to take. "Let's go back, Nakimushi-san!"

"I'm not a crybaby!" He snaps, finally looking—more like glaring—at her through watery eyes, "And the name's Karasu. Karasu Tabito!" (believe it!)

"Okay, Tabito-chan!" She beams, one so bright it made him squint.

Before he could reprimand her for her actions, she plopped the matching yellow hat back onto his head, the brim settling crookedly as her sticky fingers lingered for a second too long. She adjusted the straps of her red backpack and looked to him in anticipation.

"Don't go calling me by my first name like we're close or somethin’!" He yells, flustered at the thought of a girl being all chummy with him.

"Sure thing, Tabito-chan!" She replies, completely ignoring his protests as she drags him by his hand and led him back to rest of the group.

---

That was how they became friends.

According to the testimony of Hiori Yo—who was originally [Name]’s assigned partner—she was seen ditching him half-way when caught sight of an ice cream store, and somewhere along the way got wired with a crying kid on the sidewalk.

From that day onward, they just sort of… stuck together

---

At eight years old, [Name] discovered Karasu’s secret, as much as a secret it could be but… what she unveiled was his crush on Marisa—the resident cutest kid in class, according to him.

It wasn’t intentional. [Name] blamed it on Karasu. It was completely by accident.

She went to his house one Saturday morning to return the ball he had left by mistake last night when he came over her house to play.

His older sister, Tsubame-nee-chan, who looked just like Tabito but with longer hair and a kinder attitude, had told [Name] that her best friend was upstairs. She was so used to having the girl come over that it started to become weird when there wasn’t any laughter and banter in the house.

“Tabito’s upstairs,” Tsubame waves from the living room, laughing at something her friends said. “Ya can just grab him yerself!”

Muttering a faint, ‘Pardon the intrusion’, taking off her slippers, and a ‘Thanks, Tsubame-nee-chan!’, [Name] climbed the steps, no limit to her usual buzzing energy.

But the second her foot closed the last step of the stairs, she halted.

[Name] caught sight of Karasu at the far end of the corridor, standing in front of the full-length mirror he probably used more than his sister—or anyone in his house for that matter. The boy hadn’t taken note of her presence just yet, seemingly immersed at whatever it was that he was doing that merited his undivided attention and spatial awareness.

She tilted her head in curiosity and breathed to call out to him.

And with little to no warning at all, his voice broke through like thunderstorms.

"Marisa, I like you," he tells his reflection, flushing red from the weight of his own words.

[Name] gasped, her jaw dropping to the center of the earth—the surprise simmering in her soul that it had frozen her over where she stood, causing her grip on the soccer ball to loosen. The ball slipped from her hands, descending step by step down the stairs, sounding like a drumroll for impending doom.

The sound had Karasu whipping his head in her direction looking like roadkill. Blushing, in the nicest word; lovesick in the worst.

"YOU LIKE MARI—!"

Karasu, in sheer mortification, bolted toward her, yanking her away from the stairs and slapped a sweaty palm over her mouth before she could blacken his name in his own household. His heart racing faster than when he stayed past curfew and had to go home knowing his mom was waiting for him by the door with a slipper.

“Shaddap!” He hisses, voice barely above a whisper as he glances around like a criminal.

Meanwhile, downstairs, in the living room, Tsubame glanced at the direction of the stairs—noting the series of thuds and muffled and restrained yelling—raising a questioning brow as it had her pausing mid-laugh. A minute of silence ensued after that, so she immediately concludes that it was probably nothing… hopefully.

Those two were always loud and rough and chaotic, there existed no day where she could describe them with just two of those adjectives, and frankly, it would never work anyway. Where there was loudness there was chaos, and all the other matches.

Besides, her brother was a soccer player, and [Name] was a karate practitioner.

Totally normal.

Back upstairs, Karasu dragged [Name] into his room like she was a dead body he was desperately trying to hide.

When he was sure that the door was slammed shut and that no other human on earth could possibly lo and behold his newly discovered secret, only then did he let her go. He knew full well that as he stands there all red-faced, heart pumping, colored in all the shades of horror for his impending fate, shoulders heaving as he struggles to regain his composure… Karasu Tabito was never gonna hear the end of her teasing.

And it began the moment [Name] stood up, dusted the dust from her clothes, and looked at him with the most skin-crawling smile to ever graze humanity. “Sooo… Marisa, ey?” She jabs his side with her elbow, her smile growing impossibly wider.

Karasu groans, sliding dramatically against the door like a telenovela star as he hides his face behind his hands. “Yer absolutely not allowed to tell anyone!” he commands, glaring at her from where he was, trying to act all big and scary but failing in [Name]’s eyes since he was far too red-faced like a stoplight to be considered a threat. “’Specially not my sister! She’d tease me and I’d be forced to hit the grave early.”

"Don'tcha worry, Tabito-likes-Marisa, yer secret’s safe with me!" [Name] salutes dramatically, a certain twinkle in her eyes as if his wishes were a heaven-sent mission to their strongest soldier.

Karasu let out an exasperated sigh, ruffling his hair in frustration—already beginning to count the days that remained of his secret.

"So...” She started, leaning closer to him with a mischievous smile, “Whatcha like about her, Tabi-chan?" [Name] teases, wiggling her eyebrows while she was at it, poking his reddening cheeks at the reminder of the pretty girl from class.

His face erupted in all the shades of red—if it was even possible. [Name]’s prodding wasn’t helping his racing heart one bit, in fact, it only made him feel like his own organ was trying to break down his rib cage and run as far away as possible.

He wasn’t getting away from this—not unscathed—so might as well fess up.

"Well, she's really cute." Karasu admits, a tiny, soft smile painting his expression.

[Name] nodded enthusiastically, leaning closer in anticipation. But Karasu remained silent, he was just smiling there like an idiot staring off into yonder.

"What?" he asks as he took note of the unimpressed expression on his friend's face.

"Ya mean that's it?" she deadpans, all the happiness draining from her face at the sight of Karasu's lenient expression speaking volumes far more than when he spoke the words—"Should there be more?"

"Oi! I always thought ya weren't the sharpest tool in the shed, but I didn't know yer stupidity was this high—OW!" [Name] yelps as Karasu karate-chopped the top of her head, effectively drawing the curtains to her insults to a close.

[Name] glared at him, eyes reflecting the thought: you dare use my own spells against me?

"You don't get a say!” He protests, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. “Ya never liked anyone but the neighborhood cat!"

Because for the life of him, no matter how many kanji he learned to read or write, he was certain he couldn't convey a hundredth of Marisa's beautiful qualities.

"Liking someone is dumb!" she shot back, wincing as she rubs the top of her head to ease the ache. She was certain she'd develop all the necessary dodging maneuvers from her friend alone.

"Of course, ya'd think that you gorilla." Karasu laughs as he leaned over to pull at [Name]'s cheeks just to annoy her further.

The small conversation was something only the two of them shared. Lost under the stars of all their laughter and the echoes of their smiles… forever just theirs to keep.

Karasu never confessed his feelings for Marisa in the entirety of elementary school, or ever for that matter. And [Name], surprisingly true to her word, kept his secret well, a secret.

That’s why it came as a surprise.

It was the day of their elementary school graduation.

Tabito and [Name] stood next to each other as his sister took their photo, saying that they were one step closer to ‘reaching the age of maturity’ as she had so cryptically put it. Because what on earth could she mean by that? They were plenty mature. It didn’t help that she was smiling weirdly at the two of them while she was at it.

But the biggest shock of the day wasn’t Tsubame-nee-chan’s sudden teasing, no. It was something entirely different.

Marisa called to Tabito just as their class had finished capturing a photo together. [Name] hardly had any time to see everything unravel before she was whisked away by the Karate Club to take a picture of their own.

As she caught the last of their shadows from the corner of her eye—Marisa, all smiles and laughing, Karasu, standing looking like he could snap like a taco shell at any moment but hid his situation very well.

For some reason unknown, the sight of them talking rang an unpleasant melody in the caves of [Name]’s chest, rattling the once peaceful solitude.

She blamed it on the pollen. She blamed it on the heat or the cold, whichever was more prominent. She blamed it on… quite literally everything else. Not willing to admit to anything—not when she didn’t even know what the heck this was.

Later that afternoon, when the two found themselves at the beach loitering on the wave breakers by the roadside to watch the sunset, Karasu told [Name] that Marisa—his life-long crush at the time—had confessed to him.

He told it like it was nothing. As if it was no more than an ordinary occasion, like a weather report!

But [Name]’s reaction was a stark contrast to his nonchalance.

The revelation crashed against her like a tidal wave that nearly had her toppling over the concrete barrier, in danger of falling to the sandy shore—a generous twenty-foot drop at least.

Karasu grabbed her by the scruff of her clothes, heart pounding at the sight of her almost falling— “Idiot, be more careful!” He scolds, carding a hand through his ever-growing violet hair.

“MARISA CONFESSED TO YOU?!” [Name] screams, standing up in absolute shock with zero regards that she almost had a close date with the grim reaper a few minutes ago.

"Hey! I already told ya to watch yerself! You'll fall!" Karasu reminds, reaching out to steady her. His brows remained furrowed as he stayed seated on the concrete barrier, only this time, one hand caged her own as his other found anchor on her ankle.

"Whatcha say? Ya better not have told her somethin' stupid! Gosh this is excitin'—"

“I rejected her.”

The world came to a standstill at the resounding echo of his words. But the tides continued to crash against the shores, drawing away not a moment later. The birds’ orchestra flowed like the spring zephyrs as they flew over the vast finiteness of the horizons. Still… [Name] could not feel herself move from her frozen state.

Wasn’t it too sudden? It felt like only yesterday that she discovered his crush for their classmate. Why… why?

Karasu looks to the ocean with a completely calm face, a stark contrast to the slowly rising tides. The sunset painted him golden, like all the stars melted just to color him in this moment.

When he was colored in that light, saturating him in every shade of soothing silence, softening his features… for the first time in forever, Karasu felt unreachable. Like he belonged to a world she had no right to step into. As though he would continue to travel past the borders of the milky way to some unknown universe far beyond what [Name] could comprehend.

When he was painted in all the colors of the sun, it was hard to deny.

It was difficult to fight the fluttering sensation thrumming in her heart—surging in all the forms of power—of happiness.

[Name] tugged on his arm that held her own, urging him to look at her as she asks, "Why?"

Indeed, why?

For as long as [Name] had known him, Karasu's always liked Marisa. He even went as far as to make her swear not to tell a single soul about his infatuation with the girl, not because he was embarrassed, but because he thought far too lowly of himself—believed that he was too ordinary—for someone like Marisa to ever like him back.

"I... well, we're gonna go to different middle schools,” he shrugs, sweeping it under the carpet like it was no big deal. “It would be a long-distance thing ya get me? So I rejected her." He talks about it so easily, always acting that it isn’t eating him up inside.

He was always like this.

Using the hand that held the hand of the girl standing before him, Karasu pulled himself up from his sitting position. He towered over her easily, already breaking past a hundred and seventy centimeters—a reminder that they were growing up—and he was sure to grow taller in the near future.

"Nothin' weird about it,” he comments apathetically. “Completely normal—ow! Hey! What're ya doin'—[Name]!" He hurriedly shielded his arm from [Name]’s aggravated assault.

“Yer an idiot!” she fires at him, her frustration dropping on him like a bomb.

"Ow! [Name]—stop! You hit like a gorilla—ow!" Karasu finally held her thrashing arms, caging her in his hold so she couldn't hit him anymore.

He wasn't sure why [Name] was acting this way, or why she was so upset over this. What he was certainly most certain of is that her punches hurt. They hurt a whole lot.

"You're an idiot..." she echoes.

Karasu tried to look her way, but it proved to be an arduous task as she kept her head down. A few stands of her hair prevented Karasu from discerning what sort of expression was on her face. He hesitantly let her arms go, watching them fall to her side softly.

Karasu poked [Name]'s forehead, pushing her head slightly to get her to look up.

"Hey..." he calls gently, closing the remaining distance between them with a single stride, "Why're ya cryin'?"

[Name] looks to the ocean, aggressively wiping away the traitorous tears that slipped from the shackles of her eyes. She wasn't gonna cry over this. It was stupid.

"You liked Marisa a lot, Tabito."

It took Karasu by surprise that [Name] called him by his first name, free from her usual teasing jeers and awful nicknames—still, he didn't understand why is it that she was so upset by his situation.

"I just..." she begins, glancing at him from the corners of her eyes before sighing and turning to face him, "It was yer chance to be with the one you loved—"

"Oi, oi... love is a strong word for that—" Karasu wanted to complain, to say that it really wasn’t like that, but looking at the saddened expression of his friend, he thought otherwise.

"—and you let the chance go just like that." She admits, her voice threatening to crumble from the heaviness that she felt—and before long, her tears had broken free from their holding cells.

"I know I can't say anythin' to ya cuz I'm a gorilla and I don't like anyone else but Miiko but don'tcha think it's a waste—" Karasu cut her off by wrapping his arm around her form, tangled her in gentleness that stood in great contrast to his usual rough and jagged demeanor.

Because he didn’t like seeing her cry.

He doesn’t like it when other kids make fun of her, even if he knew that she was better equipped to handle them far more than him. He doesn’t like it when she’s sad. And he doesn't like it when she wasn’t around.

[Name] was an irreplaceable figure in his life… and it hurt him just as much that she—that she was sad… and he felt even worse this time because he knew that he was the one who caused it.

"Gettin' a love life ain't everythin' in this world ya know?" he tells her, threading a hand through her hair in a soothing gesture.

[Name] buries her face in his chest, nodding despite knowing that he wouldn't see.

She felt like the world's biggest scumbag. Her best friend in the whole wide world just turned down the girl he liked for so long.  She should've been sad—angry at the world for forcing this fate unto Karasu, to her best friend who was the kindest person on earth. And she was!

Desperately, she tried to convince herself that she was.

But here she was… taking advantage of his kindness. Trying to take more than what she was given.

Because what else could this be? That there was this thrumming sensation in her chest that rejoiced in knowing that Karasu turned Marisa down.

"Hold on, why are you the one cryin'? Shouldn't it be me?" He teased, ruffling the threads of [h/c] that covered her head.

"Idiot!"

---

As the seasons changed and the moon waxed and waned, a good chunk of their time in middle school was spent with Karasu breathing into his soccer career slash club slash obsession, playing alongside Hiori Yo—[Name]’s initial elementary school partner whom she ditched to get ice cream and was later forced to apologize to by her mother—all the while [Name] dedicated hers to Karate.

The two remained as close knit as ever, choosing to wait for whomever had practice the longest so they could walk home together. Spending all breaks and lunches lounging around and glaring at people who looked at them funny. [Name] complaining about chemistry because who the hell would find joy in dragging numbers up and down, sideways and backwards, all over roll over. It was a pain. All she knew was that Protactinium + Nitrogen + Calcium + Potassium + Einsteinium = PaNcaKEs. And that was just about how far her Chemistry braincells could peak.

It didn’t help that Karasu was a wizard when it came to that godawful subject so when it came to helping her with it, tutoring sessions are 5% learning, 3% complaining, with all the rest occupied by his relentless teasing.

A horrible experience.

But for them who had known each other since once upon a time, it was nothing unusual.

Everything the same as ever. Same old science woes. Same old swimming classes despair. Same old faces. Same old Karasu. Same old [Name].

for the majority of middle school, karasu dedicated all his time and effort to soccer—playing along side hiori yo, yn's initial elementary school partner whom she ditched to get ice cream and later apologized for leaving him behind—while yn gave hers to karate. the two best friends remained close as ever. choosing to wait for whomever had practice the longest so they could walk home together. Everything was the same as ever. same old clubs. same old faces. same old karasu. same old yn.

That was until one winter night of their second year of middle school...

[Name] was set to compete for the winter Karate tournament and if she did well, it was one step closer to Nationals.

She trained day in, day out near the field where Karasu played soccer when the school field was out for break.

The soccer player was not privy to her unshakable resolve, even going as far as labeling her—and letting her know—that she was “working so hard like a cow” which he received a kick as thanks.

It was fine during spring—her training that is, even more so in summer, and Karasu would even let it slip in autumn but winter? Winter was a different matter altogether.

For the past days (and even last year), he had told her off for it—scolded her far more times that he would like to admit with a tone laced with all the streamers of irritation and illuminated by the lights of his concern. “Ya gotta stop workin’ yerself so hard like a cow, gorilla girl. You’ll get sick!”

As he makes a move to hit her head like he always did, [Name] dodged and repaid his words with a very kind kick to his side, sending him staggering a few steps away.

"Ya don't get ta lecture me on that, stupid crow! Yer here too, equally as guilty! And don't call me a cow! Or a gorilla!" She points a numb finger in his direction, because even with her stubborn and brutish attitude, it sadly didn't make her immune to the cold.

"Yeah, yeah..." He waved her off with one hand as the other rubbed the spot she kicked.

"But I'm runnin' around so I ain't as cold, but you've just been standin' there for the past thirty minutes, aren'tcha cold?" He quirks a brow at her as he approached her slowly, like a wild predator cautious to scare away his prey.

"Oh, I'm freezin’." She agrees nonchalantly, a mist of white clouds leaving the borders of her lips.

"Act more like it then, idiot." he deadpans, scratching his head in frustration.

"Here," Karasu breathes into his hands moving closer so he could cup her face.

"Woah. Ya really weren't jokin' when ya said yer freezin'" he says in surprise, laughing at his own discovery like it was the most amusing thing in the world. "Are yer hands cold, too?"

He retreated his hands and made a motion to take off his soccer gloves not a moment later, looking at them for a few moments—trying to figure out which hand was right and left, even if they wouldn't matter in the end—before sliding them onto her trembling fingers.

They hung loosely on her despite the Velcro straps going as far as they could possibly go.

Since when did he grow so much?

When she looks away from her hands to thank him, [Name] felt the world around her freeze into place, frosting over like the trees that bordered the field. Light snow descended from the heavens, the last sunrays dipping behind the horizons of the sky as the stars flickered to life one by one.

And then there it was again, that same fluttering feeling from so long ago. Only this time, it set everything in her to flames: her blood rushed far too fast for her head to keep up, lighting the meadows of her face to a vibrant shade of red, setting every hollow and edge into a raging inferno. She felt cold and warm everywhere—like her body couldn't decide if it wanted to burn to ash or forever freeze with winter.

The colors of the night shone in a vibrant light, flowering in circles from the sheer intensity—brighter than the summer sky yet dimmed in comparison next to him—to Tabito who looked at her like she was the only thing in the world, rubbing his hand against his arm to spark heat so he could thaw the frozen wasteland ravaging her soul.

Since when did she begin to see him like this? When did he become so saturated in all the colors of everyday life that he blended in so well?

When... did I start feeling like this?

Don't look at me like that, [Name] wanted to tell him. Don't laugh at me. Don't hold me like this... just don't.

Because if he did—when he does all of this—how was she supposed to fight off this greedy, hungry feeling festering inside her? This needless longing to keep him close to her, to never let him go, to show him all the wonders of the universe... all the colors of the sun, everything that he turned his back on because he believed that he wasn't enough to have any of them.

When he looks at her like that, when he laughs... when he holds her like this—how was she supposed to deny it?

That she was in love with him.

[Name] was in love with Karasu Tabito.

---

When the wave of High School crashed against the two best friends, it brought with it the cruellest game fate could play on [Name].

Marisa… had returned.

The same Marisa she had teased and jeered at Karasu about when they were kids. The same Marisa… Karasu had loved—again, such a strong word—for so long. And she guessed—no matter how much she didn't want to entertain the thought that Karasu could still like the same Marisa from elementary school—he loves even now.

And it nearly killed her inside when she found that her suspicions were true.

It was a week after their first year had begun when Karasu came running from the pitch to meet her halfway, cleats thudding against the grass as she made her way to the bleachers.

"[Name]!" He yells as he ran towards her in full speed it nearly had [Name] contemplate if she should move aside so Karasu doesn't accidentally trample her over. But he ran to her with the biggest smile she had ever seen on him—yes, even happier than the time they won the local tournament—it broke her heart to even think of sidestepping him, even if he did pose as a road hazard from his speed.

"Why'dya hafta feel like ya need to win a marathon, Tabi-chan?" She punches his arm playfully once he skidded to a stop near where she stood (after nearly running her over).

She sets her bag down as she laughed at the sight of Karasu buzzing in excitement. Must be something really important to him if he's this happy about it. Before [Name] could fully turn to face him, he had already grabbed her by the shoulders and started shaking her back and forth. "She's here!" He cheers.

"Who's here?"

"Marisa!"

[Name] felt her heart shatter from the happiness decorating every word that left the orbit of his tongue, shining like the stars that could’ve littered her evening. She should have been happy for him. Really, she should have shared even half the joy he felt from his supposed amazing discovery. She should've... she knew full well that she should.

So why does it remind her exactly of elementary graduation?

When he was whisked away from her by the same girl who she cheered Karasu to pursue? Why does it remind her so much that she wasn't a figure like Marisa in his life? She wasn't the object of his desire. Karasu didn't hold an ounce of romantic affection for her like he did for Marisa. She... [Name]... was just his friend. She was his best friend. And god... did that hurt—that she couldn't be more than that—when all she wanted was to be a little greedier, to have a place in his heart like Marisa did. She couldn't quite understand it... even if she knew deep down that Karasu liked Marisa, that he had her image perched atop a pedestal in the center of his heart, [Name] couldn't be contented with just being his friend.

The one friend who loved him so much.

The one friend... that he couldn't love back.

"Ya hafta help me, [Name]!” His voiced anchored her back to reality. “I know I told ya that gettin' a love life ain't everythin' but now that I actually stand a chance... I—I don't wanna lose it agai... [Name]? You still there?"

Karasu waved a hand over her face, taking note of the expression painted on her face, almost as if she just saw a ghost. "Hello? This is ground control to [Name], are ya still in orbit?"

Through the haze, [Name] watches as Karasu walked around her in circles, poking her cheeks to try and get her back to him—huh, what an easily misunderstood thought.

She blinked, taking in the way he eyes her in confusion, his ridiculously gelled hair remaining immovable even as he prods and scratched his scalp like they held all the answers in the world. Really, it wasn't him who was stupid for trying so hard... it was her.

Because as it stands, she was the one foolish enough to fall for him.

"Oho~ so yer finally mannin' up to ask her out, eh?" she smirks, her facade tugging at the seams of her resolve, pulling at the pieces of her shattered heart. In the silence of his unspoken rejection, she found herself gluing them together, even if they threatened to come apart later. Just a little longer, she would coerce. Just a little more... so that he doesn't find out—so he wouldn't find out—that his feelings... were slowly killing her.

"Don't even start," Karasu holds a hand to her face, he couldn't stomach that teasing shine in her eyes. How long has it been since he last saw that? Far too long he believes, still... he asked himself why he didn't miss it as much as he thought he would've.

Back then, even if it annoyed him to the point of starting a fist fight with [Name]—which he not-so-surprisingly lost every single time—he would secretly be grateful that she pushed him to go reach for the things that made him happy. In his little love life endeavors. No matter how badly it ended for the two of them—like getting scolded for coming home late or getting accompanied by the neighbor who owned Miiko, the cat, back home.

So why now? He didn't quite understand why it had to be now that it felt so wrong to see her pushing him towards someone else again.

She used to do it all the time, and it never bothered him.

Karasu briefly asked himself if the reason behind it was because they spent three—going four—years having no one else but each other. No, that couldn't have been it. Hiori was there sometimes, and Karasu was sure it never felt like this unpleasant feeling.

