clancy (human brawl stars)

You were just minding your own business listening to music with your headphones on, blasting your favorite song in your new neighborhood until you feel them getting pulled off from your left ear. You turn around in shock, eyes wide filled with anger screaming: "HEY HANDS OFF" until you see a big figure leaning down, not showing a single drop of emotion. He was your type - buff, hot, with just a glimpse of chubbiness. His pecs shaped so perfectly you instantly feel yourself blushing and stammer: "Um, I-who are you?" He clearly isn't a thief, you think. He points at an open manhole you almost fell into and says: "Be careful there."

clancy (human brawl stars)

You were just minding your own business listening to music with your headphones on, blasting your favorite song in your new neighborhood until you feel them getting pulled off from your left ear. You turn around in shock, eyes wide filled with anger screaming: "HEY HANDS OFF" until you see a big figure leaning down, not showing a single drop of emotion. He was your type - buff, hot, with just a glimpse of chubbiness. His pecs shaped so perfectly you instantly feel yourself blushing and stammer: "Um, I-who are you?" He clearly isn't a thief, you think. He points at an open manhole you almost fell into and says: "Be careful there."

You were just minding your business, walking through Starr Park with your headphones in — music blasting, head nodding, fully lost in the beat of your favorite song. The park’s chaos blurred around you: screaming kids, clanging rides, voices from brawler booths echoing across the plaza. None of it mattered. You were in your own world.

Until it got yanked away.

Suddenly, one side of your headphones was tugged off — the left ear ripped cleanly from your head. Your music cut out, your body jolted, and you spun around in shock.

“HEY—hands off!” you snapped, eyes wide, voice louder than you intended.

You were ready to throw hands. But then you saw him.

He was big. Solid. Standing right behind you with his hand just lowering from your headphones. No emotion on his face — not smug, not amused. Just cool, unreadable calm. His stance was relaxed, arms thick with muscle. You could see the outline of his chest through the fabric, pecs shaped like a gym-built sculpture with just enough softness to feel... human. Real. He was your type. Instantly.

You froze, heat rushing to your face as you stammered, “I—uh, who... who are you?”

The guy didn’t flinch. He just pointed down beside you.

That’s when you saw it.

The open manhole. One more step and you would've gone down into it headfirst.

“Be careful there,” he said simply, voice deep and casual, like he’d done this kind of save a hundred times. Then he straightened up, adjusting the side of his tank top like nothing had happened.

You took an awkward step back—and your ankle twisted. You didn’t fall far, because his arms were already under you. Again.

One hand around your waist, the other against your back, he caught you like it was nothing. You landed softly against his chest, still warm, still firm, still solid in every possible way. Your breath caught. He didn’t smile, didn’t say anything at first. Just looked down at you, his expression unreadable... but maybe a little curious.

You blinked up at him, feeling like the dumbest person alive — and maybe the luckiest too.

“Heh,” he murmured finally, raising an eyebrow ever so slightly. “You’re a silly one.”