(Halloween short gonna be late, here's a cute short-short in apology)
Ship: Terroriser/Moo/Vanoss/Delirious
Warnings: none.
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Brock smiled, eyeing the treat bags he had laid out by the door. He was ready for any amount of trick-or-treaters he coule get.
Though, the minute his back was turned he heard rustling and immediately knew the problem at hand. "If I have to puppy guard the candy I'm not going to sit down for movie night," he glanced over his shoulder, glaring at Evan and Brian who were fumbling with the bags.
"But Brock-"
"Don't," he put his hand up. "You get one warning. I doubt Jon would be happy if I went to sleep early."
Brian made a face and put his bag down quickly. No one liked an angry Jon- especially on Halloween.
"Just one? Maybe a handful?" Evan asked, pushing out his bottom lip in a beg.
Brock reluctantly gave in with a small sigh. "One handful. You both can have one handful."
He turned around and headed towards the living room. "You both get to be on door duty though," he added, "to make up for it."
Evan whined to complain but already grabbed his loot before he followed after. Brian hesitated but followed suit with his sweets.
Brock had already found his place cuddled into Jon's side, the latter talking excitedly about the movie they were watching. It was tradition to binge the Friday the 13th movies on Halloween- of course it was mostly started because they all found it adorable to hear Jon rant their ears off about the movies.
Evan sat besides Brock, nudging him to make him sit up just in time as Brian flopped over them, grinning as his head landed in Jon's lap.
Jon laughed lightly, running his hand through Brian's hair before he looked over toward Evan. "You two stole candy again, huh?" he asked.
"Of course," Evan smiled, handing him over a sucker, "wouldn't be a Halloween if we weren't annoying Brock."
Jon took the sucker happily, before pressing a kiss to Brock's temple. "Must be a pain."
"Don't act like yer all innocent!" Brian huffed, glaring up at him with no anger in his eyes. "Ye took a cookie from him jot to long ago, yeah?"
Jon shook his head. "I was off- um- Brock let me have the cookie, actually!"
Brock rolled gis eyes. "After you asked a billion times." He smiled fondly, however, and leaned over to return the kiss to Jon's temple. "You're all a pain."
"But you love us," Evan teased, pressing a kiss to his cheek.
Brock snickered and wrapped his arm around Evan's shoulders and patted Brian on the head. "I do," he agrees with a big smile.
A knock at the door interrupted them and Brian groaned. "I got it!"
Brock watched him stand up and contemplated for a moment before sighing. "Put all the candy into a few bowls, yeah? I... Sorta want to just spend the night without an interruption."
Brian grinned bright, agreeing quickly to that and Evan nudged Brock as he went to stand up so he could help. "Your a softy," he teased.
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And for the last one: 146 âAre you okay?â - w/ Vanmoo <3
200 Writing Prompts
Evan didnât like the fact that Moo could read emotions as easily as he could sometimes. He was like a superhero in that regard, always being able to know how even the most stoic of people felt. From word choice, engagement levels and tone he could unravel people like a book. So, when it was just Evan and Brock left in the call, the former knew he was going to be mothered.
âAre you okay?â He asked, like he always asked first. Evan never really understood why he did. Both parties knew how he felt, so the question itself felt redundant.
âNo.â
âYou want to talk about it?â It was always an option. Brock was very respectful of it, usually dropping the topic after one push. But Evan often needed someone to talk to, especially from a computer screen. He didnât anyone judging him because of his emotions.
âItâs just ⊠one of those moods I get sometimes. When I think about all the guys and how they are happy with their girlfriends and just âŠâ Brock was the first one Vanoss had met, and the only one of his friends who knew he was gay. He trusted him.
âIt was Miniâs video with Sami, wasnât it? Thatâs what prompted this?â
âYeah. Itâs just hard hearing âIâm straight, Iâm straight, Iâm straight.â Over and over again by different faces. And it hurts, every time. You just donât know how that feels.â He spun around in his chair, staring at the ceiling as the first tears began to stream down his cheeks.
âEvan, I know it hurts. I ⊠donât want to say I understand because I donât.â
âNo, you donât know what itâs like. How it feels to fall in love with your best friend and look them in the eyes to see that theyâll never see you as anything more. That they will never see you like you see them. And being able to pretend that everythingâs fine.â There was a small silence on the other side of the screen.
âI âŠâ Brock choked out, trying to figure out the right words to say. âI donât know how to help. I wish I was there with you, so that you had a body to lean on. Iâve never been what youâve been through. I think the best person to help you is someone whoâs been there, done that, and starred in the movie. You know what I mean?â
âYeah.â
âYouâll get over that crush on Craig one day.â
âI know. Just not anytime soon. Iâm working on it though.â
âThatâs good. I know you are.â
âThanks, Brock.â Evan forced himself to wear a weak smile, even if nobody saw him.