This was [Name] for crying out loud! The elementary kid who offered a half-eaten popsicle to him like it was some treasure. [Name] whom he pushed into the mud pond and laughed as she tried to get the dirt off her face. [Name] who could kick him so hard that he would fight to hold back his tears—even now that they were in high school.

[Name] was his best friend...

"I'll help ya get with 'er!" she grins, planting her hands on her hips in that little mannerism of hers that Karasu bets she doesn't even know she does, as though she was about to give him some prophet-level guidance free of charge.

Karasu just stares at her, longer than he would have liked to admit. Has she always been this short? Or did he simply grow taller?

Had they always been like this?

Yeah, she was his best friend.

And there should be nothing more.

…Right?

---

And so, the first semester of their first year in high school was spent planning ways to get Karasu together with Marisa while [Name] pulled all the hair on her scalp trying to hide her ever growing affection for her violet-haired friend.

This also consisted of asking around the campus for Marisa with [Name] doing all the "cow's work" as Karasu had oh-so-gently put it, which merited him a much-deserved kick to his shin.

He had many excuses. One, he didn’t want to seem desperate (which he was). Two, he was too busy (which he is). And three, apparently, he didn’t want any rumors to start going around that he was still pining over his elementary school crush (which he very much was).

Even if [Name] told him not to be ashamed of it, Karasu still couldn't bring himself to do it...

Part of it, though, was because he didn’t miss the way the fire in [Name]’s eyes froze over whenever it was mentioned. He just decided that he didn't like that even if he didn't know the reason why. It bothered him. A lot.

If it were [Name] who asked around, it was different. There would be nothing to worry about since she was also a girl, and girls look for other girls all the time, didn't they? They even accompany each other to the restroom like a pair of FBI Agents.

And if Karasu were to lay his heart bare for everyone to see, the only girl he looked around for, flipped heaven and earth over, out of his own jurisdiction and nearly toppled over in despair when he couldn’t find—aside from his mom and his older sister—was [Name].

But he didn’t know how to tell that to her.

The two best friends (mainly [Name] doing all the hard work) discovered a couple of interesting information about Karasu’s person of affection:

Marisa was in the swim club, an extremely coincidentally convenient twist of fate since the pool was by far the nearest facility near the soccer field (the dojo the farthest having been located on the other side of the school).

She excelled in Japanese Literature and Chemistry.

She worked part-time at a local café on Saturdays around the afternoon, another heaven-sent opportunity since soccer practice ended right before noon.

And finally written at the bottom of the paper in all caps along with a few doodles of hearts.

4. MARISA LIKES MUSHROOMS!!! ❤❤🍄❤❤

"Is that enough, yer highness?" [Name] asks him sarcastically, rubbing the tiredness from her eyes as she had spent majority of her night stalking Marisa across all social media platforms.

She could pass as a CIA agent by now from all this digging.

She eyes the page ripped from her notebook that Karasu held in one hand as they sat face to face in the classroom—with their desks pushed together to accommodate their lunches.

Written on the slightly wrinkled paper, in messy scrawny handwriting were the fruits of her hard labor.

"I better get compensated for his, you rabies-infected crow." she mumbles, resting her head on the desk, closing her eyes from the tiredness.

"Wow, ya got all of this in one night?" Karasu scans the paper, they weren’t much but it was still far more than what he could’ve gathered on his own. His stare lingered a moment longer on the girl—noting the way her head stayed resting on the desk, exhaustion seeping through the crevices of her skin as he observes the way her entire frame wilted from exhaustion.  

[Name] hummed in confirmation, far too tired to give a worded reply. Now that the less than sufficient hours of sleep were getting to her, she feared that if she spoke another word to Karasu about Marisa, she would end up saying something she'd regret. So, it was best to just... stay silent.

It's getting easier to hear Karasu talk about Marisa. Bearable in the kindest word; numbing in the worst. Still, it didn't mean that she could deny that it hurt any less.

Learning to live through something was very different from accepting it, especially when it was the one you love loving someone else.

[Name] just hopes that she gets over this soon—because the last thing she wanted was to get in the way of Tabito's happiness. Or worse, lose him because of her own selfishness—because she couldn't get over a silly pathetic crush—that she couldn't stop wanting, praying… hoping to have him more than a friend.

"Oh, she likes mushrooms," she hears Karasu mumble, seemingly intrigued.

It was better to pretend that she didn't hear him. It's better this way, she tells herself. He wasn't going to remember anyway, but somehow, her traitorous mouth always worked faster than her brain, a step too late to grab the chance to hold her tongue before she says something she would regret... which is now.

"Ya can give her yer mushrooms now, Tabi-chan."

Silence blanketed the distance between them, seemingly setting them apart from the reverberating chaos ensuing in the classroom.

[Name] was embarrassed beyond belief, feeling her entire face catch fire yet was too exhausted to shield it away from him—not like he could see, but still!

Please let the ground swallow me whole.

Karasu looks to her like she suddenly grew three heads. "I'll always give ya my mushrooms, [Name].” He whispers softly, placing an elbow on the table, propping his face upright with his palm as he unconsciously smiled at the blush that littered the meadows of her face.

“Ya love 'em right? Just ‘bout the only other thing ya like other than Miiko." He snickers at his own jest, remembering a time in their childhood where [Name] would look over the fence and stare at the neighbor's cat for hours or chase it around the little alley way near Miiko's house.

She felt her heart skip a beat. [Name] blamed it on the weather, or perhaps a growing ailment that made her heartbeat irregular. This was practically Arrythmia—dangerous and a health risk!

But she was sure that heart diseases didn’t come with lingering affections for your best friend. It also didn’t come with the pain of knowing that he was never gonna like her back. And she was most certain that it wasn’t attached with happiness after knowing that he remembers…

[Name] didn't like that she felt happy that Karasu knew that little thing, even if everything about her had practically become baseline knowledge for the soccer player. She just didn't like it.

"Uhuh," she agrees mindlessly, her voice squished by gravity as she remained still laying her head on the desk facing the window and looking at the world vertically.

"When ya marry her, can't just go out in the middle of dinner ta hand me some mushrooms, right?" She teases, the rumble of her laughter feeling more like a hurtful jab to her already breaking heart.

"I guess..." Karasu no longer stared at the paper he held in his hand, opting to observe his very sleep deprived [Name].

Maybe the dryness of her eyes was getting to her or perhaps she was tired of him beating around the bush and walking on eggshells every time Marisa was around.

Karasu sighs, folding the paper three times and tucking away in the safety of his bag. The raging inferno in her soul dwindled to a small flame, her usual bladed tongue that cut through his ego had dulled, her silence all too prominent in a world where everyone had something to say.

Ah… I don’t like this.  

"Hey, gorilla woman." he grips her head like a ball, although he took a conscious effort not to hurt her—lest he risk his well-being be a training dummy for the karate practitioner.

[Name] tried to wave away his arm but right now, she was too tired to even lift her hand. She could only mumble a very annoyed, "Don't call me gorilla, you rat-nest haired crow."

"Let's go to a café this weekend." he suggests, taking a strand of her smooth hair and twirling it between his fingers like it was some sort of scientific breakthrough.

Was it weird that he was inviting her to go out all of a sudden?

But this was [Name]! They always went out together whether it's the local fair, watching a soccer match, those late-night convenience store runs... this was nothing special.

Karasu started to chant that phrase like a mantra in his head. He was catching himself doing that too much—trying to convince himself that it was nothing—that spending time with [Name] was like a norm already.

They've done it a thousand times and he reckons, a thousand more after this... so what's the difference?

His heart thudded against the confines of his ribs at the sight of her: tired beyond all rhyme and reason, brows furrowed from the noise buzzing in the small room filled with their classmates and other students, her empty bento box next to his own like yin and yang. Salt and pepper. It wasn’t complete without the other.

Has she always been this present in his life? Since when? When did she start to be so interwoven in everything he did that it became strange when she suddenly disappears even when she’s right there? Really… since when?

Since forever...

And maybe, just maybe, that was the difference.

An idiotic part of [Name] rejoiced at his invitation—

"We can see Marisa there while we're at it," he quickly adds without thought, afraid she might misunderstand.

—yet all too suddenly; cruelly, she is reminded that she shouldn't long to be more than just his friend.

"Sure thing, Tabi-chan..." she whispers softly, forcing the thorns in her throat to pin down the hurt so they wouldn’t tumble out—that he may never see them.

And there, with the afternoon gale flowing past the curtains, she feels her heart breaking a little bit more.

---

When the weekend rolled around, Karasu finished his soccer practice exactly before noon, leaving him with a few spare minutes to change into the extra clothes he brought with him. Initially, he felt like the unluckiest athlete in the world when he dragged his ass here at 5 in the morning yet now that he was preparing to spend the rest of his day earlier than what he originally planned, he began thinking that it wasn't so bad after all. At the very least, it gave him enough time to go and see [Name] look at him in envy that his practice ended earlier than her.

[Name], much to Karasu's expectations, did not look at him in jealousy as he had hoped. Instead, she was second-in-line for kicking practice, looking like all the forces of good and evil conspired together to make her day as terrible and energy-draining as much as it could.

The Karate coach, a middle-aged woman who was also their gym teacher, made everyone stay back to practice some drills, claiming she saw it on her social media feed last night and wanted everyone to try it out... and no one was going to leave until at least one of them got it. It was cruel—very much the kind of savagery she expected to get from this tyrant (coach) in her innate domain (karate)—not that she was any stranger to cruelty, though she would be lying if she claims she didn't feel just a little bit sad when she was at the receiving end of it.

Karasu was allowed to stay in the dojo and watch, so long as he remained a safe distance from any potential kicking pads that might come flying his way—a warning he engraved to his mind and soul after getting smack-dabbed in the face by one, and many, many close calls.

It wouldn't be the first time he'd watch [Name] practice; he'd been making the trip from the soccer field to the dojo ever since the beginning of first year that the coach relented and let him stay no matter how many times she told him to go away.

Karasu didn't mind the extra cardio, more often than not, [Name] was the one who had practice running so far from dismissal time, leaving him with nothing to do but sit and wait for her to finish so they could go home together. And it was rarely the other way around.

But seeing her here, in her element, always tugged at something in his chest. A sort of reminder that this was the girl he was lucky enough to call his best friend.

When it was [Name]'s turn to do the drill, everything faded to silence... until it was just her: bouncing on her feet under a thousand shimmering lights, drawing in a breath in preparation. And like the flow of the spring zephyrs, she sliced through the air like a fairy—an aggressive and very, very strong fairy—striking the lowest pad with her left foot, her right foot forcing the middle pad to fly, and finally—after so many failed attempts and an almost sprained ankle—successfully kicked the last top pad with her left foot.

She landed gracefully, like the first fall of snow, shattering the momentary reverie Karasu found himself raptured into.

What the hell?

[Name] looked to her coach in miserable anticipation, a silent plea to release her from this torture. It was between this room and this witch how many times she and her teammates had to do that godawful trick.

The coach gushed over the exhausted [Name], complimenting her for a few seconds before dismissing training.

[Name]'s tired vision zeroed in on Karasu, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor near the door, bag next to his side, and looking every bit the part of someone going on the most anticipated date of his life. [Name] blamed it on the light, or the fatigue seeping into the cracks of her heart, but for a small moment, a foreign light shone through the depths of sapphire pools of his irises.

She thought nothing of it, choosing to lazily wave at him from where she stood, completely oblivious to the lingering glimmer in his expression or the way his face shone brighter at her greeting as he waves back; that for the first time ever, the usually cocky soccer player found himself drowning in the oceans of shyness and hesitance at the sight of his best friend.

"Imma change real quick, so wait for me a little longer, 'kay?" she called, brushing past his figure as she sluggishly—bag in hand—made her way to the locker rooms.

Karasu nodded absentmindedly, his eyes tracing the shadows of her figure until she disappeared around the corner.

C’mon, me, this isn’t the time to feel all mushy for [Name]! That’s [Name]! Your best friend! The gorilla girl next door always working hard like a cow, he internally scolds himself.

Karasu let out a low groan, slumping over on the floor, staring at the place where [Name] once stood. He swore he could almost see her figure there, and he would have believed his own illusions if he didn't just see her walk past him to go change.

The soccer player runs a hand over his face in frustration. "Honestly, what's wrong with me..." he mumbles, covering his head with his arm like it can somehow magically put out the wildfire wreaking havoc on the meadows of his face, burning through his resolve like paper.

In the locker room, [Name] was facing a dilemma of her own.

"Hey, [Last Name]-chan, are you and Karasu-kun going out?" one of her teammate asks, a gentle curiosity for Karasu and her long-term friendship, but the words felt like collapsing stars in the once quiet place.

In horrified befuddlement, [Name] screamed an anguished—"Huh?!" like the words her teammate spoke had been a cursed enchantment that will linger through her bloodline for a thousand generations and not the fantasy she wanted to bleed into reality.

"That gel-faced crow who's scared of water? Hell no!" she denies, trying to have it look like the teases and jeers she usually passed around with others.

"But he always waits for you to finish practice" her teammate pointed out.

And it was true—Karasu always made the trip across campus just to wait for [Name] to conclude training no matter how long it dragged on. She recalls the many times the soccer player had fallen asleep by the door, using her gym bag as a pillow because, according to him, her clothes were fluffier and a lot more comfortable that the mess of dirty, sweat-drenched heap in his bag he called clothes.

And as told by another one of his anecdotes, [Name]'s stuff (and even herself) were lot more preferable sleeping buddies than a soccer ball. A soccer ball! Then there was also the day he carried her home after a particularly bad fall from kicking practice, even if Karasu himself was tired beyond belief.

"That mole rat's been around for so long, we prolly look the same in everyone's eyes by now." [Name] jokes as she continues to rummage through her bag, shaking her head from the horrible image of her having Karasu’s hair.

"And besides..." she murmurs, her gaze distant as she stares at the dress she chose—picking apart her closet all night, spending so long trying to carefully place it in her bag—only to betray herself by abandoning it last minute.

He already likes someone else.

---

The walk to the café was relatively silent.

Karasu kept the comments of [Name] being far too quiet for the past week to himself. He thought, maybe she was just tired. The school festival was coming up, but she also still had to train. It was cruel, especially the arduous training he saw her endure earlier that she looked ready to rearrange her coach’s face to roadkill.

Domed by an eternally blue sky, he glances at her from the corner of his eyes.

She looked like hell!

Karasu wasn’t about to lie and tell her that she looked great—that would just be cruel—so he chose not to say anything at all.

He didn’t trust himself with his words, a restraint he put on himself like heaven’s command after he caught himself looking around a store and thinking: Oh, [Name] would like this,or, She’d look good in this, before a hollowing echo of, She always looks good in everything though,would cause him to freeze where he stood and cover his face in shame for having such thoughts.

By far the worst case of this was when he stopped someone because he mistook her for [Name]—it was ridiculous! This was getting outrageous!

Yet one look at her, right here, when all the colors of the sun had painted her in an ethereal light, how could he still think that she was the most beautiful person on the planet?

It must be witchcraft. A curse put upon him for lying. A truth… that he was finding increasingly difficult to deny.

Absolutely… ridiculous…

"You tired?" he asks casually, even if the answer was staring at the road in the form of dark circles heavier than Oganesson.

"Nah.” She smiles through the haze, lazily eyeing him from the sides. “This is the usual ain't it?" she laughs, shifting the weight of her bag that she refused to let Karasu carry despite his many offers and demand for her to just give it to him.

"Don't act so tough, gorilla woman. If yer tired, we can always just go another day." He rubs the back of his neck, finding no other thing to do to ease this shaking sensation in his cardiac muscles.

"Stop callin’ me gorilla woman, you turd-face crow,” she barks, though her tone didn’t hold an ounce of real bite. “'Sides... we're already here. It'd be a shame to leave now."

They stood in front of a glass-front café, cakes and other deserts peering at the passersby from the window. The little signboard by the door offering a warm welcome.

The scent of something faintly sweet weaved with the aroma of coffee waltzed though the warm air of the shop, a low hum of conversation rippling the serene atmosphere.

It thankfully was not the busiest place on the planet. There were a couple of middle school kids by the window side laughing amongst themselves, an office worker staring blankly into the horizon as the sunlight caught her auburn hair in a shimmering light, lastly, an elderly couple shared a pie and some loving smiles near the bar.

"Welcome!" A melodic voice cuts through the air, littered with all the scent of flowers in an open field, warm like the hearth of a fire.

Karasu turned at the direction of the voice, squinting at the sight of a girl in an apron holding a notepad. Who the hell was this loser? He thought, amused in the kindest light, domineering, in the worst.

The soccer player pushes [Name] to an empty booth, telling her to go order whatever her heart desires.

“Just get me whatever,” she mutters, closing her eyes looking every bit like the monks he occasionally sees on TV… only cuter—what the actual hell?

“Sorry to burst yer bubble but they aren’t sellin’ that here.” He teases, reaching over to pinch her cheeks to get her to wake.

“Ow! Quit that!” She yelps and swats his hand away, sticking her tongue out at him before grabbing the menu from the table. “I’m gonna make your pockets hurt, turd-face.”

She buries her head in the menu dedicating every bit of concentration on the booklet, and he let her—even if he knew how this was gonna end.

“The Chocolate Milk non-coffee drink! And some cake trio platter!” she smiles at him—like he hung the constellations in the sky, or that he had been the one who conjured all the colors of the sun—the first in a long while, so it seems.

“Ya always get that everywhere we go.” He sighs, tracing her features with a gentle gaze.

“Ya asked me what I wanted, and I want that—” she raises her voice in faux defiance as if daring him to contradict her.

“Yeah, yeah…” he waves her off, flicking her forehead to add to her ire. “’Scuse me,” he calls over the lady who welcomed them earlier.

[Name], lost in her own thoughts, allowed her gaze to linger on his side-profile from under her lashes. It wasn’t intentional. Why was he sitting there like that anyway all broad-shouldered and tall and—and…

She sighs in defeat.

When did you get so pretty? She thinks, mapping the edges of his jaw, memorizing the sudden sharpness in his gaze.

When did I get so sappy? She lets out a breath, shaking her head to clear her thoughts.

"Oh, Karasu-kun! Long time no see!"

The greeting caused [Name]’s eyes to shoot open, her stare landing on Karasu before it traced his gaze to the café worker smiling at them—at him, every atom the embodiment of a daydream. Built upon the foundation of effortless femininity.

“Uh…” Karasu trails off, unsure of what to reply. He was certain he didn’t know this person—

“You don’t remember me?” the waitress points to herself, “It’s Marisa, from elementary school.” She laughs, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ears.

Karasu didn’t speak for a moment, short enough to feel natural yet all the stretch to let [Name] know that he was struggling to think about what to say.

"Marisa… Oh, Marisa!” His voice raises higher than expected, like he was caught red-handed for something he was guilty about. “Didn't expect you to be working here." He says, his easy-going tune hiding the truth that they intentionally chose this place because she was working here—that it was not a fated coincidence but a conspired plan. That was what [Name] thought, after all, she was the one who brought him here.

But Karasu… Karasu had forgotten all about that.  

"[Last Name]-san, too. Hello," Marisa greets politely, every inch of her polished to a girly perfection. [Name] nods her head in acknowledgement, mumbling a quiet “Hi”.

"So, what can I get you two?" She asks smoothy, quickly pulling out a notepad.

Karasu steals a glance at [Name] finding her slumped where she was seated, painfully aware of the feel of her knee grazing his from under the table.

"I'll get the bamboo shoot soup if ya will." He replies cooly, like it was the most natural thing in the world, and it probably was.

What wasn’t natural, however, was that…

"Ever the favorite, huh?" Marisa teased, writing down his choice. "Ours have some mushrooms in it, so do be careful."

…She remembered.

"No biggie, [Name] here loves those." Karasu tilts his head to her direction. Did he have all the intention to rub it in her face that he was so close to getting the girl of his dreams? Or did the world mocked her through him as if saying, in big bold letters: Stop dreaming already, girl, yer never gonna get ‘im. Totally not cool.

[Name] didn’t know how to reply, she had no intention of doing so in the first place since she wasn’t even supposed to be part of this conversation to begin with.

"Really? I love mushrooms too, [Last Name]-san." Marisa beams, smiling like an angel.

"Well ain't that a surprise!" Karasu laughs.

No... it really wasn't.

He was enjoying this too much, [Name] thinks. How cruel does fate have to be that [Name] was hearing this conversation right in front of her face? Pretty damn cruel. She was no stranger to that, her coach made sure of it, fate made it certain, and the world set it in stone so that she may never forget.

Yet it still hurt. It hurts… so much. Every time she’s led back to this road, back to this desolate, empty, and pot-hole-riddled road—her resolve… breaks just a little bit more.

But she took one look at him, at Karasu—her best friend in the whole wide universe—looking so happy, and she plunged to freezing depths of her acceptance.

She steeled her heart, tightened the seams that they bled through the threads. Just a little longer, she whispers. Please, just for a little longer. Karasu's happy. Finally, after three long years of waiting for this chance, it's already within his grasp.

That's right.

This is how it should be.

This would be the inevitable outcome of all this planning and running around. All so he can be with her.

These useless feelings need to go away, they need to leave because they would just get in the way. They'll wedge themselves between Karasu and his happiness. [Name]’s yearning to be more than just a friend in his eyes would drive him away. Karasu didn't think of her like that. He didn't like her that way. And he would never. And she needs to learn how to accept that.

Because why would he—how could he—if Marisa was the one in front of him? How could he bring himself to love [Name] when the girl of his dreams liked him, too?

I'd rather see them happy together. So happy that it'll show just how ridiculous it is for me to want him. Until I can't even dream of it anymore.

Because that was how it should be.

This was the reality.

[Name] loves Karasu that much was true.

But... Karasu loved Marisa… and no power on earth was going to change that.

---

"Isn't this strange," Tsubame, Karasu's older sister, mused, looking up from her schoolwork all the way from the dining room table to stare at her little brother's entrance like he was some strange lab experiment gone wrong.

"What's strange?" Tabito questions, yanking his shoe off with all his usual carelessness before haphazardly shoving them in the cabinet by the door.

"Yer not with [Name]-chan."

Tsubame now stood before him, an inch taller than him, courtesy of the higher leveling of their living room from their entry way.

"Didja get in a fight with her or somethin'?" She buzzed around the taller male like a bee, completely forgetting about her work still littered on the table. "Finally win? Yer count is on an outstanding three to fourty seven, those three wins because you cheated!"

Karasu dodged his sister's nosiness, grabbing a glass from the cupboard to fill it with his usual kelp tea.

"We didn't fight," he mumbles, from his spot, he could see past the window above the kitchen sink and to the window of [Name]'s living room. "She was just tired 's all." He answers mindlessly, rinsing off his glass before turning to leave, brushing past his older sister and her simmering curiosity.

Tabito didn't understand it himself.

That was supposed to feel like mission accomplished! He should've been over the moon, even reaching farther than the center of the galaxy... but he wasn't.

He blamed it on the mushroom he was forced to eat! He blamed it on the karate team's coach. He blamed it on destiny, on fate, on any other higher being messing with him and laughing in the coves of their habitats!

Most of all... he blamed himself.

Whose fault was it other than his that all [Name]’s hard work got burnt to the ground?

Because when he talked to Marisa for the first time in three years—just when he thought it would be a lasting moment that would echo for all eternities to come—he felt absolutely nothing. Like that day back in elementary graduation. Completely impassive from that girl's confession.

Empty.

He didn’t even recognize Marisa! He called her a loser! And despite having her right next to him, within arms’ reach, close enough to hold, all the bit possible to touch… all he could think about was the girl sitting in front of him.

How her eyes looked too tired, that she probably wanted nothing more than to sleep, or get that tournament trophy over and done with and goof around.

Everything about Marisa blended with all the colors of the earth, nothing but a backdrop to make everything else shine. Her voice fading to a dull echo until all he could hear was the silence…

"Ya can't keep denying, Tabi-chan."

...Silence left by the lack of [Name]'s presence.

It must be witchcraft; someone must've cast a spell on him on the way home! That must be it! Because why on earth was he hearing [Name]'s voice in the safety of his home when he very much clearly saw her walk through her front door and shut the door on his face?

He blamed it for forgetting to clean his ears earlier, because the next words he heard came in the form of his sister's voice. "If there's somethin’ ya wanna say to her then ya better say it."

It was tsubame-nee-chan from the very beginning.

It was just Tabito thinking otherwise. It was him summoning all these hallucinations of [Name]. Conjuring the image of her in the afternoon haze, seeing her face in the breaks of dawn, hearing her voice in the horizons of twilight. It was all him. All him.

"It'll make ya feel better if yer just honest with yerself. Do it now while ya still have the time." Tsubame places a comforting hand on her little—who is now not so little—brother's shoulder. "Regret always comes when the moment's over."

"Does this come from yer personal experience?" Tabito shot back, evading what he already feels engraving in his heart.

"Imma let that slide, you ungrateful brat," Tsubame smiles through her irritation, before it quickly thaws to a sigh, "It's an old saying, Tabito. 'Repentance comes too late' or 'the biggest fish is always the one that got away'." She shakes her head, tired of her brother being an idiot!

"While she's still there, just tell her how you really feel."

"What's that s'posed to mean?" he barks, aggravated by the hidden implication, he didn't like that—

"Oh, please! Assess yerself for once!" Tsubame yells, throwing her hands fed up with this idiot’s stubbornness, turning her back and retreating to the dining table to continue her work. “Ya shouldn’t need someone to spell it out fer ya! Figure it out like man, ya idiot!”

His sister’s words strike true, rattling the peace within his great fortress of denial. The weight of it left him standing there in the ruins of his cowardness, unsure if he should rebuild the remnants of something he once had thought would stand for eternity.

Tabito needed to know that for himself, he knew that. He also knew that he shouldn't need an external force to have him work on his tangled feelings of friendship and love, because it would make it meaningless. He needed to find that out on his own.

He needed to do all that gruelling powder and brush work on his own accord and find out for himself where exactly did he cross the line between friends and 'I guess spending life with you wouldn't be so bad'.

[Name] was always there.

Everywhere he looked, in every memory he held, she existed. No matter what point in his life he travels back to—she was just... there.

All the memories he could recall had remnants of her: a smile, her daunting laugh, the pain of her kicks, the scent of daylight that lingers around wherever she goes. She was there. In everything. Everywhere. In all the colors of the sun.

The heat from soccer practice. The gentle gale of spring. The moon in all its glory. She was there. The laughter echoing in the streets. A shadow in the playground. The starting thought before daybreak. A lingering memory before he succumbs to slumber. She was there.

In all his thoughts, every action, every smile, every laugh... they all led back to her. The fall of snow, the rain of petals, the crashing waves, the eternal saturated autumn sky.

There's a piece of her in everything.

When did it all change?

When did I start seeing you like this? When did I go so far beyond the boundary that I couldn't see that everything was blurring past all the colors of friends? When did I start missing the sound of your voice? When did I start staying in the illusion that I didn't see you more than a friend?

When did I...

This was the reality.

An undeniable truth he had always run away from. Choosing to cower behind the fragments of a past he had long swept out of his heart.

He was in love with her.

Karasu Tabito... was in love with [Name].

And he has been for a long time.

---

When Monday morning came in, Karasu showed up on her doorstep with his uniform thrown on his figure looking like a whirlwind passed him by on his way to her house.

He gave her his usual smirk, trying to bite at her ego from the way he stares at her. Condescending from an outsider’s words; lovesick from his.  

“Didja run twenty before comin’ here on somthin’?” She teased, fixing his crooked tie with a laugh.

Karasu stares at her face scrunched into concentration, his head buzzing from the drumming of his heart—reaching all the way to the tip of his fingers. He prayed to all the deities out there that she couldn’t hear the way his chest wanted to split open from the lingering warmth of her touch. Or that she couldn’t feel that his body was emitting more heat from her close proximity.

Did he do this on purpose? No.

But for once he thanked all the cells in his body for working late on a Monday morning because he gets to be at the receiving end of [Name]’s warm touches.

“Tabi-chan? Are ya listenin’?”

Karasu’s momentary reverie crumbled at the sound of her voice. [Name] eyes him with heavy concertation, tilting her head as she looks up at him, her hand no now holding to the strap of her bag.

“Sorry, what were you sayin’?” he whispers, his breath falling short and had his words tumbling like the wind, left for only his and the earth to hear.

[Name] paid no mind to his strange demeanor, shifting her weight from one foot to another and looked at anything but his searching gaze.

“I said I was sorry,” she purses her lips together, the words didn’t taste particularly unpleasant, but the reminder of their laughter still haunted her more than she’d like to admit. “Fer cuttin’ yer date short with ‘er, I mean.” She clarifies, shutting the door behind her as she steps a foot onto the front lawn, walking past Karasu who stood on her porch a moment longer than usual.

Karasu quickly pulled himself together and closed the distance she put between them in a few large strides, slyly taking her bag with her as he distracted her with conversation.

"'S nothin'. We had a talk while ye were dyin' in the bathroom," he muses, poking at her side to rile her up.

"Hey! I wasn't dyin'—" [Name] rose to protest, because she really wasn’t. She excused herself to the bathroom to spit out whatever the hell it was that she ate—"Their bread had raisins on them. Raisins. I hate raisins." She argues defensively, crossing her arms over her chest… entirely unaware that her bag was no longer in her hold.

"Could've given them to me," Karasu shrugs, leaning half his weight on her, a terrible habit he developed when they were nine years old and hasn’t grown out of ever since.

[Name] dragged her weight to her legs, trying to keep both him and her upright. She doesn’t wanna topple over the sidewalk... again. It’s happened too many times already, and with more than at least ten of their neighbors seeing.

"Not in front of yer Mona Lisa," [Name] sneers, pushing his ever-drawing face away.

"Puhlease, she's hardly a Mona Lisa." Karasu comments, voice mumbled by the nice-smelling hand that belonged to the girl next to him.

[Name] was not sure how to respond to that. The truth was that they left the café after they finished eating. But some might think, oh, isn’t that what you do though? Well, it was what she wanted to do. She planned that meet-up to end with Karasu and Marisa living happily ever after. But as she went to the bathroom, came back, and told Karasu that she had to go home because she wasn’t feeling well—he offered to walk her home. It was what a good friend does, really it was. But you don’t do that when the girl you like is standing right next to you!

Plus, they talked about that! [Name] told him that she was gonna make up some dumb excuse to get them alone. This was the dumb excuse! But he was being more of an idiot than the idiotic excuse leaving her lips.

In the end, they ended up bidding her farewell… with Karasu lying through his teeth that he was gonna come back—not that [Name] knew that considering she was far too busy glaring at him from the side.

"Marisa... has a boyfriend already,"

Karasu’s voice froze the gaping silence between them, his words flying into the blue skies, forever left to find their way to the land of acceptance Karasu has long since passed.

[Name] looked to him in shock, stumbling over her step before regaining her footing only to gawk at him again.

Is that true? Did Marisa really have a boyfriend? Since when? I never saw that on her socials. Did Karasu confess or something? Or was Marisa possessed by some sort of psychedelic mind reader?

[Name] would never know… and she reckons Karasu was never gonna talk about it either. She knows that look, when his eyes stare so far into the distance she begins to wonder if he was seeing a portal to another universe open before his eyes, let’s not talk about it.

"Oh... uhmm,” she starts; racking her brain for an appropriate response that wasn’t Hell yes! or Woo hoo! because that was not appropriate in the least. “That's rough buddy." She awkwardly pats his back, only this time, she had no melted, half-eaten popsicle to offer him. Only a heart, battered and bruised, covered in bandages and held together by a thread… that will only ever be his.

"Ya know, I thought I’d be more upset about it." Karasu looks to the heavens, oddly vocal of what he felt.

Maybe it was morning dew refracted by the early morning rays. Maybe it was autumn gale, ruffling the threads of his clothes. Maybe it was because of her—of [Name].

She looks at him with a raised brow, "And ya aren't?"

He smiles at her, one so gentle it could rival the clouds, replace the sun in warmth… dethrone Aphrodite from her position. “No,” he whispers, “No I’m not.”

He takes it all in, the image of her in this light. Karasu traces the contours of her face, the dust of roses powdered on the hills of her cheeks, the shine of a thousand galaxies in the pools of her irises.

Karasu was never one to believe in magic, or the supernatural… he couldn’t even consider himself an avid fan of the faerie folk.

But if somehow, somewhere—in this vast infiniteness, in the depths of the parallels, and the lullabies of the unknown—if there existed a figure for love, he was sure that it would be her.

"Maybe it's cuz I never liked her enough to begin with."

His confession slipped past his lips in a low murmur, faint enough that it could pass as a song of the fall, but she heard it. Always. Because what else could explain the reason that [Name] had suddenly started choking on her spit.

"Oi! Ya alright? Hey! [Name]! Don't die!" Karasu panics.

"Whaddaya mean ya don't like her?!” She screams, shoulders heaving from the sudden strain on her lungs. “What's all that work for then? Didya lie to me? Karasu Tabito—"

Her tone sent shivers crawling through his spine. "Woah,” he raises his arms in surrender. “Don't go drawin' the full name card on me [Name]." he tries to laugh it off, but the look in her unimpressed eyes told him that he needed to say something else.

"I did get somethin' out of yer hard work," he smiles.

"Which is?" [Name] nods in anticipation, leaning closer.

"Realizin' I don't like her anymore."

[Name] draws a deep breath, releasing it in an exaggerated huff of air, and without another word, continued to walk to school.

This was hopeless.

She walked in front of him. One, because she didn’t want to look at his face at the moment. And two, so that he won’t be a witness to her burning cheeks and her desperately suppressed smile. Yeah, no way in hell was she letting him see that!

"Told ya about it remember?" he calls from behind, a good four to five steps apart.

"I can barely remember what I ate yesterday, ya gotta be more specific."

Karasu stares at the back of her head, a view he’d seen for at least half his life already. "That day… by the seaside."

[Name] remained wordless; she remembers that vividly. Because how could she ever bring herself to forget.

The day that she…

"Ya have the memory of a goldfish," Karasu groans, every bit the telenovela star he was. "I told ya, getting’ love ain't everythin' in this world."

…began to like this guy.

"Oh." She whispers.

"Remember now?"

That memory had always been something she treasured, never an ephemeral wandering like a half-buried shell washed ashore.

[Name] looks to him from over her shoulder as she nods in confirmation. "What's that gotta do with this though?" She continues ever forward, eyes once more trailing to focus on the pavement before her.

Karasu’s answer got stuck in the tunnels of his throat, like his own brain was unsure of the reason why he brought it up in the first place. He just wanted to talk to her, to hear her voice echo for all eternity in the caves of his soul, even long after he’s left this world. "Losin' an ordinary girl ain't worth it to be upset over."

[Name]’s footsteps falters, the edge of her shoe getting caught by a crack appearing out of nowhere, much like her own traitorous heart, once again caught in the snares of his words. The words someone spoke to her long ago echoing in her head, you two are finally reaching the age of maturity. Finally—after so, so long—brave enough to let do of the things that weren’t meant to stay, and to be strong enough to accept those who were supposed to.

"Woah," this time, [Name] turned to face him with a skin-crawling grin, an all too familiar shape, he thinks.

"Who ever knew a day would come when Karasu Tabito calls his lifelong love an ordinary girl—"

"She wasn't a lifelong love!"

---

It took a long time for Karasu to gather the dust and form the courage to profess his love for [Name].

He was cocky, and overconfident, and rough and ragged around the edges, and disliked it when anything went wrong. Basically, he was his own enemy when it came to his own love life. Sure, people liked him enough to give him Valentine’s Day chocolates, but the issue lies in him, not his admirers. For the life of him, he could not be nice to anyone he saw as mundane or boring. He was an—in the nicest way possible—Karasu Tabito was an asshole. His smirk didn’t help his case one bit.

Oh, but how humbling an experience it is for him when she was the one standing before him. The great, I’m-gonna-make-you-see-yer-ordinary Karasu Tabito who stared down his opponents on field, was afraid to tell his best friend that he liked her.

That’s why he had dragged his feelings by the collar all the way to their second year of high school. His sister had more than a few not so nice things to say about him when she hears that up until now, he was still shaking in his elementary-school-boy shorts.

But could they blame him? Yeah, they really could. Even his parents looked at him weird when he always offered to wash the dishes at night because it gave him the excuse to see [Name] from the comfort of her living room.

Still, here he was—beating around the bush with the girl he likes.

But could they really blame him? This was [Name]! The one who could brawl in a gang fight barehanded and win. [Name] who had the nicest laugh and the warmest touch. It was [Name] whom he liked… [Name] who was dyed in all the colors of the sun.

And he was scared to lose her.

Karasu didn’t want to mess this up because not only will he lose her as a lover, he’d also be left to live in a word where he was no longer her best friend.

What if he did confess and she turns him down?

What then?

In his eyes, compared to her—[Name] who was everything in his world—to [Name] who had the nicest smile, and the happiest laugh, Karasu felt mundane in all the aspects of his life.

So sometimes, when his own emotions overwhelm him as he gets so lost just thinking about her in the silence of the night, he tells himself that maybe, it was fine like this.

Tabito and [Name]; [Name] and tabito. Best friends.

Maybe, he should just shut them in, keep it all inside and wait for it to go away, pray for it to go away. He was having loads of fun already. They were together all the time. Maybe... just maybe... it's fine like this. Maybe staying as childhood friends—as best friends forever—isn't so bad.

"Why're ya dressed like an old man?" [Name] raised a brow at him, lips twitching as she fought tooth and nail to swallow her laugh. Her eyes analyze his get up from head to toe, taking in his fake white beard down to his green yukata and his grey haori, and the geta on his feet that echoed with every exaggerated step; wooden footwear she saw inside her grandpa's shoe cabinet. He was hunched over like a shrimp, with a cane to support his weight.

"'S for the class!" he replies with enthusiasm, stroking his fake white beard like some wise old monk.

"Ya look like a senile old man." [Name] snorts, her restraint shattering at the angry look on his face as her laugh resonates in the crowded hallway. She adjusts her grip on the box of props, shoulders shaking from the little giggles that seeped from her lips.

Karasu cracked an eye open to glare at her, and with an added pizzazz, rose in hand to counter—more like agree—with her. "I am a senile old man!"

[Name] laughed harder, the box rattling like the happiness that rippled the once serene calmness of her soul. "Ya sound just like gramps!" She breathes, wiping her eye on the cloth of her shoulder.

Karasu grumbles in defeat, knowing he couldn't win against [Name] and her oh-so-creative teasing.

He dropped the act and adjusted his posture to stand to his full height, ultimately noting that [Name] had stopped laughing once she realizes that in height, Karasu would always have the last laugh. Or in this case, a triumphant smirk on his face as he eyes her from above, not even craning his head.

She squints her eyes at him. “Damn evolution,” she mutters under her breath and made sure her voice was loud and clear as she finishes her sentence with— “Since when did idiots grow to be so tall?!”

[Name] hmphed, turning her head to look away and sidestepped to get past himto move onward to her destination, but before she could, Karasu shifted to block her path.

"What is it now—" The words got lodged in the tunnels of her throat as the weight of the box she’s been carrying since the school gate suddenly disappeared from her arms.

She looked at him, startled to find him looking at anywhere but her. The autumn daylight made the crimson on his cheeks all the more prominent.

Karasu couldn’t bring himself to believe that he could ever be happy with being just her friend. He reckons he never will. It would kill him not to love her beyond all this. If there ever existed a universe where he was contented with that—he was damn sure it would not be this one.

Because he as much as he was cocky, and overconfident, and an asshole. Karasu was greedy. And he was selfish. And painfully stubborn.

"Just helpin' the pretty girl lift the heavy boxes."

[Name]’s face erupted into a thousand shades of red, but this time, she had nothing to use to hide it from him. He caught her by surprise. A dirty trick. Ambushed her to this—this… vulnerable position. She could feel like fire spread through her veins like lava, setting all in its wake into a melting heat, burning at the thorns of her restraint, drowning the caves of her hesitance to a resounding calm, and lighting the heavens of her soul into all the colors of the sun.

She hated this. Stupid Tabito. Before she could contain herself, her embarrassment took reign of her actions, her knee jerks up, landing a solid kick to the back of his thighs.

"Ow!" He yelps, did Karasu ever mention that her kicks were heavy? Well they were. The force of her assault had him fumbling over his own steps, but he could not stop the growing smile on his face.

"Get goin' old man!" she snaps, crossing her arms and glaring at all the things around them. She was flustered. Her body couldn’t decide if she liked it or hated it. Why does he find the need to say that? Why does Karasu have to be so—so… embarrassing?

[Name] buries her face in the palm of her hands, as if her own flaming limb could help cool the raging inferno on her face. Her mind replays his words like a broken record. Pretty girl. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Did he even mean that? Probably. That stupid crow always pushed her so far, teased her to no end. So, what was the difference this time?

Karasu laughs, a sound so cool and warm, the sting from his best friend’s kick fading to a dull echo. His gaze made from the softest threads, one so intertwined with the melody of affection, blanketed with the warmest colors.

…Maybe it’s because this time around, he actually means it.

And this time, he wasn’t afraid to say it to her.

This one will probably come around to bite him back, but he would take it. Anything the world throws at him—he would take it. Because he wouldn’t allow himself to see another sun if [Name] didn’t go to sleep not knowing that she’s pretty.

---

The day of the school's culture festival rolled around.

For the past three weeks, their class united on the single idea of setting up a little café. By some miracle, they actually pulled it off quite well, despite battling the initial deadline, heavily handicapped at the loss of their two athletes. Between Karasu’s rigorous training schedule and [Name]’s tyrant of a coach monopolizing every spare second of her time for practice, there was no way they were ever going to contribute much beyond the bare minimum.

But [Name] did not want to be dead weight.

She volunteered to carry the boxes containing the ingredients and decorations, carrying them across campus like a one-woman moving company. While Karasu was left with no other option but to dress up like an old man inviting people to come and buy—he would probably garner more attention if he stayed just the way he is, but with his sharp tongue and domineering stare, he would just scare all their customers away (not like a beard and a yukata could hold his words back).

By the time the sun had reached the middle of the sky, they already looked like they wanted to go home—both completely floored from the physical work.

[Name] sat crisscross apple sauce outside the classroom, her back against the wall, and Karasu plopped down beside her, stretching his legs out with a groan—no respect for anyone walking by, his legs were nearly occupying a quarter of the hallway!

Their lunches were as mismatched as their personalities: [Name] poked at the pasta littered with raisins while Karasu grimaced at the sight of mushrooms contaminating his bento.

He knew he should be thankful to his sister who had oh-so-kindly offered to make them lunch seeing as she was on break from college, but Tabito has already told her like a million times! He doesn’t like mushrooms, [Name] does. And [Name] didn’t like raisins, he did!

Without a word, he begins plucking the raisins out of her food like they were newly ripe fruits ready to sell, dumping them on the lid of his bento. In honor of distributive justice, he traded in all the mushrooms he had on his lunch to hers.

"Yer actin' weird," she mutters through a mouthful of pasta, eyeing him from where she sat.

"Whatcha talkin' 'bout, I've always been this kind." He retorts, smiling to convey his sincerity as he places a hand over his heart like it could vouch for his claims.

"Kind-a suspicious ya mean!" [Name] squints at him, pointing a stick of bread at his face. "Just say whatcha wanna say already!"

"Yer ovethinkin' it! i'm always like this!" he defended, not bothering to hide the way he eyes [Name]’s stick of bread.

If he were to just…

"Hey, Tabi-chan...” her call drew the curtains close to his evil scheme. “What would you do if I got a boyfriend?"

Her question silenced the chaos in his head, pulling apart at all the worlds he built until everything came to a standstill. Until he was surrounded by the never-ending nothingness that came with the weight of her question. Heavier than all the stars, so it seems. Why was she saying this? Why now? Why does it have to be now? Now that he was finally—

But she didn’t wait for an answer. Maybe he was perturbed by his silence, mistaking it for agreement. Yet the truth was that she just caught him off guard.

Like [Name]… he didn’t hold all the answers in the world.

"I probably wouldn't, huh?" she laughs, smiling despite the obvious squeeze in her throat. A jest, in the kindest words; hurt, in the worst. "No one's ever gonna want a brute like me."

That's not true, Karasu wanted to protest. What she spoke of couldn't have been farther from the truth.

He didn’t want her to think like that—she just couldn’t. She was someone who deserved the love she wanted to have… more than anyone else. And he wanted to say that to her. He wanted to tell her desperately that there was someone who loved her—hell, so many people loved her.

Every day, he raced against so many people for her affection, for a chance to feel what it’s like to be loved by someone like her.

"There's gotta be someone out there, right?" he offers. Or right here... if you can only look at me. "Someone who'll love you… just fer who ya are."

"Ya really believe in that?" she asked, laughing again, but this time it sounded more like an escape. She wraps the furoshiki on the bento box, her hands moving far too quickly that Karasu knew she was doing it just so she wouldn’t have to look at him.

But that didn’t matter. She could turn a blind eye to him today. He would wait. Ignore his attempts tomorrow—he would still wait. Stay oblivious to it for the next five years? Then he’ll just have to step up his game.

"I know it."

There was something about the way he said it, shacked by all the chains of his beliefs, as thought there could exists no surer thing that what he knew right at this very moment.

It took her by surprise, stole all the breath reserved in her lungs that she forgot that she needed to breathe to see the next day.

“Ya don’t even need to wish fer that,” he adds, voice steadied by the foundation of his own experiences. “They come naturally,” he continues.

In all the forms you can think of. A piece of paper with the things about yer crush. A soccer ball. The kicking pad almost takin’ yer head off. Or a melting, half-eaten popsicle on a summer day.

“Sometimes… ya never realize ya had them all along.”

[Name] formed her courage from the dust, turning to look at him, despite every pull of gravity telling her not to.

He was never gonna make forgetting him easy, was he? Perhaps he never wanted her to forget. Because how could she when Karasu says all these things that made her heart want to run out of her own chest? When he says all these that it leads her back to her planet-sized crush on him. How was she supposed to get away from him now? How was she supposed to move on? How was she going to ever fully deny that she didn't like him anymore when everything, in everywhere... all the roads lead straight back to him?

“And ya don’t need to wish for him to love you…”

Karasu smiles at her, one so different from all the others he ever gave her. Dyed in all the colors of gratitude, blessed by the heavens, shaded in all the colors of the sun.

“Because he already does.”

---

"Why'd we hafta go, Tabi-chan?" [Name] whines, tired from all the walking they had been doing for the last thirty minutes, now tired from all the hiking—seriously, who hikes in the evening?

"Whaddaya mean why?” Karasu shot back, raising a questioning brow at her complain. “We always go every year! And don't act like ya don't like it when yer all dressed up." he points to her yukata, dyed in the shade of violets, decorated with the flowing river in the form of cranes. Karasu had to leash his head and make a conscious effort not to look too much lest he risk getting reported for being a creep.