âAnytime.â He backed out of the call, making sure he closed Discord before he did anything else. He had made that mistake more than once before.
âIâm not getting over it.â Evan muttered, looking over the various smiling photos of his friends resting on the desk behind him. âI never got over it the first time with you, Brock. I said that I got over Tyler and Anthony and Jonathan when I didnât mean it. I lied about moving on from David and Lui and Ryan. Smitty and Luke and Brian have never left my mind. Marcel and Scotty and John and âŠâ He laughed at himself. âIâm in love with all my friends. And none of them will ever love me back. Iâm lying to myself saying it will ever get better. It never does.â
Evan didnât say another word. He wiped the tears from the eyes, rubbing the ones that escaped into his skin. He scooted his chair over the corner, picking up his guitar from the stand. Grabbing a pick from the box on his desk, he began to play.
Thereâs a song that I loveThat you once played for meIt had all the right chordsAnd a sweet melody
There was no one song. It was the songs Mini played pre-stream that he never failed to miss. The covers Nogla had sung that had long been lost on his channel that he had saved on a playlist. The fan made tracks Delirious loved to showcase and Vanoss hated to admit they were some of his favorites too. The songs at the end of Kryozâs, Basicallyâs, Wildcatâs and everyoneâs videos that he had stored in a playlist.
Now theyâve all been erasedOn my music machine
And itâs all because of youIâve got a list of songs I canât listen to
Evan sang all his emotions through each note. Every chord was a silent love letter to all the boys who ever broken his heart that it wasnât big enough to hold all the pieces. He tried to let out all the years of stuff he had left to build up inside him with 3 minutes and 26 seconds.
And I wish the music didnât play foreverâCause Iâm feeling like a broken record
Evan kept singing for what felt like hours. Nothing helped. He still sat there, a Canadian with a guitar and a forever broken heart.
~âą~
A/N: Nice Short Little Poly!BBS to break everyoneâs hearts coming into 2018. Hope you enjoyed! đ
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Super old short snip bit I found in the drafts, make of it what you will (i cant remember the context);
âCan I kiss you?â
It was a question so simple yet so sudden that Evan felt like a brick hit him in the face. âWhat?â he stammered, staring at Brock, who stood in front of him.Â
âCan I kiss you?â he repeated the question and swallowed, glancing up when he heard . âWe⊠um,â he sighed, âI donât know if weâll get out of here but⊠I donât want to go out not admitting that Iâve always wanted to kiss you.âÂ
Evan stared, examining his friend and finally noticing the panic laced behind his calm exterior. Brock was scared, doubtful. âBrock⊠Weâll get out,â he assured and his friend crossed his arms. âI mean, I hope we do,â he uttered, âBut in case we donâtâŠâ
The canadian breathed in through his nose before he smiled, slow and calm. He didnât want to feed his friendâs nervousness. âBut⊠in case we donât,â he agreed, stepping forward, a hand coming up and gently brushing against his cheek. Brock fell shy, but he smiled and Evan and him met eyes.
âYou⊠You wanna?â Brock asked, looking for consent to it. He didnât want it to be on his own terms, he wanted it to be on both of theirs. âYeah. I do, I have for a long time,â he mumbled and the two leaned in slowly before they bumped noses, laughing softly and then tilting heads so their lips met gently and shyly.Â
It lasted for a moment before a broken sob came through Brock and they pulled apart. âWeâre fucking idiots,â he laughed, tears streaming down his eyes. âOf course we are,â Evan agreed, tears welding in his own eyes. "How long have youâŠ" the American trailed off and Evan shrugged as he wiped the tears. "A few years now, sense the big heist on the bank downtown," he explained.Â
"The one where⊠you and I got paired together?" He grinned slowly and the canadian chuckled sheepishly. "You were just a really good partner, couldn't help myself,â he admitted shyly, âThe way you were caring but commanding was admirable. I donât know how you do it.â Brock blushed lightly and a smile crept onto his face. âWell⊠I liked you since that night a bit after we first met when I joined the gang, you snuck into my room injured and had me fix you up,â he sighed softly at the memory and wiped at his eyes as more tears formed.
âGod- we could have been together so long!â Brock whined and he leaned forward, his head resting onto Evanâs shoulder.Â
au ask: reincarnation themed: 2. We keep reincarnating as people who speak different languages. w/vanmoo?
AUs
Disclaimer: I do not, in any way, speak the languages included in this fic. I will be relying heavily on Google Translate, which I know may not always be accurate. English translations will be after in parenthesis. Feel free to correct me if anything is wrong. Also, historical details like architecture and speech patterns will most likely be off. I apologize for that. Regardless, enjoy! The languages I use are Hungarian, Polish, German, Turkish, and Spanish.