"Only cuz Ma made me,” she admits, tugging slightly at her obi. “Always naggin' 'bout actin' like a girl and lookin' like a girl as if I ain't a girl." She huffs, the corners of her lips weaving to a scowl.

Karasu tilted his head in fond gentleness. “You look beautiful,” he whispers, the sentiment flowing past his lips like the gentle spring breeze. “Yer always beautiful.”

His words crashed against her like a tidal wave: caressing the soles of her feet, drawing back, before coming at her all at once—with little to no warning at all.

[Name] tilts her head to the side to look at him, smiling at him with all the happiness in the universe. “Ya don't look to shabby yerself, Tabito."

Before he could fire back, Karasu caught a glimpse of sparks tracing the obsidian sky, rising to reach the heavens for it to fracture into a thousand colorful fire, dyeing the obsidian canvas with all the colors of man.

Yet he already saw something far more grandeur than those when he looked into the pools of her eyes—reflecting all the stardust and galaxies, as if everything existed just so they could dim when compared to her, like it all came to being, just so they could fall short when she breathes.

"They're so pretty..." she whispers in awe, smiling at the sight of the transient lights.

"Yeah," he hums mindlessly, but his eyes never left hers. You are beautiful.

"I like you, [Name]." Karasu’s words silenced the chaos of the world, as if everything spiralled into nothingness to create a space only the two of them shared.

[Name] stares at him in bewilderment, her lips parted slightly, not knowing what to say.

"Don't look so surprised,” Karasu berates her with a crooked grin. “Whatcha expect? I'm only human, ya know. Ain't immune to yer charms."

"Tabito what the hell—"

Her vision burst forth into multitudes of colors at the sight of him, red-faced, flustered beyond her wildest imagination, eyes that shone with all the bravery and strength in the world, still his voice is riddled with a careful gentleness—like if he spoke any louder, this ephemeral space would crumble and he’d find himself back to reality. But his words would resound in the depths and skies of her soul for all the eternities to come, until all the stars are nothing but a dream. Until the earth is painted with all the colors of the sun.

"I'm in love with you," he confesses, his hand reaching for hers. Shaking from his nerves, determined in his affection.

His eyes searched hers for traces of disdain, any hints that she didn’t want this. Karasu dug through the colors of her face for anything—anything that told him to go away, to never show his face to her ever again.

"And I have been for a long time."

His touch lingered, hesitant to take another step forward.

"I know I'm nothin' much.” He admits, pained at the thought of his own imperfections. “I get jealous easily, and I can't be nice to mediocre people. I can't swim, and I'm afraid of water. I'm prolly the last person ya'd ever want to love ya but..." he falters, his breaths coming in short intakes as he scavenged the lands of his soul for the right words to say—for the courage he had stacked upon one another.

“I don’t—” His voice cracks, holding her hand tightly as if her touch could piece back his crumbing confidence. “I want ya to be happy. God knows that I do. But I don't want to lose ya to anyone else.” But it seems like her warmth could not hold together his voice that shattered from the weight. “I’m selfish. And I’m greedy. If you still have space in yer heart for a little bit more of me, even if the odds are one to a million... then I'd want to have it.”

I'd risk everything to have it.

Karasu looked at her again, mapping the face of the one he loves, breathing heavily until he found the words he always wanted to say. "Yer beautiful. Yer smart, and strong. Anyone would be lucky to have ya love 'em."

He smiled weakly, voice softening to melt into the silence of the night.

"And... I'm just an ordinary guy, standin' in front of the most amazing girl... askin’ her to love him."

He could wait a thousand more years if she told him to. Capture every star in the sky if it makes her happy. Karasu would move the universe for her, and she will only ever need to ask.

He would color the world to her liking if she tells him too.

“Yer an idiot are’ntcha?”

Karasu raised his head to meet the sound of her voice. God, she was so beautiful.

“I guess I am,” he laughs.

“Good on ya that I like idiots.” She tightens her hold on his hand, smiling at him for all that he did and more.

Because people can’t love you exactly the way you want them to. You just have to let them try to do their best.

I think I got sidetracked halfway tbh 💀this is my first time writing a non-tragedy paleontological distaster-ending fic also my first time writing for karasu because he wouldn't leave me alone 😭 I can't believe I managed to give birth to a fic in under four??? yeah four days. I think I began liking this guy like five days ago for some unknown reason 💀 anyway, my requests are still open, and ya can read my other works here! thanks fer readin' 😁❤

[pangur-and-grim]

look I'm deleting this so soon, but you can see it for a sec

I met Jorg by accident while hunting for cool rocks in the creek.

My pockets already bulged with stones, the weight pulling my pants dangerously low on my ass, but with the sun high above, I felt plenty ready to continue my search. That is, until I splashed too close to the old bridge.

“I cry your mercy, my peerless paramour,” came a voice like stones and kittens in a shaken bag. It took a moment to parse it as language.

“What?” I said, unfolding from my crouched position in the water. 

“Seekest thou a trinket?” From the depth of shadows under the bridge, I saw two eyes shining like silver coins.

“Uh,” I said. “Just rocks, really. I’m hoping for a fossil, or maybe nice and sparkly to put on my shelf, you know? Or wait, here.” And shaking my hand dry, I shoved it into a loaded pocket, searching by touch for the best of my finds. “Here,” I said, pulling it out, “See how yellow this is? With white banding? I’m fully ignorant about its geology, you might know more than me, but it looks lovely. Like a lemon custard. Would you like to see?”

A terrible hand unfurled from the shadows. The wind shifted then, and its smell hit me, like freshly dug earth and the salty musk of an overworked horse. I continued to smile politely as I sloshed closer. Under the bridge’s shadow, the summer lost its warmth. 

I placed the rock onto its central paw pad. It struck me, then – I’d forgotten to clarify I’d like the rock back afterward, but now it seemed too late. Fingers closed about the stone. 

“Again, I don’t know much, so apologies if it’s ordinary. I’m actually in an engineering program, so could tell you more about this bridge than what’s under it.”

With my eyes adjusted to the dark, I could now assess the creature. It hunched to fit under the confines of the stone bridge, all pale wormy skin and tufts of colourless fur, with ears that sharpened into points. As the creature brought the stone to its muzzle and huffed, I let my eyes roam the bridge’s underside, searching for something I could comment on. 

Unfortunately, I found it. “Oh, fuck.”

“Trouble, my sweeting?”

“Yeah, you see the cracks there? The bridge’s foundation is crumbling. That’s no good. I mean, not that it’ll collapse at this exact moment, but–“ 

The bridge shook then, as something heavy passed across it at speed. I sloshed out into the sunlight and squinted at the vehicle speeding away: Mr. Manor, who’d renovated the farmhouse across the creek into something modern and flavourless.

“Asshole!” I shouted after the car. Wading back under the bridge, I said, “Sorry about that. Got a bit carried away.”

It hunched, shivering in the shadows. “Beshrew that rolling waste,” it hissed, and I nodded in agreement. Once again, my eyes adjusted to the dark, and I realized that it was a he.

“So, not big on clothes, then?” I leaned against a bridge wall, running my fingers along its cracks. “I get that.”

He grunted acknowledgment, before turning to dig through a heap of rags and trash. When the creature found what he sought, he yipped in delight. “Your trinket, dearworth!”

Between two taloned claws, he brandished a lump of shiny yellow. 

“Is that gold?” Despite my waving and stuttering, he kept his enormous hand held out to me, and so with some nervousness I took the lump. 

The creature radiated heat. Fresh sweat broke out across my chest from our proximity. “Honestly, I can’t possibly accept this.” Though, turning the lump this way and that, I did admire how it caught the faint light beneath the bridge. I could already picture how it might fulfil a similar role on my windowsill.

“By my troth,” the creature insisted, in his clicking hiss, “It is fitting.”

“I feel like I’m being courted.” I cradled the precious stone like it was an egg that might crack. At his unwavering stare, I blanched. “Am I? You know that I’m a guy, right?”

“A choice sweetmeat,” the creature said, and grinned. He unfolded his long, simian arm, and brushed back a lock of hair that had fallen across my eyes.

Oh, so the creature was a homosexual!

“Be that as it may,” I coughed, feeling my cheeks heat, “I do actually have to go. I promised to do the groceries today. But you know…” And I hesitated, unsure how to broach it. “This is an old bridge. It can’t handle all this modern usage.”

“Aye,” the creature said, in a sad grumble, before perking up. “Pray thee come again?”

“Of course!” I said, a little too eagerly, and then look away in embarrassment. “I mean, always more rocks to find, right? Thank you again, for the. . . thank you!” For a second time, I splashed my way out from under the bridge. Then I turned. “What’s your name, by the way?”

His eyes gleamed like twin moons in the dark. “Jorg,” he rattled. Or possibly ‘George’, it was hard to tell.

“See you later, Jorg!”  

Only when I’d waded to the shore and slipped into my waiting flip flops did I allow myself break into a full grin. I didn’t slip the gold into my pocket, instead dancing it between my fingers for the full walk along the roadside, and into the shopping plaza.

Only after I’d entered the No Frills did I realize that a crackling layer of creek sediment coated me from the waist-down,. I grabbed a plastic basket from the entrance stack and, suffering a few glances from the more cleanly folk, began hunting. Dish detergent, paper towels, a bag of honey crisp apples, all bran cereal…even with that repeated mantra, it was hard to focus. My body tingled with the remembrance of the creature’s wafting heat and salty odour. Self-checkout took far longer than it otherwise might, with the woman behind me sighing pointedly, but that hardly mattered.

I stepped into the parking lot with my arms and heart full. Truly, I wasn’t planning on a confrontation, until I saw Mr. Manor's parked car. “Ah, damn.” I said, and turned to head back in.

The doors slid open for me with a cool puff of air. It felt strange to walk in with bags of purchased produce, like the opposite of stealing, but nobody stopped me.

I found Mr. Manor in amongst the vegetables, fingering a ripe tomato. His face held a similar colour, his cheeks branched with broken veins. 

“Hey there,” I said. He acknowledged me with a polite nod and then tried to turn away, so I stepped in closer. “Hey, I’m a neighbour, sort of. I’ve been away for college, you won’t have seen me around.”

“Okay,” said Mr. Manor. He held his tomato in one hand, and a plastic bag in another. Clearly, he was wondering whether it would be rude to start loading his bag while I still demanded his attention.

“Anyway, so the old stone bridge? I’ve seen you driving over it with, what is that, an electric car? A Tesla?”

“Yeah.” He had shaggy brows, which crept closer together.

“So, the bridge is old, like real old, probably meant for horses and wagons, right?”  

He stared back at me, gripping his tomato.

“You’ve got some kind of mythological creature living under it, did you know?”

“Yeah,” he said, and carefully placed his tomato into the plastic bag. It was a signal to me, that his civility was waning. I cut to the chase.

“So, I reckon the bridge isn’t meant for the repeated weight of a car driving over it, right? I was under there – “

“You were under my bridge?”

“Well, sure, looking for stones, so anyways I saw cracks and stuff? Signs of degradation? And normally I wouldn’t bother you, except you know, you’ve got a mythological creature living under there.”

“If you’ll excuse me,” said Mr. Manor, and in rapid motions stuffed three more tomatoes into his bag. “You needn’t concern yourself with this any further.”

The billow of air conditioning, and the gentle misting that kept the bins of assorted greenery hydrated, all conspired to give me energy. 

“You know, the mythological creature, I think he’s a homosexual?” I said, as Mr. Manor tried to quick step away.

That stopped him. “That’s not something I care about. I mean, my niece is going through a lesbian phase right now, I’ve always been accepting.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t, only that the bridge probably can’t take the weight of your car over and over.”

“I always vote left-wing.”

“Okay, so the bridge, though?”

Mr. Manor nodded, his face going even redder, and I knew in that moment that he wouldn’t do a thing. My fingers ached from standing with full grocery bags, so I gave up and left the store.

Outside, the parking lot shimmered in the heat. I squinted, pained by the sun. Even with sweat beading on my forehead, I still altered my route to pass Mr. Manor’s tesla, and lightly kicked one wheel. The motion swung my grocery bags, one of them hitting me in the thigh. “Ow!” 

The walk home had me regretting the confrontation. My arms and fingers hurt, no matter how I shuffled the bags, and sweat rolled into my eyes and stung them. Walking up my front steps brought some relief, though I grew unbearably annoyed fishing for my keys. Finally, with a click and a creak, the door opened. I dropped the bags in the front hall and stood there, luxuriating in the air conditioning.

 My sister sat in the kitchen, scrolling through Instagram.

“Hey Mary,” I said, and she grunted in response. “You know, there’s some kinda creature living under the bridge?”

“What bridge?”

“Like a fifteen-minute walk away, -ish? Anyway, so his name is Jorg, I think. Or George. Probably Jorg. I think he’s a homosexual.”

“Oh?” Mary looked up from her phone. She’d overloaded her mascara today, so that flakes of it deposited on her upper cheek as she blinked. “Are you interested?”

“Mary, he’s a mythological creature.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Yeah, I guess I’m interested.” I considered telling her about the bridge, but she’d probably ask what I planned next. She might even start a social media campaign, and I hadn’t decided to care to that extent. Not yet, anyway.

The next morning, I woke up incredibly aroused. “By God,” I said, staring at my bedroom ceiling. “I need to get back to that bridge!”

My head felt wonderfully empty. I choked down bran cereal, fended off conversational attempts from my mother, and scraped the black mud from beneath my nails with a file. No concern existed, as to when I’d be back at my university program, or how I’d finance it, having thoroughly fucked up my scholarship. Only the careful selection of which shorts and shirt a bridge troll might prefer me in. I’d just settled on a tight-fitting grey number, emblazoned with a wriggling salmon, when the first ambulance drove by. The whine of its siren came first, like the breathless scream of an animal, and then my room flashed red and blue. Then, it was past,

It took 9 minutes of jogging to reach the bridge, and as I panted my way down the country roadside, another ambulance passed, and then a tow truck. I clutched at the gold in my pocket, feeling it take the warmth of my hand.

When I approached the scene, my fears became a solid thing in front of me. A pile of rumble blocked the creek, which, resisting this imposition, climbed its bank to trickle into new paths at either side. Mr. Manor’s Tesla had come close to making it across before the collapse, before falling. It reared like a horse, statically, its back end crushed by centuries-old stones. Mr. Manor himself lay in a wheeled stretcher, seemingly uninjured, though they’d strapped something stupid about his neck. Likely a precaution. His face, red as a tomato, contorted with an anger that he took out, in barks, on the paramedics. While I might have rolled him into the creek, the EMT’s stoically loaded him into an ambulance. 

“Hey,” I called, as they shut the doors, leaving one of their fellows inside with Mr. Manor, “There’s a guy who lives under that bridge!”

A thickset woman with a peeling sunburn looked at me with deep-blue eyes, while her co-worker, a short man, grimaced at her in anticipation of further work.

“Sorry, not a guy,” I corrected, “A mythological creature.”

All the tension left their shoulders. “That’s not our department,” the woman said, scratching at her sunburnt cheek.

“But, I mean,” I spluttered, “You won’t do anything at all?”

“Legally, we can’t. You have to take a special course, we don’t have the credentials.” She spoke with a patience that bordered on kindness, but it didn’t feel as though any of that kindness extended towards Jorg. I couldn’t think of anything further to say, so they left.

The ambulance took off with a silenced siren. Its lights flashed calmly, painting the collapsed stones blue and red in turn. Its sister ambulance, whose occupants hadn’t bothered to step out in my presence, peeled off and followed, leaving me alone with the tow truck.

“Can you move the rubble, at all?” I asked.

The tow-man stood with hands on his hips, surveying. I recognized him from around town, but we’d never spoken. He always kept his grey-streaked hair high in a ponytail.

“Not my job,” he said, “I just gotta get that car out.”

“There’s a mythological creature underneath all that.” I pointed at the rubble, but the man said nothing in response. “I think he’s a homosexual.”

“Hey, my brother’s a gay,” the man said, lighting a cigarette, “It’s still not my job. Don’t even have the right stuff on hand for this.” Then his voice lowered into a indistinguishable grumble, listing all the materials he needed, and the traffic that awaited, and the general progression of his morning. I didn’t listen, but I also tried not to cough on his cigarette smoke, as that might be rude. 

Seeing as nobody else would do a damn thing, I took off my flips flops. Then, I carefully climbed down the bank into the creek, letting the water swallow my feet up to the ankles. Glancing back at the road revealed it to be empty, with the tow truck finally having cleared off. 

“Damn,” I said, “This isn’t my department, either.” Even so, I pried at the piled rubble, lifting small, manageable pieces. These, I heaved into the creek with great frothing splashes. 

“Jorg?” I called at intervals. Each time I stopped, straining for any hint of a reply. I never heard any.

The sun got higher, and hotter, and I ran out of pieces I could lift. Sitting on the creek bank, I wiped my hands dry on a pant leg, then scrolled through my phone to find out whose department this was, exactly.

Broken websites. Links which lead to more links, which lead back to the original page in an ouroboros. Government sites in need of updating. No numbers to call, nobody to email.

In a last ditch, I called 911. “Hey there,” I said, when they asked for my emergency. “So, the old bridge collapsed, close to the No Frills? Off the highway?”

“Sir, we’ve already had people on the scene for this situation.”

“Well,” and I clutched grass between my fingers, tearing it free from the earth. “There’s a mythological creature buried underneath the rubble, is all.”

“We don’t deal with that, sir.” 

“He’s a homosexual, I’m pretty sure.”

“We don’t deal with that, sir.”

“Okay, well there’s got to be someone who does deal with it. Who should I be calling here, what should I do?”

She gave me a web address that I’d already looked at, and then ended the call. “Fuck,” I said, without real passion. The Tesla couldn’t speak, but standing vertically with its ass pinched by rubble, I reckon it would agree with my assessment. 

With the exception of the car, and the bridge, the day seemed perfectly ordinary, all blue sky and pleasant warmth.

A few more handfuls of pulled grass, and then I got back to work, scrabbling over the collapsed bridge and prying at its ruined components. My carefully chosen shirt grew wet with sweat, and as my odour developed, I realized that I’d ran out without applying antiperspirant. “Sorry if I smell,” I said to nobody, as I threw another Victorian-era stone into the creek. Then the bridge shifted under me, and I fell to one knee, scraping my skin. 

“Damn,” I said, shaken. Carefully, I climbed down from the ruin, splashing through the creek to the shore. With the present instability, it could easily shift and crush a leg or a foot. 

“This isn’t my department,” I said to the wreckage. “This isn’t anyone’s department, it seems.” Beads of red trickled down my shin, diluted by the water that still dripped from me.

I rested back on the warm bank, and took out Jorg’s gift, rolling it between my fingers. With my free hand, I scrolled through websites, their links already purple. The gold lump cast reflected beams of light across my touchscreen.

I dialed a few town council numbers, without result. Nobody came, no more flashing lights. Once I thought I heard a scratching, but when I pressed my ear to the piled stone, the only sound was my own ragged breathing. 

Eventually, I went home. 

For a time, I kept the gold on my windowsill, where it sparkled in the corner of my eye, throwing its reflection across my work, demanding my attention and my guilt, until in an angry rush I swept it into my hand and locked it in a drawer. 

When I returned to the creek a year later, having financed my return to engineering though a loan, the piled debris was gone, and something modern and concrete bridged the water in its place. 

Standing at the summit of this new construction, I threw the lump of gold in a glistening arc. It disappeared into the water with barely a ripple, and that was that.

every now and then I go back and read my homoerotic bridge troll story, and it's always like wait, this is kinda good

[monster-disaster]

[monsters] New Year's resolution

monsters x human!Reader Good to know: no warnings

Summary: Your New Year's resolution leads to a very intense week in the gym.

“She is the one.”

Kiron frowns. His dark eyes scan through the crowd, searching. “Which one?”

“That pretty girl in the black sweatshirt,” Diran replies, nodding subtly in your direction. “She just left the reception desk.”

“Oh,” Decar hums. The deep baritone of his voice barely rises above the monotone drone of the treadmills. “And she has a membership card. She’s serious.”

Kiron snorts, crossing his muscular arms over his chest. “Yeah, so is half the city. It’s January, after all.”

Decar’s lips curl into a slow, predatory smirk, just enough to show a hint of his canines. “Well, then, let’s make sure she doesn’t quit after a week, shall we?” His vivid green eyes gleam under the bright fluorescent lights as he watches you take a tentative step closer to a row of sleek, whirring machines. Your gaze darts around, clearly lost and unsure and so blissfully unaware of their scrutiny.

“Boys,” Nara speaks up finally. Her voice cuts through the clang of weights like a pleasant melody. “You will scare her away.”

“Well, do you have a plan?” the orc asks, arching an eyebrow in challenge, though, he already knows the answer, of course. Nara always has a plan.

The succubus flashes a sharp, knowing smile that lights up her face with an air of effortless confidence. “Just watch and see.” The promise in her tone is undeniable.

It is the first Monday of the year, and the gym is full of new beginnings. The air hangs heavy with the potent mix of sweat, disinfectant from the freshly cleaned machines, and the weight of resolutions.

The guys watch as Nara strides toward you. Her steps are confident and fluid as she easily waves through the crowd. The blue yoga outfit she likes so much clings to her in all the right places. The light shade looks like the summer sky on her pastel purple skin. Her black hair is piled into a messy bun, with a matching scrunchie holding it all together.

“What do you think she’s saying to her?” Diran asks, tilting his head in curiosity.

The tiger shrugs. The black stripes on his arms flex as he adjusts his stance. “Who knows.”

“I’m surprised they still have their clothes on,” Kiron remarks teasingly. The orc watches you with amusement glinting in his dark gaze. Your wide, timid eyes remain fixed on Nara. You seem caught somewhere between awe and nervousness as your fingers fidget with the sleeve of your oversized sweatshirt.

The minotaur rolls his eyes, though his lips twitch with the ghost of a smile. “We are in public,” he points out, glancing sideways at the orc, whose knowing grin only deepens.

“Exactly,” the male replies. “You know Nara.”

“Look,” Decar interrupts, nodding toward you and Nara when the succubus turns her head ever so slightly to glance back at their group with a sly curl at the corner of her lips. Your gaze follows hers, landing on them for a brief, uncertain moment. “It’s our time, guys.”

Every part of the gym buzzes with life. Seasoned members move around the equipment with familiarity while the newcomers wander around, watching and trying to get through their “newbie” embarrassment.

“Y/N,” Nara says smoothly before any of the guys can get a word in. She gestures toward the trio with a casual wave of her hand. “These are Diran, Kiron, and Decar,” she introduces them in turn. “Guys, this is Y/N. It’s her first time here.”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” Diran says first in a friendly and inviting tone, and the others only nod in acknowledgment. Their imposing figures are softened by their smiles, though, Decar's is more of a smirk, and Kiron's grin has a sharpness to it, but the gesture is there.

“Y/N just told me she isn’t sure where to start with her workout.”

The orc has to bite his lip to stifle a comment, his gaze flicking from Nara to you with a glimmer of mischief. “Is that true?”

You nod a bit meekly, feeling self-conscious under the weight of their attention. “It all looks a bit overwhelming,” you admit, gesturing vaguely toward the expansive gym filled with unfamiliar equipment and bustling energy.

“It’s understandable,” Diran says with a reassuring nod. He is calm and grounded, a stark contrast to the others. “We all started somewhere.”

“That’s what I told her,” Nara interjects, flashing a grin as she effortlessly reclaims control of the conversation. “So, I offered to help her out.”

Kiron raises a brow, a sly look creeping onto his face as he exchanges a glance with the succubus. “Oh?”

“I thought we could show her some workout routines,” the woman says, her grin widening. “I don’t start my beginner class until next Monday, but if you’d like, Y/N, you can come early tomorrow, and I will give you a private yoga session.”

Decar snickers at the offer, but the low rumble of his chest gets drowned by all the noises around them. Of course Nara would claim the first opportunity to guide the sweet, wide-eyed newcomer. It’s only fair, after all. “That’s a great idea, Nara." The humor in his tone is evident.

The woman smirks at the tiger. “I know, right?”

The male crosses his arms, his tail swishing idly behind him. “I could show you some boxing moves on Wednesday,” he offers. “It’s a great way to build confidence.”

“And I can show you around the machines on Thursday,” the minotaur adds. “They can be tricky if you are new to them.”

The orc’s lips curl into a slow, dark grin. His tusks catch the bright lights from above. “And when you are all stretched and ready, we can end the week with some weightlifting on Friday.”

[lexosaurus]

One Giant Leap for a Ghost

Hello @charmingcritter so sorry I was late!! The days really got away from me. Anyway, happy truce! I chose to focus primarily on your space core prompt, though there are sprinkles of other prompts in here!

One Giant Leap for a Ghost Characters: Danny + his Mars crewmates (OCs for the plot) WC: 3275 Warnings: None

****

"I found you!" Danny yelled, springing out from the wall.

"God damnit, guys, Danny vented into the lab again," Mike Burlak, the crew's doctor, said from his place against the wall.

Tyron Cooper, the chemist, clicked his tongue. "Always knew that kid was the imposter."

"Yeah, you wish," Danny rolled his eyes and swooped around to see what sorts of mad scientist experiments Cooper was running today. "Between the two of us, you're definitely the imposter. I mean, who knows what kinds of poisons you're making with those."

"I'll have you know I'm completing my task, Fenton," Cooper said.

"That's what the imposter would want us to think. For all I know, you're sabotaging the mission."

"Pointing fingers now, aren't we? That's exactly what the imposter would do."

"I mean, Coop's right. You literally flew in from the air vent," Burlak said.

"Next to the air vent. Commander Stewart would have my head if I hung out in the air vent unnecessarily," Danny retorted.

"Fair point," Cooper said, returning his attention to the flasks on his lab bench. "What are you up to?"

"Gonna go do an EVA soon. It's a scheduled inspection." Despite trying to suppress it, Danny felt his aura intensify with the acknowledgment that he would get to go outside of the spaceship today, shimmering as a few hazy-looking planets threatened to form in the glow.

That moment was not lost on his crewmates, who both glanced at the faded green planets and twinkling stars around him. As much as he loved it, his core could be so predictable.

Cooper chuckled. "Well, it looks like you're ready to go."

Cool embarrassment prickled Danny's cheeks, but he couldn't fight off the smile that overtook his face as he said, "Yup!"

Burlak stepped off from the wall. "I'll be on standby, then."

Standby in case something happened that required Danny's immediate medical attention. Even though as a ghost, nothing in space could hurt him like it could to the rest of his human crew, NASA was taking no chances. Not that Danny could blame them. They didn't exactly have a plethora of ectoplasmic astronauts to pull data from.

"Let's head out! Commander Stewart's waiting."

Some days, it was difficult to believe he'd come so far. Danny remembered sitting in class in high school ready to give up on his dreams because he wasn't brilliant like Jazz and there was no way that a space agency like NASA would ever accept a half-dead teen in their program anyway. But then, his space obsession wouldn't let him throw that dream away.

Literally. 

It wouldn't let him.

After all, he had a space core. His eyes reflected the stars in the Universe and his aura shone with constellations and planets. When he looked at the sky, he didn't just see the stars, but also their characteristics, distances, temperatures, and so much more.

He was born to be an astronaut.

Which is why, despite half-dying when he was fourteen, he couldn't let that dream go. And instead of wallowing in despair, he decided to do something about it.

****

"And how old are you again?" Hugo Davis, director of the Mars missions, asked.

Phantom straightened his spine as if gaining an extra inch would magically age him ten years. "Old enough to be here."

Davis's eyes swept over him, narrowing as he scratched his fingers over his scraggly mustache. Beside him, NASA's senior executive Director Moore sat with his hands clasped before him, his face as expressive as a sheet of paper.

"I received a recommendation from Wilson," Phantom explained, though Davis would have already known this. It was in his file after all.

"And you're applying because..." Davis's voice drifted off, the silence echoing off the cavernous white walls of the conference room. 

The answer to that, too, was obvious. So obvious, that Phantom wasn't sure if he was supposed to answer the question. But it was an interview, so he responded as if he didn't notice the awkward air. "Yes, I'm applying for the Artemis program as an astronaut. Between my education and career experience, I believe I'm qualified to join the Mars mission."

Davis glanced at Moore, who decided now it was admissible to take over. "Yes, I think your qualifications are of no question. Of our applicants, you might be one of the most...uniquely qualified, I'll say, to join."

Anticipation jolted through Phantom's spine, but then Director Moore opened his mouth again, and any hope was squashed instantly. 

"However," Moore said, "I think I speak for the whole of the space program when I say there are some rather apparent concerns we need to discuss."

Those concerns were ones that Phantom was perfectly ready for, he tried to convince himself as he refrained from squirming in his seat like he was back in high school sitting in the Vice Principal's office yet again for cutting class. 

"Primarily, your...appearance." Moore swept a hand out before him.

"You mean the fact that I'm legally somewhat dead," Phantom filled in, glancing at the black, glowing jumpsuit he'd shown up to the interview wearing. Better to rip the bandaid off at the start, his father always had said.

Davis and Director Moore caught eyes once again.

"Well," Phantom continued, "technically, I'm not really dead. I'm also alive, you see, which is why I think I'm perfectly qualified for this job."

The two men remained silent at that.

"I mean, think about it. I don't need to breathe, so therefore I won't need a spacesuit. And I know how you all are about cutting costs. Well, that and less mass in the spaceship."

Director Moore scratched his chin. "Yes, cutting costs with the lack of an EVA suit is quite tempting."

"And since I can fly and wouldn't need a spacesuit, I can do repairs on the exterior of the ship far more easily than any of the human engineers could. Not to mention I can cover far more ground in a sol than any rover could. You’d have far more exploratory reach around your Martian base with me on the team."

The men nodded, lips pursed in deep contemplation. Phantom could tell that he was winning them over. He just needed one final push.

"And, if you needed any more convincing..." He flared his aura, pushing the power from the deepest part of his core into the men's visible spectrum. The white glow was replaced by the swirls of an aurora, and speckled stars shone out from the light, twinkling and grouping into constellations. "Well, I'm sure you've been filled in on my file, but it's all true. My powers really do let me locate any star or planet in the Universe. All I need is a name, and I can tell you its basic features, gravity, and coordinates."

"Do you mind if I test you?" Davis asked.

"Go ahead."

"Kepler-1b."

Phantom pointed his finger in the air, and an ecto-hologram of a black planet surrounded by the light of its sun formed above them. He closed his eyes, and the words appeared behind his lids like a textbook. "Kepler-1b, otherwise known as TrES 2b, is the darkest planet known to humankind and is located 750 light years away. It orbits around GSC 03549-02811, it's got a gravity of 1.4 g's, and its right ascension is 19:07:14.035 with a declination of +49:18:59.0." He opened his eyes and grinned at the two men who were currently looking at him like he'd grown a second head. "Will that suffice?"

"I'd heard the rumors, but I wasn't sure if they were true." Director Moore's shocked expression melted into an approving smile. "I think we got what we needed. That'll be all. We'll be in touch soon."

****

Space was silent.

Space was expansive.

Space was incredible. 

Magnificent. Amazing. Utterly breathtaking, and every single other word that Danny could pull from his mental dictionary.

Space was beautiful. And it was his. Not in the sense where a ghost lair belonged to a ghost, because even Danny's space core recognized that no one could dare lay claim to such a beast, but when Danny closed his eyes and smelled the metallic particles that dusted around him, he knew that he was truly home.

They called it an EVA for the sake of consistency, but Danny was not wearing a spacesuit. He didn't need one. He was a ghost. Not just any ghost, but Phantom, the ghost that haunted Amity Park's observatory. He was born to do spacewalks.

Convincing NASA's top worrywarts that an EVA suit was unnecessary was a challenge in itself, but somehow, he managed to do it. And thank goodness for that because, without the suit, he could truly experience everything that outer space had to offer: the bone-setting cold, the lack of atmosphere, the lack of air. 

His ghost core adored it. The feeling, the silence.

"Don't get lost out there," came the amused, tinny voice of Commander Stewart through his bone-conduction CCA earpiece.

"Sorry," Danny responded, squinting into the distance. "It's just that the sun looks so small from here." He twirled around and grinned at the approaching red planet before him. "And Mars looks so huge. It's hard to believe we're still so far away when it looks like I can reach out and touch it."

"Well, it's only half the size of Earth," said Burlak. 

"I don't know if you knew this, but the Earth is pretty large," retorted Cooper.

"Oh, shut up."

"Boys." Commander Stewart's voice was sharp. There was a moment of muttering apologies before she took an audible breath and tried again. "Phantom, how is the inspection going?"

"It's...going." 

"That's code for Space Ghost over here has spent the entire time ogling Mars again," the engineer, Merissa Chase, joked.

Well, could anyone blame him? Mars was just so pretty and red and...and...

"Finish the inspection and report back," Commander Stewart said.

Danny blinked, turning back to the huge spaceship in front of him. "Yes, Commander!"

****

Danny felt the edges of the folded paper pressing between his palms. Despite his best intentions, the paper was slightly wrinkled, a casualty of his tight grip. He loosened his fingers, took a deep breath, and began. "I need you all to sit down."

Jazz eyed him curiously, her red hair slipping off her shoulder. "You okay, Danny?"

"Yeah, dude, you look pale," Tucker agreed.

"I'm fine," Danny replied, perhaps more curtly than he'd intended. He took another breath, forcing his heart to slow. "I have something to tell you all."

"What is it, son?" Dad asked. "And why did you make us take off all our weapons earlier?"

Danny glanced away. "I just don't want you to be mad at me."

Maddie stopped before her seat, her instincts seemingly kicking into high gear before she had a chance to sit down. "What is it?"

Danny shrank back, then before he could list any of the nine-thousand reasons why this was a bad idea, he unfurled the letter and passed it to his mother.

"Dear Mr. Phantom," she began, her voice catching. "Mr. Phantom? As in the space-themed ghost?"

"Just keep reading."

"We at NASA are pleased to extend an offer of employment as an astronaut on the Mars Mission team. Despite the lack of ectoplasmic entities in our employment, we feel as though the unique skills you bring as an individual are unmatched by any human. Throughout the interview process, we have enjoyed getting to know you and appreciate you letting us test the advantages that your abilities offer. We were especially impressed by your navigational abilities as demonstrated in your interview, which is a power that we believe will put your team at a huge advantage when traversing through space. It is for these reasons and many more that we are extending this position to you."

Danny tasted the words on his lips, mouthing along subconsciously as he pictured the words in his mind that his eyes had hungrily soaked in hundreds of times since he'd received the letter in the mail.

"We are eager to begin discussing the details of your position with you soon.  Should you choose to accept the offer, you will be expected to relocate to Houston where you will begin training. Your expected starting date is June fifth, and you will be asked to sign a confidentiality contract at the start of your employment. Please contact me if you have any questions in the meantime. Welcome to the NASA team."

His mother finished reading the letter, letting her final words hang in the air like dew on fresh-cut grass. Danny kept his eyes downturned, unable to bear to see the looks of confusion or—worse—realization from his parents.

This was it. This was the moment when he finally told his parents that he was a half-ghost.

"Wow, that's amazing!" Jazz said, breaking the silence. She jumped from her chair and swept him into a hug.

"Holy shit, you got the job?" Tucker asked.

"Yeah." Danny finally broke out in a grin.

"Congrats, Danny!" Sam cheered. "That's awesome!"

"I don't understand. Why is this addressed to Phantom?" Maddie asked.

The cheers died in the room, and Danny's stomach plummeted once again. He finally looked up to see the distress of his parents, and he knew that it was time. Finally, after years of avoidance, he had to stop running.

"Mom, Dad, I have something I need to tell you..."

And he began. He told them about the portal, about how in his last moments, he thought about the future he'd never have. How he woke up in Phantom's body with ectoplasmic planets swirling above him. How he tried to forget about it, pretend it never happened, but he couldn't because every time he'd look up at the night sky, all he wanted to do was transform and fly to the edges of the Universe. How he'd worked so hard all these years, doing all the right things, to set his career down this road. How despite being significantly younger than most of the applicants, he still pursued this path because he knew with all his steadfast heart that this mission, this legacy was one he was made to have.

And now, he was willing to risk it all. Applying for the Mars mission meant that he would need to reveal his secret to the world. And that was something he was ready to do.

When he finished speaking, his throat was sore with thirst. He hadn't realized how much there had been to say. And even still, he knew that was only barely scratching the surface of his life since his accident. He hadn't the confidence to meet his parents' eyes throughout his long-winded speech, but now he finally forced his head to lift, he forced himself to see the teary-eyed stares of his ghost-hunter parents before him.

But where he expected fear was nothing but love.

"Son," Jack said, his voice barely a whisper. "I'm so proud of you."

"We're both proud of you, honey," Maddie said.

"I can't believe it. My brother, Danny, a future astronaut." Jazz beamed. "Congratulations."

****

The descent vehicle slowed.

"Adjusted thirty kilometers east," the pilot, Parth Chadha, said.

"Right above target," Commander Stewart responded.

"Lowering now."

There was a jolt as the boosters switched off, and then they were descending again at speeds that would have had Danny's parents covering their eyes in fear. But not Danny. He was a ghost, after all, and these speeds were just another Tuesday for him.

"Slowing our descent."

Danny slammed into his seat as the boosters re-engaged, stopping their free-fall and slowing them until they reached Martian soil.

"And we've landed on Mars."

But Danny already knew that. He could feel it. And the moment they hit the ground, the air sparked with an electric anticipation that his core couldn't help but soak in like a sponge.

It took everything in him to not phase out of his seatbelt, shoot through the side of the descent vehicle, and take in the sights of Mars. But these missions had an unspoken etiquette, and so he waited. He waited for Chadha to turn off the descent vehicle, he waited for the rest of the crew to get out of their chairs, he waited and waited until he thought his core was going to explode. 

"Alright, crew, this is it. Outside those doors is the Elysium Planitia, our home for the next two months. Our priority is setting up the Outpost. Fenton and Chase, you're both on solar panel duty."

"Gotcha, Commander," Merissa said. "We better hurry it up, though, because I think if we wait another minute, Danny over here is gonna have an aneurysm."

"Jeez, I've never seen him glow like that before," Cooper said.

"Sorry!" Danny said, though he really wasn't. Because he was finally here. He was on Mars. 

"Alright, I guess we better get to it, then." Commander Stewart turned for the door. "Artemis crew? I'm ordering us off the descent vehicle."

Depressurizing took forever and a half. But finally, finally, the door swung open to reveal a sea of red dust and rocks below an orange sky. As is tradition, Commander Stewart stepped out to the soil first, and one by one, the crew followed.

And finally, it was Danny's turn.

Obeying the laws of gravity was typically a challenge in ghost form. But to obey the laws of a gravity only a third of Earth's while also battling the excitement of being on Mars was an entirely different level of challenge. But he forced his tail to form legs, and he forced his feet to descend the stairs of the descent vehicle because he wanted his first entrance on Mars to leave a real footprint. One that was his. 

Nothing could have prepared him for the elation that could come from the Martian soil crunching beneath his boot. Nothing. It was pure, unfiltered joy. One that he didn't think he could replicate for as long as he lived.

His core took over, and green tinted his orange vision, sparkling and glittering with ectoplasmic constellations and energy. He shot into the air, laughing into his CCA system and not caring who heard because he'd made it! After all these years, all the nights of studying and gazing into the night sky and thinking and hoping and wishing that he could be up there, up here, and he was finally here! 

He inhaled deeply. Mars's air was thin compared to Earth's and smelled sweet and dry like a desert. He took another breath, and hints of sulfur and chalk wafted through his nose. The smell was foreign compared to what he was used to in the sterile Artemis aircraft, but it spoke of an ancient planet, one untouched by the paws of humanity, and he couldn't help but breathe in again, and again, soaking up every inch of the air that his nose could handle.

The air was cold, too. Though, compared to the cold of outer space, it felt like Florida in July. But compared to Earth, it was frigid. Not that he cared. With his space core, he was able to handle any temperature thrown at him. So despite the fact that he'd previously reported surface temperatures to the team of -20C, to him, the air was perfect. 

"Oh no, Fenton's lost it," Cooper joked.

"You wish," he responded, feeling a grin spread across his cheeks. 

"Alright, come down here. We have to get to work setting up the outpost or else we'll all be sleeping in the MDV tonight," Commander Stewart said.

Danny scanned the distance once more, taking in the sights of red rock against the orange horizon. This was it. This was everything he'd worked for.

And it was so worth it.

"Now, Phantom."

"Coming!"

[iamhereforfunnzies]

Okay, so the longer you go blind, the more your other senses heighten. Humans have proven that they can develop echo location. Especially since humans already have a form of it in their every day lives.

Just one of the Bat Fam hearing clicks, only to find Reader making the noise to pin point where things are. But the second they turn the corner, Reader stops and turns their head towards the 'sibling' that suddenly came into their room.

"Why were you clicking so much?"

"Oh, it makes it easier to get around when there isn't anyone else to make sound. Usually, any amount of sound can help me locate what's around me."

"Like... a bat?"

"I guess? It's not new. Lot of blind people can do it to some extent."

-

On another note, I feel like Tim would be the least likely to treat Reader as a baby when his attention is on them. He literally trained to fight blind. So did Bruce. But for Bruce, he hasn't had to use that skill in so long, and it was a small part of his training. Tim frequently makes use of his skill in some way, even if he can see, using it as a way to dodge or attack behind himself.

Maybe this leads to Tim getting Alfred to recommend blind self defense training and some martial arts training. After he gets back from his own blind training for Robin. And then just forgets about Reader.

But this leads Reader to actually favoring Tim a bit more, cause he doesn't treat them like an idiot or an invalid. He also made sure Reader has a form of training.

Maybe, when he starts becoming Yandere, he invites Reader to the training mats to help him keep his blind fighting up and teach her more.

Heck, we can even continue on this line. Reader walking with a friend in Gotham, and a mugger to try to grab the blind person. Damian, as Robin on patrol with his siblings, tries to intervene before the 'weak' sibling gets hurt. Only to watch the mugger get bodily tossed, or their feet swept out from under themselves.

And Tim isn't surprised.

OH MY GOD I AM SORRY THIS TOOK FOREVER TO ANSWER😭😭

Yeah , when you treat a child like an adult it will imitate you. Many actually confused children's accent for not knowing how to pronounce words because of lack of knowledge (still a key factor) but it's actually them imitating the baby talk they hear.

Tim would be the type who shows you how to fish instead of giving you fish. I feel like in some sweet way he used to read to you not fairytales but hardknock books be it from science to history. Reader would slightly have better manners with Tim then anyone else because even with their relationship strained she is happy with the memories.

The exact scene Tim will become yandere would actually seeing you do the stuff he taught you doing alone , like slight training in your room , reading alone in braille (it looked low quality since finding braille books are difficult to find) he didn't know what you were reading , he felt bad , so he secretly started learning braille to make books for you and making sure they are the highest quality paper and making sure it's the best of the best translation by going to professionals and staying up to make the cover textures you like. He does ask you about your constant clicking and tapping of foot and gets you so many clicky pens.

Damian , unconsciously followed you walking home and was upset you walking around the street without a cane (he was jealous of your friend holding your hand for guidance) , a rush blurree was about robbed you blind but your insticts bodied him so hard in the cement floor that your friend was the one screaming. Damian was stilled shock and waited for you and your friend to leave to check on the man , kicking the robber's leg and checking his heart (he's alive but paralyzed) he is Honestly excited , HIS OLDER SIBLING CAN FIGHT! Though still amateur move , THEY CAN STILL FIGHT.

In Damian's mind fighting and playing is practically the same.

[mattsobvimyfav]

neighbor (matthew sturniolo)

pt 9-

WARNING- SMUT

The next morning, sunlight streamed through the curtains, and I groaned, burying my face deeper into Matt’s chest to escape it. The faint sound of shouting from downstairs made my eyes flutter open, and I quickly realized the noise wasn’t part of some dream.

“Do you hear that?” I mumbled, my voice raspy from sleep.

Matt stirred beside me, his arm still draped over my waist. “Yeah…” he grumbled, rubbing his eyes. “What the hell is going on?”

The yelling got louder, followed by the sound of something clattering onto the floor.

We both sat up in unison, exchanging a look before scrambling out of bed. I slipped on a pair of shorts and pulled my hair into a messy bun, not bothering to make myself look remotely presentable as Matt tugged on a shirt. Together, we hurried downstairs, the chaos growing louder with each step.

When we reached the kitchen, the scene before us was… something. Charlie stood by the stove, trying to salvage a plate of scrambled eggs while Chris frantically waved a towel at Nick, who was hopping around and holding his arm. A streak of bacon grease was smeared across his shirt, and he was cursing loudly.

“What the hell is going on?” Matt demanded, his voice cutting through the chaos.

Nick turned to us, his expression caught somewhere between pain and disbelief. “Your brother,” he said, jabbing a finger at Chris, “is a menace! He spilled bacon grease on me!”

“It was an accident!” Chris shot back, still flailing the towel in Nick’s direction. “You shouldn’t have been standing so close!”

“Why were you even cooking bacon in the first place?” Matt asked, clearly trying to suppress a laugh.

Charlie turned around, holding up a plate piled high with pancakes and a sheepish grin on her face. “We were trying to make you guys breakfast,” she explained. “You know, as a congrats for finally getting along and not killing each other.”

I blinked at her, my heart melting a little despite the absolute disaster around us. “That’s… really sweet,” I said, stepping forward and taking the plate from her. “But also very chaotic.”

“It was going fine until he”—Nick pointed at Chris again—“decided to reenact some Gordon Ramsay move and flipped the pan too hard.”

Chris rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t trying to flip it hard, it just—”

“Can we focus on the fact that I’M IN PAIN?” Nick interrupted dramatically, holding out his arm for effect.

I handed the plate of pancakes to Matt and grabbed Nick’s wrist, inspecting the red mark where the grease had landed. “You’re fine,” I said with a smirk. “You’ll survive.”

Matt was already diving into the pancakes, grinning as he spoke. “Thanks for the breakfast. Totally worth the drama.”

Charlie beamed, looking proud of herself despite the mess. “You’re welcome.”

I glanced back at Chris, who was now trying to mop up the spilled grease on the floor, and couldn’t help but laugh. “Okay, but next time, maybe just stick to cereal. Deal?”

“Deal,” they all said in unison, Nick grumbling a bit louder than the rest.

Matt and I settled at the table as the rest of the group finished cleaning up. Despite the chaotic start, it felt like a perfect morning—messy, loud, and full of the people I cared about most.

After breakfast, Matt and I decided to retreat back upstairs. I was still full from the feast, and craving some quiet time. The moment we stepped into my room, Matt shut the door behind us and smirked, his eyes glinting with mischief.