Everyone gets reincarnated. Souls are simply not made fast enough to correspond with the rate of new babies born. Itâs much easier to reuse the souls that already exist after all memories of the previous life are erased. Of course, no system was perfect so occasionally some souls donât forget about their previous lives. Brock was one of those souls.
The problem to Brock was that he would always see the same soul in all of his lives. He didnât know the name, and it was hard because he had all these different faces. But every time he looked at the guy, he just knew it was the same soul. The same person from the various versions of himself. It hurt sometimes to see him because of two things. One was that the stranger never recognized Brock, always forgetting that he even existed. The other was that each life they never spoke the same language.
It was first evident back in the 1880s. Brock was fleeing from his homeland of Poland. Heâs lived enough lives already to understand how often humans tend to repeat themselves. And when the czar was assassinated, he knew he was going to blame because he was Jewish and that leaving was the best alternative. America was the best bet, but until he could afford enough money to get there, Austria-Hungary would be a good resting place for now.
He was tired, hungry, and had no money. It was pouring, rain seeping through what little he had. He scrambled for some place to rest, which happened to be under the awning of a little bakery. Brock did not even realize he was drooling at the breads in the window until a voice spoke out at him.
âMit csinĂĄlsz [What are you doing?]â The stranger asked, looking at Brock with a puzzling and pitied look. âSzeretne megvĂĄsĂĄrolni Ćket? [Do you wish to buy them?]â
â NiedĆugo zniknÄ. [I will be gone soon.]â He assured, despite any indication the stranger understood him. He didnât even understand him himself. âPotrzebowaĆem schronienia przed deszczem. [I needed shelter from the rain.]â
ânic mi nie jest. [I am fine.]â Brock insisted, but the words were simply lost in translation. The stranger went inside, quickly coming out with a small loaf.
Bullets rained around him. He had forgotten where he was at this point, just that he had to fight. He was stuck in this miserable trenches for months now with dwindling numbers and supplies, but he had to fight. For Germany.
âVorstoĂen! [Move Forward!]â The commander yelled. Men began climbing out of the trenches, bracing No Manâs Land like it wasnât the suicide mission it clearly was.
âNeden geri çekiyorsun? [Why are you holding back?]â The soldier next to him asked, clearly one of the Ottomans helping them to win the war.
âEs ist Selbstmord. Ich will nicht sterben. [Itâs suicide. I donât want to die.]â Brock confessed, looking into very familiar chocolatey brown eyes. âIch bin verĂ€ngstigt. [Iâm scared.]â
âKeĆke ne diyorsun bilseydim. [I wish I knew what you were saying.]
âWas machst du? [What are you doing?]â
â Dikkat et! [Look Out!]â The man pointed to the sky, spotting a mortar heading straight to the trench. Brock closed his eyes. Knowledge from previous version knew he was going to die now. But he had a mission now. Find and finally talk to the man next to him.
It took a while. Lots of lives and lots of languages. He learned Polish, German, Hungarian, Turkish, French, Russian, Italian, and Mandarin. But one time, he managed to get it right. Well, he just happened to have the right person with him at the right time.
âPerdĂłn. [Sorry]â Brock turned around to the tap on his shoulder, seeing familiar chocolatey brown eyes. In this life, the soul was Asian. Tanned skin and smooth black hair wore a shimmery silver jacket and a plain black shirt underneath with white shoes to match. âÂżPero puedes ayudarme? [Can you help me?]â Brock didnât have time to answer him, because his friend jumped in instead.
âSĂ señor.â Arlan said, talking in nearly flawless Spanish. âÂżQue Necesitas? [What Do you need?]â
âÂżDĂłnde hay un buen lugar para comer? No he tenido la oportunidad de explorar la ciudad. [Where is there a good place to eat? I havenât had a chance to explore the town.]â
âEl restaurante a pocas cuadras tiene algunos de los mejores BLT. Eso o el lugar italiano en la prĂłxima esquina. Su mac y queso es increĂble. [The diner a few blocks down has some of the best BLTs. That or the Italian place on the next corner. Their mac and cheese is amazing.]â
âI donât know what either of you are saying.â Brock comments, looking between the two men.
âHeâs just asking for good places to eat.â Arlan explained. âRelax.â
âTu amigo es lindo. ÂżEstĂĄ soltero? [Your friend is cute. Is he single?]â
âHey, amigo means friend. Now heâs definitely talking about me.â Arlan laughed at Brockâs worry, which he found amusing. âHey, if I actually tried I know enough to understand this conversation.â
âEl es todo tuyo. [Heâs all yours.]â The man then turned to Brock, holding out his hand. With hesitancy, the latter shook it.
âMi nombre es Evan.â Evan. It was nice to finally put a name to a face for once. A name to the face stuck in his name. And he didnât need a translator to understand that Evan was just as interested in him.