“Finally,” he muttered, climbing onto the bed and hovering over me.

I barely had time to catch my breath before his lips were on my neck, trailing soft, slow kisses along the sensitive skin. A quiet moan escaped my lips, and I felt his smile against my skin. His hands slid under the hem of my shirt, teasingly grazing my waist as he kissed lower, sending shivers through my whole body.

Just as his lips reached my collarbone, the door burst open.

“Hey, have you seen my jean shorts?” Charlie asked casually, stepping inside without so much as a glance at us.

Matt groaned loudly, rolling off me and flopping onto his back. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he muttered, rubbing his hands down his face in frustration.

Completely unbothered by the tension in the room, Charlie rifled through a pile of clothes near my dresser. “They were here yesterday. I need them. We’re all going out, by the way, so Matt, you need to go home and get ready. We’re leaving in an hour.”

Matt shot me a look, his jaw tightening as he sat up. “Awesome,” he said dryly, pushing himself off the bed. He grabbed his shoes, muttering under his breath, “Perfect timing, as always.”

“Thanks, Charlie,” I said sarcastically as she left the room, holding up her shorts triumphantly.

“Oh, found them! - What?” she said, raising a brow. “It’s not my fault you two were in the middle of fucking.”

As the door shut behind her, I turned to Matt, who was now running a hand through his hair, clearly trying to calm down. “I’m gonna kill her,” I muttered, crossing my arms.

Matt leaned down, brushing a kiss to my forehead. “Save some of that anger for later,” he said with a wink. “I’ll see you in an hour.” Then, with one last glare toward the door Charlie had just exited, he walked out.

I flopped back onto the bed with a frustrated groan, already planning my revenge on Charlie for being the ultimate cock blocker.

After Matt left, I eventually pushed myself up, determined to focus on getting ready for the day.

First, I headed to the bathroom and turned on the shower, letting the room fill with steam. Stepping under the hot water, I felt the tension in my body start to melt away. I washed my hair with my favorite shampoo, the scent of vanilla and coconut filling the small space. After rinsing out the suds, I massaged the conditioner into my ends, leaving it to soak while I lathered up with body wash.

Once I stepped out of the shower, I wrapped myself in a plush towel and padded back to my room. Sitting at my vanity, I carefully went through my skincare routine. I cleansed, toned, and layered on moisturizer before gently dabbing under my eyes with cream. A quick spritz of hydrating mist finished the routine, leaving my skin glowing.

I brushed out my damp hair, deciding to leave it natural for the day. Slightly damp but drying quickly in the warm air. Satisfied, I moved to my closet to pick out an outfit.

After a few minutes of deliberation, I settled on a white flowing crop top with delicate ruffled edges. It tied at the front, leaving just enough skin exposed to feel sexy but still casual. I paired it with light-washed high-waisted loose jean shorts that hit right below my ass cheek, adding a touch of effortless style. For shoes, I opted for my high-top platform Converse, I wanted to look good for Matt.

I stood in front of the mirror for a final once-over. Grabbing my phone and a small crossbody bag, I headed downstairs, ready to see what they decided on doing today.

The doorbell rang, followed by the familiar chatter of voices, signaling the boys were here. I walked to the door and opened it to find Matt, Chris, and Nick standing there, all grinning like they were up to something. Matt’s eyes flicked to me, his eyes trailing my body as he took in my outfit.

“Hello Sweetheart,” he said, his voice low, but there was a warmth there that made my chest flutter.

“Let’s go fuck!,” I replied, whispering it in his ear.

“Cant-” He started but then was abruptly cut off.

Nick clapped his hands together as he looked around. “Alright, Y/N, here’s the deal. We’re filming a car video for the channel first. We are gonna drive around the streets of LA and do a Q&A, you know the drill. Then, we’ll decide what to do for the day and make it a vlog for everyone’s channels. We’ve been slacking on content, all of us.”

I raised an eyebrow. “A car video? Do I get to participate, or am I just sitting in the back awkwardly?”

“You’re in,” Chris said, slinging an arm around my shoulders. “You’ll be the wildcard. You always throw us off with your answers.”

I laughed, shrugging him off. “Fine.”

Nick turned to Matt. "Y/N get the front, and me, Chris, and Charlie will cram in the back."

I glanced at Matt, who smirked and shrugged. “Guess that’s settled, then.”

“You okay with that?” Chris asked, already heading toward the door.

“Yeah, fine by me,” I said, grabbing my phone and following them out. Matt gave me a little nudge on the way, his hand brushing against the small of my back.

We piled into Matt’s car, and true to Nick’s decree, I climbed into the front passenger seat while the other three squeezed into the back. Nick was already pulling out his camera to set up on the dashboard.

"Ok bitches," Nick said, angling the lens. “Matt, start driving. Y/N, you’re co-hosting this disaster with me.”

Matt chuckled, turning on the car. “You sure you want that? She might hijack the whole thing.”

"Exactly why she's co-hosting," Nick retorted.

As we pulled out of the driveway, Nick launched into his intro. “What’s up, everyone? We’re back with another car Q&A with questions from no other than you guys! But this time we are driving to a destination you will see in our next vlog, also we’ve got Y/N riding shotgun to keep Matt in check.”

“Not possible,” I joked, leaning back in my seat. “But I’ll do my best.”

“Alright, first fan question and I’ll ask Y/N, who’s more annoying when drunk, Matt or Chris?” Charlie asked, leaning over the seat to get in my face.

“Chris,” I answered without hesitation.

“Hey!” Chris protested.

“Sorry, but you’re like a toddler with unlimited energy,” I teased.

As the car Q&A began to heat up, the questions naturally shifted to some more personal topics. Nick, always the instigator, decided to dive into the juicier ones submitted by fans.

“Alright, this one’s for Charlie and Chris,” Nick announced, leaning forward from the very backseat of the minivan. “What’s your favorite thing about each other?”

Charlie blushed immediately, hiding her face behind her hands. “Why would you pick that one?”

“Because it’s adorable,” Nick replied. “Now, answer it.”

Chris didn’t miss a beat. “Her laugh. Hands down. It’s so fucking contagious and it makes me want to make her laugh all the time.”

“Aww,” everyone chorused, with Nick pretending to wipe a tear.

Charlie peeked up from her hands, still blushing. “Fine. My favorite thing about Chris is how he always knows when I need him. Like, no matter what’s going on, he’s always there, even when I don’t ask.”

The car erupted in more exaggerated "aww"s, with Matt rolling his eyes but smirking at the sweetness.

“Alright, moving on before we all throw up,” Nick teased. “This one’s for Matt and Y/N: What’s the best thing about spending time together?”

Matt’s hands tightened slightly on the steering wheel, but he stayed composed. “She makes everything more fun,” he said simply, glancing at me with a small smile.

I felt my cheeks heat up but managed to reply. “Matt’s... surprisingly thoughtful. Like, he pretends he’s all tough, but he’s got a big heart. He notices little things and makes you feel like you matter.”

The car went silent for a beat before Nick broke it with a loud, fake sniffle. “Look at you two, being all sweet. Love that for you.”

“Next question,” Matt grumbled, though his smirk gave him away.

Nick cleared his throat dramatically. “Okay, okay, serious question: Are you two actually dating, or is this just a fling?”

The air grew a little tense, but I laughed it off. “Who even submitted that? It’s none of their business.”

“True,” Nick agreed. “But for the record, you two act like an old married couple, so…”

Matt chuckled, shaking his head. “No comment.”

Chris leaned forward, chiming in. “Someone asked if Y/N only hangs out with Matt because he’s famous.”

The car fell silent for a moment, and I felt Matt tense beside me. “That’s stupid,” I said sharply. “I’ve known them since highschool… fame has nothing to do with it. Plus Charlie and I are pretty fucking famous ourselves, thank you very much.”

“Yeah, they are pretty fucking famous themselves!,” Matt added, his voice a pitch higher in mockery. 

The atmosphere lightened a little after that, but the questions kept rolling. Nick read another one, his grin widening. “Okay, back to the fun stuff: Charlie and Chris, who’s the better cook?”

The couple immediately started bickering, with Charlie insisting it was her and Chris arguing that his waffles were superior.

We wrapped up the video about thirty minutes later, filming enough content and answering enough questions for both our channels. 

“Oh shit,” Matt huffs. 

I turn my head over to him and hum in question. “Whats wrong?”

“We forgot to film an outro. Let me pull over and I can yell into the camera or something.” he sighs, flicking on his signal to turn into a small plaza parking lot. 

I nod, grabbing the camera from the dashboard and preparing it to film again when an idea hits me. 

“Hey, Matt?” I ask, playing with the settings on the camera. 

“Yeah, sweetheart?” 

“Remember how you used to kiss the camera goodbye at the end of videos?” I ask casually, clicking out the LCD screen and pressing record. 

“Yes?,” he ask confused as he puts the car in park and turns to look at me.

My grin widens as I lift the camera up, placing it on my forehead to face him almost as if it was a gopro. “Feeling nostalgic?” I giggle.

Matt laughs, looking between my lips and the camera before leaning in, one of his hands coming up to cup my cheek as our lips collide in a lighthearted and playful kiss. The both of us laugh into the kiss before Matt pulls back, looking directly into the camera then letting out a high pitched scream that left the lens foggy and humid. 

He brings his free hand up to the camera and presses the off button, gently grabbing it from my hands and putting it on the dashboard again. 

“How was that for nostalgic?” he whispers, face still close to mine. 

I laugh, pushing his forehead with my palm. “I’ve seen better,” 

“Oh really?” he gasps in faux offense. 

“Truly,” I nod sarcastically. 

“Yeah alright, sweetheart. We’ll see if you still think that later tonight.” he smirks, starting the car again and putting it back into drive. 

“Are yall done??” Nick butts in from the backseat but quickly interrupts himself with another thought. “You know what I could really go for right now? Some fucking bowling.”

“Bowling?” Matt asked, raising an eyebrow, pulling out of the parking lot and back onto the main road.

“Yep,” Nick confirmed. “Losers do something embarrassing. Y/N, you in?”

“Oh, I’m definitely in,” I said, grinning. “But you’re all going down.”

“Big talk for someone who barely knows the rules,” Matt teased, pulling back into the driveway.

“...I didn’t even know there were rules. That’s gonna be really embarrassing when you loose to someone who didn’t even know that much.” I shot back, earning a chuckle from him as we parked.

We all piled out of the car, the sun bright and warm as we joked and bickered our way into the bowling alley. I grabbed my camera from my bag, flipping it on to capture the camaraderie. “Alright, everyone, say hi to the vlog!” I said, pointing the lens toward the group.

Nick leaned in, throwing up a peace sign. “What’s up, Y/N and Charlie’s channel? Prepare to witness greatness.”

“You mean prepare to witness you eating my ass?” Chris chimed in, smirking.

Charlie elbowed him, giggling. “Oh, please. You’re all going down. Y/N and I are going to be a power duo.”

“Hey so Charlie , there aren’t any teams in bowling hope this helps.” I deadpan over to her as she looks at me without a single thought behind her eyes.

I turned the camera to Matt, who stood casually, arms crossed and a slight smirk on his face. “Got any words of wisdom for the vlog?” I asked as Matt opened the front door for me.

He leaned closer, his voice low and teasing. “Just make sure to capture my victory in 4K.”

“Oh, I will,” I shot back with a laugh, spinning the camera around to capture my triumphant grin.

We picked out shoes and debated over bowling balls, the smack talk already in full swing. “You know what they say,” Matt teased as he lined up his first shot, “Fuck bitches, get money, and go bowling.”

“Very funny,” I deadpanned, nudging him aside. “The only bitch you're gettin’ is bout to wipe the floor with your big ass cranium so step aside.” 

The game quickly turned competitive. Chris bowled a strike early on, and Charlie cheered so loudly the entire alley turned to look. “That’s my man!” she yelled, giving him an exaggerated high-five.

Nick, on the other hand, couldn’t stop laughing at his own gutter balls. “Maybe I should stick to bed rotting” he muttered after his third miss.

Matt was surprisingly good, earning strikes and spares with ease, but he wasn’t prepared for me. My first few rolls were mediocre at best, but by the halfway point, I’d found my groove. I bowled strike after strike, much to everyone’s shock—and my delight.

“You’ve been hustling us this whole time,” Matt accused, his eyes narrowing playfully.

“Maybe,” I said with a smirk, lining up my next shot. I rolled the ball down the lane and watched as all the pins clattered down. “Boom!” I spun around, throwing my arms up in victory. “What’s that? My balls in Matt’s mouth? Yeah that’s what I thought.”

Charlie laughed, leaning against Chris. “Yeah, clock that. We all know who wears the pants in that…” she pauses, looking between Matt and me multiple times before resuming. “Relationship?...” she cringes at the word.

 “Friendship!” she tries again, but grimices before giving up. “Fuck it. Only god knows what's going on between those whores…”

“Oh! okay!” I sang. “That's strike two! Not in bowling! You’re on thin ice!”

By the final frame, it was clear I was the winner. Matt groaned dramatically, rubbing his temples. “How is this fair? I was robbed.”

“Skill, my dear Matthew,” I said, patting his shoulder as I picked up the camera. “Let’s hear it for the champion!”

Chris clapped slowly, a grin tugging at his lips. “Alright, I’ll admit it—she earned it. Barely.”

“Barely?” I scoffed. “I crushed all of you.”

As we wrapped up and headed for the exit, Matt walked beside me, shaking his head. “I can’t believe you beat me.”

I glanced up at him, smiling. “You’ll live. Maybe next time you’ll step up your game.”

He chuckled, his hand brushing against mine. “We’ll see about that.”

Back in the car, I turned the camera back on, catching everyone’s tired but happy faces. “How does it feel to get your ass wiped by me?” I asked, spinning the camera toward Matt.

“Ha. Ha. Ha.” he looks at me with a straight face. 

Nick groaned from the back seat, leaning his head against the window. "Okay, okay. I lost. What’s my punishment?"

A wicked grin spread across my face as I turned the camera toward him. “Oh, don’t worry, Nick. We’ve got something special for you.”

“Be gentle,” he pleaded, his voice dripping with fake sorrow.

As soon as we got back to the house, we all piled inside, still buzzing from the night. I set the camera up on the kitchen counter, making sure it was angled perfectly to catch whatever ridiculous punishment we came up with.

Charlie clapped her hands together. “Alright, Nick. Since you came in dead last, your punishment is…” She paused for dramatic effect, looking at Chris. “Chris, what do you think?”

Chris smirked, clearly enjoying this a little too much. “I think Nick should have to walk through target in Y/N’s outfits.”

Nick’s face fell when Chris suggested he do his next punishment at Target. “Wait, you’re not serious,” he said, staring at me wide-eyed.

“Oh, I’m dead serious,” He replied, grinning. “You’ve got to wear the outfit I gave you all around Target. Just imagine the looks you'll get!”

Charlie, Me, and Matt were all snickering, clearly on board with the idea.

Nick’s eyes darted from one person to another, and his shoulders slumped in defeat. “Fine,” he muttered. “I’ll do it. But if I get kicked out of the store, I’m blaming all of you.”

Matt clapped him on the back, trying to suppress his laughter. “Hey, maybe a man twice your age with a mustache will think you look sexy.”

I grabbed my purse, and with everyone ready to go, we piled into the car. The entire ride to Target was filled with Nick grumbling about how he couldn’t believe he was about to make a fool of himself in public.

Once we arrived, we entered the store, with Nick wearing the bright pink skirt and crop top. His outfit drew stares from everyone, but he strutted confidently, as if he were walking the runway. People whispered and giggled, some even pointing, but Nick refused to back down. He just kept pushing forward, determined to complete the mission.

I pulled out my camera, filming everything. “Okay Rupaul Dragrace” I teased, capturing him on camera as he tried to act casual while pushing a cart through the aisles.

Nick shot me a look, his face flushed from embarrassment, but he held his head high. “You guys are so cruel.”

Charlie leaned into me, laughing so hard she nearly tripped over her own feet. “Bitch, this was your idea.”

We made our way through the aisles, stopping at random items just to make Nick pose awkwardly with them. He had to pick up random products and look like he was contemplating them seriously, which only made everything more ridiculous.

“Nick, can you try on the kid’s shoes? They’d go perfectly with your look,” Matt suggested, barely able to keep a straight face.

“Sure, why not?” Nick replied sarcastically. “It’s not like I’m already embarrassed enough.”

He shuffled over to the kids’ section, trying on the smallest pair of sneakers he could find and somehow managing to make it look like he belonged in them. It was absurd, and it was honestly one of the funniest things I’d ever seen.

I couldn’t stop laughing, holding my stomach as I filmed the whole thing. “You’re killing it, Nick. Keep going.”

We spent a good thirty minutes walking around the store, stopping for Nick to pose by random displays, and by the time we were ready to leave, he was still pretending to be unbothered, though we could all tell he was close to snapping.

“You’ve definitely earned your punishment points,” I said as we made our way to the checkout line, trying to stifle my giggles.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m definitely not losing again,” Nick grumbled, tossing his purchases onto the conveyor belt. “But next time, Y/N, I’m picking your punishment.”

“Deal,” I said, unable to stop laughing at the thought.

As we left the store, Nick walked out of Target like a true champ, still wearing the outfit like it was the most normal thing in the world. And even though he was clearly embarrassed, he managed to make it through the entire ordeal without turning into a total wreck.

“You’re a trooper, Nick,” I said, patting him on the back as we got back into the car. “You survived. You’re officially a legend.”

We pulled up to the triplets' house, the evening air cool and crisp as we got out of the car. Charlie and I exchanged a glance, a silent agreement passing between us before we turned to the guys. “Alright, you guys did enough today,” Charlie said with a grin. “We’re cooking dinner tonight. Italian, sound good?”

The triplets looked at each other, their eyes lighting up. “You guys are cooking?” Matt asked, raising an eyebrow. “This should be interesting.”

I smiled, nodding. “Yep, we’re taking over the kitchen. You’re all getting Italian tonight.”

The guys exchanged amused looks, clearly impressed but also a little wary of what we had planned. “Well, we’ll let you take the lead,” Nick said, giving a thumbs-up. “But if we’re eating burnt food, you’re on your own.”

With a laugh, Charlie and I headed inside, excited to work our magic in the kitchen while the guys settled in for the evening.

Charlie and I started preparing the Italian dinner. We decided to cook up some pasta, garlic bread, and a big salad. Charlie was chopping vegetables, while I was stirring the sauce on the stove, trying to perfect the flavor.

“Are you sure I’m not doing too much?” I asked, glancing at Charlie as she set the table.

She shook her head, grinning. “Nope. We’re doing this. It’s our turn to spoil them. Besides, they’ve been doing enough for us lately.”

I smiled, feeling a warmth spread through me. It felt nice, doing something for them. Once the food was ready, we set the table, and the guys came in, looking more than ready to eat.

Matt’s eyes lit up when he saw the pasta. “You guys seriously went all out. This looks amazing.”

“Don’t thank us just yet,” I said. “You have to eat it first.”

We all dug in, and I could see the satisfaction on everyone’s face as they took their first bites. Matt grabbed my hand across the table. “This is seriously the best thing I’ve eaten all week,” he said, his voice low but sincere.

Charlie was laughing as she reached for more garlic bread. “I told you we were good in the kitchen.”

We ate, joked, and laughed together, the room filled with a sense of ease. It felt like we were finally getting a bit of normalcy back after everything that had happened recently.

After dinner, we all sat around, chatting about everything and nothing. Nick, of course, had to make a joke about being the best chef, even though he had nothing to do with the cooking. It was nice to just be together, no drama, just friends and a good meal.

I felt a sense of peace in that moment, surrounded by laughter and warmth, knowing this was exactly where I wanted to be.

After the dinner, Matt gave me a quick tour of the triplets’ house since I’m the only one who’s never actually been there before. He started with Chris’s room, which was in the basement. It had this cool, cozy vibe—dim lighting, a comfy green couch, and walls lined with vintage posters. On his desk he had a little vanity mirror and small makeup bag with wipes for Charlie. Chris clearly liked his space, as it had everything he needed for unwinding after a long day.

We then headed upstairs, where Matt’s room was located. He gave me a playful grin as we walked down the hall. “This is my space,” he said, opening the door to reveal a room with dark colors, a huge king-size bed, and his desk with the streaming set up. I could tell it was Matt’s private sanctuary.

Next, Matt led me upstairs to Nick’s room, which was next to a loft area. Nick’s room was totally different from Matt’s—bright and energetic. The vibe in here was more playful, a perfect reflection of Nick’s personality. "Nick’s room is where all the tech magic happens," Matt joked, and I couldn’t help but smile at how different each of their rooms was.

Finally, we walked back downstairs into the living room and kitchen which I had gotten myself familiar with while cooking dinner. The living room was large and open, with a huge sectional couch and gaming consoles everywhere. The kitchen had modern appliances and an island with bar stools, where we could hang out whenever we wanted. "This is where we come to chill when we’re not annoying each other," Matt said, and I could tell he meant it.

After dinner and the tour, we all lounged around, enjoying each other’s company. The living room was dimly lit, the only light coming from the soft glow of the TV playing some random late-night show none of us were paying attention to. Charlie and Chris were curled up together on one end of the couch, her head resting on his chest while his arm lazily draped over her shoulders. Nick was passed out in the corner, snoring softly with a blanket half-draped over his legs.

And then there was Matt and me.

We were tangled together on the opposite end of the couch, his arm slung around my waist, pulling me snugly against his chest. My head rested on his shoulder, and I could feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing. His warmth, his scent—it was intoxicating.

The quiet murmur of the TV mixed with the occasional whispered laugh from Chris and Charlie, but my focus was entirely on Matt. He shifted slightly, his breath brushing against my ear as he leaned in closer.

“Are you ready?” he whispered, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down my spine.

“Ready for what?” I murmured back, my heart racing as his fingers lightly trailed down my side.

His lips barely grazed the shell of my ear as he spoke. “To let me take out all that anger I’ve been saving.”

I swallowed hard, heat pooling in my stomach at the weight of his words. My breath hitched when his hand tightened on my waist, pulling me even closer.

“Matt,” I whispered, my voice trembling with a mix of anticipation and nervousness.

He tilted his head slightly, just enough for me to catch the wicked smirk on his lips. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Not so sure of yourself now?”

I didn’t answer, my mind flashing back to earlier in the car— and what he said.

Matt shifted again, his lips brushing my ear as he whispered, “Let’s see if you still think there’s better.”

The challenge in his voice sent a spark through me, and I couldn’t stop the small gasp that escaped my lips. His fingers grazed my hip, his touch deliberate but teasing, just enough to make me crave more.

I turned my head slightly to meet his gaze, our faces so close I could feel the warmth of his breath. His eyes were dark, filled with an intensity that made my stomach flutter.

“Let’s go,” he murmured, his voice firm but quiet enough that the others wouldn’t hear.

I nodded, barely trusting myself to speak, and he stood up, pulling me with him. Chris and Charlie barely glanced our way, too wrapped up in their own little bubble, and Nick was still blissfully unconscious in the corner.

Matt’s hand slipped to the small of my back as he guided me down the hall, his touch searing through the thin fabric of my shirt. The door to his room clicked shut and locked behind us, and the air between us seemed to crackle with electricity.

He leaned against the door, his smirk returning as his eyes raked over me. “Still think you’ve seen better, sweetheart?”

I swallowed hard, my pulse pounding in my ears. “Maybe,” I said, my voice shaky but laced with challenge. “Why won’t you prove me wrong,”

He chuckled softly, pushing off the door and stepping closer. His smirk deepened as he closed the distance between us, his movements deliberate, like a predator closing in on its prey. My breath hitched as he stopped just inches away, his hands slipping into his pockets, casual but exuding that infuriating confidence.

“You’re sure you ready for that?” he asked, his voice low and rough, each word sending a shiver down my spine. His eyes never left mine, daring me to break first.

I tilted my chin up, trying to hold onto whatever shred of composure I had left. “It’s nothing I haven’t had before,” I said nonchalantly, shrugging.

Matt’s gaze darkened, his smirk softening into something more dangerous, more intoxicating. “I’m not the same guy I was four years ago, sweetheart,” he murmured, his hand lifting to gently tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. His touch lingered, fingers grazing my jaw before trailing down my neck.

“Good. His stroke game was weak. Maybe you’ll finally be able to make me cum now.” I shot back, my words bolder than I felt.

Matt’s eyes widened slightly at my boldness, but the shock melted into a dark, amused grin that made my knees feel like jelly. His hand stilled on my neck, his thumb tracing a deliberate, slow circle against my skin.

“That’s funny,” he said, his voice dropping to a rough, taunting whisper. “Because I remember you begging me to keep going. Said you couldn’t take any more, but there you were, falling apart under me anyway. Oh and how could I forget that giant mess you made all over our sheets that one time. Think I could make you do that again?”

My breath hitched, his words hitting like a physical blow to my pride and composure. He tilted his head, leaning closer, the smirk on his lips pure sin. “Sound familiar, sweetheart?”

I swallowed hard, refusing to back down, though my cheeks were burning. “Guess it’s easy to forget when it wasn’t exactly memorable.”

His grin widened, his other hand sliding to my waist and pulling me impossibly closer. “Oh, we’ll see about that,” he murmured, his lips grazing the corner of my mouth. “You’ve got a lot of smart things to say for someone who’s about to eat her words.”

I couldn’t stop the shiver that ran through me, his proximity, his touch, and that damn voice of his completely unraveling me. “Big talk for someone who might still disappoint,” I shot back, though my voice wasn’t nearly as steady as I wanted it to be.

He chuckled lowly, the sound vibrating against my chest. “You want me to prove you wrong?” he asked, his hand slipping lower, resting just on the curve of my hip. “Because once we start, sweetheart, I’m not stopping until I’ve made you forget every other man you’ve ever been with.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but the words died on my lips as his mouth brushed against mine—not a kiss, but a tease, a reminder of how close he was, how much control he had over the moment. His lips ghosted over mine again, his breath hot against my skin. “Tell me to stop,” he whispered, his tone daring me.

I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. Instead, I leaned in, closing the sliver of space between us and brushing my lips against his. It was all the confirmation he needed.

His grip on me tightened as he deepened the kiss, his lips firm but controlled, his movements deliberate and maddening. My fingers tangled in his shirt, pulling him closer, as if I could erase every inch of space between us.

When he pulled back just slightly, his lips still brushing against mine, he whispered, “That’s my girl.”

Without another word, he stepped back, his hand slipping into mine as he led me toward the bed. The tension was electric, the air between us thick with anticipation.

“Still think I’ve got something to prove?” he asked, his voice a soft, teasing growl as he 

He stopped just short of the edge, turning to face me, his hands sliding to my waist as he pulled me flush against him.

“Last chance,” he murmured, his voice a low, dangerous rasp. “Say the word, and I’ll stop.”

I looked up at him, my breath hitching as his eyes bore into mine, dark and intense. “I’m not stopping you,” I whispered, my voice trembling but resolute.

His lips twitched into that maddening smirk before he leaned down, capturing my mouth in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was demanding, all-consuming, his hands gripping my hips as he pulled me even closer. I gasped against his lips, and he used the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue sliding against mine in a way that made my knees buckle.

Matt’s hands roamed, exploring with purpose. One hand slid up my back, tangling in my hair, while the other gripped my waist, keeping me grounded as he kissed me like he was trying to claim every piece of me. His teeth grazed my bottom lip, and I couldn’t stop the soft moan that escaped me.

“Already making noises for me,” he murmured against my lips, his tone laced with smug satisfaction. “Guess I don’t have much to prove, after all.”

“Shut up,” I breathed, tugging at his shirt, desperate to feel more. He chuckled, the sound low and dangerous, before pulling back just enough to tug his shirt over his head.

My eyes traveled over him, taking in the hard planes of his inked chest, the lines that led lower, disappearing beneath the waistband of his jeans. He caught me looking and raised an eyebrow, his smirk growing. “Like what you see, sweetheart?”

I rolled my eyes, though my cheeks burned. “I’ve seen better,” I teased, throwing his own words back at him.

His grin turned predatory. “You’re gonna regret saying that,” he murmured, his voice dripping with promise. He moved forward, backing me up until my knees hit the edge of the bed. His hands slid to my thighs, guiding me down as he followed, his weight settling over me in a way that sent a thrill through my entire body.

His lips found mine again, the kiss deeper, hungrier this time. His hands explored, trailing over my sides, my hips, the curve of my waist. Every touch felt deliberate, calculated, like he was mapping me out, re-learning every inch of me.

I arched against him as his lips left mine, trailing down my jaw to the sensitive spot just below my ear. He lingered there, his teeth grazing my skin before his tongue soothed the bite. “Still think you’ve seen better?” he murmured, his voice rough against my skin.

“Matt,” I whispered, my voice shaky, pleading.

His lips curved into a smirk against my neck. “That’s what I thought.”

He didn’t rush, didn’t let me rush him. Every movement was slow, deliberate, as if he wanted to savor every moment, every reaction he pulled from me. His hands slid beneath my shirt, his fingers brushing against my bare skin, and I shivered under his touch.

“Let me hear you,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over my collarbone as his hands explored higher.

I couldn’t hold back the soft moan that escaped me, and he smiled against my skin, clearly satisfied. “Good girl.”

Matt’s hands slid higher under my shirt. He pulled back just enough to tug the fabric over my head, his eyes raking over me like I was the only thing that existed in the room.

“You’re so hot,” he murmured, his voice thick, almost reverent, as his fingers traced over my collarbone, down the curve of my waist, and settled on my hips. “Even better than I remembered.”

I couldn’t find words, couldn’t think straight with the way he was looking at me—like he was devouring me with his eyes, rememorizing every inch. He leaned down, his lips finding mine again, and the kiss was deeper, hungrier. His hands moved, gripping my hips again firmly as his weight pressed me into the mattress, grounding me and sending sparks shooting through my entire body.

“Matt,” I gasped against his lips, my voice trembling, and that was all the encouragement he needed.

His lips left mine, trailing a hot, deliberate path down my jaw to my neck, where he lingered, his teeth grazing over sensitive skin. I whimpered as he bit down gently, soothing the mark with his tongue before continuing lower. His lips danced over my collarbone, down to the curve of my chest, and I arched beneath him, my hands tangling in his hair as he worked his way down.

“Still think there’s better out there?” he asked, his voice low and rough, his breath hot against my skin.

I opened my mouth to respond, but all that came out was a soft moan as his hands gripped my waist, his thumbs pressing into the soft curve of my hips. His lips followed the path his hands had mapped, his touch firm but teasing, always just shy of where I wanted him most.

“Answer me, sweetheart,” he said, his tone dripping with smugness as he looked up at me, his smirk sending my heart into overdrive. “Because I don’t think you’ve got it in you to lie to me right now.”

“You’re infuriating,” I managed, my voice shaky but defiant.

“And yet,” he murmured, his hands sliding lower, his fingers brushing against the waistband of my shorts, “you can’t seem to get enough of me.”

“Prove it,” I challenged, though the trembling in my voice betrayed me.

Matt chuckled, a low, dangerous sound that sent heat pooling in my stomach. “Oh, I will,” he promised, his hands slipping beneath the fabric and pulling it down with agonizing slowness.

The cool air on my skin was a sharp contrast to his touch, and I shivered, my breath hitching as he leaned down again, his lips finding a new path across my hips. Every kiss, every touch was calculated, deliberate, like he was unraveling me piece by piece.

“You’re not ready for me,” he murmured against my skin, his voice low and teasing. “But don’t worry, sweetheart—I’ll take my time. You’ll forget everything else but me.”

Before he could even finish his sentence, his fingertips were on the buttons of my jean shorts, undoing them as if he had all the time in the world. His slender fingers unhooked them one at a time, his dead eyes looking up at me the entire time. 

“Lets get these off you, yeah?” he hums to himself as I raise my hips off the mattress slightly but enough for him to grab the hem of them and pull them down to my ankles— leaving me in nothing but my bra and underwear. 

As soon as my shorts hit the ground , his knees are quick to follow. He drops to the floor of the bed, grabbing my thighs with his hands and pulling me roughly to the edge.

I let out a quiet gasp of surprise as my body flew to the edge and i prop myself up on my elbows to look down at him. 

He looks up at me then drops his mouth to leg, his dead eyes heavy and half lidded. “Getting dejavu?” he says roughly against my inner thigh, placing soft kisses closer and closer to where I needed him.

I didn’t respond, I let my body do the talking when goosebumps rise across my thighs as his kisses travel closer and closer to my aching core. 

As soon as it looked like he was finally going to touch me, kiss me, do anything— he’d just trail his mouth back up towards my ankles that were resting over his shoulders.

“You’re such a fuckin’ tease, Matthew,” I whimper beneath him, at this point deperate for any sort of touch he was willing to give me.

“Let me make you feel good, baby” he hushes against my thigh, once more trailing his lips down to my clothed and untouched core.

Just as I was about to really start whining, i feel his fingers hook onto the waistband of my underwear, teasingly running his fingers acoss my lower abdomen. 

My body twitches at the slight touches, giving way to truly just how desperately and sickly I needed him. 

Matt licks his lips and runs his fingers across my skin one more time before finally reaching underneath and dragging them down my legs. It peeled off my core with a large string of arousal connecting my untouched cunt to my soaked panties.

“God,” Matt murmers under his breath, his gaze intense. I could feel him picking me apart with his eyes and it was causing a entire fire to ignite through my body. 

Before I could say anything, Matt removes a hand from my thigh and takes his pointer finger, spreading my folds. He groans outloud as he sees that I’m dripping in anticipation and clenching around air. 

I knew Matt wanted to eat me out, I mean, cmon. His nick name wasn’t “Matt the munch” for nothing. What I wasn’t expecting was for him to stand up, hook his fingers under your thighs again and flip you.

Within seconds your roles were reversed and Matt was sitting against the bed, head leaning back on the bed and looking up at the ceiling. And I was hovering on top of him, legs spread in a straddle, leaking cunt directly over his beautiful face. 

His hands come up and grab my hips, pushing me down with little to not force but enough to let me know what he wanted. 

I look down at him with hesitation and when our eyes meet, I nearly explode. His pupils were dilated so intently that there were almost no blue left. He licked his lips, eyes darting from my face to my core— waiting for my approval. 

And who am I to say no? 

The second Matt sensed me lowering onto his mouth, his hands tightened around my hips and pushed me onto his tongue with such force I had to grip the sheet to keep my balance. 

His tongue immediately found my clit and even after four years he remembered the exact rhythm that had me shaking. 

“Fuck Matt—” I moan, grabbing his hair and tugging lightly. 

The second his tongue left my clit and dove deep into me, I knew I was a goner and that I was not going to last long at all. 

It was almost embarrassing how quickly my body remembers everything about him— the curve of his nose that hit my clit just the right way every time i rocked my hips, the light scruff on his jaw that scratched against my thighs every time he’d move his mouth, the deep groans he’d let out that would vibrate through my body— everything. 

But the part that got me the most was the way he seemed to enjoy it just as much if not more than I did. 

I feel my juices leak down his chin, his tongue lapping up as much as he could, sucking on my folds, flicking my clit, and everything in between. 

He was eating me out not just like it was his last meal— no. he was eating me out as if he had never eaten anything before in his life. As if he had spent his life in purgatory and I was his first taste of freedom. 

As if it couldn’t get any better, his hands leave the deathlock they previously had on my thighs and when I opened my eyes to look down to see what he was doing, I nearly came there and then. 

Matt was so turned on from eating me out that he was fumbling with the belt buckle of his own pants, tugging them down to free his erection as if his life depended on it. 

At the sight of his strained cock spring out of his boxers, I couldn’t help but grind down extra hard on his mouth and tipping my head back, moaning out loud, not caring about how loud I am or that everyone was only a few hundred feet away in the room over. 

When I open my eyes again and look down, Matt had one fist around his cock, pumping up and down with immense speed. Before I had time to question where his other hand went, my questions were answered when I felt his pointer and middle finger sneak up next to his chin and prod against my entrance. 

My back arched as he slowly pushes one in and I pull on his hair so hard I feel his moan beneath me when he slips the second one in. 

“Fuck” I cry, begging to rock my hips against his hand, needing to feel something. “Please, Matt.”

Matt simply hums underneath me, still continuing to jerk himself off and eat me out. He slowly brings his fingers out and then pushes them back in, this time faster. 

“Oh fuck, keep going, please,” I beg, no longer caring enough about my pride. 

His fingers continue to pump in and out of me faster and faster. Even after four years he can tell when I was close based on how tightly I clamp down around him. 

“Fuck, right there!” I cry out, rocking harder and faster against his mouth and fingers, desperately chasing my high. 

He scissors his fingers inside me and my legs threaten to close. The way he applies just the right amount of pressure in just the right spot to makes my thighs begin to shake as I rapidly approach my orgasm.

I couldn’t respond, couldn’t do anything but hold onto him, my body trembling as his hands and tongue drove me closer to the edge of madness. He was in control, and he knew it, his every movement a reminder of just how much power he held over me.

“Matt,” I gasped, his name tumbling from my lips in a broken whisper, my fingers clutching desperately at his hair. My pulse thundered in my ears, the air thick and electric, every sense overwhelmed by him—his scent, his heat, the deep, dark tone of his voice as he murmured something I couldn’t even process.

He smirked against my skin, clearly satisfied by the way my body reacted to him, how every shiver, every soft sound I made, told him exactly what he needed to know. “That’s it,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, a command wrapped in velvet. “Let go for me.”

I was helpless against him, my body no longer mine as he pushed me further, higher, until I was teetering on the edge of something I couldn’t quite name. And then, with one final, deliberate move—his hand tightening, his lips pressing just right—it hit me like a tidal wave.

My entire body tensed, my breath catching in my throat as pleasure washed over me, sharp and overwhelming, crashing through me in waves that left me trembling, gasping for air. My fingers dug into his skin, my back arching as I gave in completely, every nerve alight, every thought replaced by the intensity of the moment.

I cry out, surly aleting not just the rest of the house but the entire fucking neighborhood at this point. “I’m cu— fuck — i’m cumin’, Matt”

“Thats it,” he murmured, his tone whiney and uneven and that's when I felt it— the way his body tensed under mine, his hands gripping my hips twice as tightly. I could feel his control slipping.

“Jesus, fuck ” he groaned against my core, his voice low and raw, like the sound was ripped from his chest. His mouth fell slack, his finger movements stuttering slightly as he buried his face deeper into my pussy.

The realization hit me as I felt the tremor run through him, his body shuddering against mine, his breath hot and uneven against me. He hadn’t even needed anything else—just me, just this. The way he’d completely unraveled me had been enough to push him over the edge too.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice hoarse, like he couldn’t believe what had just happened. 

I was still trying to catch my breath, my body boneless on top of his face, but the warmth of his reaction sent a thrill through me. “Matt,” I murmured, my voice shaky but teasing. “Did you just—”

He slowly removed his hand from inside me, and brought it to his cock, jerking himself through the last bits of his orgasm with my cum coating his fingers. “You have no idea what you do to me, sweetheart,” he said, his voice rough but full of that maddening confidence.

I laughed weakly, leaning forward and resting my forehead against the mattress. “Guess I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Oh, it is,” he murmured. “Trust me.”

I collapsed on the bed in front of him, finally giving him space to breathe. He chuckled softly, standing up and climbing up on the bed with me, his arms wrapping around me as if to hold me steady.

Matt groaned softly, still holding me close as the aftermath of the moment settled between us. His fingers lazily traced circles on my back, his breathing finally slowing to match mine. 

“I hate to ruin this,” I murmured, my voice still slightly breathless, “but we should probably clean up.”

Matt chuckled, the sound low and rich as he kissed my forehead. “Yeah, we probably should. But I don’t know if I’m ready to let you go yet.”

I rolled my eyes, though a small smile tugged at my lips. “C’mon, Matt. You can hold me after we’re not sticking to each other.”

He groaned dramatically, finally sitting up and pulling me with him. “Fine. But only because I like you,” he teased, smirking as he picked up his shirt from the ground and offered it to me.

I slipped it on, the fabric hanging loose and smelling like him, and I couldn’t help but smile. “You’re just full of chivalry tonight.”

He raised an eyebrow as he grabbed a towel, tossing one to me with a playful smirk. “Don’t get used to it.”

We cleaned up quickly, despite neither of us really wanting to leave. Once we were both somewhat presentable, Matt ruffled his hair and grinned at me. “Ready to face the peanut gallery?”

“Not really,” I muttered, biting my lip. “But let’s get it over with.”

He laughed, slinging an arm around my shoulder as we walked back out to the living room. The scene was exactly as we’d left it—Nick still passed out in the corner, Chris lounging on the couch, and Charlie perched beside him, scrolling through her phone.

Except this time, Charlie’s head snapped up the moment she saw us, a wide, wicked grin spreading across her face. “Well, well, well,” she said, setting her phone down and crossing her arms. “Look who decided to join us.”

“Don’t start,” Matt warned, though the corners of his lips twitched.

Charlie ignored him, her gaze locking onto me. “Y/N, babe. Sweetheart. You okay? You were so loud, I was starting to think we’d need to send Chris in with a medic.”

My face went hot instantly, and I shoved Matt’s arm off my shoulder, glaring at her. “Charlie!”

“What?” she said, feigning innocence. “I’m just saying. Some of us were trying to watch TV, and all we could hear was—oh, Matt! Oh, my God! Right there!”

Chris burst out laughing, throwing an arm over her shoulder. “She’s not wrong.”

Matt smirked, clearly unbothered as he dropped onto the couch next to Nick. “Glad I could provide some entertainment.”

Charlie grinned, leaning forward and pointing at me. “And you, miss thing, need to hydrate after all that screaming. Go grab some water before you pass out.”

I groaned, burying my face in my hands. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” Charlie said with a laugh, tossing me a water bottle. “You love me. And honestly? You’re welcome.”

“For what?” I muttered, sitting down and cracking open the bottle.

“For being the best wingwoman ever,” she said with a wink. “You’re welcome, Matt.”

Matt raised his water bottle in a mock toast. “Appreciate it, Charlie.”

Chris groaned, leaning back. “I’ve gotta start charging for putting up with all this. I swear.”

Charlie grinned, resting her head on his shoulder. “You love us.”

Chris sighed, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Unfortunately.”

I sipped my water, my embarrassment fading as the playful energy filled the room. Maybe being called out wasn’t so bad—especially when I was surrounded by the people I loved most.

tag-

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[thursdayinspace]

Okay, this is pure filth. It's been a long day and I needed to write something. Which seems to be becoming a pattern. It's fun though. Anyway, I wrote this thing a little while ago (Mulder on the phone with the boss while Scully... has some fun with him), and thought it might be fun to write it the other way around too.

He sighs and casts another look at the alarm clock on the nightstand. It’s been four minutes and she’s still talking, still on the phone with Skinner, and his patience is slowly running out. She’s stretched out on the bed before him and he kneels by her feet where he’s been waiting ever since she answered that damned phone and he had to stop what he was doing. What on earth can they still be talking about that’s so important?

He lets his gaze sweep up and down her body, and something hot and hungry boils low in his gut as he takes her in. She’s lying here naked, thighs parted, her hair already sex-messy and her skin flushed, and she’s still talking to Skinner. She’s wet and turned on and ready to be fucked, and it’s Skinner who’s holding her attention. God, he’s not particularly proud of the primal possessiveness that rushes through him, but he can’t help it. Mine, he thinks. Skinner can’t have her. He knows she doesn’t want Skinner. And yet Skinner is still the one talking to her while she’s lying here looking like this.

“Yes, sir,” she’s saying, sounding calm and collected, “Yes, that’s good.”

And he can’t take it anymore. He pushes her thighs further apart and lowers himself down, just catching the surprised expression on her face before he holds her open with eager fingers and thrusts his tongue into her. He hears her gasp and dives in deeper, slides his arms under her thighs to hold her open and finds her clit with his mouth. It’s still swollen and sensitive from earlier, before they were interrupted, and he sucks on it hard as her free hand grips onto his hair.

“Of course,” she says. “I agree.”

Her voice sounds too casual, too normal, and he flicks her with his tongue in the way he knows drives her mad, pleased when her hips buck off the mattress and he feels the muscles in her thighs clenching.

With a moan, he runs his tongue through her folds, greedy and insatiable, drowning in the taste and smell of her. This is for him, all for him. Skinner can be in her ear, but he’s the one who has his face buried in her cunt, making her breath coming faster as she starts to tremble.

“I—” Her voice is starting to sound a little strained and he feels his cock throbbing at the sound. “I think that… would be a good idea, yes.”

She’s not listening anymore, he can tell. He’s buzzing with the thrill of it: another man talking to her, but she can focus only on him, he’s the one driving her wild, giving her pleasure like nobody else is allowed to. Her wetness is all over his face, her body completely at his mercy. He brings one hand between her legs and thrusts three fingers into her, crooking them upwards to find that spot inside that draws a suppressed whimper out of her.

“Yeah,” she says, carefully controlled. “I’m okay, just, uh. What were you saying?”

He knows how she likes to be touched. He knows how to tease her with his tongue while his fingers are fucking her in a relentless rhythm. He knows, he knows every inch and corner of her, he knows how to make her forget her own name. God, he wants to be inside her. He wants to ram his aching cock into her tight heat and fuck her until the bed collapses under them, until she comes so hard she screams, and he wants Skinner on the phone for the whole thing, showing him that he can’t have her. Nobody else can have her. She belongs to him, only to him, and he’ll prove it. He’ll show her who owns her.

She’s shaking with the effort to hold still and he knows she’s trying to hold back. Good. He has her where he wants her, right on the edge. Right at the point where she becomes helpless against her need, where he’s in perfect control of her pleasure. He could make her come right now and she knows it, and her nails are scratching his scalp and her body goes tight. She’s not pulling him off or pushing him away.

He lifts his head long enough to look up and see her eyes squeezed closed as she’s biting her lip, keeping herself from making any sounds, and if she has no intention of stopping, then neither does he.

It takes seconds after that, mere seconds of his lips and tongue and fingers working her over, until her body arches off the bed and her breath comes in stuttering gasps, and she’s coming, coming, coming.

The temptation to touch himself is almost overwhelming, but he has other plans.

As her body slumps back against the bed he finally pulls away, raises himself up to take a proper look at her. She has the phone pressed into the mattress by her side and her chest is heaving, a dazed expression on her face, and she looks… she looks like a woman who just had an orgasm. Beautiful.

Holding her gaze, he slowly reaches for the phone. It slips easily from her grasp, and he lifts it to his ear, hearing Skinner’s voice still on the other end: “Agent Scully? Agent Scully, are you there?”

He hangs up, a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Agent Scully,” he says in a chastising tone. “That was very unprofessional.”

For a second, she tries to glare at him, but then starts laughing instead, covering her face with her hands. “Holy shit, Mulder,” she says.

“What did he want?”

She drops her hands and shakes her head. “I don’t remember.”

“Well.” He holds up the phone again, giving her a challenging look. “You should call him back to find out.”

“I probably should,” she agrees. “What do I say if he asks me why I hung up on him?”

“You’ll come up with something,” he says, then lowers himself on top of her, between her spread legs.

“What are you—” she starts before her eyes widen with realization. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I’m very serious.”

“Mulder, this is—”

“Stop me, then,” he says, nudging her opening with the tip of his cock, waiting there for her decision.

She keeps her eyes locked with his as she wraps her legs around his waist, and then takes the phone from his hand, only breaking eye contact to dial their boss’s number. She brings the phone to her ear, and as he hears Skinner answering on the other end, she digs her heels into his ass and lets out a long exhale as he enters her in one long, smooth motion.

“Yeah, it’s me again,” she says. “I’m sorry, sir, the call got disconnected. Old phone, I think I need to replace it.”

Mulder lowers his head and smiles against the soft skin of her neck as he snaps his hips forward hard. She’s his. One hundred percent. And she owns him too, heart, body and soul, and he wouldn’t want it any other way.

[the-ace-with-spades]

My train ride thoughts:

You know all those memory loss fics where they have an accident and forget the past five years they've been married and still think they're rivals? Can we move it slightly to the left and reverse a bit?

Jake and Bradley dated from 2006 to 2010. Bradley did the breaking up - in a brilliant act of self-sabotage, not because he didn't love him, but because he loved him enough to think Jake deserved someone better than Bradley.

Fast forward to 2017 and the mission training - Jake is the one to have an accident, not Javy, and has to eject. He has a head injury (among other things) and is medavac'ed.

He won't fly the mission, but he's mostly okay. However, the first thing Jake asks Javy when they finally let him see him is, "Where is Bradley? Why is he not here? Did something happen to him?" which opens a whole other can of worms.

Turns out, Jake thinks it's the summer of 2010, about three months before he and Bradley had broken up. He didn't say anything in front of the medical staff because his mind still thinks DADT is in place and he doesn't want any of them in trouble. So Javy has to break it to him that 1) it's 2017, which Jake's reply to that is just, Yeah, you looked kinda old (rude!) and 2) well, DADT no longer exists and no one can officially penalize him for being gay.

Which is enough to make Jake cry. And Javy doesn't continue with the whole 'So, Bradley broke up with you 7 years ago' because Jake starts mumbling different things like, We can get married. Oh god, are we married already? Where's my ring? Did I lose it in the accident? Where's Bradley, why did they not call my Next of Kin?

Because, you know, even in 2010 he thought he and Bradley are forever, surely they must still be together and probably married. Which, Javy shouldn't be surprised because he knows Jake had a whole wedding planner, children's names list, house decor theme, and god knows what prepared for them.

And Javy is not going to break his heart, AGAIN, so he chickens out and instead calls a nurse to tell her all about Jake's amnesia. They take Jake away for more tests and exams and just as he is rolled away, he shouts at Javy to 'Tell Bradley I'm okay when he comes in, he worries so bad when hospitals are involved'.

So Javy calls Bradley. Just calls him and tells him to come to the hospital and tell amnesiac Jake they've broken up because he's not explaining it to Jake himself. In truth, Javy doesn't even know why Bradley broke up with Jake but he didn't give him a reason beyond 'we just don't match' and Javy had been also pretty sure Bradley was as much of a goner as Jake and he hates Bradley for making him be so wrong.

Javy avoids the topic as much as he can, but he's not actually expecting Bradley to show up - why would he care now, right? - but just as Jake starts drilling the question, Bradley steps into the room..

Not only does he step in, he lets Jake hug him straight away

Bradley's also brought a bag of clothes and they must be his own because where the heck would he find Jake's and, oh, look at that, that's Texas Cowboys pajamas and Jake asks, "I still have this thing? God, it's so worn out," and Javy chokes on his own tongue. Sure enough, there's a mix of t-shirts that must belong to both Jake and Bradley and a new pair of sweats and those socks must be Bradshaw's because there's no way Jake would wear plane-themed socks.

"Do you have my wedding ring? Or did I lose it forever somewhere in the field?" Jake asks and Bradshaw looks spooked before the bastard recovers and covets under Jake's sad eyes and say, "No, you didn't, our rings are still in the locker room on the base."

And Javy just--stares at him.

"I promise I'll bring them tomorrow."

Javy stares harder.

Why did you not tell him? is what Javy spits out as soon as they leave the room and Bradley's reply is just Why didn't you, huh? and they just stand there pointing at each other like in the Spiderman meme.

Well, Bradshaw will have to explain himself because he sure as hell isn't going to magically produce wedding rings tomorrow morning.

And Javy is proven fucking wrong again because Bradshaw brings TWO wedding rings, with their NAMES engraved and a little thin band with Jake's birthstone that matches the wedding band perfectly.

Javy is speechless but Jake just shines with, oh, they're so pretty, put it back on me, I knew I have good taste.

And Bradshaw is all innocent when he says, "Actually, I chose them. They're made from my parents' melted wedding rings."

And Javy can't tell if he made that up on the spot or not. [He did not.]

And so the lies fucking go on. Jake is discharged, but not for flying, and to keep up the little charade, Javy packs all his things and brings them to Bradshaw's place - where Jake will be staying until they come back from the mission.

And of course, Bradshaw and his--whatever his issues with Maverick are make it onto the Dagger Team. Javy can only imagine the tearful goodbye 2010 Jake would give his married man, sweet husband Bradley.

"You've gotta fucking come back because if you don't, he's going to fucking find out he's not your husband when the will comes out."

And Bradshaw, just like that, replies, "He's the only person in my will anyway."

(Dunno how this would end tho, this is where I had to change trains and I forgot after...)

[miwiheroes]

Hii

I am a mileven shipper comoletely open to byler, so I watched the lawyer vid

And all the things are pretty convincing but...I don't think Mike was jealous in the airport scene, because then he would have known the painting Will was doing was for him, but instead, even Finn confirmed Mike was clueless about it, so maybe Mike was just...idk....distant from Will and only was trying to rebuild their friendship, remember that he tried to call Will and Will never called him, so maybe he thought Will was mad at him and that's the reason he acts that way, plus Cara said thah you only see a friendship evolving so uhm- idk, ty for reading this and I hope you can adress this "doubt" I have

Hi!

El said in her letter 'I think there is someone he likes, because he has been acting 'weird'", which is for the benefit of the audience's view of Mike's emotions later on.

That's the first mention of the painting, and it's already established that it's an object with romantic intentions (but it's to the audience). So when the viewer sees Will holding the painting in the airport, they get the inkling that Will likes Mike, because it's for him, and he's been acting weird about it.

As for Mike's feelings about the painting.... you're not supposed to know.

Let's lay out the facts of the painting storyline here:

He doesn't want to hug Will at the airport.

He panics when he sees a painting that he has been told is is maybe for a girl.

He pretends to ignore Will all day and is overly affectionate with El (but then the viewer finds out he has actually taken notice of everything he's done).

He is annoyed when Will accuses him of not reaching out.

He feels like he lost Will.

When Will has more confidence in his relationship with Mike he takes the painting with him in his bag.

When Mike finds out the painting is for him he is amazed.

When he finds out that 'el commissioned it' he's confused.

From the Rink o Mania fight, we find out that Mike has been paying attention to Will all day and claims that it ruined the whole day. We also see him offended that Will's annoyed he didn't call, and he's offended that Will didn't call. He asks 'why am I the bad guy?' as if to accuse Will of doing the same thing that he's being accused of.

So, back to the original point about him being jealous. Yes, he is. He saw that Will had made a painting, and then he asks nervously what the painting is (the tone of his voice makes it sound like he already has some idea, but just wants confirmation). Will then brushes it off.

I don't think his non-hug and the painting are linked, I think the reason he didn't hug him is because he didn't want to feel something yknow. He romanticises any sort of interaction with Will, and he doesn't want to show his true feelings in front of everyone.

When Will brushes it off, he is instantly no longer interested. Miscommunication occurs, because while Will never said 'it's not for you', Mike assumes it's not for him because of the way that Will doesn't bring any attention to it, and makes it seem unimportant. The reason he's jealous is because yeah, he did just get confirmation that El could be right.

SOOOO when Will attacks Mike for not calling, Mike gets angry because he's like 'well you did the same thing by moving on with someone else' aka painting for someone else . (Will giving Mike his drawings has always been their thing as well, so it hurts even more that its not for him this time). That is why he later apologises by saying 'I feel like I lost you'. It is his explanation for why he got annoyed at him in Rink o Mania. The 'I feel like I lost you' basically means he was jealous and a self-pitying idiot (his words lmao), and has decided to own up to things and say that Will didn't deserve that. That was why he got angry in the first place. Because he felt like he had lost Will to someone else. So yes he was jealous.

To make this romantic.... is easy. El in the beginning could have easily said he's painting it for someone, maybe he's painting it for a friend, but Mike heard that it's specifically for someone Will likes, so the fact he feels like he lost Will to someone in a romantic sense, means that he also wants him romantically. He never gets this possessive when Dustin or Lucas get girlfriends.

Now, when the painting gets given to Mike again: He realises it is for him and gets super excited. Will doesn't need to tell him explicitly it's for him, because it's a painting of their DND characters.

But when Will said that El commissioned it, we can see the weirdness and the uneasiness on his face, because he's having an internal conflict that the audience cannot see. And again, WE ARENT SUPPOSED TO OKAY

Finn Wolfhard was also confused about this interaction, asking the Duffer Brothers why Mike's so clueless here. (he said this at a con or interview or something) He's also said in the past that Mike does not know about Will loving him. When asked, the Duffer Brothers responded with: "Don't worry, it'll pay off in the end". Meaning we will eventually know what Mike was thinking/ Mike will find out the truth. And the fact it's being dragged over 2 seasons and left for the final one, means it's important.

oof okay sorry that was such a RANTTT AHH but seriously, he was definitely sad about Will making the painting possibly for someone else, shown in his anger in the Rink o Mania fight, and the fact he said he thought he had lost him as a reason for his anger.

As for your comment about Cara? That is not what she said. You're saying that she said 'You only see a friendship evolving', which is not what she said.

She says "Mike goes on his own journey... and Will is not ready to grow up and leave that friendship." then she says, "So I think in season 5....' which Noah looks at her very suspiciously about, so she says something else.

She then says (keeping in mind the Season 5 comment), "Cause I know that as an actor, you're thinking about things as you're approaching it from an actor's perspective" THEN SHE SAYS "But i think from a story perspective, you just see like a friendship evolving" "People come apart and they come together"

Then Noah begins to say "And I will say that..." and then goes "No im not gonna say anything."

What does this mean? Well, she's saying that as actors, they know what is going to happen to Mike and Will in season 5. But from the audience's perspective, they may only see a friendship evolving. In season 5 that might change. She's not saying 'oh they only have a friendship' no no, she's describing the fact they're changing, and describing what the audience likely sees and what the audience may be confused about. Also this is a FRIENDS TO LOVERS ARC,,,,, of course they are sometimes going to be described as having a friendship.

and dont take the actors words as gospel! they were put on the spot anyways and dont have time to figure out everything they wanna say

[holylulusworld]

Roll the dice (1)

Summary: You’re in trouble, and it’s all your fault.

Pairing: Mobster!Steve Rogers x fem!Reader

Warnings: mafia au, angst, mentions of criminal activities, mentions of sickness, mentions of stealing, scared reader, bruises, hand around throat (non-sexual)

Catch up here: Roll the dice (Prologue)

Holding your breath, you watch it land on… 3

“Three,” you murmur, scared to the bones. While Steve smirks darkly, you wring your hands. This can’t be good. Of course, it can’t. All your life, you never had luck in the game. Why change your bad luck now? “What does it mean?”

Steve crouches down to grab the dice. He chuckles as you try not to faint. His cheer presence is intimidating. Having him up close while he holds your life in his hands is terrifying.

“OH, you got lucky, doll,” he taunts. Steve grabs your hand to place the dice in the palm of your hand. “Three means roll the dice again.”

“Again—” you whimper. Rolling the dice once was scary, and you made peace with death, even embraced it with open arms to end this nightmare you’re living in. Rolling it again means doom. “No… please decide.”

“I don’t make the rules,” he lies while his smirk deepens. His cheeks dimple and he almost looks like a beautiful angel, if not for the dangerous glimmer in his ocean-blue eyes. “How about I explain what every number means before you roll the dice again?”

A question is not in his words. He will tell you what the numbers mean, whether you want it or not.

You nod the moment his features darken. “Yes. Please.” You’re surprised the words come out of your mouth at all. It was a struggle to bring yourself to speak to him.

“One means quick death.” You shudder at his happy smile. “Two means painful death.” You whimper as he cups your jaw to force you to look him in the eyes. “You already know what three means.”

Steve watches your eyes glistening with unshed tears. He grins like the devil as he leans closer, his nose brushing yours.

“Four means an eye for an eye. In your case, it means paying me back my money, but ten times the amount you stole from me.” He hums when you silently start to cry. “I like five very much. It means working for me for the rest of your life. You already know about six, too.”

None of the options are appealing to you. Steve lied. There’s not a chance you get to walk out of his office alive and unharmed. You’ll never roll a six.

“So, go ahead,” he purrs your name and points at your hand. “Roll the dice again.” Steve gets back up to sit back down on his armchair, smirking as you stare at him with teary eyes. “Now!” He growls as you hesitate.

“Okay,” you sniffle and drop the dice, not even looking at it. You hold your breath and close your eyes.

“Aw, you’re a lucky lady,” Steve whistles. “A three again. Wow! I don’t think anyone ever got it two times in a row.”

You shudder. A three means you must roll the dice again. For a third time, you grab the dice and throw it toward Steve’s feet. It’s all a game to him.

“Another three,” he laughs in your face. “Pick it back up, lucky doll. Maybe this time, you’ll get a six, huh?”

Gritting your teeth, you glare at Steve. He’s toying with you, and you hate that you’re too weak to fight him. Before he can get mad, you move toward the dice to roll it again. You watch it stop at three and sniffle.

“Again.” He says.

You roll the dice. Three.

“Again, doll.”

Three.

“And again.”

Three.

You scream and throw the dice against the wall. “Why don’t you just kill me? I know this dice is manipulated!”

“You accuse me of lying!” Steve rises from his seat to grab you by your throat. “I gave you the chance to save your life! You’re not only a thief but ungrateful too!”

“It only ever shows three!” You claw at his hand, trying to get it off your throat. “Three. Three. Three!”

Heat speckles all over your face and neck. Your body becomes heavy, and your eyes flutter shut. You try to fight the invisible power dragging you into darkness, but it's useless.

“Hmm…yeah. That’s much better, isn’t it? Letting me take control over your body, life, and mind. You never stood a chance, doll.” Steve presses a kiss to your trembling lips before your head lolls back. “Did you honestly believe I would let you walk out on me? Of course, the dice shows whatever I want.”

A few weeks earlier, the night you stole from Steve…

“Steve, I don’t know why you let her get away with it. Man, she didn’t even avoid the cameras,” Bucky grunts. Steve and he are watching you walk toward the back entrance, your bag filled with the money you stole from your boss. “Let me stop her.”

“No,” Steve smirks. “I want to know why she found the guts to steal from me. She was always a shy little mouse. I wonder what happened.”

“With all due respect, that’s just stupid,” Bucky huffs. He can’t believe his friend lets a random employee get away with stealing from him. “This could ruin your reputation.”

Steve chuckles. “Buck, she won’t get far. I told Sam to keep an eye on her, and Jensen is checking on her digital life. I’m still Steven Grant Rogers, not some inexperienced newbie. Likewise, I know what I’m doing.”

“You’re playing with fire, Steve.” The brunette can only watch you sneak out of the door, the money still in your bag.

Steve grins like the wolf he is and says, “I think it will be worth it, Buck. I haven’t had much fun lately. I’ll get me a sweet little mouse to toy with...”

Tags in reblog.

[hotvintagepoll]

Donald O'Connor (Singin' in the Rain, Francis, Call Me Madam)— LOOK AT HIM. Those giant blue peepers. Those tappy tappy little feet that don't quit. The ears that stick out like little wings, ready to lift him up to goofy heaven. The way his face contorts into the strangest yet most endearing expressions. His ability to sing and dance alongside the hunk that is Gene Kelly and yet pull all attention away with his big-eyed buffoonery. The way his energy is unmatched in songs like "Make 'em laugh" - bouncing off the walls and tumbling through the air straight into my cold cold heart. Who else but a true scrungly lil guy would sit upon the witness stand and defend a talking mule with all the love and affection in the world - staring out into the court room with his bright wide eyes and eternally mouse-like expression, openly admitting that the mule is his best friend?!??! I see him and I want to pull him from the screen into my hand and just squiiiiiiiiiiiiish with all my might. I want to pinch his cheeks and have him bat those eyes at me. He just makes me go "eeehehehehehe" every time I see him and his silly little self. He is pure chaotic, ridiculous, scrungly perfection!

Mantan Moreland (Mr. Washington Goes to Town, Cabin in the Sky)—i love mantan moreland SO. MUCH. and he is the pERFECT scrungly little guy!!!!! like a lot of black actors at the time he was always getting sidelined into small parts, but unusually he also managed to become a star in his own right and was almost one of the three stooges! he was a groundbreaking comedic actor known for his distinctive stare (very good for the horror movies he did), and he always is way more fun to watch on screen than anyone else. he had a famous double-act where he perfected this technique of non-conversations (where both people keep finishing each other's sentences before any actual information is conveyed). a lot of his movies are free on youtube and i really enjoy seeing him do his silly little guy thing in all of them!!! anyways yeah please include mantan he deserves some recognition as peak scrungle

This is round 3 of the contest. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. If you’re confused on what a scrungle is, or any of the rules of the contest, click here.

[additional submitted propaganda + scrungly videos under the cut]

Donald O'Connor:

My silliest little guy. My funnyman. My horsie. I have watched many a bad movie for this man. The scrungliest fact I know about him is that he was supposed to star as Danny Kaye's role in the iconic White Christmas (1954), as he had known Bing Crosby since he was a child, but couldn't because he caught a mule disease while working on those Francis the Talking Mule films Universal endlessly made him do. I wouldn't exactly recommend those movies, but Don's character getting psychologically tormented by a sardonic mule does make for quite a good movie night, if you know what you're getting into. Are You With It? is another one I don't exactly recommend, but it does open with Donald as a math genius actuary who is about to kill himself over a displaced decimal point before getting taken in by a traveling carny instead. His more well-known and beloved roles have plenty of scrungliness too, in my opinion. This man slapsticked so hard he wound up bedridden for his physical exertion! Rather than submitting Make 'Em Laugh, which the electorate has likely already seen (I hope), I'm submitting an underrated dance number of his, where he explains maths through tap dance. That movie is Not good, but god do I love him in that role.

I think it's arguably very scrungly to seemingly be a real life cartoon character made out of rubber, as proven by how slapsticky the list of scrunglies is so far. In which case, Donald O'Connor? He scrungles supremely. He even played Buster Keaton in a movie (that apparently can't be recommended, but still).

Mantan Moreland:

here's his double act in action!! [editor's note: Benson Fong cameo too!]

He just had a scrungly look about him and he played big with his roles so any of it became especially scrungly. Plus he was very funny in the way only scrungly people can be.

the FUNNEST GUY TO WATCH ON SCREEN. he was an immensely gifted physical comedian, able to convey loads with his eyes, and while some of his parts are so sad and cringeworthy, I feel like he always brought a humanity and humor that lifted them beyond cheap stereotype.

[venuslarkspur]

guys what if concerning dating history batsis did it with deathstroke.. or rose… WHAT IF HE’S HER SUGAR DADDY LMAO

OMG UR SO REAL FOR THIS THOUGH (Bruce is already getting grey hairs from this girl)

LIKE IMAGINE ME THIS ⬇️💗

Batsis and The Tale Of The Sugar Daddy (and gal pal Rose)

Warning: SLIGHT NSFW, canon dc violence, batfam shenanigans.

———————

Bruce: Listen I think it’s good that Batsis!Reader is financially independent now but where is she getting all this cash?

Tim mindlessly typing away: My theory is Roy got her pregnant and now Ollie has to bankroll them.

Damian: That’s ridiculous, they could have just came to father, Drake.

Dick who is sweating cause he knows why: Yeah..you’re probably right Tim..

Tim: What’s wrong?

Jason who is still agitated his sister is not only involved with his ex’s dad but also the ex: I’d tell you, but I was AND still am confused.

———————

- Batsis is definitely Rose’s awakening, she doesn’t care if she dated Jason that’s him fumbling not her.

- Batsis just started off as one of Rose’s friends when the masks were on, she didn’t know she was getting it on with her friends dad of all people.

- It’s difficult for anyone to really refute it when it comes to the age gap, yeah many think it’s gross but when they met she was the same age as Dick. (27-29) so if Bruce finds out not only can he not be argued with, Batsis will also bring up how his exes are just as bad.

- Not bc imagining Deathstroke who is just insanely soft on Batsis, say even if he gets her pregnant he isn’t going anywhere; Rose could use a little sister or brother ig. But y’all are careful, he knows better than to get a Wayne Family Heiress pregnant.

- I don’t write smut but Ik they are FREAKY, the one place they wouldn’t dare do it is Wayne Manor, he is cooked if they’re are caught there. He will have the Batman, Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin, The Batgirls, Robin, Batwoman, Signal and probs more on him at that point. These mfs will let Batsis’s exes know that’s how petty there are about this.

- Imagine waking up with Deathstroke and ur both barely clothed and outside his window is the entirety of the Batfamily, Arsenal, Three Green Lanterns, Zatanna, Wonder Woman, John Constantine, Booster Gold, Harley Quinn and his own daughter are queuing up for first dibs.

- Slade knows about your problem with some of your exes (cough cough Hal Jordan) and aims to help you by drowning you in jewellery and clothes, like that new faux fur coat and boots? Yeah he bought you that, that new pearl and gold necklace with your initials? Yep he got it. That new skirt that’s shoes the perfect amount of thigh? Yep, his. Like all these past flames and flings (HAL JORDAN) know you’re seeing someone.

- Always reminds you how mischievous you are for getting nasty with him whilst being a “figure of honour and importance”, which quite frankly pisses you off, you’ve slept with most of your dad’s colleagues god damn it! He loves that it makes you feisty.

- Rose is super jealous, and you definitely share a heart wrenching goodbye kiss before she wishes you goodbye, you almost went after her before remembering your dinner date tonight and if went well you’d be confident to let your father know of your relationship.

- If your a vigilante, Rose knows your secret identity (wether you’re batgirl or not), Your Sugar Daddy doesn’t know and you quite frankly would rather he not, you make him swear off the Wayne Family all together, but you feel guilty at not being able to protect them when the masks go on.

- We know Batsis has a limit when it comes to his work, so she will break it off eventually, leaving all the dinner dates, passionate nights and shopping behind. You know you make him very happy (mostly aroused) but happy, so he’s always a phone call away, you’re always down for the occasional fling, and your time with him will always never be forgotten, even if you did the right thing, which isn’t your style at all.

- He’s up there with John Stewart and Wally West with top five men you miss but probably wouldn’t date again for different reasons.

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IDK WHY THIS GOT ANGSTY THIS WAS MEANT TO BE FUNNY BUT WTH. Life goes in yall 😭🫶